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The boy was back again.

He was regular as clockwork, Lucius had to give him that. 

Always on time, every week.

Lucius worked to keep his expression blank, acting as though he wasn’t just as focused on the boy as the boy was on him. Perhaps more than. Very likely more than.

Despite being mostly cleared of any involvement in the war after it had come to light how he’d been dosed by his dear wife with both love potions and other various compulsion potions for the entire duration of their relationship, the wixen community at large was not quick to forgive and forget. 

Or even believe.

Not that Lucius truly blamed them, he was horrified himself when Severus finally managed to figure out what was going on and had administered the necessary expulsion potions. It was only the sudden violence of Lucius during the second war that made Severus realise that his friend had not simply married Narcissa Black and joined the Dark Lord under duress from his father.

Again, Lucius could not blame his friend for this. He had always been private and distant, if only to protect himself. Severus had known that Lucius couldn’t love his wife romantically, but had believed that they had striven to make the arrangement work for the sake of their child after Abraxas Malfoy had forced them together. 

Instead Severus had discovered, after his initial worry, that Narcissa had been in on the whole thing from the start, working with Abraxas to feed his son potions that would ensure that the Dark Lord would have his best Death Eater, Narcissa her perfect pureblood husband, and Abraxas his pure line continued.

However, Lucius had always abhorred violence, especially when directed at children, and it was this that raised suspicion. Severus had known of the dislike of violence well, it was Lucius who had protected him from his own father’s violence after his mother died, and he couldn't imagine fatherhood changing this aspect of his friend’s personality. So when he’d seen how Lucius had behaved in the Department of Mysteries, the sudden violence directed at a group of 15 year olds coupled with odd glitches where he seemed to be fighting himself rather than anyone else, he’d realised there had to be something interfering with Lucius’ free will. 

He had had to wait of course, to make sure he could figure out from Narcissa (in her less guarded moments) what exactly she’d done to her husband and for Lucius and the other Death Eaters to be broken out of Azkaban. Only then could he brew the correct antidotes and expulsion potions and safely administer them under the guise of healing potions.

The changes in Lucius, with the potions now fully out of his system, could be easily explained away as the effect of Azkaban and his fear of punishment from the Dark Lord.

And Lucius had been terrified. 

Despite Narcissa’s potions and clever plans to keep Lucius away from Draco as much as possible, Lucius loved his son dearly and had never wanted for him to get involved with the Dark Lord. Unfortunately, that had already happened while Lucius was still in prison, and then he had to act as though he was still under Narcissa’s control.

It had been torture, just sitting next to her had made his skin crawl and bile rising in throat. But Lucius was nothing if not strong, both in character and magic. Even at school Lucius had been a powerful wizard, and it was this that had attracted both Narcissa and the Dark Lord. In very different ways, sure, but ultimately what they wanted was Lucius’ magical power. 

It was Draco who kept him going. 

Together with Severus he turned spy for Dumbledore, on the strict understanding that his son was to be protected. During Draco’s sixth year he was introduced to and taken under the wing of the golden trio, albeit secretly, and when Dumbledore had died he had joined the trio for their horcrux hunt.

Meanwhile, Lucius had stayed undercover with the Death Eaters, working to undermine their efforts to locate the Chosen One and his entourage, and to kill muggles and muggleborns. Just before the Battle of Hogwarts, the golden trio and Draco had been taken to Malfoy Manor, and it had taken considerable skill and cunning to get them out of there intact.

Luckily for Lucius, the Dark Lord had decided to hold Narcissa responsible because she had been supposed to keep her husband and child in line, and it was she who was tortured and killed as a result.

Still, after the death of Voldemort, and despite the revelations about Lucius’ involvement, the wixen world was wary of Lucius Malfoy. There was no outright hatred really, having the support of the Saviour had stopped the worst of it, but he was still avoided and met with suspicion when walking down Diagon Alley.

That was why he’d decided to stray into the muggle world. For his own amusement he had started a high end muggle nightclub, a place where he could go once a week to simply be away from his own mess of a life. A place where no one scorned him, no one accused him of being an evil bigot, and where gay people could safely get together without fear of violence.

Yes, he had opened a queer muggle nightclub.

Anyone who hadn’t known him well before his marriage would have been shocked and appalled. Severus, who had known him before his marriage, was not. He’d simply snorted and muttered something about promiscuous peacocks. Lucius was the first to admit that he had been a bit of a slut during his later Hogwarts years, but he wasn’t actually helping himself to the patrons of his club.

It had really been about creating a place that he himself would have liked to have as a younger man. The wixen world was more accepting of same sex couples than the muggle world, but pureblood expectations meant that Lucius hadn’t really had anywhere that he felt safe to be himself. He couldn’t go out in the wixen world, word would have reached his father immediately, and in the muggle world the safe places for gay people at the time were mostly underground and not that safe at all.

But this — his club, the Apollo — was truly safe.

And Lucius was proud of that. He enjoyed going to his club every Saturday and see people having fun and being free, and knowing that they were safe, that he was keeping them safe. Of course none of the patrons knew that the club had magical wards set to keep out anyone with malicious intent, or that all drinks were safe from both wixen and muggle drugs, but what was important was that Lucius himself knew. He didn’t need to be on the dance floor with them to appreciate the experience, though he was often ogled where he sat in his box working on various papers or drinking on his own.

Most of all by the boy.

It had happened almost two years after the war ended, that the first wix had found their way to his club, and of course it had to be this particular wix. It couldn’t have been some wayward underage Hogwarts student whom he could gently escort out and give resources to, and make sure they were safe until they were actually old enough to return.

No.

It had to be Harry Potter himself.

The one wix Lucius was already doing his best to avoid.

Lucius had felt him the moment he entered the club. He hadn’t needed to see him or hear his security guard tell him a wix had walked through the wards, the shock of his magic was enough. His magic that rippled through the air like lightning (and how fitting wasn’t that?) and seemed to caress Lucius’ spine whenever they were present in the same building.

And then he had seen him. Gone was the skinny child in overly large muggle clothes and covered in soot or dirt. He had known that, of course, but he had not seen the boy dressed like this. He was still thin and still small, but he moved through the club like air, his mop of curls so dark it was almost blue, clad in tight black leather trousers and a mesh shirt that hid absolutely nothing.

He had walked through the crowd onto the middle of the dance floor and stopped right below the box where Lucius sat, and then he’d looked up and their eyes had met, and Lucius felt it like a physical grip on his body; like something took hold of him and refused to let go. The feeling remained even after the boy’s piercing green eyes left his.

The boy was like a magnet, and not just for Lucius’ attention. No, even without being able to understand or feel his considerable magical power, the patrons of the Apollo flocked to him and he let them. Let them slide up behind him, let them put their hands on him, let them pull him into kisses. 

And it persisted.

Every week for an entire year Lucius had watched the boy arriving at the same time, cause mayhem as the club’s patrons desperately tried to get a piece of him without even knowing what they were gaining, and then wrecking havoc on Lucius by letting his intense eyes linger on Lucius before he left with the week’s chosen one. They had not once spoken about it, but Lucius was sure the boy was egging him on on purpose. It was like he could tell that Lucius’ feelings on the matter of Harry Potter’s promiscuity was more personal than they really should have been, that he knew he’d been working hard to put some distance between them, and whenever he felt himself grow jealous and angry at the way someone were touching the Savour, the boy would look at him as if in challenge.

If only he could confine his thoughts of him to only that one night a week at the club, it might have been fine. But that wasn’t possible. Despite changing his mind on becoming an Auror and instead taking on an apprenticeship with Mr Ollivander as a wandmaker, and therefore not being as much in the public’s adoring eye as a hero anymore, the boy was also active in several charities which gained him publicity as well as being one of Draco’s best friends and therefore a constant guest at the manor.

This meant that Lucius felt he knew much more about Harry Potter than he had ever thought he would want. Because whenever he wasn’t egging Lucius on by gyrating against strangers, the boy was still so wholly good. He was always there for his friends and the causes he gave both time and money to, he joined Puddlemere United as a stand-in seeker and did brilliantly every time he played, and according to Mr Ollivander (who Lucius had taken to invite for tea in the hopes that he could mend what had been broken during the wars) he was the finest apprentice a wandmaker could have wished for and even more promising than the old man himself had been.

Lucius should probably have been surprised by that, but he wasn’t.

“Father?”

Draco popped his head through the door of Lucius’ study, where he was currently seated by his desk and working on the finances of his club. He knew he could easily get someone else to do it, but he liked being in control. He always had, but especially now. Still, he looked up to give his son his full attention.

“Yes, Draco?”

Draco entered the study and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk, appearing slightly nervous, but also happy and excited. Another thing Lucius had to thank Harry Potter for. His friendship had brought out the best in Draco, who had grown up so coddled and used by his mother, and Lucius was proud of the son he now had.

“I wanted to ask you a favour,” Draco said, his voice steady despite his obvious nerves. “I know you’re keeping your club a secret from the wixen world, but would you mind opening it up for perhaps six or seven of us just for one night?”

His face took on a pleading look.

“Why?”

Draco had never asked much about the club before, other than to know about the name and what it was like there. He knew what his mother had done, and that his father was gay, so Lucius hadn’t been afraid to tell his son about why he chose the name Apollo — the Greek god with perhaps the most male lovers, who was also considered the protector of the young. They’d had a very open dialogue about sexuality and gender, and it was one of the things that had brought them closer after the war.

“It’s Luna’s birthday soon, she turns 20 and I wanted to let her experience it and experience it with her. There aren’t many nightclubs in the wixen world, and we’re both pan, and most of our friends are gay, so I thought it might be nice, and Harry said he was sure Luna would love to go and that he would like to pay for the entire evening, though I told him that if we’re going to my father’s club to celebrate my girlfriend I might as well be the one to pay—,”

“Son, you’re rambling.”

“Sorry.”

The tips of Draco’s ears turned a bright red, but Lucius couldn’t appreciate it, his mind too caught up in one small detail.

“How does Mr Potter know about your father’s club?”

The blush spread from Draco’s ears to his face, though he managed to keep his expression mostly relaxed.

“Oh, actually err, Yule last year we’d been out having a drink and Harry and I begun talking about our 20th birthdays. They’re less than two months apart, so we figured we could celebrate together. So I might have mentioned your club as a possible venue for it. There’s nothing to worry about though, Harry wouldn’t tell a soul. I told him you were keeping it to the muggle world for a reason and if anyone can respect that it’s Harry. And he’s the only one who knows, he said I should ask you before suggesting it to anyone else. Said he wouldn’t want us to bother you when you’re so busy at the club, something like that.”

There it was. That challenge again, this time through his own son. His son who hadn’t even wondered what the boy would know about Lucius spending any time at his own club, let alone what he did while he was there. So Draco was the reason the boy had found the Apollo. He couldn’t blame Draco much for that, he knew that his son had a somewhat low tolerance of alcohol and that the boy had a surprisingly high one (he’d never once seen him stagger on his way out of the club, even after having many many drinks).

“Mr Potter was right, it was a good idea to ask me first.”

Draco looked like he only just stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“You can call him Harry, father. He is the only one of my friends you don’t call by their given name.”

It was true, Lucius did use his son’s friends’ given names for the most part, though he said Ronald and Ginevra rather than Ron and Ginny, but at this point he was scared of what might happen if he allowed himself to call the boy ‘Harry’.

“One mustn’t take liberties, Draco,” he said instead of revealing his actual thoughts on the matter. “Now, who are these six or seven people you would like to take to the club?”

Draco perked up immediately.

“There’s me and Luna, of course, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, and Neville and Blaise. Ginny has a game that day, so she won’t be able to go. I asked Harry if he wouldn’t want to bring a date since the rest of us are paired up, but he said he didn’t need one. Said something about being sure he’d find the perfect partner at the club. Seems he’s got a lot of faith in your work, father.”

He chuckled a little at the antics of his friend, not noticing how Lucius had tensed. 

The boy was teasing him. And it was all Lucius could do not to snap right there and then, in front of his son. He took a deep breath to steady himself and focused on Draco again, trying to forget the existence of Harry bloody Potter.

“Fine, I will let you celebrate Luna’s 20th birthday at the club, but only those friends you mentioned and only if they agree to make a vow not to speak of it to anyone else.”

“Thank you, father!”

At the beaming face of his son, Lucius couldn’t help but feel happy about his decision, even if it did accept the Saviour’s presence at his club.

**

“Harry!”

Harry looked up from the wand he was finishing off. It was beauty, if he might say so himself; a light cherry tree wood with a unicorn hair core, 9 inches. He’d been putting the finishing touches on it that day, adding a pearl to the handle to give it better balance. Now all he had to do was polish it nicely, and it was here he was disturbed by his friend, who had walked through the shop and into the workroom probably without even greeting Mr Ollivander or giving their customers a glance of acknowledgement.

“Yes, Draco? You’re unusually cheerful today.”

“He said yes, Harry.” At Harry’s blank look he huffed annoyedly. “My father, he said yes to Luna’s birthday celebration.”

A slow smile spread across Harry’s face as he let his mind drift from wandlore to what Draco had said.

“That’s wonderful, Draco.”

“That smile makes you look creepy, Harry,” Draco said with a suspicious frown. “What are you up to? Why do I feel like I’ve been played?”

“Oh Draco.” Harry sighed theatrically as he put his things away, then got up from his chair and hugged Draco around the middle. “As if I, a mere Gryffindor, could ever play you, the quintessential Slytherin.”

It was a boldfaced lie, of course, since Harry had only gone to Gryffindor because he refused to be put in Slytherin, and because it was obviously Lucius Malfoy who was the quintessential Slytherin.

Draco glared down at him, but still hugged him back.

“I don’t believe you for a second, Harry Potter, but I have a feeling I don’t want to know, so I’ll let it pass.”

“You always was the smart one of the group,” Harry said vaguely, reaching up to pat Draco on the head and making him huff an exasperated laugh. “Come on, we better plan. Your father said yes, which I’m assuming meant ‘yes, but’ — correct?”

“Should I be worried about this very apt reading of my father from you, Harry?”

“Not in the least.”

**

Two weeks later they were all getting ready to go out, most of them from Harry’s London flat. 

After the war he hadn’t wanted to intrude on Sirius and Remus at 12 Grimmauld Place, so instead he’d looked up Potter properties, found a flat in Kensington that was a nice size, and hired Dobby and Winky to help him clean the place up. It was now a beautiful three-bedroom three-bathroom flat that he felt proud to own and invite his friends to, and Dobby and Winky had their own quarters too.

Ron and Hermione were meeting them outside the club, but Draco, Luna, Neville, and Blaise had spent most of the day with Harry. They’d had a picnic on the lawn connected to Harry’s flat (covered in a strong atmospheric charm to make it comfortable in the mid-February cold), and watched films before splitting up to change into outfits fit for a nightclub like the Apollo.

Of course, Harry was the only one who had been there and knew what it was like, but no one knew about that. 

Well, except Lucius. 

Harry had chosen to wear skintight tartan trousers and the mesh shirt he’d worn his first time at the club, just to give him a bit of nostalgia — and because it showed off his toned upper body. He knew he looked good now that he was at a more healthy weight and constantly worked out. He made sure that he could always take over for Puddlemere’s main seeker even at a few minutes notice.

After topping off his outfit with his dragon hide boots and a spot of kohl around his eyes, Harry walked out of his room and was met with the sight of four of his best friends.

“Well, don’t we scrub up nice?”

Luna turned around and bounced over to give him a hug. 

She was wearing a cute black skater dress in a stretchy leathery material, paired with lavender coloured buckled high heeled boots, her radish earrings and necklace spelled lavender to match them. Her long blond hair was loose down her back, and her makeup brought out her blue eyes. She made a nice pair with Draco, both of them blond and pale. Draco wore trousers in the same material as Luna’s dress and a shirt in a pale silver. A few buttons were open at his throat, showing off the few silver chains he wore around his neck, matching his Malfoy Heir ring.

Blaise had on a dark burgundy muggle suit, hugging his figure in all the right places, and Neville a similar suit except his was in a dark dark green, both wearing black t-shirts instead of dress shirts. Harry didn’t ask, but he guessed it had been a ‘you wear red and I’ll wear green’ sort of house colour swap thing. Blaise had always been an arrogant flirt, but Neville had him eating out of his hand like a puppy. It had mellowed Blaise out since Hogwarts, allowing his clever humour to actually show through, and Harry now considered him as close a friend as anyone, just on his own merit. It had also helped that Blaise was Ron’s Auror partner.

“I’m so looking forward to this.” 

Luna’s dreamy voice broke through his musings. As both of them had boots on, though Luna’s were taller, they were now the same height, which was fun. Harry was the shortest of all his male friends, but he didn’t mind that anymore. It made things easier anyway, and he was an excellent size for a seeker. 

“Thank you for coming up with this idea, Harry.”

He looked at Luna. 

“Why do you think it was my idea?”

“Oh Harry,” was all Luna said in reply before she took his hand and turned to the others. “Shall we go?”

They were a merry gang as they walked the short distance from the Apparition point to the Apollo, and an even merrier one when they met up with Ron and Hermione in front of it.

Harry could tell right away that Hermione had taken charge of their outfits. They both wore the same deep blue, though Hermione’s was in the form of a short velvety dress that hugged her figure tightly and Ron’s in the form of a muggle suit and a black dress shirt, his suit jacket slung over a shoulder with one hand, while the other was firmly placed around Hermione’s waist. She’d even managed to make him style his hair.

“Oh Harry, you look good enough to eat!”

Hermione’s outburst made Harry laugh happily and hug her tightly. With nine inch heels she was much taller than him, of course.

“I’d say the same to you, but I’m too gay, so instead I’ll say you look drop dead gorgeous.”

Hermione laughed too at that, and they all hugged and complimented each other. Ron was really the only straight one in their group, but then again he had never really found anyone but Hermione attractive (Lavender had been no more than desperation, he’d revealed to Harry once, which was why the snogging had annoyed him so much), so Harry was pretty sure he might be demisexual or something. Hermione herself was bi, as was Blaise, Draco and Luna were both pan (Luna was also nonbinary), and Neville and Harry were gay. Ginny, though not present, was also bi.

All in all, they were an extremely queer group. 

“So what’s the deal with the name?”

It was Ron who asked, once they’d all said hello and given the proper amount of compliments all around. The question was mainly targeted at Draco, but it was Harry who replied, his eyes on one of the chains on his trousers, trying to fasten it where he wanted it.

“Because he was very gay and a protector of youth.”

He looked up and met surprised faces.

“Yes, that’s exactly why,” Draco said bemusedly. “Did I tell you that?”

“No, I just know my gay mythology.”

Harry shrugged, and walked into the club, knowing the others would follow him in.

From the moment he set foot in the club a year earlier, Harry had loved it. The entire feel of it was like a warm blanket on his nerves, it felt safe. He knew Lucius had wanted it to be safe, he could tell the wards stopped anyone who might have bad intentions and that the glasses were spelled against unwanted drugs, knew that a select few wixes (probably under strict vows) were paying close attention in case someone were subjected to unwanted attention. 

He knew that Lucius didn’t actually need to be there every week, but that he enjoyed seeing for himself that it worked. And that he enjoyed watching Harry, however frustrated Harry made him. Because Harry knew that too.

When Harry had first begun noticing Lucius Malfoy, he wasn't completely sure, but when he’d felt Lucius’ hands on his just-out-of-death body and Lucius’ breath against his cheek, and Lucius’ voice in his ear asking whether his son was alive, Harry had been lost in him already. He’d put it away to deal with Voldemort, but afterwards he’d done whatever he could to see the man.

It had been annoying at first when Lucius avoided him so obviously, hiding away the moment Harry arrived at the Manor and never calling him by his given name, but then he’d realised that Lucius must have a reason to be so desperate to distance himself from Harry. He had no problem with Draco’s other friends, had even given Hermione carte blanche to use his library and would often talk to her about her research into spellwork.

So Harry had begun paying more attention.

He’d noticed the way Lucius seemed to be forcing himself to look anywhere else but at Harry, how he’d excuse himself as soon as possible and leave them with a millisecond long glance in Harry’s direction. He’d begun asking Draco about his father, making comments about how he was being ignored and barely keeping his smile down when Draco told him how weird it was since Lucius always seemed to pay attention when Draco told him about their most recent outings or something Harry had said.

And then Draco had mentioned the club.

They’d been out at a muggle brewery and bar, and Draco had had a bit too much to drink. He’d begun talking spiritedly about having a shared birthday party and then mused aloud about whether or not Lucius would let them have it at his club. Draco himself had never even been there, but it sounded so fun, he’d said. And Harry had let him talk, promising to not breathe a word about it to anyone.

A week later Harry had gone to the club for the first time. He’d entered the wards, feeling how they shook slightly at his magic, and he knew word of his arrival would be sent to Lucius. Then he had felt Lucius’ magic. It was obvious to Harry from the moment he was through the wards, and he’d followed it until he was in the middle of the dance floor and then he’d looked up and met Lucius’ intense blue eyes through the glass of the box where he sat.

Harry couldn’t help but return each and every week, not missing a single one. The feeling of Lucius’ eyes on him was addicting. Lucius, who moved like a panther and stalked Harry’s every move at the club like a predator might stalk its prey. And Harry wanted to be his prey. Wanted it more than he had wanted anything else. So he dangled himself in front of Lucius on purpose, made sure Lucius could always see him, could always see when he left with someone who was not Lucius.

A year of this and Lucius, however frustrated Harry could feel that he was, refused to do anything about it. It was enough to drive anyone to desperation really.

Like always, Harry walked through the crowd and onto the middle of the dance floor. He moved to the music, closing his eyes and revelling in the feel of Lucius’ magic for a moment before opening his eyes to meet Lucius’. As usual they were piercing and intensely focused on Harry. His frustration was palpable, Harry could see his jaw working, as if he was physically holding himself back.

“Oi, Harry you little slut, you’re supposed to be with us,” came Draco’s voice, yelling to make himself heard over the music.

Harry turned and beamed at him, hugging him around the middle and let him lead him back to the table they had chosen.

“I found him in the middle of a group of groping men, can you believe it?” Draco said exasperatedly to the rest of the group.

“Yes!”

All of them had answered as one, and Harry had to roll his eyes as they broke down laughing at their own joke.

“You make me sound promiscuous,” Harry said in offence.

“Harry darling,” Hermione said softly, holding onto his shoulder, “you are. And that’s fine. We all love you just the same.”

“I’m not actually promiscuous though,” he argued back.

“Nah, you’re just a tease,” Ron agreed.

Draco, Blaise, and Neville snickered at that. Harry couldn’t even argue against it. Every week at the club he’d left with a new person, but most of them hadn’t even gotten to touch him after they left. He was far from a virgin, sure, but most of the time he really did just string people along for the night. His friends had seen it happen more than once. Someone would catch his attention, but then he’d find faults with every single one (mostly it was simply ‘he’s not Lucius’), and deem them not worth his time after all, often leaving them horny and alone in a bathroom stall or an alley.

“He just has very specific tastes,” Luna shot in with a certainty that made Harry squirm in his seat.

“What tastes are these, Luna?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, Blaise.” Luna turned to Draco, who gave her an adoring look that made Harry smile despite himself. “Draco, could you help me get drinks for everyone?”

“Of course, love.”

With everyone deciding on which drinks to choose the topic of Harry’s ‘specific tastes’ fell by the wayside, much to Harry’s relief.

He stayed with his friends for a couple of hours, drinking and dancing, all the while feeling Lucius’ eyes following him. When his friends had gone dancing with their own partners, all of them soused up enough that they shouldn’t notice his disappearance, Harry moved to the back of the building where the toilets were — and the stairs leading to Lucius’ box.

The door to the staircase was warded, but it was easy enough for Harry to get through. It wasn’t really designed to keep out wixes after all, it was to make sure no muggles accidentally (or not) made their way to the box.

When Harry reached the door to the box he didn’t bother to knock, instead he walked right in. The place was like a miniature version of the club, the sound of the music muffled but still there, and the bass was still felt through the floor. There was a bar in a corner, where Lucius could make himself drinks if he wanted to, as well as the sturdy table where Lucius was sat so that he could watch the space below. He made no show of surprise when Harry walked in, looking for all intents and purposes like he’d summoned him. Harry couldn’t bring himself to mind.

He closed the door behind him, casting wandless locking and one-way silencing spells on it. To this Lucius raised an eyebrow.

“What do you think you’re doing, Mr Potter?”

Harry didn’t reply at first. Instead he walked calmly towards Lucius, sending another wandless spell to obscure the glass before carefully sidestepping the table and climbing onto Lucius’ lap. He was tense, Harry could feel how he held himself back, how he shuddered very slightly when Harry landed in his lap and how his breath was forcefully calm.

“Oh Lucius,” Harry said on a near sigh. “You know exactly what I’m doing. You know that I want you and I know that you want me, and you don’t have to hold yourself back like this.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

Lucius was refusing to look at him now, his gaze somewhere over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry nearly rolled his eyes. What was the man so afraid of?

“How come you can only look at me when I’m here at your club letting other men grind up against me to the beat of the music? I can always tell, you know. I can feel how your eyes follow me when I let them kiss down my neck or move their hands up under my top.” 

Lucius’ eyes were strangely murderous, though still looking over Harry’s shoulder, so Harry kept on talking.

“Whenever I leave the club with someone you look as though you’d like nothing more than to kill them and then punish me.”

“Perhaps I just care about the safety of my son’s friends.”

It was a bad excuse, and they both knew it. Besides…

“And yet you were the same before Draco and Luna, and Neville and Blaise, became got together. You didn’t like how touchy feely Draco and I was, and you hated it when Blaise flirted with me. I wonder if anyone else could tell. I would almost be surprised if they didn’t, because it was rather obvious to me. Then again, perhaps I’m more aware of you than the rest of them are. I have been for years…”

He took the chance to move his hands up Lucius’ chest to his shoulders. He was in great shape. Of course he was young for a wix, but still. Harry could feel his muscles through his shirt as he caressed his chest and shoulders.

“That’s why I couldn’t help coming back here again and again, acting like a two knut whore just to make you look, hoping you might follow me out and see. To make you act. I never took any of them home, you see, we never got further than the alley outside here.” He felt Lucius grind his teeth and tried not to smile smugly at getting a reaction out of him, however small it was it showed that he did care. “The first one I let blow me against the wall.”

He stroked a finger along Lucius’ jaw as he spoke, making it up as he went along.

“The second, I believe his name was Tom funnily enough, fucked my face in that alley.” Lucius’ nostrils flared shortly, in clear anger. Harry leaned in a spoke softly against Lucius’ ear. “How many do you think fucked me against that alley wall just because you couldn’t make up your mind to take me?”

With a deep growl befitting of a predator, Lucius grabbed Harry’s head and smashed their lips together in a near violent kiss that made Harry moan pitifully and push himself against Lucius as much as he possibly could. It was overwhelming, the feeling of Lucius all around him like a drug, turning Harry into a helpless puddle of arousal.

Finally, finally, he had Lucius’ hard body against his own, Lucius’ possessive tongue attacking his mouth.

His euphoria was short lived, however, because suddenly Lucius’ hands caught his hips and pushed him as far out on his lap as he could without Harry falling to the floor, holding him at an arm’s length. Harry whined in displeasure, but stopped fighting against Lucius’ hold once he opened his eyes and got a good look at Lucius’ angry face. 

He looked strangely… betrayed? Hurt?

“Lucius?”

His voice was soft, unsure. He watched as Lucius got control of himself, his emotions disappearing behind his mask of indifference. For the most part.

“I’m too old to take part in your sexual games, Mr Potter.”

Harry looked at him in confusion. Game? Did he think Harry was playing with him?

“Lucius,” Harry said again, voice still soft, but now also sad. He leaned forward and cradled Lucius’ face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over those proud cheekbones. “There’s no game. I just want to be with you, for as long as you will have me. Every time I left here with someone else I said a chaste goodbye to them just outside and never saw them again. I’m certainly no virgin, I won’t claim that, but I’m not actually that loose. And I’ve been obsessed with you for years now, so I’ve had very little interest in anyone else.”

Now Lucius was looking at him, his mask having crumpled away completely so that the shock and hope was more than obvious on Lucius’ face.

“You’re obsessed with me?”

Harry felt his face heating up, but he looked defiantly at Lucius, raising his chin before answering.

“Yes.”

Lucius’ face took on a slightly amused look, then he hummed and Harry drew a sharp breath when he felt Lucius’ thumbs on his skin just above the waistband of his trousers. It was a small touch, and yet Harry felt it like fire on his skin, burning him to the core.

Lucius’ eyes were on him again, predatory once more, and rather than denying himself he seemed to be considering where he wanted to bite first. When warm hands moved up underneath his mesh shirt, Harry couldn’t do anything but hold onto Lucius’ shoulders tightly and close his eyes to the feeling of Lucius’ hands on his naked skin.

The hands were large, and he could feel the slight calluses from where he’d hold his wand and his quill, causing goosebumps to appear all over his skin.

“Do you have any idea what this last year has been like?” Lucius’ voice was a low growl, sending a delightful shiver down Harry’s back. “Having you dangled in front of me, watching you letting others touch you so freely.”

Harry opened his eyes and smirked very slightly, letting a hand drift down Lucius’ front until his palm was flat against his crotch.

“Hard?”

Lucius hissed a curse and pulled Harry back into a hard kiss, grabbing Harry’s hand and holding it in place behind his back. Harry was smiling into the kiss, but it turned into a whimper when Lucius pushed their crotches together and rolled his hips up against him. He was becoming dizzyingly turned on, and when Lucius suddenly stood up, taking Harry with him, he would’ve dropped to the floor had it not been for Lucius’ arms holding him upright.

It was only for a moment though, and then he was turned on the spot and bent over the table, his arms held in place on each side of his head. Harry couldn’t help moaning at the picture he was sure he made in that moment. He could feel the bass from the music downstairs, travelling through the table and into his very bones.

“I should punish you, you know.”

The words were spoken against Harry’s ear, soft and sweet, but with an undercurrent of danger. Harry loved it. This was what he wanted after all. He whimpered slightly at the images forming in his mind at Lucius’ words.

Lucius moved his hands forward until they could grip the other side of the table.

“Hold on,” he said in a low commandeering voice, and Harry could do nothing but nod and comply. “Good boy.”

The words made his face heat up, the table feeling cold against his warm cheek, and he had to bite his lip to hold back the undoubtedly pitiful sound he felt clawing its way up his throat. Behind him, Lucius stood back up, his hands stroking along Harry’s sides from his arms to his hips, and then there was a gust of magic and Harry’s trousers were banished off him, followed by his boots. He couldn’t help the small gasp at the sudden feeling of cold air against his warm naked skin.

“Wearing no underwear? How naughty you are, Mr Potter.”

Despite wanting Lucius to use his given name, Harry couldn’t help the shiver of arousal at the formal tone in this setting, with him naked and arse up over a table with a fully dressed Lucius Malfoy behind him. Merlin, that was hot. His mind was so fuzzy he couldn’t hold back a mewl when Lucius’ big hands cupped his bottom, kneading his skin, though he immediately hid his face against the table to hide his embarrassment at the sound.

“Yes, I do believe it will be a fitting punishment. How many, do you think?”

Lucius’ hands were still caressing his bottom, and Harry couldn’t help but moan when he realised what he intended to do.

“It’s been twelve months of you coming here to tease me, so perhaps twelve strikes?” Harry nodded, though it was with a mix of fear and arousal, and a vague thought of it being 13 months by now really. “I want you to count them for me. Can you do that? Use your words.”

Harry had started nodding, but now he swallowed hard before uttering a whispered “yes”. Lucius made a humming noise in appreciation, but before Harry could register it fully Lucius’ palm had descended on his right buttock with a resounding smack.

“One,” Harry said with a gasp.

The next two came close together, both on his left buttock.

“Two, three.”

The sting of them shouldn’t have felt as good as they did, and Harry moaned when Lucius caressed the spot. The strikes were sporadic, with no pattern that Harry could discern, sometimes on the left side other times on the right, sometimes in the middle — and the anticipation mixed with each strike in turning Harry into a moaning puddle of arousal. 

“Ten,” Harry gasped, his eyes closed and mind fully focused on the sting of his bottom, of Lucius’ measured breath, and the palm kneading his inflamed skin.

“Two more. Can you handle it?”

Lucius’ voice was as steady as ever, but there was a rawness to it that betrayed how aroused he was.

“Yess.” And no sooner had he said it than two more strikes landed on his right buttock in quick succession and making him gasp and twitch. “Eleven, twelve,” he barely managed to bite out.

“Good boy,” Lucius said softly into his ear, and then his hands were back to caressing his skin and his mouth dropped kisses down his neck and it was so heavenly Harry nearly purred. “You took your punishment beautifully, sweetheart.” Harry mewled, too turned on by now to even care how embarrassing that should have been. 

“Because you did so well I will give you a choice — on your stomach like this or on your back?”

Harry whined a bit, squirming as if that would help him gather his wits enough to decide. Lucius didn’t stop his ministrations, still kept his hands on Harry’s heated bottom and trailed kisses along his neck and shoulders, but he did give Harry time to come to a decision.

“Back,” Harry said eventually. “Wanna see you.”

Lucius paused for just a second, and Harry was sure he could feel a smile against his skin before he spoke.

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

In a swift motion Harry was turned around on the table, his mesh shirt spelled off, and his hands going from holding onto the edge to simply hanging over it. He opened his eyes to find Lucius’ eyes trailing over his body, staring hungrily at his cock, which was now leaking against his abdomen, and spreading his legs further to get a look at the rest of him.

Then he met his eyes, and Harry felt another shock of arousal at the intensity of them.

“You’re like a siren — beautiful, but deadly.”

Harry quirked a smile at that.

“If I was a siren it wouldn’t have taken me this long to finally have your hands on me where they belong.”

Lucius huffed a small laugh and bent over Harry to capture his lips in a deep kiss as his hands moved over Harry’s skin, completely ignoring his hard cock. Harry slipped his fingers into Lucius’ hair, marvelling at the silky feel of it between his fingers while Lucius’ tongue sought to familiarise itself with the inside of his mouth.

When Lucius’ wonderful hands teased down his inner thigh to circle the rim of his hole with gentle fingers, Harry moaned and arched up against Lucius, rolling his hips in an attempt to get the fingers inside of him. Instead Lucius removed his fingers altogether and reached up to catch Harry’s hands by the wrist, forcing them up over his head again.

“Keep your hands there for me, sweetheart,” he said against Harry’s mouth, making Harry whimper slightly at the combination of the forceful action and the command. He nodded, and received a smile before Lucius stood back up again.

He cast a wandless cleaning charm as well as a spell that settled around the base of Harry’s cock in a way that told him he wouldn’t be able to come unless Lucius removed it, making him twitch where he lay and staring wide eyed up at Lucius as though he was an angel and a devil all at once, sent there to give Harry pleasure and punishment in equal measure. When a lubed finger finally entered him he closed his eyes on a long moan, his head thumping back against the table.

Lucius was a damned tease.

Not that that was much of a surprise, and Harry couldn’t exactly blame him when he himself had teased the man so shamelessly the past year. Lucius’ finger, first the one and then two, went slow and methodically, going from purposely avoiding his prostate to attacking it head on for only a few thrusts, and still too slowly to be anywhere near enough.

Harry was rolling his hips desperately against the firm hand holding it in place, pleading for Lucius to give him more and harder and faster and pleasepleaseplease. Meanwhile Lucius was looking on as calmly as could be, betrayed only by his hungry eyes and very hard cock tenting his pale grey trousers. The burn of the third finger did nothing but add to Harry’s already considerable arousal, and he thought he saw Lucius’ mouth twitch with the hint of a smile when a bead of precum trickled from the head of Harry cock to his abdomen, as if pleased at the knowledge that that was all it could do.

“Please, Lucius… I need— Please…

“What is it that you need, sweetheart?”

Harry keened, but otherwise couldn’t respond to the question.

“You can do better than that, Mr Potter. Use your words. What do you need?”

To gather his thoughts enough to respond was not easy for Harry, not to mention putting his needs into words. He still did it, because he’d been told to and he wanted to be good for Lucius.

“I— I need you to fuck me, Lucius.”

Lucius bent forward and spoke softly against Harry’s ear.

“I will fuck you, sweetheart. So hard you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

Shudders ran through him at the declaration. Yes, he thought, that was exactly what he wanted. Lucius stood back up, ignoring Harry’s whine as he removed his fingers, and finally opened his trousers. He didn’t take them off, he only pushed his trousers and pants far enough down that his cock was free, and Harry stared hungrily at it. He’d known Lucius would be big, but by Merlin he was big.

Lucius smirked knowingly at him and curled his fingers around himself, giving Harry the pleasure of seeing his graceful hands and his hard cock together. Harry had had a weakness for his hands since the beginning, and now he groaned at the sight in front of him. Lucius slicked himself up unhurriedly, as if he had all the time in the world. He caught Harry’s legs by the back of the knees, pushing them up to Harry’s chest.

Harry knew he was at display. Really he’d been at display ever since Lucius first bent him over the table, or hell, ever since he’d first stepped into the club more than a year earlier, but now he was naked and had Lucius’ piercing eyes staring directly at his no doubt twitching hole.

When he finally felt the head of Lucius’ cock against his rim he was sure that he would’ve come right there and then had it not been for the spell Lucius cast on him to prevent it. Harry wasn’t sure whether to hate or love Lucius for it, he knew that when Lucius finally let him come it would be spectacular, but at the moment he felt almost delirious with want.

Lucius entered him slowly, but without pausing even once until Harry could feel his balls brushing against his arse. He was full to the brim, his eyes closed and mouth open in a silent keen. The feeling was intense, indescribable, he could feel it in his entire body and even in his magic. As if Lucius was connected to him in more than body.

He circled his hips, sighing contentedly at the feeling of Lucius inside of him, and slowly opened his eyes to meet Lucius. Lucius’ body might be staying still, but his eyes were full of emotion, so much so that Harry had to whisper, as if any louder sound might break the tension.

“Move.”

Lucius tightened his hold on Harry’s legs and looked down to see where their bodies were connected as he pulled out slowly, almost completely, before pushing back in just as slow.

It was another form of torture, this slow fucking. It turned Harry inside out, made him whimper and beg, writhe beneath Lucius’ hold. He had no idea how long Lucius kept up this maddeningly slow pace until he all of a sudden thrust in hard.

Harry keened, arching up against Lucius, who dropped his hold of his legs so that Harry could wrap them around his hips. Instead Lucius gripped Harry’s hips in a death grip and began pounding into him, hitting his prostate head on with every thrust, taking Harry’s desperation to new heights.

He was on the edge of the precipice, so close to coming that it was almost painful. The spell forced his orgasm away, forced him to stay in that state of painful pleasure, of the absolute almost, until he was nearly in tears as he begged for release.

“Please, Lucius, so close…”

Instead of answering, Lucius took one of his hands from Harry’s hip and curled it around his cock, making him scream at the assault on his nerve endings. He was so sensitive that a simple swipe of Lucius’ thumb over the head of his cock had him sobbing.

“You want to come for me?”

How Lucius was able to speak so clearly Harry had no idea. He himself wouldn’t be able to, he was blabbing nonsensically, threats and pleas falling from his lips in equal amounts. And Lucius was clearly affected as well, his eyes dark and wild with lust and his voice a low growl. Harry nodded desperately.

Lucius bent halfway over him, leaning on one arm at Harry’s side as he pounded Harry into the table, still keeping the hand on his cock moving in time with his thrusts as well as the thumping music from the club. He held his face above Harry’s, looking deep into his eyes and muttering something, and Harry felt the hold on his cock disappearing.

“Come for me, Harry.”

In the end it was hearing his name spoken by Lucius that sent him tumbling over the edge with such a force that he quite literally saw stars. He felt Lucius following him with a low groan, working them both through it. Harry felt like he was air, only held in place by Lucius’ arms around him.

He vaguely felt himself being lifted off the table, soft magic and soft hands moving over his skin and through his hair. When he came to he was curled up on Lucius’ lap, his face burrowed into Lucius’ neck.

Realising that Lucius was gently brushing his fingers through his hair made him smile with his eyes still closed. He felt safe, at home. Sore too, but it was a wonderful soreness, that he truly hoped he would feel for the entire week that Lucius had promised. Lucius had cleaned them both up, and conjured a soft blanket to cover them. Harry was still naked, but he didn’t mind.

He dropped kisses up Lucius’ neck, across his jaw, until Lucius held the back of his head gently and gave him a kiss so sweet and loving that it had Harry tear up. When they stopped kissing Harry slowly opened his eyes and met Lucius’. He had to blink to not let the tears fall then, because he had never seen Lucius so open, his icy blue eyes so warm as he looked at Harry.

Harry raised a hand and caressed Lucius’ face, just to be sure that he was real, that he was truly there.

“Please never stop looking at me like this.”

The words were soft and very nearly pleading. Harry needed reassurances, he needed to know that Lucius wouldn’t go back to avoiding him, that this wasn’t a one time thing. He wouldn’t be able to deal with that.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Lucius replied, and Harry thought there was a hint of a plea there too.

“Forever then.”

He said it with a smile, which persisted when Lucius pulled him back into a kiss.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

The endearment had fluttering pixies breaking out in Harry’s gut.

“Ridiculously happy. Comfortable. Warm.” Lucius gave him an exasperated look, though it was ruined slightly by the smile still stuck on his face and the warmth radiating from his eyes. Still, Harry decided to answer the question he was actually asking. “A little sore, but the good kind.”

“Good,” Lucius said, dropping a kiss on Harry’s nose. “I was worried I might have gone too far.”

“Not in the least, it was perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Does that mean I won’t have to watch you being groped by other men?”

It was asked as though he meant it jokingly, but Harry heard the undercurrent of insecurity, and felt relieved. It wasn’t just his own imagination, this thing between them. It was more than sexual attraction. So he answered honestly.

“Lucius, I am yours. Only yours.”

Lucius searched his eyes, as if looking for a trace of doubt or mockery, neither of which he would find because Harry was as serious as he could ever be.

“Good,” Lucius said finally. “Because I love you, Harry, and I don’t think I could have survived seeing you walk out of here with someone else one more time.”

At that Harry beamed and pulled Lucius back into another kiss, turning so that he was straddling Lucius’ lap and could sink his hands into those silky strands of hair and feel Lucius’ hands caress his skin. The kiss was just starting to heat up when there was a knock on the door and they both froze.

“Sir?”

Lucius sighed, resting his forehead against Harry’s for a moment, then he cancelled Harry’s silencing charm.

“Yes, Walker?”

“Your son is asking for you. Apparently one of his friends is missing.”

Lucius chuckled, and Harry felt his face heating up.

“Tell him to come up here.” Harry was about to protest, but Lucius dropped a kiss on his mouth before he could.

“Very well, sir.”

Once they heard him leave by the stairs Harry dared speak up.

“How do you intend to explain my being here to Draco?”

“That depends on you, Harry,” Lucius said after a moment’s pause. “On what you want this to be.”

It was a bit ridiculous, Harry thought. They were still trying to feel each other out, as if unsure whether they were both truly serious, despite the things they’d both admitted to. Of course, telling Draco might end in disaster, which was why Harry was so wary of it (Draco could be such an overdramatic git at times), but he wanted Lucius, and now that he had him he would not be letting go.

Ever.

“I love you, Lucius. I want to be yours in every way possible. I don’t want to keep this secret, but I’d allow it if that’s what you wanted. Being with me won’t be easy, the wixen world still refuses to give me much privacy, but if you’re willing to deal with that with me then I’m willing to deal with Draco’s theatrics with you.”

Lucius laughed, a full laugh, loose and open and wonderful. A laugh Harry desperately wanted to hear more of, especially when he turned more somber again.

“You act as though it will only be difficult because of your status, as though my reputation isn’t what it is—,”

“I don’t give a fuck about ignorant people who refuse to understand the shit you’ve gone through, Lucius. They’re pathetic and you’re a better person than all of them combined.”

Lucius looked slightly taken aback by the sharp defence of his character, but before he could reply there was another knock on the door.

“Father?”

“Oh fuck,” Harry breathed, and flicked his hand to redress in a hurry, immediately missing the feeling of Lucius’ hands directly on his skin. He was about to get up from Lucius’ lap with still shaky legs, but was stopped by a strong arm around his waist pulling him back against Lucius’ chest.

“Relax, sweetheart,” Lucius said softly, vanishing the blankets and unlocking the door. It was strangely arousing for Harry to see someone else use wandless magic with such ease. “Come in, Draco.”

“Father, we can’t find Harry anywhere, can you— Harry?”

Harry chanced a look over his shoulder. Draco was standing slack jawed just inside the door, a hand still on the handle. He looked like he’d just received the shock of his life, which Harry supposed he probably had. At least if you didn’t count the whole thing with his mother.

“Draco.”

Harry was sure his face was terribly flushed, even his tanned skin couldn’t hide the extent of his full blush, and he was feeling awfully embarrassed. Happy, extremely happy, but also embarrassed. 

“Harry, why are you in my father’s lap?”

“Because I like it here.”

The cheeky reply had Lucius snorting (a sound Harry wasn’t sure he’d ever heard from the man) and hid his face against Harry’s shoulder. Draco did not look amused, he looked annoyed. His mouth opened several times without any sound leaving it, until he finally managed to land on something to say.

“Does my father like you being in his lap?”

“He does, very much,” Lucius said, finally removing his face from Harry’s shoulder and looking like he was trying very hard not to break down laughter.

Draco sighed heavily and dropped his face in his hands, then he looked up at them as if searching for something, then pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan, then sighed again, this time while looking up at the ceiling, before finally looking directly at Harry.

“If you’re stringing my father along I will skin you alive, Potter.”

Harry blinked at him twice, then frowned. It was not the reaction he had expected, but the implication still offended him enough to speak his mind without applying anything resembling a filter.

“Of course I’m not stringing him along, you git, I love him!”

“Oh.” Draco looked taken aback for a moment. “Okay.”

“… Okay?”

“Okay. You better follow me down though, otherwise I’m telling the others about this however I see fit.”

Then, with a last nod to Lucius, he walked out of the box and closed the door behind him.

“Shit, I better go downstairs.”

Before Harry could do so, however, he was pulled firmly against Lucius and his mouth was captured in a deep kiss that had Harry melting against him in no time. 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Lucius said between more kisses. “Let him tell them whatever he wants, sweetheart, I’m not done with you yet.”

And any worries Harry had about Draco overdramatising finding his best friend in his father’s lap disappeared in a poof of smoke as soon as Lucius began sucking marks into the sensitive skin on his neck.