Uncle Lucius

Written for hpchan on livejournal. Challenge number three.

Title: Uncle Lucius
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Ron/Lucius
Author: mombi_of_oz@livejournal.com
Warning: Not by the hair of my chan-y, chan, chan. (This story involves graphic sex with a minor.)
A/N: This story has not been beta\'d, due to my extreme sillyness. All mistakes are my fault, and I encourage people to make fun of me for them. Heh. This story is dedicated to Amy, for arguing with me about apostrephies. And Sophie, who I miss having in my bed. Love you both!

Reviews are lovely!

***

\"I\'m, I\'m lost!\" big watery blue eyes peer into my own, and I stare unwaveringly back into them. It appears to be a Weasley child, one of Arthur\'s many offspring. I straighten my dragon hide briefcase and look around the crowded Soho street. Muggle areas like this are simply indecent for children. One would wonder why Arthur would bring such a small boy here and not so much as hold his hand to keep him close by, but then again Arthur has never had much practicality. Simply criminal, I think.

\"Are you, little boy?\" I let a ghost of a smile make its way across my face, and watch the ginger haired boy\'s features lose their childish sadness. He wipes a long freckled nose with a long freckled digit, and looks straight into my eyes.

\"I\'m not little!\" This Weasley amuses me, reminds me dearly of my own son\'s stubborn demeanor.

\"Ah, my mistake, young man, tell me, how old are you? Surely you\'re at least twelve?\"

He smiles brightly, a canine tooth missing as he shows me pearly white teeth. Ah, Arthur\'s taught them to brush. \"I\'m ten!\"

\"Ten,\" I say. \"Well, well, you certainly look much older. And you are quite smart to be only ten years old. Your father is Arthur Weasley, yes?\" I smile down at the boy, trying to suppress the cruel smirk that so desperately wants to paint my face.

\"Yes.... How did you know?\"

\"You can call me Uncle Lucius. Come take my hand,\" I hold it out to him, my elegant white fingers straight and insistent. He looks at it for a moment, and then around the crowded street, clearly making sure I\'m his last option.

\"Uncle?\" he says timidly, while grabbing my hand lightly and lacing his fingers through mine. \"I don\'t remember you, but Daddy says we have a big family.\"

\"Mmm, you do.\" I don\'t bother to correct his mistake, after all Arthur and I are quite close. I don\'t see any reason he wouldn\'t want his son calling me Uncle; in fact, I\'m rather fond of it. \"And tell me again, dear boy, what your name is? You have so many brothers and sisters I\'ve quite forgotten.\"

\"Oh,\" he slows down a bit, but I continue my fast walking pace, can\'t have Arthur come and find us, now can I? I\'m taking him to a small wizard pub just up the road. From the outside it looks much like The Leaky Cauldron in muggle London, but inside it is more exquisite than any other pub of its kind. With deep red carpeting, and dark mahogany floors and ceilings, the mood inside is one of pure indulgence, and class. In sitting-rooms men sit smoking only the finest tobaccos, the smoke curling out in emerald tendrils like ribbons. The women dine only on the finest foods, ravishing themselves unabashedly in every indulgence one could imagine; indulgences that could never be dreamt. All at The Overlook Pub know who I am, and that when I bring a guest, whoever it may be, no one is to take a second look.

\"Oh? Your name is \'Oh\'? What a peculiar name, it doesn\'t suit you at all.\"

He laughs as I pull him around to the dingy entrance of The Overlook. \"No, Uncle Lu! My name\'s Ron...\" Ron, Ron, Ron-- the name in itself is pure lust, and I\'m suddenly very aware that I\'m going to need to rent out a room from Mr. Grady, the proprietor.

\"Now take my hand, Ronald, and don\'t speak a word unless you are spoken to. Is that understood?\"

\"Yes, Uncle,\" he replies, his face reddening once more. I cup his small chin with one hand, and bring the other up to push back the tuft of flaming orange hair from his soft blue eyes. I notice then that his shirt is un-tucked, and feel as though this must be remedied, for a casualty such as this shall be looked down upon in a place like The Overlook. I bring my long elegant and white finger to the hem of his un-tucked white shirt, hanging below a burgundy jumper, which does not suit him in the slightest. I pull gently at the white shirt, loosening it so that all of it is now clearly visible, and Ron responds by looking imploringly into my eyes.

\"We can\'t have an un-tucked shirt, now can we?\" I ask.

\"No, Uncle Lucius,\" he replies, biting his tiny lip. I want more than anything to tug at that delicate lip with my own teeth, I want more than anything to run my tongue over its soft and moist surface, to breathe in the scent that is this boy\'s mouth, to sample him like fine champagne. But for now I must appease myself with this simple touching.

I lift his jumper slightly and grasp a piece of the shirt in my hand, and with slow movements allow that hand to be lowered inside of Ronald\'s muggle trousers, brushing out the wrinkles from inside the material. I can feel him squirm beneath me as I move. I repeat this process several more times, making sure that his shirt is tucked away, while I get to feel the thin white material his underpants are made of, and the smooth skin of his thighs-- I harden beneath my robes, but do not make show of this impediment.

\"Are you ready?\" He\'s flushed completely and his freckles have all but disappeared behind the intense glow. But he nods all the same, and I bring my hand out to hold his. \"Remember, do not say a word.\"

I pull open the large oak front doors and deeply inhale the aroma of The Overlook, a place with a long and proud history, and make my way inside. I feel young Ronald clasp my hand tighter as the green smoke washes over him in opaque wisps, and I smile slightly at this simple trust he has now given me, Uncle Lucius.

I pull Ronald along to the grand front desk, walking past the main pub to my right, and tap with impatience at the silver bell. A small round man turns around and smiles nervously at seeing me.

\"Oh! Mr. Malfoy! Will you be needing a table, Sir?\"

\"No, Grady. My son and I shall require a room.\" I feel Ron nervously shift at my side, but I only clasp his hand tighter. His silence pleases me.

\"Your son, Sir?\" he asks looking at Ron\'s flaming red hair, and similarly red face.

\"Yes.\"

\"A room, Sir?\" he says.

\"Yes, a room, Grady. Do you dare to give me trouble? All I ask is that I be given a room. My son and I are quite tired, and we shall not be denied.\" I draw myself to my full height, and glare at the tiny balding man. He, atrociously, bites his nails and widens his eyes.

\"Oh, I\'m so sorry, Sir! Of, of course we have a room for you! Suite 237? Is, is that alright, Sir?\"

I nod, and am promptly given a large, golden, old fashioned key. I nod to Mr. Grady, and walk the two flights of stairs to my room. \"After you Ronald,\" I say, swinging the door open, and ushering him inward. I watch his small, yet amazingly long and thin body walk self consciously into the large, dark room, and am granted with a slight gasp from his fragile mouth.

\"It\'s bigger than the whole Burrow!\" he says, his feet turned slightly inward as he does a spinning circle of the room. I chuckle, more for his sake than mine, and follow him inside, muttering a silent spell to lock the door from both the outside, and within.

\"The Burrow is the name of your house, is it not?\"

\"Yes... Uncle Lucius, are you, er, going to take me home?\" He looks uncomfortably at his feet, and I walk farther into the room, next to him.

\"Would you like to go home?\" I ask, although I won\'t allow him home until I\'ve had my fair time with him, an uncle\'s privilege, you see.

\"Y-yes, Dad\'s gonna be so mad at me, and mum\'ll tell me off. And, and Fred and George will make fun of me for being little, and getting lost, and,\" a fat, shiny tear drips, momentarily clinging to his black eyelashes, and then makes its way down his freckled cheek; a salty trail left in it\'s path. He continues to look at his feet, and I make my way to a small dark green sofa that lies in front of the four poster bed. I grab Ron\'s hand again, and pull him with me toward the piece of furniture. His hair hangs in his eyes as I sit down and look up at him, our fingers still intertwined. I pull him towards me, those crystalline tears still dripping slowly from his eyelashes and resting at his lips where he licks them away, and he falls onto my lap. This makes him begin to weep, his small form trembling in sadness, and embarrassment.

I pet the back of his soft hair, and he buries his sobs into my neck, the tears dripping onto my flesh like dozens of wet kisses. I swallow very slightly, and continue petting him, one arm wrapped around his back and the other still petting his hair, and the back of his neck.

\"You\'re a very good boy, Ronald,\" I say to him as he sobs.

\"I\'m not! I\'m not!\" and he shudders into me. It is pure luck that all of this has happened, and while I\'d planned on perhaps using a potion, or some charm, a willing boy will do quite nicely. I smirk at the thought, and debate about how to best go about my initiations, as all of this must be done just so. Though this boy is a Weasley, he does have some sense in him, although I admit it isn\'t much.

I pet his back in slow circular motions, allowing the boy to sniffle and cease his sobbing. He pushes a freckled finger under his nose and bites his bottom lip in response. \"You like that?\" I ask him, rubbing his back, and moving my hand inside his shirt and jumper. \"Take off your jumper, and it will feel better.\" He hiccoughs but doesn\'t respond, and I can tell he\'s weighing the situation very carefully in his mind.

\"Kay,\" he says, and I harden at those small words. My cock is pressed hard against his legs, and I wonder if he can tell, and if he can whether he understands the meaning behind it. He\'ll learn soon enough.

He readjusts himself in my lap so that his bottom is now sitting almost on top of my erection, and I jump ever so slightly at this contact. He doesn\'t notice, however, and I shift him ever so slightly. Ron crosses his long arms over his belly and grabs the bottom of his oversized, hideous jumper, lifting it up and over his head in one wonderfully sloppy motion. His head momentarily gets caught in the hole and he laughs with only mirth at this predicament. I echo this laugh, and am incredibly turned on by the way his white shirt clings to him while his arms are raised above his head. He is like sin made flesh, and I intend to swathe myself in this sinful luxury. I intend to make this boy my own.

As Ronald is finally freed from his jumper he tosses it to the dark hardwood floors and looks up at me, his cheeks pink, eyes slightly red from crying, and his hair standing out in mad angles, almost framing faceface in an orange halo. He puts one arm around my back, and one across my chest, and pulls himself upward so that our faces are now close together. This is a queer change, and I don\'t know whether I\'m entirely comfortable with it. And yet, there is Ron, his bright eyes peering into mine, his freckled cheeks stained with tears, and his tiny lips red and pursed. He leans in to kiss my lips, a soft peck, perhaps thanking me. I allow him this, but do not scare him by holding him in place there.

He blushes as he pulls away, and I am completely taken by him. Every piece of my flesh burns for contact with this boy, as though my lust will only be sated by his smooth flesh and soft shy kisses.

\"Let me put you on the bed, and I\'ll rub your back from there.\" He nods his head, and I pick him up, holding him as one might hold a very young child. He wraps his feet around my waist with legs so amazingly long that his feet touch around my back, and I think about taking him this way. I think about pushing inside him, so hot and tight, and having him hold onto me; his face flushed, and his lips parted as I fuck him. But I know that I must play this game out, as much for my benefit as for his. I enjoy this game. I enjoy gaining his trust. I enjoy being his uncle Lucius.

I set him gently on the bed, and feel all the power of the world being given to me. I feel that with this small boy at my will, I might be able to do anything. It\'s a feeling I often crave, and often seek out. Power is a feeling men kill for, and though I\'m a wizard, I am still a man, a man with desires, and passions.

He\'s on the bed now, placed in the middle of the mattress, a black velvet duvet surrounding him, and pillows of gold, dark green, and red resting just behind his head. His thin white t-shirt is raised just above his belly and I examine, briefly, the freckled and pale skin around his navel.

\"I\'m going to take off your shirt now, you will be more comfble.ble. Won\'t you like that Ronald?\"

He bites his swollen bottom lip once more, and looks unsure. \"My mum told me not to,\" he swallows and looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes from inside his shoes. \"She told me not to let strangers t-touch me.\"

\"Am I a stranger now, Ronald?\" I say, sitting next to him on the bed.

He turns toward me, looking my perfect form up and down. \"No, Sir. I... What if mum should get mad?\"

\"Well, we\'ll just have to keep this a secret then. Won\'t we? You can keep a secret, can\'t you Ronald? A secret between friends?\" I move nearer to him then, and before he can answer my hand is within the material of his shirt, slowly petting his smooth belly in patient circles. He arches into my touch. \"You wouldn\'t want me to stop, would you Ronald? You don\'t want to hurt my feelings?\"

\"N-no, I don\'t.\"

`\"Good.\" I pull his shirt up and over his head, exposing soft white and freckled skin, and pale pink nipples, erect in the cold air. He breathes in slowly, his belly rising and then falling to form a concave that so desperately calls for my hands to fill, for my mouth to cover. I press my hands against his stomach, against his smooth skin, the kind of skin that only a boy of his age can have, and rub against it.

Beyond anything all I feel now is desire for my small prey. And this all seems very natural to me, it all seems harmonious. As a Malfoy I have never been one to be denied, and I do not intend to deny myself of this red haired nymph. Will power is for the less fortunate; will power is for the weak.

I throw my cloak to the side of the bed, and hear it land with a gentle shush. I\'m left now in black robes, and a gentle, if only slightly predatory smirk.

I begin again, to touch Ronald\'s smooth skin, touching it like one might touch the texture of a fine painting, feeling how the strokes flow in irregular patterns that are as much a part of the painting as the subject itself. I find Ronald\'s freckles to be quite charming. They are charmingly flecked toward the center of his chest, and yet one stray rebel rests desolate near the empty plain of his surprisingly pale nipples. I touch this lone freckle, this rebellious soldier, and move in to kiss it, to lick its rich darkness, to taste it-- and Ronald-- fully.

My lips press against his skin, and though I haven’t been watching his face, I know that now his eyes are opened into wide O\'s, expressing every anxiety and pleasure in this feeling. I wonder if he has yet to touch himself, to make himself grow hard. Ronald gasps as I press my tongue against this smooth skin, and I can tell he does not wish me to stop. I can tell, also, that he is confused, and I do nothing to make this anymore clear for him. My impatience has won out in this game, and I can no longer hold back.

I unbutton my robes, quickly dropping them to the floor, and command Ronald to remove his own trousers. The boy, however, does not react. He merely sits staring with helpless and terrified eyes at my now naked form. I look down at myself, pale perfect skin, marred only by a Dark Mark which has turned pink for the moment. My erection is clearly visible, and I move slowly onto the bed, crawling on my hands and knees as my hair falls in a wave before my face.

\"I said, Ronald, to remove your trousers,\" a growl begins in my throat. \"You don\'t want me to get angry, do you?\"

\"A-are you going to t-touch me?\"

\"I think I might. Do you want me to, Ronald? You\'re going to like it. Here, let me help you with those trousers.\" I rip his belt in my impatience, tearing the leather from the buckle, and allow it to go flying across the room. My hands then move to the buttons in his trouser pants, and yet I feel no need to undo them either. In one swift flash I tear his trousers and underpants from his body, tossing them behind me in my haste.

And there before me is his cock, a few sparse and fantastically soft red hairs encircling it. I pet him there, and he thrusts upwards into my touch, a loud gasp escaping from his lips. He is shaking frantically now, and yet his eyes are open, drinking in all that surrounds him. As I kneel by his cock I smile up at Ronald who is still looking down at me, flushed and embarrassed, but so incredibly wide-eyed.

\"Do you want me to continue?\" His breaths are deep, his eyes are panicked, and he is shaking more than one would think healthy. He eventually nods, slowly, and I expect him to cry, or to perhaps scream, but he only stares at me.

\"Say \'yes\', Ronald.\"

\"Y-yes, Uncle.\"

And that is all I need. In one fluid motion I take him into my mouth reaching my fingers up to ghost across his nipples and to make entrance into the confines of his desperately hot mouth. He sucks my fingers in, mimicking the way I wrap my tongue around his now stiffening cock. My free hand keeps my balance as I press on his smooth thighs, lightly petting them, and I reach my hand to slip into the slight crevice of his buttocks. He jumps at this contact, slightly biting my finger in the process. I withdraw my finger from his mouth as I slowly begin to kiss my way up his stomach. My tongue lingers momentarily at his navel to lick at the clean skin there, and I smile sinisterly into this kiss, his erection poking into my chest, and mine into the bed.

I slide up farther along his body, our cocks momentarily touching, forcing both of us to gasp, and Ronald to claw at the velvet underneath him. I\'m ravenous with desire now, my pulse and heartbeat quickening faster than is proper for a Malfoy - though such titles seem obsolete at times such as these. I lay atop him fully, my arms holding me above to look down at his shy and radiant face. Such sexuality lies within those eyes, and I desire to bring it out of him. I desire to hear him pant, and scream, to be not shy but bold.

I trail my fingers across his cheek, and over his jaw. He looks up at me with hooded, blue eyes; amazing blue eyes that upon inspection are flecked with green and yellow, like bolts of lightning striking upon a turbulent sea. He is confused by my blatant examination of his face, and he squirms under me, closing his eyes gently as he rubs against my skin.

\"Open your eyes,\" I command. \"I want you to see.\"

I press my lips onto his and like fire he explodes, wrapping his long arms around my head and pulling me down closer to him. I run my tongue across his bottom lip, and there f ent entrance into his delectably hot mouth. He is shy, but willing and my tongue explores the finer parf hif his mouth as he bucks up into me, our skin slapping together in staccato. He moans into my mouth, clawing with short nailso tho the back of my neck, all humility lost as our tongues touch and caress.

I break away from the kiss, and he is loo looking stranded, lonely. I smirk down at him fiendishly, thus confusing his poor mind, and tell him to get on all fours. He bites his lip again, white teeth tugging against bruised lips that leave one breathless. He obeys, shyly turning toward the headboard, and sitting on his haunches. I come up behind him, grabbing him by the waist and petting up and down the smooth flesh of his chest and belly. I breathe onto his neck, and he tilts his head back, his breath whispering across my face like a gentle wind. I lick his throat then, tasting his skin as my other hand flows down his body, and grabs hold of his erection. I slowly begin to touch him, my hand floating up and down his length as he pushes into it. Then, quite suddenly, I push him onto his hands and knees, and spread his legs open. He is shaking again, uncontrollably.

\"Do you know what I\'m going to do?\" He mumbles something unintelligible as a response. \"Speak up! Tell me what you think I\'m going to do.\"

\"I, I d-don\'t know,\" he says, voice overpowered with worry. I stroke his back, and run my hand along his ass, and down the back of his thigh, delighting in the feel of such innocence and boldness. He shudders, and I spank him lightly, skin bouncing in response and leaving a red mark in my hands absence.

He is still hard, which pleases me. I quietly whisper a lubricating spell, and my cock becomes coated in a slippery warm liquid. I then come up close behind Ronald, and speak another quiet spell, coating his tight hole in the same warm and slippery liquid. He gasps at this, not expecting the sudden invasion. I touch his skin, moving my hand over his back in calming circles, and then place it looverover his now softening erection. He moans through slightly parted lips as I began to touch him there again, gaining a pace somewhat more fast and insistent than before. He is hard again, in my hand, and I know that I can no longer hold back.

I move my hand momentarily from his cock, and grip his side, moving my palm around to touch the smooth skin of his buttocks and thighs. I allow my hand to drift up between his legs, and slowly let a finger pet the outside of his entrance, drawing a heavy breath from Ronald\'s swollen red mouth.

\"Are you ready,\" I ask, less calmly than I would like.

He does not speak, but nods his assent, and I move to place a digit inside of him. His moans are loud, and I feel his muscles tighten around my finger. His hands dig into the duvet, pulling at it so that I\'m sure it will tear. I begin to stroke him again, and tell him to relax, to listen to Uncle Lucius. He slowly loosens around me, and I begin to move my finger inside of him. He breathes heavily, and begins to push back into my finger. I lick my lips and shove another finger inside. He tightens again, relereleases quickly once I begin to move my digits in and out of him, the lubricant coating my fingers allowing quick movements. He moans again, and I pull my fingers out, quickly pressing the head of my painfully hard cock against his entrance.

I listen to him cry out as I slip inside of him, and I can no longer focus on anything but the feeling of him beneath me, all around me. I lean down over him, and kiss his neck again, having to taste him as I fuck him, and I wrap my hands around his hard cock and await my orgasm. I want this moment to last longer. I want to hold out. I want this moment to exist in slow motion. I want it to remain forever implanted in my mind.

I lift him slightly from the bed, and press my mouth close to his neck, my breath wandering over his collar bone like water. He shudders beneath me, and I lick his fragile pink earlobe, the skin smooth beneath my tongue. His neck and ear seem to my mouth like pieces of a puzzle put together. Even with closed eyes I see his freckles. I see his flaming red hair, and all too smooth skin.

I\'m close, I\'m so fucking close. I thrust inside him, his ass slapping against me as we both pant and moan. I let my tongue play at the shell of his ear and my teeth nibble his sweet earlobe, three freckles forming a triangle behind it. I realize now, that however much I want it to, this moment can not last forever. Before I know it Ronald is screaming beneath me, his body bucking as I bite at his ear, the taste of his ruby blood dripping on my tongue. I come moments later, collapsing on top of Ronald in a heap, and roll off to the side of the bed.

I am still panting, cum dripping down my thighs, but I make no move to clean it. I open one weary eye and look over to my freckled boy\'s exhausted face. A small trail of blood leads from his earlobe to the hollow of his neck, and though I desire to taste it, and him, once more I can not bring myself to it. He breathes hard still, his stomach rising high, and then turns to look back at me. He smiles sleepily as he sees me watching him, and then slowly lifts his legs toward his chest, and pushes them under the black duvet. He turns toward me, looking imploringly into my eyes and I crawl under thankeanket with him. He scoots nearer to me, our skin touching again, and presses his head against my chest. The apple scent of his hair contaminates me. I place my chin against his head, and listen as he quietly falls asleep, the rhythm of his breath steadying to the sound of my heart.

After I know that Ronald is sound asleep, I crawl quietly from the bed, and pick up my wand from my discarded robes. He is too young, even for me.

\"Obliviate!\"

* * *

\"Arthur! Where have you been!?\" Molly bellowed as her husband walked through the front door, his thinning hair frazzled around his head.

\"Molly, I... I... Ron\'s gone... I... I looked everywhere... he... I didn\'t know what to do... I... I... One moment he\'s there the next he\'s... he\'s... he\'s gone! Ron is gone!\" The distraught man ran a hand through his hair, and looked toward the ceiling. He\'d have to do something; he\'d have to contact the ministry, the muggle authorities, the Prime Minstrel! How could he have let Ron slip away like that?

\"Arthur!\" Molly said looking alarmed. \"What are you talking about? Ron is upstairs in bed! Lucius Malfoy said you\'d asked him to look after Ron.\"

\"Lucius M-Malfoy?\" Arthur\'s hazel eyes widened, fear enveloping every nerve in his body. Certainly nothing could be fine, certainly Ronald would be hurt, or hexed, or perhaps even dead. How could Molly allow this? How could he have allowed this? Arthur ran the stairs to his youngest son\'s room. Skipping several steps in the process and tripping over a set of roller skates Ginny had left strewn across the top stair.

He opened his son\'s door, and walked quickly inside, turning on the light within the blackened room.

\"Ron!\" he yelled. \"Ronald, oh Ronald! I\'m so, so sorry. I\'m sorry! Oh Ron!\" He kneeled by the bed, looking up into Ron\'s face.

\"Dad?\" Ron said wearily, his heavy eyes red with sleep.

\"Oh! Oh Ron! Are you okay? I\'m so sorry, son. I\'m so sorry. What did that horrible Malfoy do? Are you alright? I\'m so sorry.\" He felt guilt and anger well up within himself. Out of all people to get hold of Ron, Lucius Malfoy was the very last person anyone would have wanted near their impressionable youth.

\"Dad, I\'m okay. I\'m fine. Uncle Lucius just took me to buy sweets and brought me home. He\'s really nice. How come I\'ve never met him before?\"

\"Uncle?\" His heart beat began to slow. So, everything had been alright. So Lucius hadn\'t harmed his youngest, baby son. Maybe he had overreacted. Yes, that must have been the case. Lucius Malfoy couldn\'t have been that horrible a man.

As Ron began to explain their meeting and subsequent journey to the sweet store, Arthur allowed himself to bask in his son\'s sleepy happiness. After hours of looking for the boy, it turned out he had been safe in his bed. He had been tucked safely under his sheets with his favorite stuffed bear underneath one freckled arm.

\"Sounds like a good day then?\" Arthur asked after Ron had finished explaining that he \'hadn\'t really been that scared.\' And that he certainly hadn\'t cried, or if he did it was only a few tears.

\"Yeah! It was pretty good. But, I\'m tired,\" he said, opening his pink mouth wide, as a yawn escaped.

\"Alright then, I\'ll let you sleep, sweetheart.\" Arthur smiled down at his boy, and pet the top of his head as Ron closed his eyes.

His knees cracked as he finally stood up and stretched his arms over his head. He could finally relax after a day of stress and guilt; he could finally let it all go. He happily let his hand brush over Ron\'s hair, dragging his fingers through the soft strands that curled around his red tipped ears.

\"What\'s this?\" he said, spotting a drip of dried blood on the shell oh his son\'s ear.

\"Hmm? Mmm... bug bite,\" Ron replied sleepily, batting the brown flake off.

Arthur\'s mouth dried as his jaw slackened with shock, it was no bug bite. The imprint of teeth was clearly visible on Ron\'s ear, the indent so deep Arthur was positive there would be a scar. He let his eyes trail down Ron\'s neck and saw, with still more shock, a purple bruise visible at Ron\'s throat.

\"Goodnight Daddy,\" Ron said sleepily, pulling his blanket closer to his throat.

\"G-goodnight son.\"

Lucius. He could see the blond haired villain now, mouth clamping down vampire-like at the skin of his son\'s throat. The sweaty passion as he took his son\'s juvenile body. He imagined them wrapped in curtaind wad waves of steam, skin soaked with sweat, and loud pants issuing from their opened mouths.

Arthur ran to the bathroom and vomited.