A Thief to Catch a Thief; a Death Eater to Catch a

“Right, anybody who isn’t here, raise your hands.” Hermione said, noticing that the minute taker was a work-experience candidate and didn’t look old enough to be out of Hogwarts; Hermione took the responsibility to put her off taking the job as a minute taker by providing the worst Monday meeting to record she could. The opening line was the cue for the others to be pains in the arses.



“Lights are on, nobody’s home.” Harry commented.



“I’ll second that and raise you to not actually having any lights on in the first place.” Said Jess, sipping at a black coffee.



“Double or quits: no lights, nobody’s home, and the home is up for sale.” Said Kingsley, getting the idea – confuse the poor kid thinking of the ball-and-chain that was associated with the job as minute taker.



“It won’t sell if there aren’t any lights – not a good plan economically.” Lucius said, completely serious; noting the kid taking very detailed notes, “Anyway, if the home is up for sale, doesn’t that imply you’re selling your body?”



“I’ll give you a sickle and no more for that!” Steve said with a grin.



“What do you charge by the hour, King?” chipped in Joe.



“Too much.” Commented Hermione, moving the meeting on.



“Right, the main agenda today, is that Saint Mungo’s is in dire straights financially – and I thought, seeing as we tend to end up there quite frequently, that we could organise a charity event.” She said.



“Oooh.” Said Jess.



“I only get an ‘oooh’…” Hermione said in mock upset.



“Aaaah” said Harry dryly.



Lucius, noting the minute taker wasn’t really listening to what they were saying, just hearing the words and writing it down, decided to step it up. “Merlin, that’s gooooood” he purred, winking at the table, opening the floor.



“Mmmmmm” moaned Charlotte, her eyes rolling back in her head.



“Oh Merlin, that’s… ahhhhhh.” Gasped Will



The minute taker kept writing the various sounds down, unfortunately it looked like a porn film script, as each speaker’s name was written before their words.



“Boys and girls, as much as I would love to listen to your best fake orgasm, we could do with discussing my idea for raising money.”



“Who said we were faking – these trousers are sooooo tight, and if you don’t wear boxers it can be rather pleasurable just to wiggle in the seat.” Said Joe with a sly grin, a wiggle and a moan.



“And most of us don’t like friction burns on our dicks!” Harry said, grimacing.



“Eh hem!” Hermione shouted over the argument that broke out over friction, penises and if it was a positive or negative experience. “I was thinking of doing a calendar for Saint Mungo’s… I was watching a muggle film called Calendar Girls, where women posed nude for a calendar to raise money for a hospital – I was thinking of doing something similar.”



“Aurors? naked? Calendar?” Said Jess.



“With strategically placed props to hide bits and bobs.” Hermione clarified.



“There are thirty of us, and twelve months – can some of us opt not to do this?” asked Matthew, “I’m too old to pose in my birthday suit.”



“You’ve got a brilliant figure for ninety-nine!” said Jess.



“Yeah, but its spoilt by the grey bodyhair.” He said with a smile.



“Right, so I need names on the fridge ASAP, and then the photographer will come in and take the pictures; The Weasley joke shop is funding the printing and will be the exclusive supplier.” Hermione said, before concluding “Any other thoughts to add to the meeting?”



“Oh Merlin, yes, yes, yes! Oh, that’s good!” exclaimed Dave, leaning back in his chair and laying his hand over his crotch.



“Oh, poor baby, you’ll get all sore rubbing yourself through your clothing – let me kiss it better.” Jess sighed before crawling under the table in the general direction of Dave.



The minute taker didn’t even look up, but continued to write everything down, word for word.



“And that concludes today’s orgy, sorry, I meant to say meeting.” Hermione said with a wide grin.



***

One week later:



AQUARIUS



“Right, move your legs wider for me, the vines won’t cover your male bits otherwise. Good.” Said the photographer, walking around Lucius (who was dressed in a black silk dressing gown), posing him ready for the shot. Lucius was doing this for one reason only – to show his ex-wife exactly what she was missing. Sod the hospital, at that point.



“Now, put your head back a bit, and to the side – when we turn the waterfall on, it will flow over your hair.” The photographer’s assistant took out a comb and began smoothing the long blonde tresses over the black silk.



“Now, we want to be risqué – a picture says a thousand words – and we need to sell a thousand calendars to help the hospital.” Said the photographer, moving from around the camera to pose Lucius’s arms, that had previously been at his side.



“Right, so you’re giving the impression that I’m… pleasuring myself in the shower.” Lucius said, raising one platinum eyebrow. He was glad that there was only the photographer, assistant and him in the office that had been converted into an aquatic set.



“Definitely – we want women to turn to February and drool over you! Look at the camera as if you were staring into that woman’s eyes, and daring her to join you.”



Lucius stared at the camera.



“No, daring her to join you – not run screaming because you’re scaring her! Give me bedroom eyes, give me passion!” cried the expressive photographer, flinging his arms in the air.



Lucius stared again.



“I’m not running screaming, but now I feel like I’m intruding on you – your look is just accusing!” the exasperated photographer was incredibly close to storming off in a snit, before he came across a new idea. “I know! I know! Drop your eyelids low, almost closed… yeah, that’s better… now, open your mouth a little bit – a gasping mouth, this is a pleasurable experience – give me a face that’s gripped in orgasm! Give me that face!”



“How would I know what my face looks like in orgasm! I don’t see it!” Lucius griped, doing his best to follow the orders of the animated artist.



“I am so close to telling you to go for it, so I can take a picture at that moment!” said the photographer under his breath.



“And then you’d find yourself hexed into the next millennium.” Lucius sneered.



It was Hermione who came to the rescue, sneaking onto the set with a bottle of impotence potion, before leaving the room again to perform a bit of secret pornographic Legilimens. She’d been hidden in her dressing gown outside the door, listening in, almost giving away her position with giggles as the photographer mentioned Lucius 'going at it'.



Lucius found himself in a sparsely furnished sitting room, naked, laid over a wide sofa, his arms above his head and tied firmly with velvet ropes to somewhere. His legs were spread just a tad too far apart, the ankles secured with the same, soft fabric. Suddenly a blindfold was dropped over his eyes, the silky fabric caressed his eyelids as the tapes were tied firmly at the back.



“Have you been a good boy?” asked a voice he barely recognised. Cold fingers wrapped around his length and slowly pumped.



“Yesss” he hissed, arching as best he could into the cool touch.



The fingers left his length as a sharp slap met his inner thigh, “Yes, what?”



“Yes, mistress?” he said quickly, anything to have those hands on him again.



“And, have you been such a good boy to deserve a treat?” said the voice, dripping with husky passion.



“Yes, mistress.” He said as he heard her shift.



“Do you deserve this…?” she said before engulfing him in a warm, moist mouth and swallowing him completely down, a cold nose pressed into his gold curls.



“Yes, mistress. Please, mistress!” he cried as a slick digit gently passed over his rear entrance.



“Beg me some more, pet, the more you beg, the quicker this all ends. Mmmm, beg for me pet.” Said the voice as a soft collar suddenly appeared around his throat.



“Oh Merlin! Mistress! PLEASE!” he cried as the mouth returned to his shaft. He was so close; so, so, so very close; he was going to….



CLICK.



The resulting picture had Lucius Malfoy under a gentle waterfall; the little rivulets of water cascading down his sculpted torso, drenching his long hair and plastering the loose tendrils to his pectorals and back. His eyes were hardly open, long blonde lashes fluttering over his cheeks. One hand was hidden beneath the vine covering him, the angle of the elbow telling a raunchy tale of its own; his other hand, the left, was clinging onto the back of his neck – unconsciously tensing the muscles of his arm as it bent.



Golden chest hair narrowed to a little trail on his lower abdomen, the water darkening it and making it prominent, a little trail leading to the naughty deed his fingers appeared to be doing. (and of course, the pictures moved)



His legs were spread wide, firm thighs glistened as the water moved over them; tendons pulled tight at the pose. His calves, ankles and feet were obscured by the frothy water of the enchanted pool.



“And that is what we were on about!” cried the photographer from behind the camera, taking several more shots. “Oh that face! I’ve taken less passionate pictures for adult film covers!”



Lucius was glad of the potion keeping him flaccid, and glad it took six hours to wear off. He’d need more than the vines to cover him if the images in his head had caused his body to react normally. He was so turned on with the images, it was unbelievable, feeling the pleasure, but unable to react.



How long had it been since he played such games, Narcissa hadn’t been all that adventurous, so the last time he’d been tied up was as a teenager. He slipped a towel around his waist, and another over his hair.



“You were such a good boy.” Came the whisper in his ear, the husky voice made real. Hermione walking past him to her set.



“For you, mistress, I’m always a good boy, he whispered at her retreating back.”







A/N: calendar, anyone?