A/N: Flashback scene.
Many many thanks to those who reviewed this fic. I'm short on time, so I won't type thank you's just now. I'll save them for chapter 3. Until then, know that you have my gratitude.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money from it. Don't sue.
Rating: R on ff.net...NC-17 versions of certain chapters will be available on my list. (see profile)
***
There is a flash of white light. The force knocks him off his feet, sending him into a wall.
Dazed, he opens his eyes and whimpers piteously. He thinks he has blacked out, but cannot be certain. He knows without trying that his legs are useless, his wand is broken, and the fluid on his lips is blood. His blood. The rubble makes an uncomfortable pillow. Memory comes at first in pieces, then forms a clear picture. He, Ron, and Hermione had done a spell to kill Voldemort and the building had collapsed. A glance at the sizable pile of stone in the middle of the floor assures Harry that Voldemort is dead. But where are Ron and Hermione? He turns his head to look for them.
"They are dying, Mr. Potter," a voice says.
"No," Harry whispers. Lucius kneels beside him- an angel in the dust.
"Yes. They are dying and there is no one to save them." Lucius' tone is flat, a statement of fact.
"No!" Harry struggles to get up. "I have to-" Laughter, low and deceptively sweet.
"And are you going to save them? You're dying yourself."
"Please." Lucius starts at the plea.
"What was that?" he asks, smiling.
"Please save them." The smile disappears from Lucius' face and is replaced with the beginnings of a frown.
"A Gryffindor to the last. You make no plea for your own life?" Harry coughs violently, shaking his head. He spits to clear his mouth. More blood. He shudders.
Lucius eyes him thoughtfully, weighing his options. "Let's make a deal: your life in exchange for theirs. Since your life means so little to you, you must admit that's quite a bargain."
"You said I was dying."
"And so you are, but they don't have to." Harry's eyes narrow in thought.
"My life for theirs?" Lucius nods. "Deal," Harry replies instantly.
Lucius leans in, gathering Harry up in his arms. Harry would resist, but it is beyond his physical capabilities. "What are you doing?" he croaks.
"Saving your life," Lucius replies. His lips press against Harry's, softly at first. Harry doesn't believe that a kiss or Lucius will save him, but if this is to be the only kiss of his life, he wants it to be a good one and he opens his mouth slightly for Lucius in invitation. Lucius takes it, his tongue slipping smoothly into Harry's mouth. This is more pleasant than Harry thought it would be. He always envisioned French kisses as something involving much more slobber. Harry thinks to himself that this might be arousing if he wasn't going to die shortly.
He doesn't know exactly when he is fully healed. He only remembers that at some point he was able to arch up into Lucius' heat and Lucius pulled him closer. He moves down to place a kiss on Harry's collarbone. Harry hisses, wraps a leg around Lucius, realizes that he couldn't do that before. He hears a gasp he knows isn't his. He looks up to face Ron and Hermione, both very dirty, both covered with bright pink stripes across their skin where they have been freshly healed. They have bruises where the rubble struck them and blood where the debris pierced their skin, but they are fine-- except for the looks of horror on their faces.
Harry freezes. Lucius notices his reaction and looks over his shoulder. He chuckles darkly. "Remember our deal, " he whispers. He kisses Harry once more for show and then disapparates.
Ron and Hermione don't believe Harry when he says that his snog session with Lucius saved their lives. They think that he has lost his mind because an insane Harry is better than a traitorous Harry and those are the only explanations they will accept. Upon closer examination it becomes apparent that Harry is not insane and instead of the secret missions Dumbeldore sent him on, he is placed in Lucius' bed, at Voldemort's side, or conspiring with Pettigrew. Ron and Hermione don't say a word, but Harry can see the suspicions flitting behind their eyes
Something is broken that day. Harry is offered the job Fudge held until his gruesome and not entirely unexpected death. He declines. Bureaucracy and rules have never agreed with him. He returns to school but is more alone than ever. His friends have deserted him in all but name. Everyone else he meets reveres him. He is disgusted. He feels unclean, cheap, and dishonest. School ends. He is invited to Ron and Hermione's wedding. He attends, makes his obligatory toast, and fakes a smile for the cameras. After the reception he runs.
He is ill prepared for such an undertaking. Determined to leave the wizarding world and become invisible, he doesn't think to take anything except the money in his pockets and the clothes on his back. He barely refrains from snapping his wand, using it instead to summon documents he might need in the Muggle world. He keeps his name. That, at least, is his. He has more right to it than anyone.
He sleeps the days away. He goes to work at night and comes home immediately afterward. He feels like he is waiting for something, an invitation to start his life, but one is not forthcoming in the mail and so he continues his routine. He has no lovers. His only real friend is Kristine. Despite the waiting, he is happy. He has something to do and no obligations to do anything except what he wants. But he is always pretending. It seems to be his destiny--- to always hide a part of himself. Then Lucius shows up and somehow Harry knows that a chapter of his life is finished.
And that scares him to death.
***
Feedback is adored.
Many many thanks to those who reviewed this fic. I'm short on time, so I won't type thank you's just now. I'll save them for chapter 3. Until then, know that you have my gratitude.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making money from it. Don't sue.
Rating: R on ff.net...NC-17 versions of certain chapters will be available on my list. (see profile)
***
There is a flash of white light. The force knocks him off his feet, sending him into a wall.
Dazed, he opens his eyes and whimpers piteously. He thinks he has blacked out, but cannot be certain. He knows without trying that his legs are useless, his wand is broken, and the fluid on his lips is blood. His blood. The rubble makes an uncomfortable pillow. Memory comes at first in pieces, then forms a clear picture. He, Ron, and Hermione had done a spell to kill Voldemort and the building had collapsed. A glance at the sizable pile of stone in the middle of the floor assures Harry that Voldemort is dead. But where are Ron and Hermione? He turns his head to look for them.
"They are dying, Mr. Potter," a voice says.
"No," Harry whispers. Lucius kneels beside him- an angel in the dust.
"Yes. They are dying and there is no one to save them." Lucius' tone is flat, a statement of fact.
"No!" Harry struggles to get up. "I have to-" Laughter, low and deceptively sweet.
"And are you going to save them? You're dying yourself."
"Please." Lucius starts at the plea.
"What was that?" he asks, smiling.
"Please save them." The smile disappears from Lucius' face and is replaced with the beginnings of a frown.
"A Gryffindor to the last. You make no plea for your own life?" Harry coughs violently, shaking his head. He spits to clear his mouth. More blood. He shudders.
Lucius eyes him thoughtfully, weighing his options. "Let's make a deal: your life in exchange for theirs. Since your life means so little to you, you must admit that's quite a bargain."
"You said I was dying."
"And so you are, but they don't have to." Harry's eyes narrow in thought.
"My life for theirs?" Lucius nods. "Deal," Harry replies instantly.
Lucius leans in, gathering Harry up in his arms. Harry would resist, but it is beyond his physical capabilities. "What are you doing?" he croaks.
"Saving your life," Lucius replies. His lips press against Harry's, softly at first. Harry doesn't believe that a kiss or Lucius will save him, but if this is to be the only kiss of his life, he wants it to be a good one and he opens his mouth slightly for Lucius in invitation. Lucius takes it, his tongue slipping smoothly into Harry's mouth. This is more pleasant than Harry thought it would be. He always envisioned French kisses as something involving much more slobber. Harry thinks to himself that this might be arousing if he wasn't going to die shortly.
He doesn't know exactly when he is fully healed. He only remembers that at some point he was able to arch up into Lucius' heat and Lucius pulled him closer. He moves down to place a kiss on Harry's collarbone. Harry hisses, wraps a leg around Lucius, realizes that he couldn't do that before. He hears a gasp he knows isn't his. He looks up to face Ron and Hermione, both very dirty, both covered with bright pink stripes across their skin where they have been freshly healed. They have bruises where the rubble struck them and blood where the debris pierced their skin, but they are fine-- except for the looks of horror on their faces.
Harry freezes. Lucius notices his reaction and looks over his shoulder. He chuckles darkly. "Remember our deal, " he whispers. He kisses Harry once more for show and then disapparates.
Ron and Hermione don't believe Harry when he says that his snog session with Lucius saved their lives. They think that he has lost his mind because an insane Harry is better than a traitorous Harry and those are the only explanations they will accept. Upon closer examination it becomes apparent that Harry is not insane and instead of the secret missions Dumbeldore sent him on, he is placed in Lucius' bed, at Voldemort's side, or conspiring with Pettigrew. Ron and Hermione don't say a word, but Harry can see the suspicions flitting behind their eyes
Something is broken that day. Harry is offered the job Fudge held until his gruesome and not entirely unexpected death. He declines. Bureaucracy and rules have never agreed with him. He returns to school but is more alone than ever. His friends have deserted him in all but name. Everyone else he meets reveres him. He is disgusted. He feels unclean, cheap, and dishonest. School ends. He is invited to Ron and Hermione's wedding. He attends, makes his obligatory toast, and fakes a smile for the cameras. After the reception he runs.
He is ill prepared for such an undertaking. Determined to leave the wizarding world and become invisible, he doesn't think to take anything except the money in his pockets and the clothes on his back. He barely refrains from snapping his wand, using it instead to summon documents he might need in the Muggle world. He keeps his name. That, at least, is his. He has more right to it than anyone.
He sleeps the days away. He goes to work at night and comes home immediately afterward. He feels like he is waiting for something, an invitation to start his life, but one is not forthcoming in the mail and so he continues his routine. He has no lovers. His only real friend is Kristine. Despite the waiting, he is happy. He has something to do and no obligations to do anything except what he wants. But he is always pretending. It seems to be his destiny--- to always hide a part of himself. Then Lucius shows up and somehow Harry knows that a chapter of his life is finished.
And that scares him to death.
***
Feedback is adored.