A/N: Not much to say really...
Thank you's are in order. So thanks to the following people for taking the time to comment: CaratGold (i remember you from Swan!) Francois Favier (mmmm...cocoa), Alicia Black, Heather M, Lady Phoenix Slytherin, Manda Lee04, Marselie, Jessyka, Dillon, Allana, Jo (*laughs* you almost scare me. almost.), Disgruntled Fox (thanks for the offer. i might just take you up on that), Bibayb (i haven't forgotten...^^;), SailorBaby16, and moonlightDream.
***
A smirk appears on the sharp features of Lucius Malfoy. The shifting lights of the club lend him a demonic aura, though most would agree that Lucius didn't have to borrow much. "I see your grace doesn't extend any further than the stage," he says dryly.
Harry doesn't reply. Indeed he seems incapable of replying. Kristine casts him a questioning look. He doesn't see it, runs his hands over his eyes, shuts his mouth. He looks sick.
"You are beastly difficult to track down," Lucius says. Kristine sets a martini down in front of him. He picks it up gently by the stem, sips it. An almost pleased look crosses his features and he sets it down. "And to think you've been working in my establishment for the past year."
"Year and a half," Harry mumbles. Lucius nods in concession. Harry absorbs what Lucius has just said.
"Wait, your establishment?" Another nod from the blond man. "You own this place?"
"Mr. Potter, our relations are going to be quite difficult if you have trouble with the concept of ownership. 'My' as in 'belonging to me' as in 'I am responsible for what goes on here'." Lucius explains. Kristine goes to the other end of the bar so that the two men cannot hear her snickers.
"But you hate Muggles," Harry says stupidly. He is off-balance, telling himself that this cannot be happening, while verifying with every sense he has that this is happening. Lucius shrugs.
"Muggles are good for business," he replies. Harry swallows.
"We have matters to discuss. Shall we go upstairs?" Harry has enough sense to realize that it wasn't a question. Lucius touches Harry's wrist. Harry recoils. It is barely noticeable, but Lucius notices. His fingers encircle Harry's wrist. Lucius leads him away from the bar-- from safety, familiarity, and
Kristine. Harry stumbles, unsure, aware of everyone looking on as the Untouchable One was defeated, claimed at last. Harry blushes. He turns away from the eyes and tries to free himself from Lucius' grip.
"Is there a problem?" Lucius asks. Harry glances around, a deer in the headlights. Lucius' lip quirks up at the corner. "Shy?" Harry shoots him a cold glare. Lucius smiles. "Of course you're not shy. Ignore them." Harry remains frozen to the spot. Lucius follows his gaze to the offending parties. He makes a gesture Harry can't see. An agonized scream sounds shortly after. Harry closes his eyes and follows Lucius up the spiral stairs and into a room at the end of a dark corridor.
He opens his eyes and nearly weeps in relief. It is an office, expensively but simply furnished. He looks around. Lucius takes a chair along the wall. He waits for Harry, who crosses to the window and stares out at the skyline.
"Don't make me keep my promise." He has thought of so many things to say to Lucius. So many ways of begging Lucius to untie the knot, so many ways of compensating him. When it comes time to voice them, all Harry can say is his most desperate thought. It is what he has been thinking all the way upstairs. /* Please don't say no. Don't make me stick to my promise.*/ It seems so long ago that he went to Lucius to...Harry furrows his brow. He can't remember why he went to Lucius.
/* Harry shows up after graduation on Lucius' doorstep without having to be told. Lucius lives alone. Narcissa died several years ago from a rare disease. Draco had been killed by overexcited aurors too jittery to stop hexing long enough to identify who was on their side.
Harry attended the funeral, having a great amount of respect for the younger Malfoy for choosing his own path. He laid roses on the coffin. They were white. Hermione and Ron had gone because Harry asked or, more properly, begged them to go. They grudgingly admitted that Draco had been a competent fighter.
After the service, Harry had offered Lucius his hand. Lucius had stared at him.
"My sincerest apologies for you loss, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said truly. Lucius took the proffered hand.
"Thank you for the card," he said civilly.
"You sent that bastard a card?" Ron hissed. Harry shrugged.
"The man lost his son. And Draco was my partner." The Daily Prophet had a field day with that quote. Harry never knew the word "partner" had so many implications until he saw them all printed and used in conjunction with Draco and himself. His friends had not been pleased. Then again Harry hadn't pleased anyone since the Triwizard tournament.
That had been when Ron and Hermione were talking to him. That is not the case as Harry rings the bell of Malfoy Manor. He is just as alone as Lucius. The remaining Malfoy opens the door himself. He looks haggard, like he has been up all night. He is surprised to see Harry, but no one is more surprised to see Harry at the Manor than Harry himself. He cannot think why he is here. He feels somehow obliged to be here. He has nowhere else to go.
Lucius gives Harry an oversized, but strangely endearing set of rooms not very far from his own chambers. Harry remembers seeing furniture like this before, in a library book about art. The style is Art Nouveau. It is so striking it almost isn't beautiful. It is bold, dramatic, lush, and almost overpowering. At first, Harry is pleased. */
Harry blinks. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"Why did you leave?" Lucius repeats.
/* Harry doesn't stay with Lucius long before he notices something very wrong about the man. It's his eyes. Lucius' eyes are matte silver-blue, distant, sometimes even vacant, like he lives in the past. But when he looks at Harry, his eyes positively shine. That in itself wouldn't bother Harry, if it weren't for the fact that Lucius stares. His eyes take in everything. Every curve, every line, every variation of color in Harry's skin is burned onto Lucius' retinas. Lucius's manner is nonchalant, indifferent even, but his eyes have a lunatic gleam and the way they focus on Harry makes Harry's skin crawl. */
Harry shudders to remember it now. " I had to leave," he says.
"Ah, yes, I understand perfectly. Sometimes the urge to sell your body can be quite overpowering." There is more than a little sarcasm in Lucius' voice.
"What does it matter if I sell myself to the people downstairs or to you?" Harry retorts bitterly. Lucius looks like he is about to reply, but bites his tongue. He glares at Harry. Harry waits for Lucius to reply, slightly stunned at himself for what he had just said.
"You want to break our deal?" Lucius asks coolly.
"No, I actually wanted to extend it." Harry says, matching Lucius' earlier sarcasm.
"Be serious."
"Yes, I want to break our deal." Lucius sighs.
"Well, I suppose we could..." Harry looks hopeful. "But then we would return to our pre-deal arrangement." Harry doesn't think he likes the sound of that.
" Which is?" he asks suspiciously.
"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Ron Weasley would die, of course," Lucius explains, steepling his fingers. Harry laughs darkly.
"You really are a bastard, aren't you?"
"I'll have you know that my parents were married a year before I was conceived and that I have no control over a blood contract." Harry definitely doesn't like the sound of that.
"What, exactly, is a blood contract?"
"A magical agreement sealed with blood. In the event that the terms of the contract are not met, the proper consequences happen automatically."
Harry clenches his fists, resists the urge to punch the glass in front of him. He hangs his head, then sighs deeply. He turns to face Lucius, who is looking smug and triumphant, enthroned in a leather armchair. "Now what do I do?" he asks.
"You could run again, though it is rather rude of you to assume I have nothing better to do than hunt you down," Lucius replies, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve.
"You arrogant son of a bitch. How like you to assume that I'm doing this merely to inconvenience you." Lucius shot him a look of impatience.
"You didn't let me finish," he says, his voice thin.
"There's more? This I have to hear," Harry says with a smirk, crossing his arms across his chest. Lucius ignores him.
"If you want to run again, I'll give you a head start. If I can't find you within two years, I'll release you from your contract." Harry is wary.
"I thought you said you couldn't alter a blood contract," he says, cocking his head.
"I can't, not without another blood contract."
Those psychodreamy eyes meet Harry's. Harry catches Lucius' meaning and seizes the letter opener off the desk. Before Lucius can react, Harry jabs the letter opener into Lucius' palm. "Merlin, you didn't have to maim me!" Lucius cries out, eyes glittering indignantly.
"I know. That was for fun," Harry replies, drawing a line across his own palm. He grabs Lucius' hand, secretly delighting when the other man winces in pain. "Swear. It."
"I swear. If I don't find you within two years, I release you from our earlier contract."
Harry releases the older man's hand, the knots in his stomach loosening as he dares to hope. Lucius removes a handkerchief from the pocket of his robes and wraps it around his injured hand. Harry grins at him. "Happy hunting, Lucius."
For the first time in nearly two years, he disapparates.
Thank you's are in order. So thanks to the following people for taking the time to comment: CaratGold (i remember you from Swan!) Francois Favier (mmmm...cocoa), Alicia Black, Heather M, Lady Phoenix Slytherin, Manda Lee04, Marselie, Jessyka, Dillon, Allana, Jo (*laughs* you almost scare me. almost.), Disgruntled Fox (thanks for the offer. i might just take you up on that), Bibayb (i haven't forgotten...^^;), SailorBaby16, and moonlightDream.
***
A smirk appears on the sharp features of Lucius Malfoy. The shifting lights of the club lend him a demonic aura, though most would agree that Lucius didn't have to borrow much. "I see your grace doesn't extend any further than the stage," he says dryly.
Harry doesn't reply. Indeed he seems incapable of replying. Kristine casts him a questioning look. He doesn't see it, runs his hands over his eyes, shuts his mouth. He looks sick.
"You are beastly difficult to track down," Lucius says. Kristine sets a martini down in front of him. He picks it up gently by the stem, sips it. An almost pleased look crosses his features and he sets it down. "And to think you've been working in my establishment for the past year."
"Year and a half," Harry mumbles. Lucius nods in concession. Harry absorbs what Lucius has just said.
"Wait, your establishment?" Another nod from the blond man. "You own this place?"
"Mr. Potter, our relations are going to be quite difficult if you have trouble with the concept of ownership. 'My' as in 'belonging to me' as in 'I am responsible for what goes on here'." Lucius explains. Kristine goes to the other end of the bar so that the two men cannot hear her snickers.
"But you hate Muggles," Harry says stupidly. He is off-balance, telling himself that this cannot be happening, while verifying with every sense he has that this is happening. Lucius shrugs.
"Muggles are good for business," he replies. Harry swallows.
"We have matters to discuss. Shall we go upstairs?" Harry has enough sense to realize that it wasn't a question. Lucius touches Harry's wrist. Harry recoils. It is barely noticeable, but Lucius notices. His fingers encircle Harry's wrist. Lucius leads him away from the bar-- from safety, familiarity, and
Kristine. Harry stumbles, unsure, aware of everyone looking on as the Untouchable One was defeated, claimed at last. Harry blushes. He turns away from the eyes and tries to free himself from Lucius' grip.
"Is there a problem?" Lucius asks. Harry glances around, a deer in the headlights. Lucius' lip quirks up at the corner. "Shy?" Harry shoots him a cold glare. Lucius smiles. "Of course you're not shy. Ignore them." Harry remains frozen to the spot. Lucius follows his gaze to the offending parties. He makes a gesture Harry can't see. An agonized scream sounds shortly after. Harry closes his eyes and follows Lucius up the spiral stairs and into a room at the end of a dark corridor.
He opens his eyes and nearly weeps in relief. It is an office, expensively but simply furnished. He looks around. Lucius takes a chair along the wall. He waits for Harry, who crosses to the window and stares out at the skyline.
"Don't make me keep my promise." He has thought of so many things to say to Lucius. So many ways of begging Lucius to untie the knot, so many ways of compensating him. When it comes time to voice them, all Harry can say is his most desperate thought. It is what he has been thinking all the way upstairs. /* Please don't say no. Don't make me stick to my promise.*/ It seems so long ago that he went to Lucius to...Harry furrows his brow. He can't remember why he went to Lucius.
/* Harry shows up after graduation on Lucius' doorstep without having to be told. Lucius lives alone. Narcissa died several years ago from a rare disease. Draco had been killed by overexcited aurors too jittery to stop hexing long enough to identify who was on their side.
Harry attended the funeral, having a great amount of respect for the younger Malfoy for choosing his own path. He laid roses on the coffin. They were white. Hermione and Ron had gone because Harry asked or, more properly, begged them to go. They grudgingly admitted that Draco had been a competent fighter.
After the service, Harry had offered Lucius his hand. Lucius had stared at him.
"My sincerest apologies for you loss, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said truly. Lucius took the proffered hand.
"Thank you for the card," he said civilly.
"You sent that bastard a card?" Ron hissed. Harry shrugged.
"The man lost his son. And Draco was my partner." The Daily Prophet had a field day with that quote. Harry never knew the word "partner" had so many implications until he saw them all printed and used in conjunction with Draco and himself. His friends had not been pleased. Then again Harry hadn't pleased anyone since the Triwizard tournament.
That had been when Ron and Hermione were talking to him. That is not the case as Harry rings the bell of Malfoy Manor. He is just as alone as Lucius. The remaining Malfoy opens the door himself. He looks haggard, like he has been up all night. He is surprised to see Harry, but no one is more surprised to see Harry at the Manor than Harry himself. He cannot think why he is here. He feels somehow obliged to be here. He has nowhere else to go.
Lucius gives Harry an oversized, but strangely endearing set of rooms not very far from his own chambers. Harry remembers seeing furniture like this before, in a library book about art. The style is Art Nouveau. It is so striking it almost isn't beautiful. It is bold, dramatic, lush, and almost overpowering. At first, Harry is pleased. */
Harry blinks. "I'm sorry. What did you say?"
"Why did you leave?" Lucius repeats.
/* Harry doesn't stay with Lucius long before he notices something very wrong about the man. It's his eyes. Lucius' eyes are matte silver-blue, distant, sometimes even vacant, like he lives in the past. But when he looks at Harry, his eyes positively shine. That in itself wouldn't bother Harry, if it weren't for the fact that Lucius stares. His eyes take in everything. Every curve, every line, every variation of color in Harry's skin is burned onto Lucius' retinas. Lucius's manner is nonchalant, indifferent even, but his eyes have a lunatic gleam and the way they focus on Harry makes Harry's skin crawl. */
Harry shudders to remember it now. " I had to leave," he says.
"Ah, yes, I understand perfectly. Sometimes the urge to sell your body can be quite overpowering." There is more than a little sarcasm in Lucius' voice.
"What does it matter if I sell myself to the people downstairs or to you?" Harry retorts bitterly. Lucius looks like he is about to reply, but bites his tongue. He glares at Harry. Harry waits for Lucius to reply, slightly stunned at himself for what he had just said.
"You want to break our deal?" Lucius asks coolly.
"No, I actually wanted to extend it." Harry says, matching Lucius' earlier sarcasm.
"Be serious."
"Yes, I want to break our deal." Lucius sighs.
"Well, I suppose we could..." Harry looks hopeful. "But then we would return to our pre-deal arrangement." Harry doesn't think he likes the sound of that.
" Which is?" he asks suspiciously.
"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Ron Weasley would die, of course," Lucius explains, steepling his fingers. Harry laughs darkly.
"You really are a bastard, aren't you?"
"I'll have you know that my parents were married a year before I was conceived and that I have no control over a blood contract." Harry definitely doesn't like the sound of that.
"What, exactly, is a blood contract?"
"A magical agreement sealed with blood. In the event that the terms of the contract are not met, the proper consequences happen automatically."
Harry clenches his fists, resists the urge to punch the glass in front of him. He hangs his head, then sighs deeply. He turns to face Lucius, who is looking smug and triumphant, enthroned in a leather armchair. "Now what do I do?" he asks.
"You could run again, though it is rather rude of you to assume I have nothing better to do than hunt you down," Lucius replies, brushing an imaginary speck of dust off his sleeve.
"You arrogant son of a bitch. How like you to assume that I'm doing this merely to inconvenience you." Lucius shot him a look of impatience.
"You didn't let me finish," he says, his voice thin.
"There's more? This I have to hear," Harry says with a smirk, crossing his arms across his chest. Lucius ignores him.
"If you want to run again, I'll give you a head start. If I can't find you within two years, I'll release you from your contract." Harry is wary.
"I thought you said you couldn't alter a blood contract," he says, cocking his head.
"I can't, not without another blood contract."
Those psychodreamy eyes meet Harry's. Harry catches Lucius' meaning and seizes the letter opener off the desk. Before Lucius can react, Harry jabs the letter opener into Lucius' palm. "Merlin, you didn't have to maim me!" Lucius cries out, eyes glittering indignantly.
"I know. That was for fun," Harry replies, drawing a line across his own palm. He grabs Lucius' hand, secretly delighting when the other man winces in pain. "Swear. It."
"I swear. If I don't find you within two years, I release you from our earlier contract."
Harry releases the older man's hand, the knots in his stomach loosening as he dares to hope. Lucius removes a handkerchief from the pocket of his robes and wraps it around his injured hand. Harry grins at him. "Happy hunting, Lucius."
For the first time in nearly two years, he disapparates.