Snape's Fairy

DEVIOUS

Harry bit his lip to force himself not to scratch at the stiff material irritating his shoulders, wrists and the skin around the beginning of his wings. Only a few minutes ago, his aunt had come barking at him with a voice as shrill as a cicada mating call to dress in his special garment which usually meant only one thing- their most valued customers the Malfoys were coming.

Harry took a deep breath and forced himself to look into the polished round silver mirror on the second floor landing and take in his appearance. As usual, his hair was a complete mess- a few dark large curls brushed his forehead in the midst of long straight and thick strands that tangled together in snarls that he remembered used to take his mom hours to work out before she just gave up altogether, green eyes glaring at his dad’s thick straight locks for their genetic contribution. After his parents’ death on orders of his aunt he had once tried for an entire day to tame the black locks and had only managed to tame a quarter of it. The loud yellow color of his itchy garments did nothing to complement his pale skin and his mother’s eyes. A ladybug pendant sat on the space between his collarbone, making the outfit all the more hideous. The only attractive part of the outfit lay hiding under the yellow leggings- dark black snakeskin boots.

“Boy! Why are you just laying about like larva?” his aunt screeched, taking his attention away from the silver. “They are here in the kitchen.”

Harry slowly descended the spiral stairs, mindful of his still sore wings. He made sure to enter the kitchen with his gaze down and a low bow. “Welcome valued customers,” he said, starring at the two pairs fine snakeskin boots with silver fastenings.

“Ah, our young potter is still as tiny as ever,” the deep voice of Lucius of Malfoy stated with the slight air of amusement. “And still no sense of fashion I see.”

“I’m sorry Lord Malfoy,” Aunt Petunia’s voice trilled. “We’ve tried to teach him for years but it just has not seeped into his brain.”

The eldest of the two walked towards him, “He’s also had this hideous outfit for years if I’m not mistaken.” A hand lifted his face and his eyes soon connected with piercing grey. “Something green would do quite nicely.” The other expensively dressed figure behind Lord Lucius was an exact copy down to the spots of royal purple in the silver wings except Lord Draco’s silver blonde hair was cut to the end of his ears whereas the elder had his to the small of his back, traditional fashion of the heads of noble houses.

Harry began to feel uneasy. Why had the Malfoys’ suddenly taken interest in him? He lowered his gaze to the floor once again as he asked, “What would you like today your lordship?”

“A traditional fertility pitcher for a newly married couple,” Lord Lucius stated, turning his attention to Harry’s rough sketches of designs for the ceramics on the oak table littered also with trays of different foods served on sliced tea leaves reserved only for the most wealthiest customers (not even Dudley and Vernon were allowed to eat it outside of company coming). “Which designs strike your fancy Draco?”

Draco bent over the sketches, drawn to one of a nude male fairy reclining with one knee up, showing off the double genitalia. Most fairy males had two male organs (the front carrying sperm which will ensure a female and the hidden which ensured the conception of a male) but this figure had a male sex organ complete with balls and a tiny slit just barely hidden. “I don’t believe I have ever seen such a fertility symbol before but this is quite intriguing.”

Harry blushed softly as Lucius bent over the same picture. He’d forgotten he’d left that sketch in the pile. “I doubt your bride will appreciate such a vulgar design on a pitcher everyone in the wedding party will see.” Silver eyes glanced back at the silent figure in the doorway. “Although it is very interesting. May I ask how you came upon such an idea young potter?”

“May I ask who the lucky bride will be, your Lordship?” Aunt Petunia asked in an effort to distract the two from the picture while casting an eye that promised retribution on him.

“Currently my son is on the market but there have numerous offers and it never hurts to be prepared for when he chooses at the first leaf’s fall.” Lucius turned back to the picture and then glanced at Harry. “I suppose we could get such a vase with such an interesting to seal such an arrangement for your eventual mistress. One can never have too many heirs in these times, legitimate or otherwise if you choose a female.”

Harry watched his aunt’s face turn an unusual purplish shade at Lord Lucius’s last statement. Petunia was always scorning the aristocracy’s custom of a mistress, especially when the mistress was male and could very well be the husband of ‘some poor woman.’ Luckily neither customer saw it.

“This design would do nicely father,” Draco said holding up a dark green leaf and silver-white orchid border.
Lucius scrutinized the border before handing it back to his son. “Agreed. Young potter this border is to be placed on the fertility pitcher at the rim and bottom with the Malfoy dragonfly in the center. And that vase of course.”

“He’ll have them for you tomorrow if you like, your Lordship,” Uncle Vernon assured, his beady eyes gleaming with greed and his bulk almost trembling in the anticipation of their pay. “But that will cost extra.”

“As there is no engagement or mistress yet, I believe it can wait and be done better and properly,” Draco announced, now taking his eyes off the sketches for a brief glance at the artist. Emerald met gray for a few seconds before the emerald lowered.

“We will return in a week,” Lord Lucius announced, his hand gently touching his son’s shoulder in a gesture of pride. With a lingering glance at Harry they nodded at the Dursley couple and left. Then off they went to the underground tunnel where their mole-driven carriage was waiting to take them safely to their own tree in the oldest part of the forest.

As soon as they were gone, Harry was backhanded with such force that he hit the wall. He knew before he lifted his head that his Uncle was standing over him, his massive fist balled and ready to strike him again. Harry could only cringe and cover as much as his body as he could before the blow hit.

“Vernon!” the shrill voice called and Harry cracked open one eye to see his aunt was holding his uncle back. “The Malfoys will return in one week and I need to take him to the market to get him a new outfit before then. You know how long it takes the boy to heal! Lord Lucius already threatened to stop buying from us if he finds out we hit the boy. ‘Ruins the magic of the pottery’ he says. We’ll be lucky if that cheek doesn’t bruise.”

Uncle Vernon slowly calmed down. “You got lucky this time, Boy. But if I EVER see another reminder of your... thing… I will lock you away without food for two weeks!”

“Yes, Uncle,” Harry agreed. Inside he was silently cheering that he’d gotten away with something but he’d barely eaten today. If he was deprived of food, he might be able to see every bone in his body, and that thought scared him. He knew if Uncle Vernon did that, he might even die.
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“What do you think of our young potter Draco?” Lucius asked his son as their walnut-crafted and mole-driven carriage continued on its journey through the tunnel to their home.

Draco did not even bother turning his head from the window as the scenery of dirt, roots, and insects passed by in a blur. “I only met his eyes once. His face is stunning as are his quite uncommon wings. However, he seems very submissive. Why do you ask, Father?”

Lucius smirked, a devious expression crossing his face. “Would you like the boy as your mistress?”

Draco wrinkled his nose. “As a quick fuck, he would be fine but as a mistress, no. He is too submissive and has horrible taste in clothing.”

Lucius leaned slightly in as though he were to gossip with an old friend rather than his son. “As you said you were not watching him closely, I was. He is devious; very few people would be able to see the emotion the potter was hiding behind that false submission. He would like a dragonfly in the bedroom, beautiful and deadly. If you do not take him as your mistress, I will.”

Draco finally turned his head, a smirk on his face. “Next time I see him I will pay more attention.”

TBC

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