Fall Out

Hiya all! I decided to update, just so that we could see Lucius suffer some more! *evil grin*

Chapter Nine: In which numerous magazines appear.

Lucius paced urgently up and down, crushing the beautiful elf spun rug on the floor. He was awaiting Studdy’s return impatiently.

Another month had come and gone. A month of his wife goading him, a month of Snape and the Potter brat probably screwing each other’s brains out, a month of limpness and frustration for Lucius…

Studdy came back, re-appearing on the spot from which he had vanished.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and Studdy bowed. “No problems master. Nobody saw Studdy.”

“Good,” the other said imperiously and then reached down with a gloved had and plucked a hair from Studdy’s head.

Rubbing at the spot, the elf left the room. He was getting rather tired of having his head plucked. Last month he had had to travel to Hogwarts and return, and again, upon returning, his hair had been plucked, and his master had vanished for an hour. It was all very confusing for the elf, and he wondered what it all meant, and, more importantly, how he could use it against his master.

“Don’t be screwing, don’t be screwing,” Lucius said tightly as he prepared to drink the A-polyjuice potion.

Within moments he resembled Studdy’s physical form and was standing on the grass at Hogwarts. It would be more convenient for the elf to apparate closer to the dungeons, but Lucius didn’t want to risk the slave being seen, or the elf learning too much about Lucius’ plans.

He walked quickly down to Snape’s rooms, and hoped that the doors were open, as they had been the last times. Although he had apparated on the previous occasion, it was risky to do so, as it might activate the wards to the unfamiliar presence. He had only done so the previous time because … well, because the sound of sex was both anathema and a drug to him.

“It’s come again,” Harry’s shout sounded clearly, even through the heavy door.

“Hmmm,” that was Snape.

Irritated, Lucius wished he could see into the room. He pressed his long thin nose against the wood and found a small eye hole. He peered in.

Potter, looking a little plumper than before, was sitting in a chair, looking at the rolled up magazine that had just been delivered. He wasn’t touching it, he merely looked.

Snape came into view – well, to be accurate, a great expanse of black made Lucius think the hole had been blocked until he realised it was Snape’s stupid flowing robes.

“Can I…?” Harry asked tentatively.

“No.” Severus’ voice was stern, “We still have no idea who has sent this wretched periodical to you, and I, for one, and you, for two, should want to know who has sent it!”

“But the last one wasn’t cursed or anything, was it?” Harry asked, remembering the sorry looking magazine Severus had presented him with after it had been tested. “And it did have some useful information in it, even if it was aimed at witches.”

“Well, of course it was aimed at witches!” Severus snarked, “Wizard pregnancies are not exactly common!”

“Wizard on wizard lovin’ isn’t exactly common,” Harry muttered rebelliously, “still, there’s a magazine for it!”

“Ah, yes,” Severus sneered, “the infamous ‘Broomstick Rider’.” He quoted their slogan: ““Ride a broom like never before!” No doubt some poor Quidditch enthusiasts have purchased said publication, without comprehending to what the writers are alluding.”

Harry stuck his tongue out. “That’s not the point! The point is that gay magazines do exist! So why not gay pregnancy magazines?”

Severus sighed, rubbing his aching forehead. “Because, you moronic child, you are probably the only wizard at this moment in time who is pregnant. Now, delusions of grandeur aside, do you really think a magazine should be written just for you?!”

“Just …me?” Harry gulped, seeming to collapse in on himself. “Sev, are you being serious?”

The older man looked annoyed with himself and approached the younger man. He dropped to his knees and took Harry’s hands in his own. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’ve worried you now, haven’t I? It’ll be fine. I’ll brew the potions you’ll need myself, and I’ve already spoken with Poppy in case there isn’t time when you go into labour to reach St Mungo’s.” He leaned in and gently kissed Harry, “Everything will truly be all right. I promise.”

Harry sighed softly and snuggled into Sev’s chest. “If you say so,” he said, his voice full of love and trust.

Severus, as far as Lucius could tell from the back, looked as if he’d been stomped on by a troll. His next words shocked all three of them.

“Marry me.”

Lucius had to back away from the door to voice the gasp he was holding in.

When he returned his attention to the couple, Harry had his arms wound tightly about Severus and was whispering pathetically, “I love you! I love you!” which Lucius assumed meant “Yes.”

He glared angrily at them as Severus began undoing Harry’s buttons, and the younger man began moaning.

Not again! Lucius thought and backed away from the door. It was pointless his staying. By the time they had finished fucking – although no doubt the Potter whore called it ‘love making’ – his hour would be up. Which meant he was no closer to learning what he wished to know.

He went back to the Manor and hurriedly changed back into his own body and own clothes. He was sitting in a chair, elegantly swinging one leg when his wife entered, a hazy smile on her face that he recognised only too well from the early days of their marriage. He grit his teeth.

“Ah, Lucius,” she sighed, sinking into a chair with a wince, “any luck with your little problem?”

“It’s not little, and you know it!” He snarled, temper flaring.

“Perhaps not,” she conceded, “But you must have been firing blanks all these years. How long have we been married, Lucius? And only one child?”

Tilting his jaw up arrogantly, although he wanted to throttle the bitch. “Perhaps the problem is at your end.”

She smiled. Her lips were swollen he noticed with an internal cry of anguish. She didn’t even bother to reply, she just smiled.

She let him enjoy her amusement for a long moment before reaching into her handbag and pulling out a magazine, annoyingly entitled ‘Horny!’

Fuck, yes!