Butterfly 46 - LM/HP - NC17

[k155_me]

PREVIOUS HERE

It wasn’t as long a wait as usual. Wow. Really should be studying for these exams, but I’m not. I suck, I know. I really should go do Through the Looking Glass now, but I won’t do that either because Amazon delivered a load of manga to me this morning, yum, yum, yum.

WARNINGS: the middle of this chapter is (finally) the slash that you have all been waiting for. Harry is still only fourteen, so, anyone who dislikes the idea, feel free to skip the whole middle of this chapter.

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Words: 5,431
Chapter 46

February 9th 1995.

“Confringo!” A jet of fire exploded from Snape’s wand, and Harry threw himself hurriedly out of the way. He crashed to the ground, rolling with the impact and scurried to his feet, all the while panting heavily. His wand was still in his pocket, having been given no chance to pull it out. Snape taught duelling as he taught potions, sink or swim. “Try again, Potter. Try using magic to defend yourself. Deprimo!”

Harry jumped behind a tree, eyes widening and breath catching in his chest as four of the branches that were hit simultaneously dropped away from the tree trunk, the edges dissolving as if acid had been poured upon them. “You didn’t give me a chance to!” Harry shouted back, poking his head out from behind the tree just as Snape shot a purple jet of light at him, something Harry had seen Evan use during his and Lucius’ ‘mock-training duels’. It was a spell a Death Eater would cast, and the two men had attributed the creation of it to a man named Antonin Dolohov, whoever he was. Harry was sure the affects wouldn’t be pleasant.

“You must always be prepared, foolish boy. Do you think the Dark Lord would be willing to wait while you search for your wand, or browse your feeble mind for any spell or action by which you could protect yourself? Of course not. Expulso!”

Snape was scowling at him; Harry didn’t need to be able to see him to know that. The potions master was probably feeling rather put out by these lessons. It was the second one this week, of being forced to spend time with Harry Potter without the opportunity to deduct house points, all because of Lucius who had requested and been granted duelling lessons from Snape as a courting gift for his lover. The first lesson was a half hour lecture about posture and wand movement and Snape being nothing like Lockhart, (who while being possessed by Voldemort taught their second year Defence class and still managed to make a mockery of duelling, according to Snape at least. Harry thought it was more to do with Voldemort releasing a snake accidentally on the students and then refusing to believe that Harry could be a Parseltongue just because a few students had heard him but the man hadn’t).

This lesson was pure madness. At this rate, Snape would kill Harry before Voldemort, Dumbledore, or anyone really got the chance to. Maybe, Harry thought as he finally found a moment to fish out his wand, that was Snape’s plan all along. Maybe Snape would pin it on a centaur, or Voldemort, or a house elf or something and just leave Harry’s corpse to rot in the forbidden forest all alone?

“Evanesco!” Harry shouted, casting his first spell of the night. It didn’t quite have the expected result, but it was one Harry knew he could cast well having been practising since he was eight. The spell worked well, brilliantly in fact, but instead of vanishing the professor as Harry had hoped, it had only vanished the man’s robes.

Clad in socks, shoes and his boxer shorts, Severus Snape glared viciously at the tree that hid his most hated student, the son of the woman he loved. Surely, somehow, this had been planned. There was no possible way Potter had accidentally made all of his clothes disappear, knowing there could be no consequences to the house point system. Snape snarled, thinking of another way to punish the boy.

Harry peeked around the tree again, eyes growing wide at the sight of so much bare skin. He was man enough to admit he screamed, just a little, as a jet of orange light came at him, preceded by Snape screaming, “Flagrate!”

The tree caught on fire, and Harry unwillingly scrambled out from behind it, no longer hidden from Snape’s wrath. “It was an accident?” The boy offered with a slow shrug, holding his wand out before himself, hands shaking.

“Is that so, Mr Potter?” The man drawled as he took several steps closer to the teenager. “And how would Lucius feel if I was to tell him you had stripped a man who was not your fiancé of all of his clothes while alone in the privacy of the forbidden forest, with no witnesses, no attendants, no Draco Malfoy to play the familial replacement? How would he react, I wonder.”

“It’s not like that at all, and you know it! You’re just being a bastard- oh!” Harry slapped his hand over his mouth, dropping his wand in the process. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled through his fingers, because he wasn’t supposed to curse, especially not at an adult.

Snape choose that moment to prove he was a sneaky, underhanded Slytherin. “Stupefy,” Snape called, eyeing the boy’s wand which was on the ground at his feet.

Harry didn’t have time to jump out of the way, this time, but on instinct he threw out his hand and cried, “Protego”. The spell bounced off the shield Harry had cast, and in his hand the holly and phoenix feather wand hummed idly, waiting for its next command.

Snape wasn’t sure if the boy had Accio’d it under his breathe, wandlessly, or if it had been accidental magic reacting for a child in need, or some other untold power of the Boy-Who-Lived, but whatever it had been, it stunned Potter momentarily and rather awed Snape as well. The two Wizards glanced at the wand in question, eyes wide, then down at the ground to where it had been only seconds before, before Snape looked Harry straight in the eyes. The shield was still in place, and with a flick of his wand and a whispered, “Finite”, Harry let it drop.

“You missed?” Harry asked, more than taunted, though there was a half-grin on his face.

Snape bowed before him, and after a momentary hesitation, one where Harry wondered if Snape would hex him in the back as he bowed, Harry returned the customary action that signalled the start and/or end of a duel.

“Not bad, Potter, but not exceptional either.”

Potter sighed, probably expecting that he wouldn’t be given the gillyweed, because after all Snape’s letter had stated that the duel must have been exceptional. But what was exceptional, if wandlessly summoning your wand and simultaneously casting another spell wasn’t?

“Are you happy?” The man asked suddenly, appearing right before Harry in the blink of an eye. His hands were on the teenager’s shoulders, and conjured robes now covered his frame. “With Lucius, are you happy?” Dark eyes stared intently at Harry, deep into his own green ones, as if daring the boy to lie to him.

“Yes. He makes me very happy.” There must have been something honest about the smile on Harry’s face or the look in his eyes, because Snape didn’t ask him to repeat himself. The man didn’t even glare at him. With a flick of his own wand a jar appeared, hovering in the air between them. There was something green and slimy shoved inside of it, and Harry recognized it immediately as gillyweed. The boy would have asked Professor Moody for some, but the last time he had tried the man had pinned him against the desk and glared at him, licking the edge of his mouth, and breathing heavily onto his face smelling of lacewing flies and something Harry couldn’t place. “Why do you want to know,” he had asked, so Harry hadn’t asked again.

“Take it, Potter, and be gone from my sight. I will owl you when I next have a moment spare to waste on these pointless exercises.” Snape waved his wand again, and the jar dropped. Harry jumped forward to catch it, almost bumping into his professor at the same time, though he managed to steady himself and avoid a collision.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and then he ran. He didn’t look back to see Snape pull up the sleeve of his robe to glance at his left arm, nor dispel the glamour that Harry knew hid his Dark Mark. The moment his clothes disappeared, Severus had cast it, and now he bared it to his sight again, glancing at the tattoo that grew darker and darker as the year passed by. Then he looked up in the direction Harry had gone and wondered if he was doing the right thing by Lily to let her son associate with the likes of Lucius Malfoy, especially now, since it seemed Lord Voldemort was returning to power.

XXX

February 14th 1995. Malfoy Manor.

It was Sunday and it was Valentine’s Day, and Harry had just flooed from Snape’s private rooms to Malfoy Manor. Lucius had sent Harry an invitation for a private supper at his home, and as the intended in a courtship Harry was the one to set the boundaries, not his Headmaster. And Harry had very much wanted to go.

Lucius was there to meet him at the fireplace, taking his arm and helping the boy step out into the atrium. It was late afternoon, around five, and the sun was just beginning to fight a losing battle with the horizon. Candles were lit along the hallways of Malfoy Manor, floating in mid-air and nailed decoratively to some walls, and Harry glanced around with wide eyes as if he were seeing the place for the first time. It wasn’t, he knew, any different to the last time he had visited, or stayed over, or spent the holidays, but it was at the same time because Harry knew that after this visit things would be different. He would be different.

Lucius’ summons had included the Monday; the day after this one, the night in between them, the night of Valentine’s Day, and the morning after, and what could be more perfect than the thoughts that were running through Harry’s teenaged mind. He glanced at Lucius’s profile as the man led them, arm in arm, to the dining room, trying to guess what Lucius was thinking, if he was thinking what Harry was, imagining and hoping and fantasising too perhaps?

Dinner was delicious, but Harry spent the entire meal seated at Lucius’ right fidgeting with his cutlery or pushing his food uselessly around his plate until the elder man had to order him to eat it. He was too nervous, his stomach too unsettled, and his heart pounded away in his chest. He knew what Lucius wanted him there for; he knew what he himself wanted to do that night, so why was Lucius drawing it out? Wasn’t he nervous and inexperienced enough as it was, why was the blonde so determined to have him faint dead away before the night had even truly begun? Second guessing himself didn’t really help matters, Harry thought, only half listening to whatever Lucius was telling him.

He had started the afternoon thinking that Lucius wanted to sleep with him, that he was about to lose his virginity to the man he loved and wanted to marry, and as the hour passed into six, and then seven, and they remained at the dining table with Lucius talking and Harry trying not to look a nervous wreck, he began to wonder if maybe Lucius was breaking up with him. Harry would need to spend the night of course, to cry and scream and rage and not make a spectacle of himself or the Malfoy name, bawling all through Hogwarts on the way back to Ravenclaw tower. If he got it all out tonight, then it’d be safe to let him out in public tomorrow, maybe, Harry mused. And now the thought was stuck in his mind. Gone were the fantasies of writhing beneath Lucius tonight, as the man’s mouth and hands did things beyond what he had already experienced. Instead, he could only see himself crying and begging for another chance, pathetically throwing himself at the man’s feet and pleading for everything, anything, the man had to give him. It didn’t help that Lucius had asked for his ring back, in order to offer it to him properly, personally, rather than just having it dropped by owl into Harry’s hands as he had done. But maybe, Harry thought, Lucius just generally wanted it back?

Spitefully, Harry wondered if this was Snape’s fault, because Merlin knows the man hadn’t been subtle in his dislike of Harry’s relationship. But then, maybe it had been Sirius? Lucius had gotten Sirius out of Azkaban and yeah Harry’s godfather wasn’t happy about the relationship or finding out about said relationship through the newspapers, but damnit they had talked about it, and Sirius had promised to give Lucius a chance. Some chance, Harry thought angrily.

“What?” Harry mumbled, shaking himself out of his thoughts as Lucius moved around the table and dropped to one knee before Harry. “That’s a funny way to dump someone,” the boy whispered, frowning down at the blonde.

Lucius’ eyebrows furrowed in confusion, not recognizing the slang, but understanding from Harry’s body language that he was expecting something bad rather than good. “Well, if you’re this nervous now I’d hate to see you at the bonding ceremony. I dare to think you’d give cold feet a new meaning, beloved.”

“What?” Harry asked again, feeling foolish for sounding so inarticulate.

“The papers have arrived,” Lucius said softly, reaching out to take both of Harry’s hands in his. “It’s all been finalised, at last. Narcissa will retain the Malfoy surname, and she will continue to live in this house, but she is no longer my wife, no longer my Lady. I am, for all intents and purposes, a free man, and I would love to take the opportunity to ask you, no, beg you, to marry me, Harry James Potter? Say yes, and make me very happy, my love.”

“Yes.” A slow smile was spreading across Harry’s face, and his heart was once more pumping with anticipation rather than dread. “Yes.” He said it again, and again, and again, until Lucius had to kiss him to shut him up. “I thought you were having second thoughts,” the boy admitted once Lucius released his mouth, “I thought you didn’t want to marry me anymore, you took so long to ask.” Harry wasn’t going to admit it was because Lucius spent three hours on small talk instead of proposing and taking him straight to bed, but the blonde could probably guess that was the real issue. He probably had by the smirk that was crossing his face.

“I seem to have gone about this all wrong, beloved. Perhaps next time, I’ll seduce you into my bed first and then slip the ring onto your finger when you aren’t paying attention?” A light flush crossed Harry’s cheeks, and Lucius leaned forward with a grin, dragging Harry down until their lips were pressed together. Lucius remained on one knee by Harry’s feet, his hands on the boy’s face and neck, fingers spread to touch as much of him as possible, and he dropped a soft kiss to Harry’s jaw.

“I’d have like that,” Harry told him with a smile, allowing one eyebrow to rise daringly. His breath caught in his throat as Lucius surged to his feet, hands on Harry’s waist, pulling and lifting until the boy was held tightly in his arms.

Lucius tucked the ring box back into the pocket of his robes, not yet having put it on Harry’s finger and the boy having been too interesting in watching Lucius to watch the ring to notice this. “Then I take it all back, beloved. Let us pretend we are not engaged, hmm,” his mouth moved against Harry’s throat as he carried the boy towards the bedrooms, soft pants of air hit sensitive skin with every word, and Harry shuddered in his arms.

Harry was dropped onto a large, soft bed, bouncing lightly in place. He watched as Lucius flicked his wand, and the doors and the windows closed and locked the blinds drawing shut as well. The lights were on, but Harry didn’t glance around Lucius’ room, which he had never seen before. Instead he stared straight at the blond, who was slowly lifting his shirt over his head, his robes already pooled by his feet and his shoes having been kicked to some unknown corner of the room. He was standing there now in only a pair of trousers that had been unbuttoned, and pushed down to his hips. Harry glanced at the trail of blonde hair that led downwards, then at the fabric that hid the prize his eyes sought. He had seen it all before of course, but not here, not in Lucius’ rooms, while knowing that they would be doing it, and that made all the difference. He saw Lucius in a whole new light, still gorgeous and wonderful and brave and loyal and kind and loving and handsome and fit, but his, completely his now, as Harry would be only Lucius’ after tonight. And Harry was in awe of it all.

“Well, Mr Potter, fancy seeing you here,” Lucius drawled, lifting one leg onto the bed and resting there, legs spread and torso so close but just out of Harry’s reach. “What would your lover say?”

“Why don’t you ask him?” Harry laughed, and with that he pushed upwards, wrapped his arms around Lucius’ neck and pulled him down on top of himself. Pinned to the bed by Lucius’ body, his legs pressed in between the v of Harry’s thighs and Lucius’ fingers on the buttons of Harry’s shirt, the teenager reached up to kiss the elder man again.

“He’s very happy to see you here,” Lucius whispered, trailing kisses along Harry’s jaw.

“Is he?” Harry asked, before thrusting his hips up to brush against the bulge in Lucius’ trousers. “And here I thought that was a wand in your pocket.”

“Speaking of wands,” Lucius murmured reaching for his. With a flick of the wand, Harry was undressed, shivering beneath Lucius on the bed, and the death eater grinned down at him, moving lower and lower as he pressed kisses first to Harry’s throat, then his chest, his stomach and his thighs. Harry panted softly beneath him, spreading his legs wider in invitation, moaning lightly at the first touch of Lucius’ tongue on his cock.

Harry arched his back, hissing softly through his teeth as Lucius swallowed him whole. It was hot, and wet, and wonderful and Harry groaned in disappointment as Lucius pulled away after a moment. But then he was back again, his mouth on Harry’s cock, and one finger twirling restlessly around and around Harry’s pucker, pushed in-between the cheeks of his arse. When the finger was inside of him, Lucius swallowed, and Harry cried out, fisting his hands into the sheets by his waist. They had used one finger before, inside of him, touching and prodding and caressing him, twisting in his flesh and stroking that wonderful nub that made him see stars. But Lucius had only ever used one finger. Never any more.

But today the blonde called a jar of lubricant to him from the bedside table drawer, and he somehow managed to liberally coat his fingers in the substance while sucking on Harry’s cock. Two fingers pressed into him this time, stretching him and stinging him and Lucius glanced up at Harry’s pained gasp. The teenager offered a soft smile, unclenching his muscles and nodding for Lucius to continue. And continue Lucius did, one finger after the other until three were fully inside, and he could stretch and scissor them as far as was reasonable. His free hand tugged at Harry’s scrotum, rolling the balls in the palm of his hand, while the fingers of the other hand pressed sharply into Harry’s prostate. Lucius swallowed around him once more, and it was enough: with a cry Harry’s back arched and he came, filling his lover’s mouth with himself, and the blonde swallowed again, eyes darting up to meet Harry’s as he sucked the boy through his orgasm. His hands caressed the inside of the brunette’s thighs softly, before one moved to coat his own erection with lube.

Lucius’ trousers were still on, pushed down past his hips to free his cock and balls, but Lucius left them there. Instead, he used the lull, the lack of tension in Harry’s body after his orgasm to slid up the bed and into the boy.

Harry cried out as he was filled, taken for the first time ever. He felt full, too full, unused to the feeling and the burning that followed the invasion. There was a dull pleasure thumping just behind his eyes when he closed them, reminders of what Lucius’ fingers could do against his prostate, and thoughts of what his much bigger cock could do instead, and he forced himself to relax around the flesh that intruded upon him. Lucius held himself up with his arms on either side of Harry’s head, straining and shaking with the strength it took to keep himself from fucking into Harry’s body, from enjoying the heat and the tightness that surrounded him so willingly. But Harry needed time. He needed Lucius to wait, and for his first time of all times, Lucius would give Harry what he needed.

“Now,” the boy whispered as soon as the stinging sensations passed. He still felt too full, like he needed to go to the toilet but couldn’t, but as Lucius began to move, pulling out and pushing back in slowly, and then gradually faster, that feeling passed. It was no longer about being too full, but about being too empty, and with every attempt Lucius made to leave his body Harry tightened his hold on him (his arms around Lucius’ neck, his legs around Lucius’ waist, his mouth biting down on Lucius’ neck to muffle his cries) trying to keep the elder man inside of him.

Lucius leant down over him, panting into his hair or against his cheek or his throat, alternating between kissing Harry softly and furiously, nails biting into the flesh of Harry’s hips, his shoulders, and the zipper of Lucius’ trousers rubbing against Harry’s arse with every thrust, the friction of it more painful than pleasurable, but Harry met every thrust with one his own regardless.

“I love you,” the boy cried, head thrown back; back arching off the bed as a particularly forceful thrust struck his prostate.

“Marry me,” Lucius whispered, his face against Harry’s, their foreheads pressed together sticky and sweaty and flushed.

“Yes!” Harry hissed as he came, clinging to Lucius’ shoulders so hard he drew blood with his nails. His insides clamped down around his lover’s cock, squeezing and releasing it, as Harry trembled with release. It coated the boy’s stomach, and Lucius’ too as the man thrust down twice, three times more, pressing their stomachs together, trying to get closer to the boy beneath him as he came too, his cry muffled by Harry’s hair.

When they had both stopped shaking, Lucius pulled himself out and lifted himself off of the teenager. He stayed hovering over the prone body though, glancing down at the red face and the sweaty chest and the semen smeared stomach and groin, and then further to the trembling thighs that had moments ago been wrapped around his waist. Lucius pressed a hand between their bodies, one finger pushing back inside of Harry’s arse, but it came away without blood, but sticky with cum, which he offered to Harry. Harry’s tongue flicked out to taste Lucius’ seed, and the man sat back on his heels, kneeling over Harry instead of lying over him. His free hand, since it wasn’t being used to prop himself up, went to his trousers, but instead of fastening them or removing them, it pulled something from the pocket.

Harry trailed his own hand through his come, stroking lightly across his own stomach, before hesitantly offering it to Lucius. The man smirked, face softened except for around the lips where the grin stretched from ear to ear, and he took the offered hand, sucked the semen from Harry’s fingers and then put something in its place.

When Harry was given his hand back, Lucius’ ring sat proudly on his finger once more. Lucius looked down at him smugly.

“Sneaky Slytherin,” Harry chuckled breathlessly. He pulled Lucius back down for a kiss, their mouths meeting in a slow smooth movement that was second nature to them both.

“Hmm, and yet you’ll marry me anyway.”

“Of course I will, I love you. I can’t wait to marry you.” Harry grinned up at him, arms around Lucius’ neck, until the man relented and lay back between Harry’s spread legs.

Harry was interested again, Lucius noticed, and thought smugly to himself that Harry was his now, he had forever to do this, to do anything, with the boy who had offered himself up on a silver platter to a man who didn’t really deserve him at all. “And I love you too, my betrothed,” the man whispered, capturing Harry’s hand to press a kiss to the ringed finger.

XXX

February 24th 1995. Hogwarts.

Gillyweed was a funny plant. Once ingested, it created gills and fins on the person who had used it, which helped a lot when that person was underwater. But wasn’t so useful, as Harry discovered, if you ate the plant while still on land. Gasping for air, Harry clutched at his throat, ignoring the strange sensations of gills opening and closing desperately against the palms of his hands. His eyes watched, wide and desperate, as the judges counted down to the start of the Second Task.

He was going first, since he was in the lead, followed by Viktor Krum. Viktor, Cedric and Fleur were all poised and ready, waiting in their bathing suits at the edge of the magic-made dock that floated above the Black Lake. Crowds of people hovered around them, with screens of swirling silver magic before them that would show everything that happened under water. Lucius was there, seated with his Slytherin friends, and Evan, Snape and Luna. Hermione, as Viktor’s girlfriend was probably seated with his supportive parents. Cedric’s family was somewhere out there, and Fleur’s were right there though her little sister seemed to be absent. Harry couldn’t see Draco either, though he was more worried about asphyxiating than he was about tracking down his missing friend, when really, it was his lover who should have been missing, considering Lucius was the thing that Harry treasured most.

His chest was heaving, and he thought he might be sick. He wondered, absently, did people get sick when they suffocated to death, or was he just strange and unusual? But then the judges were shouting something, and Harry hoped it was “go”, because he had already flailed his way over the edge of the dock and into the water.

And then he was swimming. It came as easily to him as breathing had used to, even though he had never had a lesson in his life. But his feet were like a duck’s, and so were his hands: webbed, and they glided through the water like a knife through butter and Harry allowed them to lead him deeper and deeper into the black lake, trying to stay ahead of the next Tri-Wizard Champion to enter the lake.

Idly, he thought about what he might find. It wouldn’t be Lucius, or his dad, or Luna who was fast becoming the closest thing to a sister he might ever have. It wouldn’t be Hermione, because Harry didn’t consider her enough of a friend, family, essential enough to warrant her being the thing he’s treasure most. It wasn’t Theo, nor was it Draco, or was it? Could it be Draco, because Harry hadn’t seen him in the stands, but that wouldn’t make sense since it should have been Lucius who was present and not the man’s son who took Lucius’ place at the Yule Ball, because the elder man wasn’t invited? It would make more sense than if it were Voldemort Harry was expected to rescue, and Merlin Harry hoped it wasn’t Voldemort, because what possible ramifications of that could he handle?

Yet, there Draco was. He was unconscious, floating beside Hermione, Cho Chang and a very young girl who Harry recognized as Fleur’s sister. They were all tied to the base of a large statue, guarded by a handful of armed merpeople. Harry gazed curiously at them, at their tails and their scales and their hair that resembled seaweed that had dried out, and their tridents and tiaras and their narrowed slitted eyes that reminded him of something out of a nightmare. He made sure to stay away from them if he could, swimming cautiously towards Draco and tugging at the ropes that held his friend hostage. The ropes gave way, and Harry took the boy into his arms and aimed his wand at the ground.

“Expelliarmus!” He cried. The jet of light that hit the sea bed was enough to propel him and Draco both to the surface of the lake. They flew past a swarm of Grindylow, and the fighting figure of Fleur Delacour who was trapped in their grasps. They shot out of the water, landing with a crack on the floating jetty that marked the Champions starting point. Harry was quick to cast a bubble-head charm around himself, not keen to repeat his experience with slow near-suffocation. Draco stirred feebly in his arms, and Harry backed away as the resident medi-Witch descended upon them.

“He’ll be alright, dear,” Poppy Pomfrey told him, as Draco opened his eyes. “And you’ll be right as rain too, once the gillyweed breaks down. Only a few minutes left of it now anyway.” She left them then, to tend to Viktor who had appeared out of the water. His head was transfigured to look like a shark, and Hermione who hung limply from his grasp was bleeding sluggishly on her arms and wrists where he had caught her with his teeth while tearing through the ropes. Viktor lost points for harming his treasure.

Fleur was rescued from the grindylows, and sat beside Harry crying hopelessly about her sister’s death being her fault when Cedric appeared, three minutes after the hour mark with Cho Chang and Gabrielle Delacour floating behind him, tied together with conjured rope.

Harry came first, Fleur last, but Cedric was awarded extra points for his bravery and a kiss from Fleur for saving her little sister, and ended up tied in the lead with Harry.

“That’s pants,” Draco muttered, later, as they made their way to the great hall.

Hogwarts was putting on a show for the visiting families of the Champions by throwing a lavish feast, including expensive champagne for those old enough, and plenty of desert and pudding. Lucius took a seat beside his betrothed, not his fiancée as Harry wasn’t yet old enough, and Draco took Harry’s other side.

“Yeah well, it’s not like Cedric knew the teachers would have rescued the little girl if her sister hadn’t. He was being a nice guy.” Theodore said, shrugging his shoulders. “Not fair that Harry isn’t winning now because of it.”

“What isn’t fair is using that little girl in the first place. What was she, eight or nine? Ten? But they wouldn’t use Lucius?”

“The Headmaster brought us to a meeting the week before the task, Harry. He explained that there were rules about who could be used and who couldn’t be. Apparently, since father is capable of defending himself, and wouldn’t have in usual circumstances relied on you to protect him, then he was excluded from the task.”

“So, it’s ok to potentially drown a nine-year-old girl, because she can’t defend herself, but not a fully grown adult Wizard who can? Now that’s pants.” The brunette ranted, glancing around at his amused friends and family.

“That’s the Ministry of Magic,” Lucius drawled, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Harry’s hair, “its workers aren’t known for their logic, I’m afraid.”

“That can be changed,” Harry whispered. His eyes darted between Evan and Lucius, and then up at Severus Snape who watched him intently as if trying to see inside his mind. All three of them were Death Eaters, all of them who knew the Dark Lord would soon return. Harry knew if anyone could change things, it would be Him, and Harry looked forward to it.

XXX

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Thanks for reading! Sorry to anyone who wasn’t anxiously waiting 46 chapter for smut, but for those who were, satisfied? There should be more in either the next chapter of the one after, depending on how long it is.

Review, or Harry gets it…. Gets what? Review and find out…

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Chapter 47
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