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lomonaaerenTitle: Absolutely Exquisite
Pairing: Harry/Lucius
Content Notes: Post-war (no epilogue), casual sex, partially-clothed sex
Rating: R
Harry was standing in Madam Malkin’s and getting poked and prodded by needles and witches when the door opened and Lucius Malfoy stepped into the shop.
Harry rolled his eyes. The day was already pretty bad, with Madam Malkin and her assistant pretty much forgetting that he wasn’t a dummy. He supposed Malfoy laughing at him or spreading the news around about how Harry Potter was awkward when he was getting fitted with dress robes wouldn’t be much worse.
Malfoy’s face went blank as he stared at Harry. Harry stared back, and mouthed, Fuck you, when Malfoy’s gaze returned to his eyes.
Malfoy blinked and then stepped forwards, sneering. “Madam?”
Here it comes, Harry thought. He internally debated whether Malfoy would insult his hair, his size (still not nearly as tall as Ron, alas), or his pose, standing with arms outstretched and half-pointed at the ceiling, first.
“What are you doing?” Malfoy gestured at Harry. “That shade of red doesn’t suit him at all! Why didn’t you begin with the dark green draped on that chair to the right?” He snatched up a bolt of cloth that was just out of Harry’s sight and swished it around a little, muttering. Then he turned and held it up to Harry.
Harry stared at him. What? he mouthed this time.
“Well, Mr. Malfoy, we were just—”
Malfoy interrupted Madam Malkin with another sneer. “Countless crimes against good taste are committed every day,” he announced, flinging the cloth to the ground, or maybe onto the assistant, from all Harry could see at this angle. “There is no need to let Mr. Potter’s robes be one of them.”
*
And, somehow, Harry went through the seriously surreal experience of having Lucius Malfoy pick and approve his dress robes.
“Blue, I’ll grant you. But one without that gaudy gold brocade around the collar and hem.”
“I didn’t say that you couldn’t choose red. Just not that shade of red.”
“No matter what people may have told you, green doesn’t always complement your eyes.”
Harry stared into the mirror when it seemed Malfoy was done. They had finally gone back into a private room Madam Malkin usually used for sewing so that she could work with other customers and everyone else could be spared the rough side of Malfoy’s tongue. The room had little other than the mirror (not enchanted to talk, luckily), a single chair, and hooks for the robes.
“There,” Malfoy said softly. His hands reached up and came to settle on Harry’s shoulders, but considering everything else about this strange day, Harry didn’t feel minded to object.
“They’re itchy around the collar,” Harry muttered, but without the heat in his voice that he would have expected to have. The robes were, amazingly, more comfortable than he had expected, flowing over his skin like water. And they were green, but not the blazingly dark green that Harry’s dress robes for the Yule Ball a lifetime ago had been. These shone like a forest, and seemed to draw attention to Harry that—
Well, he hadn’t thought he could look like that, that was all.
“Here. Allow me.”
And then Lucius Malfoy’s wand was pointing at his neck, and Harry just fucking let him. Some of the lace on the collar parted under a silent Diffindo and drifted to the floor like snow. Harry laughed a little.
“Madam Malkin is going to curse me for that.”
“She’ll be too glad to finally have such a difficult customer out of her shop.”
Harry nodded. Malfoy was probably right. And then, because he had to have manners, he drew a deep breath and turned around with a smile that he desperately hoped wasn’t too insincere. “I owe you, Malfoy. If there’s anything I can do for you—”
“Yes.”
Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, it was too much to hope that Lucius Malfoy would help Harry out of the goodness of his heart. “Fine. What?”
Malfoy’s eyes raked down his body and lingered on his arse. Harry caught his breath. Most of the time, he wasn’t that good at knowing when someone was flirting with him (in his defense, it was often hard to tell that from the usual delirious nonsense that people would stare at him with, given that he was the Boy-Who-Lived). But Malfoy definitely wanted to fuck him.
“You want to fuck a scrawny half-blood who defeated your Dark Lord?”
Harry’s voice only shook a little. Malfoy stared straight ahead, and Harry turned and met his eyes in the mirror.
“I want to fuck the scrawny half-blood who looks like that.” Malfoy’s voice was thick at the end, as if he had a mouthful of cough syrup.
Harry relaxed a little. Of course. The robes made him look different, and Malfoy had helped him pick them out. He was probably as intent on congratulating himself for his own good taste as anything else.
Malfoy’s hands reached out, resting on his shoulders, and then raked down the back of the green robes. “They do open back here,” he said softly, and then lifted the panels that Harry hadn’t known were there to expose Harry’s back and arse.
Harry shivered at the cool air touching him there. And then, because everything was so surreal anyway and it wasn’t like he would ever get to experience this again, he leaned back and went with it.
“Fine. Cast the Silencing Charms and be quick.”
Malfoy gave a low laugh, for no reason Harry could discern, and flicked his wand several times. Harry caught his breath as the last bit of magic tugged down his pants and left him absolutely bare.
“Exquisite,” Malfoy said, his hands running up and down, now and then touching Harry’s skin, now and then touching the robes.
The next spells he cast were preparation ones. Harry had only been with one man before, and he grimaced a little at the feel of them. But then, he reminded himself, this wasn’t about feeling pleasure. It was about thanking Malfoy for his help with the robes, and doing something different, continuing the surreal feeling of the day.
Having Lucius Malfoy fuck him in the back of Madam Malkin’s robe shop certainly did that.
It was hard for Harry to see from the angle the mirror was set at, and the way Malfoy was standing, but he thought Malfoy kept his robes on, only pulling them back and lowering his pants as much as necessary to take his cock out. Harry groaned as Malfoy slid into him, and shivered a little as he adjusted. Malfoy once again stroked his flank and the robes while he waited.
Then he said, “Ride me.”
Harry cast an incredulous glance back at him, opening his mouth to tell Malfoy what he thought of that, but the movement made Malfoy’s cock slide and twist into him. Harry’s words came out as a full-throated groan.
Malfoy smiled, as if he had anticipated that. Then he murmured, “I’m going to sit down,” indicating the room’s single chair. “Ride me when I sit.”
He did at least Summon the chair to him to sit, instead of backing up and expecting Harry to somehow stay on his cock all the way there. Harry closed his eyes, his neck twisting as he contemplated the feeling of being fucked on a half-arc. He started when Malfoy said lazily, “Are you going to do this, or not?”
What the hell, Harry thought. The papers chattered about him constantly and all the time anyway, even if all he did was come to Madam Malkin’s to buy new robes for the stupid Ministry gala Kingsley wanted him to attend. They might as well have a bit of really juicy gossip for once if Malfoy’s lips flapped.
Harry sank down and then lifted up. His breath caught in a gasp. His other time with a bloke had been all right but nothing special. Harry had thought he probably didn’t care for anything in his arse.
This—this was different.
“You can see how brilliant I am even sitting still,” Malfoy breathed into his ear.
Harry resolved to hold any more sounds to himself, if only so Malfoy would need to shut up about his brilliance, but the resolution was a lie. As he fucked himself steadily, reaching back to curve one arm around Malfoy’s neck for balance, he gasped and made sharp little sounds as Malfoy’s cock dragged over something in his arse that he’d never known existed. He bent forwards and fucked himself a little faster, and moaned. Malfoy kissed the back of his neck, and he jumped and swore.
Malfoy preserved a smug silence, but Harry reckoned it was good for him, too, the way his nails were scraping over Harry’s spine and the soft kisses that he kept giving against the back of Harry’s neck. If it wasn’t, then he would have been doing something about it, or just grabbed Harry and tossed him away.
Harry desperately didn’t want that to happen. He bore down again and fucked himself harder than ever, and Malfoy came into him with a startled shout.
He made a sound, Harry thought, arrogant in victory, and reached for his cock.
“No,” Malfoy whispered, catching his wrist. “You come from my cock alone, or you don’t—”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Harry bore down and wriggled hard, and Malfoy made a noise of pain. He was probably oversensitive.
Not that Harry cared about that as he finally came, and more than half his tension seemed to tear out of him. He groaned loudly and probably wrenched Malfoy’s neck with the way his arm tightened.
Good, Harry thought, as he collapsed forwards, breathing loudly.
Malfoy didn’t hurry him off his lap, either. His hands continued exploring Harry’s back and arse, and finally he murmured, “I’m afraid that your robes will never be the same again, after what you got on them.”
Harry rolled his eyes and drew the Elder Wand. With a single overpowered Cleaning Charm, he cleaned up the mess on his robes and on Malfoy’s, from the way the bastard jumped.
“You stung me,” Malfoy hissed.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, turning around with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were brilliant enough that nothing would have leaked out to stain your robes. Clearly I was wrong. However can I make it up to you?”
Malfoy raked his eyes up and down Harry’s body. Harry simply stood there. He doubted that he looked much different than Malfoy at the moment: both of them flushed, both of them with limp cocks and robes hanging emptily around their bodies.
But Malfoy stared at him as if he saw more than that. Then he murmured, “Be my date at the Ministry gala.”
Harry blinked, hard. He would have asked why Malfoy wasn’t taking his wife to this thing, but he had heard, the whole wizarding world had, about her divorcing him when the war was done due to the danger he’d put Draco in by staying faithful to Voldemort.
He’d put Harry in danger, too. But it wasn’t like that was news. And…
And Harry had to smile as he thought of people’s faces if he walked into the Ministry gala with Malfoy on his arm.
“Done,” he said, and extended his hand.
Malfoy grabbed it and hauled him close for a kiss. Harry was breathless and light-headed when he pulled away again. The only good thing was that his orgasm had been so deep that there was no chance of him getting hard again any time soon.
“I will see you tomorrow night, then,” Malfoy murmured. His eyes raked Harry one more time. “Wear those robes. They’ll look fetching pushed up your arse when I fuck you against the wall.”
“At least that’ll involve you doing some work!” Harry called after him as Malfoy ended the Silencing Charms and left the dressing room.
Harry caught a glimpse of Madam Malkin’s scandalized face before the curtains fell to again, and laughed. He didn’t know if she’d heard them or if she just thought Harry shouldn’t be flippant around someone as politically powerful as Malfoy.
And it didn’t matter. People were going to gossip about him anyway, right? This way, he could at least control what they said.
And, well, Malfoy was a damn good fuck. Harry wouldn’t mind riding him again.
He gave one look at his robes in the mirror, rolled the word “Exquisite” around in his mouth, and went to pay.
Pairing: Harry/Lucius
Content Notes: Post-war (no epilogue), casual sex, partially-clothed sex
Rating: R
Harry was standing in Madam Malkin’s and getting poked and prodded by needles and witches when the door opened and Lucius Malfoy stepped into the shop.
Harry rolled his eyes. The day was already pretty bad, with Madam Malkin and her assistant pretty much forgetting that he wasn’t a dummy. He supposed Malfoy laughing at him or spreading the news around about how Harry Potter was awkward when he was getting fitted with dress robes wouldn’t be much worse.
Malfoy’s face went blank as he stared at Harry. Harry stared back, and mouthed, Fuck you, when Malfoy’s gaze returned to his eyes.
Malfoy blinked and then stepped forwards, sneering. “Madam?”
Here it comes, Harry thought. He internally debated whether Malfoy would insult his hair, his size (still not nearly as tall as Ron, alas), or his pose, standing with arms outstretched and half-pointed at the ceiling, first.
“What are you doing?” Malfoy gestured at Harry. “That shade of red doesn’t suit him at all! Why didn’t you begin with the dark green draped on that chair to the right?” He snatched up a bolt of cloth that was just out of Harry’s sight and swished it around a little, muttering. Then he turned and held it up to Harry.
Harry stared at him. What? he mouthed this time.
“Well, Mr. Malfoy, we were just—”
Malfoy interrupted Madam Malkin with another sneer. “Countless crimes against good taste are committed every day,” he announced, flinging the cloth to the ground, or maybe onto the assistant, from all Harry could see at this angle. “There is no need to let Mr. Potter’s robes be one of them.”
*
And, somehow, Harry went through the seriously surreal experience of having Lucius Malfoy pick and approve his dress robes.
“Blue, I’ll grant you. But one without that gaudy gold brocade around the collar and hem.”
“I didn’t say that you couldn’t choose red. Just not that shade of red.”
“No matter what people may have told you, green doesn’t always complement your eyes.”
Harry stared into the mirror when it seemed Malfoy was done. They had finally gone back into a private room Madam Malkin usually used for sewing so that she could work with other customers and everyone else could be spared the rough side of Malfoy’s tongue. The room had little other than the mirror (not enchanted to talk, luckily), a single chair, and hooks for the robes.
“There,” Malfoy said softly. His hands reached up and came to settle on Harry’s shoulders, but considering everything else about this strange day, Harry didn’t feel minded to object.
“They’re itchy around the collar,” Harry muttered, but without the heat in his voice that he would have expected to have. The robes were, amazingly, more comfortable than he had expected, flowing over his skin like water. And they were green, but not the blazingly dark green that Harry’s dress robes for the Yule Ball a lifetime ago had been. These shone like a forest, and seemed to draw attention to Harry that—
Well, he hadn’t thought he could look like that, that was all.
“Here. Allow me.”
And then Lucius Malfoy’s wand was pointing at his neck, and Harry just fucking let him. Some of the lace on the collar parted under a silent Diffindo and drifted to the floor like snow. Harry laughed a little.
“Madam Malkin is going to curse me for that.”
“She’ll be too glad to finally have such a difficult customer out of her shop.”
Harry nodded. Malfoy was probably right. And then, because he had to have manners, he drew a deep breath and turned around with a smile that he desperately hoped wasn’t too insincere. “I owe you, Malfoy. If there’s anything I can do for you—”
“Yes.”
Harry rolled his eyes. Of course, it was too much to hope that Lucius Malfoy would help Harry out of the goodness of his heart. “Fine. What?”
Malfoy’s eyes raked down his body and lingered on his arse. Harry caught his breath. Most of the time, he wasn’t that good at knowing when someone was flirting with him (in his defense, it was often hard to tell that from the usual delirious nonsense that people would stare at him with, given that he was the Boy-Who-Lived). But Malfoy definitely wanted to fuck him.
“You want to fuck a scrawny half-blood who defeated your Dark Lord?”
Harry’s voice only shook a little. Malfoy stared straight ahead, and Harry turned and met his eyes in the mirror.
“I want to fuck the scrawny half-blood who looks like that.” Malfoy’s voice was thick at the end, as if he had a mouthful of cough syrup.
Harry relaxed a little. Of course. The robes made him look different, and Malfoy had helped him pick them out. He was probably as intent on congratulating himself for his own good taste as anything else.
Malfoy’s hands reached out, resting on his shoulders, and then raked down the back of the green robes. “They do open back here,” he said softly, and then lifted the panels that Harry hadn’t known were there to expose Harry’s back and arse.
Harry shivered at the cool air touching him there. And then, because everything was so surreal anyway and it wasn’t like he would ever get to experience this again, he leaned back and went with it.
“Fine. Cast the Silencing Charms and be quick.”
Malfoy gave a low laugh, for no reason Harry could discern, and flicked his wand several times. Harry caught his breath as the last bit of magic tugged down his pants and left him absolutely bare.
“Exquisite,” Malfoy said, his hands running up and down, now and then touching Harry’s skin, now and then touching the robes.
The next spells he cast were preparation ones. Harry had only been with one man before, and he grimaced a little at the feel of them. But then, he reminded himself, this wasn’t about feeling pleasure. It was about thanking Malfoy for his help with the robes, and doing something different, continuing the surreal feeling of the day.
Having Lucius Malfoy fuck him in the back of Madam Malkin’s robe shop certainly did that.
It was hard for Harry to see from the angle the mirror was set at, and the way Malfoy was standing, but he thought Malfoy kept his robes on, only pulling them back and lowering his pants as much as necessary to take his cock out. Harry groaned as Malfoy slid into him, and shivered a little as he adjusted. Malfoy once again stroked his flank and the robes while he waited.
Then he said, “Ride me.”
Harry cast an incredulous glance back at him, opening his mouth to tell Malfoy what he thought of that, but the movement made Malfoy’s cock slide and twist into him. Harry’s words came out as a full-throated groan.
Malfoy smiled, as if he had anticipated that. Then he murmured, “I’m going to sit down,” indicating the room’s single chair. “Ride me when I sit.”
He did at least Summon the chair to him to sit, instead of backing up and expecting Harry to somehow stay on his cock all the way there. Harry closed his eyes, his neck twisting as he contemplated the feeling of being fucked on a half-arc. He started when Malfoy said lazily, “Are you going to do this, or not?”
What the hell, Harry thought. The papers chattered about him constantly and all the time anyway, even if all he did was come to Madam Malkin’s to buy new robes for the stupid Ministry gala Kingsley wanted him to attend. They might as well have a bit of really juicy gossip for once if Malfoy’s lips flapped.
Harry sank down and then lifted up. His breath caught in a gasp. His other time with a bloke had been all right but nothing special. Harry had thought he probably didn’t care for anything in his arse.
This—this was different.
“You can see how brilliant I am even sitting still,” Malfoy breathed into his ear.
Harry resolved to hold any more sounds to himself, if only so Malfoy would need to shut up about his brilliance, but the resolution was a lie. As he fucked himself steadily, reaching back to curve one arm around Malfoy’s neck for balance, he gasped and made sharp little sounds as Malfoy’s cock dragged over something in his arse that he’d never known existed. He bent forwards and fucked himself a little faster, and moaned. Malfoy kissed the back of his neck, and he jumped and swore.
Malfoy preserved a smug silence, but Harry reckoned it was good for him, too, the way his nails were scraping over Harry’s spine and the soft kisses that he kept giving against the back of Harry’s neck. If it wasn’t, then he would have been doing something about it, or just grabbed Harry and tossed him away.
Harry desperately didn’t want that to happen. He bore down again and fucked himself harder than ever, and Malfoy came into him with a startled shout.
He made a sound, Harry thought, arrogant in victory, and reached for his cock.
“No,” Malfoy whispered, catching his wrist. “You come from my cock alone, or you don’t—”
He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because Harry bore down and wriggled hard, and Malfoy made a noise of pain. He was probably oversensitive.
Not that Harry cared about that as he finally came, and more than half his tension seemed to tear out of him. He groaned loudly and probably wrenched Malfoy’s neck with the way his arm tightened.
Good, Harry thought, as he collapsed forwards, breathing loudly.
Malfoy didn’t hurry him off his lap, either. His hands continued exploring Harry’s back and arse, and finally he murmured, “I’m afraid that your robes will never be the same again, after what you got on them.”
Harry rolled his eyes and drew the Elder Wand. With a single overpowered Cleaning Charm, he cleaned up the mess on his robes and on Malfoy’s, from the way the bastard jumped.
“You stung me,” Malfoy hissed.
“I’m sorry,” Harry said, turning around with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were brilliant enough that nothing would have leaked out to stain your robes. Clearly I was wrong. However can I make it up to you?”
Malfoy raked his eyes up and down Harry’s body. Harry simply stood there. He doubted that he looked much different than Malfoy at the moment: both of them flushed, both of them with limp cocks and robes hanging emptily around their bodies.
But Malfoy stared at him as if he saw more than that. Then he murmured, “Be my date at the Ministry gala.”
Harry blinked, hard. He would have asked why Malfoy wasn’t taking his wife to this thing, but he had heard, the whole wizarding world had, about her divorcing him when the war was done due to the danger he’d put Draco in by staying faithful to Voldemort.
He’d put Harry in danger, too. But it wasn’t like that was news. And…
And Harry had to smile as he thought of people’s faces if he walked into the Ministry gala with Malfoy on his arm.
“Done,” he said, and extended his hand.
Malfoy grabbed it and hauled him close for a kiss. Harry was breathless and light-headed when he pulled away again. The only good thing was that his orgasm had been so deep that there was no chance of him getting hard again any time soon.
“I will see you tomorrow night, then,” Malfoy murmured. His eyes raked Harry one more time. “Wear those robes. They’ll look fetching pushed up your arse when I fuck you against the wall.”
“At least that’ll involve you doing some work!” Harry called after him as Malfoy ended the Silencing Charms and left the dressing room.
Harry caught a glimpse of Madam Malkin’s scandalized face before the curtains fell to again, and laughed. He didn’t know if she’d heard them or if she just thought Harry shouldn’t be flippant around someone as politically powerful as Malfoy.
And it didn’t matter. People were going to gossip about him anyway, right? This way, he could at least control what they said.
And, well, Malfoy was a damn good fuck. Harry wouldn’t mind riding him again.
He gave one look at his robes in the mirror, rolled the word “Exquisite” around in his mouth, and went to pay.
