oh dear you guys are going to kill me for this one...my twisted mind...lol you'll understand when you get to the end and go 'what?' 'huh?!' and then realized I've twisted you into a mind pretzel. I couldn't help myself though, honestly I couldn't it just cropped up on me- I think that's what, fourteen pages in three hours straight of writing? Pretty much yeah, it wouldn't leave my head until it was written and the ending...oh dear the ending, it makes me cackle like an evil person.











Mistress Slytheirn

There's something about the way he touches you, he doesn't take his gloves off, you aren't that important to him and he lets you know it. But that's good, to you, that's wonderful. Cold, distant and burning, cutting through your shame and your anger and accepting you whole heartedly just like you need him too. He is a nightmare and a waking dream, he makes you what you are and holds you together while you try to tear yourself apart. He's Lucius Malfoy and you're Harry Potter, and neither of you should have ever, ever met this way…except that you did, and there's no going back now, because he's more now and you…you are less.

Harry felt his breath hitch as he tore his cloak off and threw it carelessly to the side. He was shaking, all over he was trembling and at the edge of a full melt down. A sob was curled inside of him pushing to escape, pushing to start the never ending flow of tears. Self hatred was a bastard and an old friend as it made his throat tighten and his stomach roil in disgust.

"Harry Potter, the hero of the hour, destroyed yet another dark lord doppelganger. He is hailed as the hero of the century; he's been awarded the position of head Auror." The smooth spiteful drawl makes his skin crawl. This isn't what he wants, this is what he hates, because Malfoy knows him too well now, he knows that Harry is breaking and he will take everything from Harry this way to keep him from crashing later, when he should be enjoying the carelessness of being someone else. "But how many I wonder have died for that purpose hmm?" The bitter words stung so sharply that he couldn't help but visibly flinch. The man moves gracefully to the mantle where a canter sits specifically for him and slowly he pours a drink every motion steady and measured. He did it so that Harry could truly feel the weight of his words, that he could acknowledge them and learn from them. "You come from a party, perhaps your own…how long did you last before you couldn't stand it? How long did it take for you to all but run from their tittering laughs and preying compliments? Did it make it worse? Bottom feeders plying you for answers, hanging off your tailcoats and cheapening the deaths of your comrades-"

Harry's reaction was violence; he let out a shout, a pained bitter shout and swept everything from his desk in a destructive wave. He would have flipped the desk too if it hadn't been for the all but silent tisk. Harry shook from it, he was breaking and Lucius knew it, watched him shatter, watched him fall to pieces and knew that he would be the one to pick Harry up and put him back together when the time came.

"The fire was too big, it was swallowing us up-I could hear their screams." He whispered his voice raw. "And they- they wanted details, like it was some bloody Saturday hunt!" He hissed.

"Did you tell them then my boy?" Lucius was there quite suddenly, right there just behind his ear the heat of his words and the smell of his favored scotch on his breath. "Did you tell them how your comrades screamed, how their bodies twisted uselessly and the pungent smell of burnt flesh and death rose up as if to warn you of hell's intentions? Did you tell them how their skin crackled and sizzled and charred-"

Harry broke.

He fell back a mess of sobbing broken man who had waited too long for this, who had tried out of shame to reject the very fact that he needed this.

"Please?" He whispered beyond his tears, he couldn't hardly speak any more, the horror was still too fresh in his mind.

"Do you want me to make you pay for it? Do you want me to punish you for watching your men die and for living yet again?" Lucius said his voice low and rough. Harry could hardly whimper let alone speak but a gloved hand slipped into his hair and yanked his head back with a rough jerk. "Speak boy." He said his tone clipped. Harry swallowed back the bile, the self disgust the hatred that boiled beneath his skin and the pride that made him roar like a broken wounded thing. But not wounded enough, not bled enough, he was hardly scratched compared to those twisting burning figures that had trusted him to keep them safe.

"Y-Yes." He choked. "Hurt me, please, please!" He said in shame and anger that twisted in his gut.

"You waited too long to get to this point Potter." Malfoy said releasing his scalp. "It will be hell bringing my boy out with you a mess like this." Malfoy said with a sneer as he returned to his drink leaving Harry as though he'd never touched him. "Strip, slowly." He said his grey eyes glinting as he leaned against the mantle ready to watch the show. Harry swallowed thickly. Malfoy was toying with him and it disgusted him how thrilled he was with the idea. Malfoy was going to tear him down bit by bit all his pride, all his strong will- and all the anger, hatred and self pity with it. And it made him sick to know how much he needed that. To be free of it all for as long as Malfoy decided he should be free of it, because that was the crux of it, he'd been down before, he knew what freedom lay just beyond the pain and humiliation, the freedom from sorrow, the knowledge that Malfoy would take care of his boy, but he could care less about Harry Potter the boy who lived, destroyer of dark lords and soon to be head auror. He felt it sinking in. He took a deep breath and started with his shirt. Slowly, button by button.

"Count them." Malfoy said softly his eyes narrowed. Harry swallowed. The silence suddenly became oppressive and his throat thicker than ever.

"Three." Another button. "Four." His voice was rough, loud and grating. "Five." He clenched his teeth as Malfoy's lips quirked up. "Six." Harry flinched when the man moved to refill his glass. "Seven." He grated. "Eight." Merlin how many damned buttons were there- "Nine." He glanced down briefly. One more, he nearly let out a sigh. "Ten." He said his shirt falling out exposing him to the warm air that the cheery fire supplied.

"Now the ones on your cuffs." Malfoy said softly. His voice warming deceptively. Harry reached for his cuffs. "Count them." Malfoy said sharply.

"One, two." Harry said flicking the two on his left wrist.

"Slowly." Malfoy admonished his eyes narrowing again.

"Three." Harry said through grit teeth. "Four." He said letting his arms drop to his sides. He realized almost immediately that he was waiting for instruction and grit his teeth at the smug little smirk Malfoy gave him.

"Good boy." The man purred. Harry closed his eyes at the thrill that came with the praise teasing as it was. There was something about this man…damn it all but there was something. "Shirt off, fold it neatly and place it on that chair." Malfoy said with a casual gesture of the hand holding his glass. Harry swallowed and his eyes dropped. He couldn't meet those eyes, not when his arousal was steadily growing more obvious, not when his nipples peaked the moment he slid his shirt off- and not when his hands shook as he folded it.

"Mnn." Harry flinched and gasped as the needy sound escaped him. Malfoy's lips turned up even further.

"On the chair my boy." He said his voice gentling again. Harry rushed to place it on the cushion- "Slowly." Malfoy chided making Harry flinch again. Harry slowed his steps resignedly, more and more he could feel himself slipping, falling, and it was glorious. He wasn't alone here; he didn't bear any burdens outside of what Malfoy set for him. Harry set the shirt down and waited restlessly. "Trousers Harry." Malfoy said quietly. Harry swallowed and his hands moved to the button calm now that the initial rejection of what was happening to him had passed. The fabric fell swiftly and revealed him without hesitance making him swallow at the smirk Malfoy was wearing now. It wasn't as though he'd been preparing to meet up with Malfoy or anything, or that he was trying in his own subconscious way to please the blonde, he just liked the breeze was all-


Who was he kidding.

He'd done it for Malfoy, and he'd known why he'd done it as he was getting dressed, and he knew that it would please Malfoy. It was just one more thing that was spilling out from this filthy secret to the real world where he was a soldier and didn't back down to anyone least of all Malfoy.

If they only knew.

He swallowed hard his jaw clenching at the silent but very much obvious admission he had made here. First it was the style of his clothing excused away by his insistence to himself at least that he was trying to become more professional, or that he was tired of baggy clothes that reminded him of how little he was really worth. But the truth was in the quality, he could cajole his conscience all he wanted, but he wore quality clothes because he knew that Malfoy would approve of them, he wore certain colors because Malfoy thought they looked good on him, eventually Malfoy had simply sent him a wardrobe and Harry had wordlessly worn them secretly pleased at the idea that the man was taking care of him. But he wasn't was he? Did he care at all? He pretended to care, about his 'boy' at least, funny how that title had gone from despised to earned, or that his name, Harry dripped from Malfoy's lips like the sweetest form of torment teasing him with promises, arousing him with two bloody syllables.


And there it was, he was falling, not gracefully as he would later when he could finally stop thinking about how much this contradicted everything he was, but knee bruising falling that had him punishing himself-


Harry gasped as pain blossomed across his cheek and jaw despite the muting of the glove, sweet and tormenting at the same time.

"You're pain is mine to dole out Harry, the moment you walked in here you were mine and you will continue to be mine until I say so, that was our agreement." Malfoy's voice was bored, not as harsh as it should be, because he didn't care, not when Harry was like this, not yet. Harry swallowed and nodded silently before settling his shaking hands on his thighs trying and failing not to flex them. Cloth brushed his reddened cheek leisurely and there was a dull thunk of glass hitting solid wood- Malfoy setting down his decanter. Another smaller click and Malfoy's cane was in his hand, not the one that housed his wand, Merlin no, Malfoy was cruel, not intent on killing him- he took too much pleasure in having Harry alive. No, this cane was thin, light, bamboo, and split right down the middle to deliver the most pain yet be the least damaging. Malfoy's steps were a slow measured prowl as he circled Harry nudging his arse cheeks with the cool cane making his breath catch as the un-sanded flat end of the wood snagged on the rim. He was like a captured animal, he wanted to snarl and lash out and whimper but more than anything he wanted the pain, and Malfoy was less likely to punish him if he moved, Malfoy would walk away would leave Harry there for hours in disinterest until Harry was ready to give anything to be beaten.

Harry knew because Malfoy had done it before.

"You're learning slowly my boy." Malfoy purred coming around in front of him again. Harry could smell the hint of arousal under the cologne and it was a silent victory that made him want to moan before he realized what he was wanting. "Kiss it." Malfoy said holding the wood before Harry's face his hand steady as ever. Harry grit his teeth and felt the last of his rebellion begin to die as he pressed his lips to the wood. "It took you fourteen days to come to me, so I'll add fourteen to your count. Five of my hardest for each man you lost, how man does that make Harry?" He said quietly. Harry swallowed and tears welled up in his eyes. Soon, soon he would pay for his crimes in his own way.

"Four men, twenty strikes plus the fourteen, thirty four." Harry rasped.

"Thirty four?" Malfoy said his voice a little sharper. Harry felt his shoulders twitch, trying to hunch forward, but Malfoy would walk away if he did. He was to kneel here displayed and willing, if he didn't Malfoy would walk away and he needed this so badly, it helped him breathe the next day when he would have to face their empty cubicles and teary-eyed families. And what was his pride worth when faced with that relief? Nothing.

"Thirty four master." Harry felt himself begin to shake. "Please?" He whispered. His eyes were hot and itchy, in a moment tears would fall and they wouldn't stop, not until well after the blows ceased and his back bled. A hand grasped his jaw and tilted his head back.

"Look at me Harry." Malfoy demanded. It was so hard, so bloody hard to lift his gaze and face his sin, face the embodiment of how twisted and worthless he was. But he did, and the moment his eyes met grey eyes he knew he would be forgiven, he would have to work for it, but he would be forgiven, and that above all made it all worth it. He sighed softly and leaned forward settling his hands into the thick carpet baring himself willingly. "Good boy, precious boy. Count them for me." Harry took in a breath and almost immediately it was knocked from him as the wood hit him the first bite always knocking his mind out of focus. Pain, thwack! Blossoming heat, thwack! Counting- thwack! Screams that echo and are silenced-twack! –by the rush of blood pounding in his ears- twack! Numbers that jumble- … -Harry whines.

"Six Harry, don't lose yourself to it." Malfoy's voice was soft, close, and he could feel the prickle of whiskers against his red tear stained cheeks, cool lips pressing to his forehead tenderly. "Ready?" Harry swallows and nods.

"Six." He rasps. THWACK! The silence- THWACK! –counting THWACK! It becomes his world- THWACK! The pain is slowly becoming more, too much- THWACK! But not enough, not when the smell of burnt flesh permeates the air- THWACK! –he has to keep count! THWACK! He's sobbing out the number- THWACK! –the first split in his skin, blood mingles with sweat and stings- THWACK!- he's alive- THWACK!- but they are dead- THWACK!- blood trickles down his spine, to the dimples in his thighs- THWACK! He sobs brokenly and forgets himself, forgets the sobbing twisting bodies and echoing cries. It goes on and on until he can't feel it properly any more, it's just pain and the sense that he's freeing himself and that Malfoy is taking care of him. Numbers mean nothing, sorrow is beguiled and the tears in his heart heal over even as his back is split into shreds and his soul tatters of shivering agony. Malfoy makes it go away, Malfoy becomes Master, and Master is his world. All he can feel, taste, sweat, smell, and breathe and bleed is Lucius Malfoy.

When he at last gasps thirty-six there is little left of his back and even less of him. It's all been shredded away and he can breathe at last even as he bleeds copiously over the expensive rug.


Malfoy's soothing sounds are miles under water.

Drink my boy…

Cool, soothing, healing. The wounded pieces of his soul are fitting back together, scarred but healing even as the flesh knits together on his back. He's being sewn together. Something gelatinous and herbal as making his flesh itch and prickle and burn as it comes together and returns to being his back, flawless, unscarred, as agreed. And he hates it. Wishes in his heart of hearts that he could carry it around with him, a mark of what Malfoy has come to mean to him, a mark of ownership that he can't easily rid himself of once he wakes to face the day tomorrow.


Harry gasps as the collar settles around his neck, thick, steel biting into his flesh in a way that only reminds him why he is here, how much he needs this. He opens his eyes slowly and gazes up at Malfoy, waiting, willing and it is this, this softening of everything he is, this complete and utter openness that makes Malfoy's gaze gentle, his expression open, his hands reach out for him drawing him into an embrace. Malfoy no longer cares that he's getting potion all over his robes, though Harry supposes his white shirt is already flecked with blood so it couldn't have mattered too much any way. Harry sighs and sinks into the embrace feeling calm, free and at home.

"My beautiful boy you bore that so well." Malfoy whispers pressing a kiss to Harry's ear making him shiver. His arousal, which had wilted under the pain, grows under careful coaxing as his jaw is lifted and he's drawn into a slow kiss, a burning promising kiss. Master is never like this unless Harry has truly given everything and Harry sighs into the reward letting out a small sound. There is no need for words; Master is so attuned to him now that he knows just how grateful Harry is. The man lifts him and Harry is glad because he is still sore and achy his skin new and raw. He floats for a moment, just waiting, watching, staring up at the man in clear and unhindered adoration. Master sets him on a bed and nudges him over until he is lying on his belly before a warm wash cloth carefully sooths over the skin ridding him of any residual gel and blood. The cloth chafes despite how gentle master is being and Harry whines softly earning him a kiss to his temple and murmured apologies and assurances that it will be over soon. Harry is tense his eyes closed tightly against the pain until the cloth is gone and finally, finally master takes off his gloves and pours oil into his hands smoothing soft warm hands over the reddened injured flesh and making Harry shiver with the intimacy of it. All of it, every ounce of pain was worth the feel of master giving in to this. Was this what he felt when Harry finally gave in? When Harry finally broke down enough to look up at him with a love and devotion that he would never willingly show otherwise?

He sighs as warm thick oil is poured onto his back, fragrant with medicinal herbs as master begins to massage the twitching skin easing the transition from pain to a deeper more full healing. Harry floats there blinking slowly and sleepily as master hums and rubs content in Harry's complete compliance. And it is complete Harry thinks briefly. He would seriously do anything for this, even kill if it came down to it, in this moment he knew he could and would trust master entirely and that Lucius Malfoy could and would take care of his every need no matter how selfish.


He lets out a small sound as a finger slips into him well oiled and easy as if it was meant to happen. Master chuckles and presses a kiss to his shoulder. The second finger is almost as easy despite how long it's been since Harry's given into it, it slides and glides beside the other and the muscles relax because he is relaxed and pleasure is burning low in his belly. It isn't long before he wants to push back and it takes all of his will power to remain still. He has to wait, he has to hold back, be still, he can feel master's will bearing over him even as he is prying Harry open. Don't move, don't move, no matter how much he wants to he is not to move-

A free hand grabs his jaw and turns his head and he whimpers into the kiss as master takes hungrily from him nipping at his bottom lip in silent indulgent permission. Harry rocks back with a mewl of gratitude. This is all he is right now, all he has become and all he ever will be- or so he imagines. It is near to perfection but he is greedy and they both know it, two fingers turns to three and he is still not satisfied by them. He wants true contact, he wants the give and take the pull and push, he wants the sting and the ache and the burn of lust and want. Master pulls away and Harry whimpers just waiting to see if he hasn't done something that would make the man pull away for good and leave him for hours strung up and aching. Instead he is rewarded with pressure and then a slick full glide that drives something purely animalistic out of him echoing loudly in the silence broken only by master's darker fuller groan that resonates and vibrates deliciously.

"Ma petit." Master whispers. He is cradling Harry to him, he is surrounding Harry and protecting him from the world and all its vile evils. How could he have ever thought that this was wrong when they fit together so perfectly, so intricately? Master moves slowly, too slowly, torturously never endingly slowly, and it makes Harry want to scream but even as he thinks it he revels in it. There is pleasure that comes in slow steady bursts of fire behind his eyes and fingers, oil slicked and damp slide into his hair yanking it sharpening lust and giving it more boldness. He's being turned inside out he knows, he's being tortured to madness and taught a lesson all in the same slow steady control. The universe could burst into flames and burn out like a dying star and he wouldn't give a damn as long as that long lean body pressed into him and encased him in that rare sense of security and utter peace.

Lucius chuckles against the shell of his ear. "You'll make yourself bleed my dear." He says his voice still steady though it's tight and thin. Harry realizes that he's clenching the bed sheets so tightly that his nails are white and one has already cracked slightly. It's keeping him from moving though and he sorely wants to, to bear down, to push back and mewl like the needy thing he is. But this first time is about master, it is always about master, he'll get his chance later, but now he must obey absolutely and that means he must be utterly still, a hole for his master's use.

Something in his mind must have reached Lucius because his breath catches and his pace speeds and Harry is unable to keep back the small whimpers as the pleasure leaves him trembling and taut until he can count the breaths until master's release and pray that master will let him come too for his good behavior.

"Yes ma petit come with me." Lucius whispers against his ear. There is the briefest touch gliding across his arousal and Harry cries out as Lucius goes in deep and fills him before stiffening his other hand still gripping his hair as he comes the low drawn out growl pushing Harry until he comes in a bright rippling explosion.

It takes several moments for him to be able to see again. His body is boneless and singing from the stress, he's on his stomach but master has moved beside him to watch him possibly, the man once admitted to enjoying the ebb and flow of the bliss secured so deeply in Harry's green eyes. Grey eyes are heated, not with lust but with warmth and it is these moments that Harry knows that he lives for.

"A bath I think." Master says though they both know that it isn't simply a suggestion. Harry nods weakly but doesn't even bother trying to sit up which makes the man smile faintly. It means he's exhausted yes, but it also means that he trusts Lucius to pick him up and take care of him even now after he's gotten what he wants from Harry. Some part of Harry wants to deny that there is more to it then that, but Lucius always proves that part of him wrong, there is more to it than Harry debasing himself before a death eater, there was more to it than the cold contract he'd initially set.

There's this.

Lucius Malfoy, former death eater and now his master, lifting him from the bed gently and cradling him to his chest as he glides across the room and to the bathroom where the elves have already prepared a steaming and fragrant bath. Lucius eases them in, skin on skin the pressure of overwhelming heat lessened by the strength of the anchor behind him. Lucius is built like a god he knows, long and lean and pure muscle, his beauty which had been destroyed by Azkaban had returned to him without him looking a day older. Harry idly traces one of the hard biceps as he's shifted and turned until his head rests on a collar bone and the rest of him is curled into the strength and warmth that he sorely needs. He presses a kiss to a pectoral as a washcloth is smoothed over less irritating now that the healing oils have done their work. Lucius works down his body slowly and methodically his motions intimate but at the same time clinical, this is a ritual now, a show of their roles and the position he's taken. It takes him a long time to get to Harry's feet and Harry is torn, part of him is eager for what comes next, another part of him wishes that it would never end.

But it does end and then it's his turn.

Lucius snaps his fingers and a chilled plate appears as he hands the cloth to Harry. He doesn't need to make the order, Harry is already pouring soap onto it and gliding across the smooth pale planes of skin halting only to worship a long scar or press a kiss to a place where he knows he's left a mark of his own. Lucius snaps his fingers again and soft music begins to play as he crooks a finger under Harry's jaw and lifts his chin pressing a bite sized piece of fruit to his lips. Harry eats nipping the long fingers.

"Do you like it?" Lucius says brushing his cheek gently. Harry nods and presses his face to the fingers even as his hands continue to wash. "I thought you might, it's called persimmon, they start out quite hard and bitter but then they soften and become sweet, sensual and lush, they remind me of you." He said pressing another piece to Harry's lips. Harry can't help but flush as he eats it the sincere compliment more erotic than the fact that the cloth is now washing over Lucius' lower regions. Lucius doesn't give out empty compliments, not since the war, he seems to have had enough of that sort of thing. He leaves the groveling to Draco. Harry bends down and presses a kiss to the tip of his master's flaccid cock a brief and silent thanks for the precious and dearly sought after sentiment. He knows Lucius could do better, there are those that would be so willing to lick the man's boots without requiring a beating to put them in their place.

"Precious boy get to your task." Lucius admonishes gently a slight tug to the hair at the base of Harry's scalp. Fingers trace around the collar and Harry sighs tilting his head willingly while he washes down the strong thighs and calves. No doubt there is a bright red ring around his neck now from where the edge of the metal presses into his flesh and it will be something that Lucius allows him to keep, something he will see tomorrow while every other mark has disappeared and all he has is a dull ache at the base of his spine and a thudding headache from the pain and stress he's had to put himself through. Anyone else will think he has a hangover, it will be cold so he'll wear a scarf over the already high collar of his robes. But he will know and so will Lucius, and Lucius will find him at some point during the day, he will look Harry over, make certain he is well and then smirk his eyes burning a hole through three layers of cloth to where those red marks lay.

Warm water pours over his head and brings him back to the now, his hair has been scrubbed clean and he's missed most of it. That happens at times, he's so relaxed that his mind wanders and master has to remind him where he is. Long fingers slide through his hair, combing it back and another bowl of water is poured over his head. Lucius explained this once, some sort of ritual between master and slave, something to deepen the bond and ensure longevity. Harry didn't buy into it but, it did sound purely sinful coming from Lucius' mouth. And there was a sort of ritualistic feel to everything they did. Harry knew what to expect, the pattern, the habit, the order in a chaotic world.

Now it's his turn.

Harry slips out of the water carefully and kneels by Lucius' head as the man holds out the bottle of shampoo he uses, some special probably overly priced one of a kind soap but the price never bothered Harry, it's expected of Lucius after all. He works the shampoo into Lucius' hair the way he was once shown. The task is normally gifted to a specific elf that is trained to do so, it is a high honor the elf told him once, wizards don't let just anyone touch their hair. Harry could imagine that polyjuice was possibly just one reason why such a thing would be carefully guarded. He smiles is he works. The silken strands slide through his fingers as the potion in the soap does its work. The potion will keep any from slipping away during the day, a perk Harry had in fact learned from Lucius and one that he assumes has probably saved his friends or team mate's lives a few times. Lucius tilts his head further back and his lips quirk up a silent invitation that Harry's breath catches for. He leans forward and kisses Lucius slowly. For all his fighting and shame, for all that he will hate himself later, he treasures these moments. This kiss, erotic, wet and fragrant with persimmon and the veritable forest of flowers Lucius has in that shampoo. It would be easy to simply sink into it, but Lucius' lips quirk again and his tongue retreats in silent admonishment. Harry sighs and settles a gentle hand over gray eyes feeling the tell-tale tickle of eyelashes against his palm as they close allowing Harry to pour water through the hair cleaning it until the water runs clear and Lucius' breathing is slow and even.

Harry is well aware, as is Lucius, that it would be so very easy to kill the man now, his neck is bared jugular right there before Harry and Harry's hand is covering his eyes. But he wont and that's the crux of it, the trust goes both ways and he can't really truly hate Lucius at the end of this because this moment defines the truth; everything that happens here is Harry's choice. Lucius doesn't even flinch when Harry leans forward and nuzzles the pale skin in silent and utter gratitude. Instead the man smiles and reaches up cradling his cheek briefly before patting it in silent command.

Harry is so far gone, so free now, that his hips sway to the sounds of violins and flutes as he slinks across the room no doubt giving master an eyeful as he retrieves the towel. The sounds of water sloshing and soft indulgent laughter fill his ears as Lucius slips out of the bath holding out his arms as Harry dries him patting him down and rubbing carefully until he is all but dry. A dry towel is worked through the long pale hair and then wrapped expertly. Harry had once thought the sight womanly, now it only appealed, making the man's cheekbones sharper, the glint in his eyes burn brighter. Lucius tugged him into a towel of his own dropping a kiss to his lips and lingering slightly in retaliation for Harry's teasing earlier. By the time they are done Harry is burning again his breathing uneven and his eyes begging.

"Non ma petit, you are exhausted, sleep now, torture later." He says with a smirk. Harry pouts inwardly but nods all the same as he is led to the bed which has been freshly made and is lifted and prodded until they are both curled close entangled for the time being. He is safe, completely and utterly safe and it doesn't take long before he's falling fast asleep.

#$% #$% #$% #$%

Harry woke slowly.

It took a few minutes to realize why he wasn't gasping for air from a nightmare.

Then he realized it was because he was living a nightmare.

Everything that happened with master-Malfoy, was the dream.

Hard and bitter like persimmons that weren't yet ripened.

Lucius sighed slightly beside him.

"How does this keep happening?" Harry whispered. A part of him, a larger part than he wanted to acknowledge wanted the dream to keep going. But the steel around his neck chafed and everything he'd done and said, every noise he'd made, every inch he'd given made him clench his teeth. Malfoy snorted and sat up, stiff and unyielding again.

"You burst into my home, abused my wards and destroyed a rather expensive inkwell that Draco gifted me and you wonder how it happened?" He said with a slight sneer. Harry wanted to bury his face in his hands but he couldn't, the ache was still there, and the feeling that he was safe, and that bloody freedom from the cloud that hung over his head. Harry turned his gaze to Lucius and found the man's gaze heavy on him, assessing. "You're killing yourself, albeit slowly. Why do you do this Potter? You owe nothing to the world; you've done more than your fair share." He says calmly, coolly. This question comes up from time to time. Lucius can't understand what the word selfless means, he's been selfish for too long. A gaping echoing chasm is there as an answer. Harry really doesn't know why. He doesn't give a damn about climbing political ladders and he's grown cynical enough that the mere thought of being someone's bleeding hero makes him sick.

"Because I'm Harry bloody Potter." He says tiredly. He can admit now that It's worn him to the nub, taking on position as head Auror might just be good for him, a desk job, he could order people about and sit in his little cube filling in paperwork only coming out when he absolutely needed to. Then maybe he wouldn't need this so much, this complicated thing with Lucius Malfoy of all people. But he wasn't blind, he couldn't even last two weeks without the man, there was no way he was shoving him out of his life, it was like Voldemort all over again- the man was so much a part of his life that he knew that there was little beyond him, he'd discovered that once the great and powerful dark lord had finally been thoroughly vanquished. There were of course several key differences here, Voldemort was ugly, Harry had never been attracted to him, and Harry had been quite willing by the end of it to kill the man. With Lucius- well, he really had no reason to kill the man, he bore no grudge against him even for the Ginny thing and that was years ago. Lucius was also extremely beautiful, and sensual, and when it got to that point where Harry became 'his boy' a primal part of Harry was healed. He felt his fists clench.

It was different.

This time was different.

He wasn't running for the door.

He wasn't so absolutely sickened by himself that he felt ill.

And he knew that this couldn't be ignored.

He was resigned.

"Are we ready for angry sex yet Potter?" Malfoy said arching a delicate eyebrow. Harry's eyes were drawn to him, slipping to the pale curtain of hair. The ritual, the habits, they were a part of him now. Malfoy was a part of him now. Harry looked for him in a crowd smelled that damned shampoo from down the hall and could pinpoint the moment when he had to force himself to stiffen and act disgusted at the curl of arousal and longing that filled him.

In the last two weeks he'd done everything in his considerable knowledge in potions, spells, poisons and rituals to figure out why he couldn't get away from this. He'd had ten years of experience which was a considerable amount considering Aurors didn't usually last past the first seven years. But there was nothing and he knew it.

He let out a harsh laugh and covered his eyes to hide how much he was breaking to pieces.

"Malfoy-!" That's right, tear the plaster off, get it done and over with, Malfoy was sure to go the moment permanency was even hinted at. His breath was unsteady and a knot formed in his throat nearly choking him.

"No boy, not like this." Malfoy said his voice suddenly cold and brittle. As if he knew, as if he could know.

"There's no fucking way you know-" Malfoy's hand settled over his mouth in a bruising grip and his eyes were glints of ice and fire as they stared right into him, into his very soul.

"Do not return here until you've thought this out properly Potter, you won't be rid of me so easily." Malfoy said before releasing him with a twist and slipping from the bed.

"You can't mean…" Harry said hollowly. Lucius gazed back at him with narrowed predatory eyes uncaring of his nakedness.

"But I do Potter, I want my boy, not the boy who lived or whatever else they call you, I want Harry, just Harry." He seethed. "And you will not cheapen my boy saying such things impulsively." He bit out.

"We are the same person you know-"

"No Potter, you are not, not really. This man, the one you are now, this is the man that you think you should be, the real you is there, lurking under your skin, I have to flay him out of hiding every time we meet, I know my boy is there and so do you." He seethed. He was furious. Lucius Malfoy was truly furious, not cold and indifferent, but angry in a way Harry hadn't seen in a very long time. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, it chilled him to the bone.

It made him hard and wanting in seconds.

Silver eyes caught it and Harry couldn't hide, he could never hide, he was too attuned to the man to hide. A curl slipped across the man's lips as he leaned over the bed hovering over Harry like a promise.

"I am the sort of person that is accustomed to getting what I want Potter, you know this, and I want my boy, at my feet, by my side and under me where he belongs." The words went straight to his cock and made him shaken but he couldn't stop seeing the man, he was right there and Harry was terrified that he couldn't tear his eyes away.

"You could have anyone." Harry breathed. Malfoy's eyes burned.

"Don't make me repeat myself Potter. I want my boy, no one else will do, I'm a very particular man you know." The words rumbled against him, the heat was so close, so damned close but Malfoy wasn't budging.

"Why?" Harry rasped. "Why me?" He couldn't help but ask.

"At first you were an amusement. My revenge for costing me a house elf." Harry flinched. "But now because you fit so nicely into the palm of my hand. You break so beautifully and not just for anyone. I've known you for most of your life Harry, people hurt you before, made you bleed before, but you never let them defeat you, not even the dark lord and all his armies- the man defeated me!" He said holding up his scarred arm. "But not you." He said cupping Harry's cheek. "I don't give a damn who you are outside of my bed boy, I know it to be false, this-this is you."

"Not a very convincing argument." Harry said through clenched teeth. It was a lie, of course it was a lie and Lucius knew it which was why he smirked and lean closer, until Harry could feel his breath tickling his lips.

"You want promises of what is to come? Flighty things that you don't know will come true? Or do you want the truth, the complete painful truth." He articulated against Harry's lips. "My words will flay you just as well as my hands Potter, my boy is here, listening and he knows what I will give him."

And this sick part was that Harry did know.

He knew all too well.

Days like last night where he was cared for, where he faced rituals and habits and indulged in learning new things without fear of what might happen to him. Days and nights of endless pleasure, of long silences in which words weren't needed, where he felt confident enough to strut around naked, to dance as he sometimes did. Days of faint music and comfort, where the world could fuck its self because his master said so and it was so because Lucius Malfoy rarely if ever gave a damn about what happened to it so long as he had his creature comforts.

"My god you've been courting me all along." Harry whispered as tears stung his eyes.

"I've been giving you what you need, things you requested and more then that, I've given you what I've wanted to give you and nothing more. Tell me Potter when have you known me to do something that I didn't want to do hmm? And don't bring up the dark lord, those were different times." He said rolling his eyes at Harry's gaping mouth. Harry snapped his mouth shut. It was true, Lucius seemed to be done with the world at large after the war was over. He bribed his way out of Azkaban, laid low for a while and accepted that his place in society was gone, instead he slinked around like a well bred cat and did as he pleased traveling the world for several years. Harry would know, his position as an auror required him to keep tabs on men like Lucius. That's what had brought them together. There was an alert that Malfoy had been caught beating a wizard nearly to death, the auror didn't know about that world no matter how both men had protested that it was consensual, but Harry did, because he'd needed it even then. He'd been evading this for what? Six years now?

Six years three months one week and two days.

Not that he'd been counting.


It always came back to this didn't it?

"There's my boy." Malfoy said softly. Harry looked up at the man carefully and saw the way his expression had softened. "You're so pliant here, so relaxed, because you know I'll keep you safe, you know I'll take care of you." Master said. Harry swallowed.

"Have you ever had something you wanted, something so desperate that you can't live without it held out before you, offered like a dream-" His breath caught. "-But the moment you reach for it-" Malfoy's eyes hardened again.

"No." Malfoy said softly, firmly, completely. "Remember my boy- that will never happen while I'm in charge." He said tracing the steel band the slightly irritated skin stinging an a not so unpleasant way.

And the strange part was that Harry believed him.

Lucius pulled away and Harry swallowed at how bereft he felt.

"I-" A slender finger pressed against his lips.

"Come back in a week. If you are sure bring your things and be rid of your flat." He said crisply as he stepped into the closet.

"And if I'm not?" Harry rasped his eyes wide and staring at the ceiling high vaulted elaborate thing that it was.

"Come back in a week for our usual appointment." Lucius said evenly.

"And then?" Harry whispered.

"I'll beat you, fuck you and you'll run away yet again." Malfoy said dryly.

"And then?" Harry said his voice small as he closed his eyes.

"Come back the week after." Malfoy said sounding more amused than irate.

"And then?" Harry said not understanding why his eyes were stinging. Malfoy let out a snort.

"The same." He said dryly.

"Until when?" Harry whispered.

"Until you are ready." Malfoy said his voice suddenly close. Harry's eyes snapped open and he stared at the man now fully dressed and adjusting the collar on his vest.

"It could take a long time." He said quietly. "It could be never." He amended catching himself. Malfoy smirked.

"I doubt it, but I'll wait." He said with a shrug.

"Why?" Harry whispered.

"I've waited six years Potter; did you think I would give up now? Besides, I have a whole world to show you." He said with a shrug. "And all you have is a boring desk job and a title that you don't even want." He said pulling on his cloak. "Though I suppose it is good that you won't be out getting yourself killed now." The tone, something about the words, years of practice in reading between the lines left Harry gasping.

"You-" He sat up in shock, and then shock again that he wasn't angry just…shocked that Lucius had interfered. "You have no power in the ministry-"

"Really Potter there's no reason to insult me." Lucius said sneering slightly as he flicked his gloves and began to slip them over his palms. Harry stared at them in sudden irrational hatred. Because Malfoy had a persona he had to keep too, a persona that Harry required of him. Cold, distant, uncaring.

But he wasn't.

"Why?" Harry asked. Grey eyes flashed briefly and the sneer became a smirk. Lucius had power, he probably had far more than he was letting on and Harry who'd been keeping a close eye on him had no idea, because Lucius never used that power, or Harry would know, except he had, and Harry didn't know, he was too busy trying to smother himself in ashes.

"My boy knows the answer to that." Malfoy said crisply. Harry nodded. Because he did. Malfoy had made himself responsible for Harry's well being, but only in so far as Harry allowed. If he wanted Harry out of serious danger, away from self destruction- he would do it even if it pissed Harry off, just like he would hurt Harry or say things that Harry secretly needed him to say even if they were words that Lucius didn't really believe. Lucius stepped closer and a small familiar key appeared.

"No!" Harry gasped flinching away before he could stop himself. Malfoy stilled his expression carefully blank. Harry's heart pounded and his eyes watered as he clutched the collar. A hand settled on the base of his scull the cloth of his damned white gloves separating them.

"This is your promise to me; you can not have it until you are truly ready to make that promise." Lucius said his voice tense. "This I cannot give you, I'm sorry." He said unlocking the metal with a click that made Harry's heart break.

"I want-"

"I give you so much Potter, and I would give you so much more when the time comes but not this." Something in the man's voice made Harry stop. There was a longing in it, something that belonged to his master and not to Lord Malfoy. The collar meant more than he'd previously assumed. Harry stared at it as it retreated and traced the thin red lines on his neck with trembling fingers.

"A week?" Harry said in a still small voice as Malfoy strode towards the door halting at Harry's question.

"A week." He said stiffly before slipping away leaving Harry to the silence.

#$% #$% #$% #$%

A week.

It took two days of arguing against himself before he came to the conclusion he'd already known would be his choice. All it took was Lucius' silver eyes searching him for wellbeing like he always did, and then settling on his neck, making those lines itch and burn. Making him yearn for more.

It took another two days to pack and get his lease sorted.

A day of shouting with Kingsley and discussing who would take the position, getting everything organized in the office.

A day to get through to Hermione so that she and Ron wouldn't come down on Malfoy like avenging angels- Ron would take a while longer to come around it was Malfoy after all.

And one more day, to sit on the edge of his bed in his empty flat tracing his neck until one of the lines bled from the aggravation.

By nightfall he'd worked himself into a frenzy. Sending the elves off with his things was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

By the time he flooed to Malfoy manor he was calm again.

Adrenalin made his pulse jump.

He was hot and cold and everything in between but he was calm as he stepped into the office.

Malfoy wasn't there.

A part of him wanted to turn around and run, to decide that this was all a mistake.

What the hell was he thinking?!

But he couldn't muster the shame, it was old and weather beaten.

He couldn't find the irrational anger.

This was in fact his own choice.

And he was ready.

He sank to his knees, in the position he'd fallen into so often it was graceful.

And he breathed.

The weight of the world seemed to float away.

Harry Potter was gone, he'd already dealt with the press, already rid himself of all lingering ties, his portfolio from Gringotts was on the large mahogany desk in a neat file. He was just Harry now. He was returned to the boy that he'd been at eleven years of age, there was just the one thing.

Just one thing.

But he would hand it over personally.

Because it stripped him bare just as surely as the cane could.

His breath caught as the sound of foot falls filled the air at last, then the swish and click of the door. The feet halted and he felt eyes on his back. Should he have undressed? He grit his teeth. Shit. He'd messed it up already- The foot falls approached but slipped by him brushing him with a flutter of a breeze. Malfoy slipped around the desk- the inkwell had been replaced Harry noted- and his hand went to the portfolio. Lucius stood there for a long moment his hand tapping to folder. Harry knew instinctively that it was where the Gringotts seal was embossed.

Malfoy was hesitating.

Wasn't he?

Harry thought about how tight the man's voice had grown when he'd asked to keep the collar.

Harry swallowed and reached for his holster.

Because in the end he was nothing but a boy without his magic.

He heard Malfoy's breath hitch as Harry lifted his wand, outstretched palms up in silent offering.

His wand.

A wizard died with his wand in his hands, he never let it go, only extremely good friends would be given the wand for safe keeping, but this was more then that and they knew it. Harry didn't give this wand to anyone.

"The elder wand." Lucius breathed. Harry nodded. He'd suspected that Lucius would know the significance of it. Lucius all but fell into his seat. "In one week…"

"Six years." Harry amended his eyes dropping to the carpet. "Sir." He added with a swallow. Lucius watched him.

"Why." He demanded.

"You had power and you didn't use it, I figure you could do it again." Harry said with a slow nod.


"Boy." Harry amended looking directly into the man's eyes. "Your boy." He said dropping his gaze. Lucius stared at him for a long drawn out moment his eyes sharp and thoughtful. Harry knew. Lucius was thinking of all the ways he could use the wand. But when it came to it, the look fell away and his gaze turned to Harry in a different way. Lucius would never use the wand. Harry knew it the moment he reached up and tugged at the fingers of his glove, one by one until it pulled free. Each glove coming off and staying off if Harry had any say in it. Lucius pulled something from his desk and Harry felt his breath catch as the man approached with a box in his hand. He reached out, and Harry uncurled his fingers further even as his breath caught in his chest.

"There are many things I will have of you Harry." Lucius said quietly before covering Harry's hands and curling them back around the wand. "But not this." He said shocking Harry completely. "My wand was taken from me Harry, believe me I know the sacrifice, and because of that I would never ask this of you even though you give it so willingly." Harry gazed at him for a long moment stunned. Maybe Malfoy had changed more than Harry had ever considered. "Put it away Harry." He said smiling slightly. Harry nodded slowly and slipped his wand back into its holster fingers trembling. "Bear your neck for me my boy." Lucius whispered coming closer. Harry lifted his chin and heard Lucius' breath catch. A finger traced the lines carefully the pad of it soft and yielding. Harry swallowed past the shiver and waited. "Speak." Lucius whispered. Harry felt his breath catch again.

"I- I kept thinking of the collar, how much it meant to you how much I wanted it." He said his eyes closing briefly. When they opened again Malfoy was smirking slightly.

"Greedy boy." He muttered gently. Harry sighed when hard heavy metal settled around his neck. "This is platinum, a step up from your previous collar." Harry swallowed as it clicked into place as though it had belonged there from the start. Harry could feel the slight magic on it, protection ruins, a tracing ruin, wards to keep most low level hexes and spells away- there were others but Harry was too distracted by the feel of Lucius hooking his finger into the loop and tugging him forward until he was sprawling across the ground. "You are mine now Harry." Lucius breathed against his ear. "Undress and have the bath ready, I want you kneeling and open for me when I return." He hissed before turning and striding from the room leaving Harry feeling slightly bereft. The weight around his neck was more than solid though, it was as though it was already becoming a part of him.

He should hate himself.

But that would be pointless.

With a slight smile he touched the collar and slipped into the side room where he and Lucius had always had their liaisons. He had a bath to prepare for after all.

#$% #$% #$% #$%

Fine leather shoes clicked across the marble floors evenly the gait sure and confident as Lucius made his way through the halls unwilling to keep his boy waiting for any longer than necessary. He spun on his heel and pressed his wand to the door frame of a particularly small door that most would simply have walked by even without the ward around it. The wards accepted him and he stepped into the room a smirk clear on his lips as dull gray eyes met his.

"Come to kill me at last traitor?" The man said. His grace was gone, long pale blond hair was now white and brittle, smooth skin marred with deep wrinkles and sallow cheeks, dark circles under the eyes. Lucius smirked wryly and pulled out a vial from his pocket.

"I need a drop of blood." He said lightly his eyes flashing. The man in the chair smiled wryly and gave a half-hearted shrug.

"You've taken everything else, I don't see why not." He said holding out his hand his skin grayed. "Dare I ask why?" The man asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Harry has finally agreed to being mine, it's time I made this a it more permanent." Was the smug reply. The figure smiled slowly and widely his teeth showing and a glint of madness in his eyes.

"You've taken my family, my name, my money, my face- you've taken everything from me, but old friend, you will never have Potter. He doesn't love you. He's fallen for an illusion. If he saw who you really were-"

"Do you think I give a damn!" Was the dark reply. "I'll take what I can get and I'll be satisfied. With this I can be you the way you should have been, the way you once were while you choose to rot away with your books!" He said gesturing to the stacks and stacks of books. The man smiled wryly.

"He would hate you if he knew." The man said softly. "Besides, there's nothing for me out there, Narcissa has moved on, Draco is ashamed of me, my power is gone- my ambition is lost, all I have left are petty interests, hobbies that I'd put aside in favor of the Malfoy name. I doubt I'll even have a name on my grave at this rate." He said with a shrug. Lucius cut the man's finger and let the blood drip into the vial ignoring his words for the most part as he watched the color of the potion shift and change.

"I suppose it doesn't matter. I like being you Lucius, I've never been able to travel as I liked, to eat what I wanted or be desired by others- it's quite wonderful." He said smirking as the potion turned a murky gray. Lucius nodded slowly his dull tired eyes careless of the pursuits of the man before him.

"I'm just making a point, if he ever finds out that you aren't Lucius Malfoy-"

"He'll never know." Was the sharp reply. "This potion will change me permanently." He said before knocking the potion back swiftly. There was no noticeable change and Lucius nodded.

"Sometimes I wish I had just left you to die." He said evenly. Sharp eyes met his.

"Why Lucius I feel the same about you." He said silkily. The white haired man snorted. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a boy I need to properly break in." The false Lucius said with a swift bow before turning and striding from the room.

"Whatever you want…Severus." Came the quiet reply. Younger bolder eyes sharpened slightly and glittered as Severus Snape in the form of Lucius Malfoy strode down the hallway content with the way his life had turned out in the end. He stepped into his room and a slow predatory smile curled across his lips as he caught sight of his boy kneeling before him naked except for the collar around his neck. Well, this was one way to keep Potter safe, besides, this was his boy, Potter had always been his and it would remain so until he died of a very old content age. His hands reached up to tug free the cravat and remembered the feel of Harry's lips on his throat where those thick unsightly scars had marred the real him. It was a sign surely of better days to come.

"My beautiful boy." He purred. "I hope you didn't wait long." He drawled.

Harry would never know