A New Family For Harry

This is a long part! It's a sort of conclusion to this mini-arc in which Harry is nine years old, and Lucius is still visiting the boy at the brothel who reminds him of Harry. I mentioned that Lucius visited the boy two other times before Harry's ninth birthday, so this part explains about those times at the opening and closing scenes, while also giving some development in the narrative concerning Ron, Draco, and of course, Harry.



I do hope you enjoy it. Please review, and let me know what you think! I'll answer more specifically to some of the review questions in the next update, so ask away if you have any questions, or just tell me how you are reacting to the story so far.











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After leaving Harry, Ron, and Draco to their boyish sleep, and washing briefly in the bath next to his bedchamber, Lucius Apparated directly to the brothel in Knockturn Alley.



"Oh!" The brothel keeper jumped to his feet, a game of Exploding Snap with one of the whores that Lucius had rejected in that earlier visit abandoned. The young man pouted while the keeper rubbed his hands together in anticipation of the galleons he would soon have from this visit. "How wonderful to see you again, Mr. --"



"The boy," Lucius interrupted him. "I require his services."



The teen behind the keeper began to put the cards back in their deck with a sullen look on his face. The keeper, however, flashed a smile at Lucius. "Of course, of course -- he's asleep, but I can wake him, for a small fee --"



"See that he comes immediately," Lucius ordered, and then gestured that he himself would like to be shown to one of the private rooms.



"Right away," the man called after as he directed his helpers to set things in motion.



The boy had indeed been sleeping, for he stumbled into the room, his hair alternately flattened on one side and all on end in the other, unable to suppress a wide yawn. "Hullo. I didn't think you would --"



"On your back," Lucius said in clipped tones.



The boy blinked, and then followed the directive, flopping onto the bed and easing back with a wriggle of his hips. He wore a thin t-shirt and pajama pants, and with his size and expression, he could have been, for all the world, a nine year old boy roused from his slumbers, rubbing the confusion from his heavy eyes.



With a rush, Lucius was on top of him, moving against that small warm body almost as he had seen his ward's friend, Ronald Weasley, atop Harry not an hour earlier. Of course, Lucius had experience where the boys had none, and none of the sounds that fell from his lips imbued with surprise, nor were any of his movements innocent or unsure.



Not once, not twice, but three times Lucius brought himself satisfaction against the small body he had purchased for the purpose. At first he took delight in the way the boy's half-awake state made the small whore seem befuddled and inexperienced. But as Lucius rutted on, the images of the earlier evening playing in his head and urging him to another completion, the boy betrayed his older age and tawdry profession by practiced moves, his low class accent, and his too-obvious playing of a role.



Still, Lucius pursued his release one last time, using his hand to muffle the boy's voice so he would not have to hear anyone's voice in his head but Harry's, as Harry had softly said, Lucius to the night air.



"Didn't think you'd come back," the boy insisted on saying as Lucius dressed. "But you must have liked me, eh, because just wanting to frot, three times --"



"Please refrain from speaking any further," Lucius advised him.



He stalked out of the room, reproaching himself underneath his breath. Of course he would not get at this place what he truly wanted. It was to be a substitute only, until such time as -- a substitute, that would keep him from committing anything untoward with the boy he was raising alongside his own son.



If he could help it, however, he would not return.



Or so he told himself at the time.



*~*



The next morning, Lucius asked that Ronald be shown to his study.



"You wanted to see me, Mr. Malfoy?" Ron asked.



No longer was the boy as defiant and suspicious as he had been on his first visit to Malfoy Manor. Certainly he appeared reserved, none of that ready affection and complaining humor Harry was treated to, but he seemed undecided about Lucius rather than explicitly judgmental or hostile. Lucius could only imagine this reflected in no small part the shift in reputation he had experienced with Ron's father, Arthur. Since the head of the Weasley family had been at least in part persuaded that Lucius was doing well by the child hero of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, then it would seem that Arthur had decided to allow Lucius some small amount of his regard.



Lucius smiled, and beckoned the boy closer. With a frown and then a scratch to that blinding red hair of his, the boy obeyed.



"Do you like visiting us here, Ronald?"



Ron licked his lips. "I like visiting Harry." And as an afterthought, perhaps at some gesture towards politeness, he added, "And Draco is all right, I guess."



"Yes. I imagine you do like visiting Harry." Lucius regarded him. "And this overnight visit, your sleepover party with Harry and Draco, it was a success, I take it."



Ron's cheeks flushed, and he gave a jerky nod. "Yeah, erm, I...had a good time."



"Splendid," Lucius purred.



"Why did you want to see me alone?" Ron asked curiously. "You don't seem -- angry, or anything..."



"Now, why on earth would I be angry with you, Ronald? Have you done anything to merit such a response?" Lucius kept his expression one of kind sympathy.



"I -- no," Ron replied after a short hesitation.



"Just so." Lucius smiled at him, and Ron, after a beat, gave him a tremulous smile back.



"Do you ride your brother's brooms at home?" Lucius asked suddenly.



Ron chewed his lip. "Er, what?"



"Their brooms," Lucius repeated patiently. "I imagine -- well, brooms can be expensive bought brand new, and of course your father, though he works hard, makes only a Ministry salary."



Ron gave a half scowl at the floor. "We have a couple. Bill and Charlie share one, but Dad says if Charlie keeps getting better he's going to need his own. And Percy doesn't care about flying or Quidditch, but the twins have a second-hand one that they can get to work a lot of the time. Dad's got the third, but he lets us use it when we want."



"Ah. Sounds as though it may be difficult to have an impromptu game," Lucius remarked.



Ron said nothing, but picked at a loose thread on his robe.



"So I was wondering if perhaps we could come to a mutually satisfactory situation," Lucius continued. "For, you see, I sometimes come by prototype models of brooms, or floor models that are no longer needed, simply because of my...connections. And I can't possibly ride all of those brooms myself, or give them away fast enough. Some are a year or two beyond the current model, but all are of excellent broomstick lines. It is a shame, actually, for them to go to such waste, when they are, while not brand new, very fine brooms."



Ron's eyes went wide. "What do you mean?"



Lucius held out a hand, and Ron came forward to take it in a daze.



"Well, what say you to seven brooms from my collection, for you and your brothers? And that number will obviously provide one for -- there is one sister, isn't there?"



"Ginny," Ron replied, as though in shock.



"You would all have your own from this set, then. And if - - did you say Percy? If Percy does not wish to practice or play using his, well, your father should feel free to make use of it."



"Really? But --" Ron faltered. "I'm not sure if I should..."



"Nonsense," Lucius said, reaching out his index finger to give the freckle at the end of Ron's nose a friendly tap. "As I said, you would be doing me the favor, and using good broomsticks that would otherwise lose their attributes for want of use. Besides, Harry and Draco will receive their regular brooms next week, and I want you to be able to fly with them when you visit us."



Ron beamed at him then.



"Now, go home and tell your mother and father, and let them know that I simply won't take no for an answer, nor will I consider them in any way indebted to me."



Ron tilted his head to the side. "You might want to write all that down. I don't know if I can remember that last bit."



Lucius clapped his other hand atop the boy's. "I'll send a note with you then, all right?"



"All right," Ron agreed. He grinned again, but then gave Lucius a searching look. "I mean, it's awfully nice of you to, but...just...why?"



Lucius drew Ron close just for a moment, to give him a one-arm embrace. At first Ron stiffened, but then he relaxed into the hold. "Oh, Ron. Any friend of Harry's, is a friend of mine."



*~*



Ron's family did send him a passel of thank-you notes, from the effusive one that the most gifted of the family's flyers so far, Charlie, sent, down to the crayon drawing that Ginny had laboriously made of herself as a stick figure with orange curls, atop her broom whilst paused in flight, waving at the viewer.



Arthur sent a separate scroll, cautiously thanking Lucius for his generosity. The tone was even-handed enough that Lucius smirked at the note. It would be quite a while before his family was subjected to any Ministry-led inquiry, though of course that was only a side benefit.



Another side benefit was that Harry came to him that day, after Ron had left. Though the boys were perhaps getting a bit old to want to initiate this on their own -- or so Lucius had been informed by Narcissa's prattle about boys and children and their development -- Harry had climbed onto Lucius's lap at once, with a kiss for him.



"Thank you, for what you did for Ron and his family," Harry breathed, his green eyes rich in the soft evening light.



Lucius leaned back with a slow smile, letting the motion tip Harry forward just a bit, and caressed the boy's back. "It really was nothing."



Harry reached up to rest his small hands at the back of Lucius's neck, absently stroking the soft nape as he did so. "You're so generous," he said admiringly. "No one is as generous as you."



Lucius laughed, well pleased. "I know that you and Ronald are fast friends, and of course I would want to do something that would make you happy."



Harry ducked his chin a bit, but then raised his eyes to meet Lucius's gaze. "Everything you do makes me happy."



Lucius kissed the tip of Harry's nose, and Harry shivered.



"I had a dream about you last night," Harry confessed suddenly.



"Really?" Lucius massaged that shock of black hair. "What happened?"



Harry snuggled closer to him, and though Lucius was not yet as ragingly hard as he had been the night before while watching Harry and Ron, he was on his way there. He shifted his groin back slightly. No need to introduce that, not...not yet...



"We were on a flying carpet," Harry confided in a whisper. He stroked the shell of Lucius's right ear with his small fingers as he went on. "We flew, up and up, ever so high, and I thought I might fall. But you held on to me, oh so tight, and even though the air was cold, you were so warm. And I felt so happy that I climbed into your lap, like I am now --" Harry gave a little roll of his hips as a demonstration -- "and I told you that...that..."



Harry suddenly turned his face away, blushing becomingly.



"Told me what?" Lucius prompted.



That pink tongue of Harry's slipped between his lips to wet them. "I told you that I --"



The door banged open.



"Father, I wanted to show you -- oh," Draco said in surprise.



"It's all right, Draco," Lucius said. He kept his voice smooth, though it was with some effort.



"I can come back later," Draco said. His posture was sullen, and his calculating grey eyes darted back and forth, from Harry to Lucius and back to Harry again.



Harry hid his face in the crook of Lucius's neck, and held on tighter, as though worried that he would be told to go.



"I will come to your room, if that is acceptable," Lucius answered.



Draco's expression calmed slightly. "All right." He dithered for a moment, but then left the room.



Harry pressed tight against Lucius, his small frame radiating heat as he clung close.



"There, there," Lucius crooned to him. "That surprised you, I'm sure, when you were telling me about your dream."



Harry pulled back, his eyes bright and dark. "Draco is one of my best friends, with Ron," he said.



Lucius nodded.



"But sometimes I wish I had you all to myself," Harry finished in a small voice.



"Sweet child." Lucius kissed first one of Harry's cheeks, then the other. Then, indulging himself, he kissed the boy's forehead, his eyelids when they fluttered closed, those sweet plump lips...



They sat there for a short time, Lucius brushing his mouth against Harry here, there, the arc of the boy's neck, the lobe of his ear. The kisses were not overly deep, but there was a heavy, charged intimacy in the air all around them.



"Now," Lucius said, pulling back with an effort. "You -- wanted to say --"



"I better go to bed," Harry said reluctantly. "You still have to -- Draco expects you."



The confession would have to wait for another day, then. Lucius gave him one last kiss, and Harry slid off his lap with a last backwards look, and departed.



*~*



Draco was already in his bed when Lucius arrived at his rooms.



"Hello, Father," he said in an oddly formal voice.



"Come, now," Lucius answered, raising his left eyebrow. "Are you so unhappy with me?"



Draco shook his head.



"Unhappy with Harry, then?"



Draco shook his head again, though the motion was slower this time.



Lucius reached out and stroked his son's white-blond hair. "What is it, then?"



"How come --" Draco bit his lip. "I don't -- we don't -- Harry was sitting on your lap," he finished.



"Yes." Lucius kept stroking, letting the fine strands slip through his fingers. "He wished to speak to me, and he wanted, I think, to be close to me. And because I care for him, because he belongs to our family now, I of course accepted his wishes."



"Because I don't get to..." Draco trailed off, though he leaned slightly into Lucius's touch.



"You were not necessarily overly affectionate when you were a baby," Lucius said slowly. "And even as a very small boy, you accepted only a few cuddles or such gestures before you wanted to be put down, or to run off on your own. You've always been slightly reserved, an independent sort of boy."



Draco's face took on a stormy cast. "Well, maybe I want to be more affectionate. Maybe I want -- if Harry just thinks he can -- I don't like feeling left out!" he finished in a burst, his eyes welling up at the last words.



"Draco." He tipped his son's chin up, and considered him. The boy was lovely, no doubt of that. And Lucius felt a fierce pride and...possession when he looked at his boy. It was different, with Harry -- the burning desire Lucius had to acknowledge he felt for his ward -- but Draco was Lucius's son. Whatever Draco wanted, needed, Lucius would strive to give him. And if Draco wanted -- well. Not that Lucius was prepared to grant everything to these lovely boys of his, not just yet at any rate, however much the two of them thought they knew what they were prepared for and wanted.



But if Draco welcomed Lucius's attentions, it would be no chore to give them. He might not have thought that way in other circumstances, he thought. But having Harry become part of their household had changed them all, and new situations called for new tactics.



With an inaudible sigh, Lucius bent to press his lips against his son's small mouth. Draco crept forward, meeting the contact with the rest of his body, almost straddling his father's legs.



The movements were soft and light, and Lucius made no effort to deepen them. Draco didn't press overmuch, but he brushed his lips over Lucius's, trailed his fingers down his father's cheeks, and reached up to slide over his father's broad shoulders.



Then Draco drew back. "It's not that I want to come sit on your lap every night," he explained. "But if I did want to --"



"Then of course you would be welcome," Lucius answered.



Draco's eyes were clear and calm as he leaned forward to kiss Lucius on the cheek. "Good night, Papa."



"Good night, my own," Lucius answered as he drew the blankets over his son's small body.



*~*



There was no clear incident, not that Lucius could name, when he went next to Knockturn Alley.



Only that Draco had visited him a few nights that week, sitting in his father's lap as though trying out a throne, and chattering about his various interests while playing with Lucius's hair, or stealing some kisses only to pull back with a giggle if they started to become heated.



Just that Harry had leaned against Lucius's legs in the Drawing room one night as they all sat reading, and fell asleep hugging Lucius's calves.



Only that Lucius had discovered Draco and Harry in Draco's bed one night, not enacting any of their erotic explorations, but simply twined around each other as though for comfort, one small hand clutching another, dark head bowed towards tow-headed, sighing and settling together as though they were two halves of a whole.



Just that Harry had given Lucius an adoring look as Lucius took the boys to buy new books, that Draco, having beaten his father for the first time at Wizarding chess, laughed with childish delight and a flirtatious glance, that Harry had spent an entire afternoon drawing at the corner of Lucius's desk while Lucius had attended to his correspondence,



All that and more, little flashes of boyish regard or almost-adult interest that added up to make Lucius in a frenzy for relief.



He owled ahead this time, so that the boy was ready for him in a private room upon his arrival.



With a few short directives, he had the boy shuddering and riding his cock while sitting in his lap, his hands around Lucius's neck as Harry's had been, as Draco's had been, but his small whore's body contorted in a knowing way that his boys would not yet possess. At the close, Lucius gave up imagining his ward, pretending it was Harry who was writhing on the end of his prick, and used the boy as he might have any other whore, any other procured companion.



It was pleasurable, it was gratifying.



But it was not what Lucius most wanted.



He stopped into a tavern on the way back and had a glass of Scotch. Harry would be nine in a few weeks. It was likely that he would want another birthday kiss. And if so, Lucius would give him that, and perhaps more.