Stupid boy

Fic: Stupid boy
Title: Stupid boy
Pairing: HP/LM
Rating: R (?)
Feedback: oh yes, a true gift and highly appreciated
Disclaimer: Alas, J.K. Rowling owns them.
Warnings: mild slash (to be on the safe side) and character death
Category: darkfic
Summary: Lucius takes the ultimate revenge.
A/N: my betas underlucius and silentpawz have given their best, as usual. All remaining mistakes are mine.
This is the final version of the story 'Foolish boy". I was not happy with the previous versions.

1/1

Seven years after finishing Hogwarts successfully, Harry and the members of The Order finally managed to kill Voldemort. This story takes place six months after that.

Liberation.

PROLOGUE

With Old Snake Eyes gone, life was just one long celebration. To begin with, Harry could now safely turn his back on the Dursley’s and find his own place. Mrs. Weasley tried to persuade him to come and live with them but he refused as politely as he could.

For the first time in his life Harry was totally free to do what he wanted and made damn sure to do exactly that. So he went ‘home shopping’ with Remus Lupin and found this beautiful little flat in the heart of London. The next step was to buy everything a young single male would need: furniture, appliances, you name it. Harry was so proud and happy! *His* flat! *His* very own place! He loved it and cherished every minute spent there. And it turned out to be quite convenient too! When Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus or others needed a place to crash for the weekend or after some severe clubbing, Harry’s was the pace to go. He was only too happy to accommodate them. Even Remus, who turned out to be quite the party animal, came for a place to sleep on a regular basis.

He was an Auror now, just like Ron. Not so much because he really wanted to but it just seemed the next logical step. As well as the expected one. Harry enjoyed it nevertheless.

He felt happy, good, carefree. He truly lived. Or at least thought he did. He worked hard, was good at his job, loved it and the excitement it provided and spent his free time happily alone, friends or the date of the moment. And there was a different date any other moment...

And then something happened. At first there was this unexplainable restlessness. No matter what Harry did or who he was with, he felt restless. And anything but satisfied. It was like he was missing something vital but didn’t know what. So whatever he did – it just wasn’t good enough. Be at home, go clubbing, hang out with his friends, whatever – it simply didn’t feel right any more. While at work his mind was forced not to drift off too much but suddenly even being an Auror made Harry feel as if he was wasting his life. Was this all there was? Did he survive and kill Voldemort for *this*?

Maybe it was time to re valuate his life? Without the slightest hesitation and shocking the wizarding world in the process, Harry changed career and became a Curse Breaker. Three weeks later he applied for the job of vermin exterminator. Throwing Pixies into this huge high-pressure vessel and then watch them explode and see the bluish muck slowly slide down the transparent sides turned out to be extremely satisfactory. For about two weeks. Then, onto the next job. It didn’t matter, though; nothing seemed to do it any more, no matter what he tried..

For a short period of time Harry thought that maybe he just didn’t know how to live. So he started taking ‘life-lessons’ from Hermione, Ron, Fred and George and especially their brother Charlie. And Charlie showed him that yes, males were also capable of multiple orgasm.
But that was not it either. Nothing, absolutely nothing seemed to work.

Harry felt so desperate, so lost, alone and scared. Very, very scared. But no matter how he felt, he never complained. Well, okay, maybe in the beginning. But he was reminded by everyone, however, that he was Harry fucking Potter, ‘the hero’, and therefore had no right to complain. He had killed Voldemort, his parents had left him quite a large amount of money, he was in good health with lots of friends and never had any trouble of finding a new job so what was there for him to complain about anyway?

Harry had never been strong in the self-esteem department but around that time, the little he had managed to get got destroyed rapidly. Or maybe it was a case of him letting it be destroyed. Frankly he was telling everybody to use him, take advantage of him. Hell, he didn’t know any other way!

Over the next couple of weeks the feeling of absolute worthlessness set in. Shortly after that the sensation of alienation came creeping in. Then memories of his parents started to chase sleep away. It started with remembering seeing them in the Mirror of Erased. He cried every time that memory returned. His mothers hand touching his shoulder became one of his main obsessions. And there was the chain too. Every time Harry saw it, his father took this chain from around his neck and handed it to his mother who in turn proudly showed it to Harry and gestured that *he* should wear it. It was a little golden snitch and he absolutely loved it. After dreaming about that emotional gesture five times in a row, Harry pretty much would have given you the clothes of his back if you would have been able to make that happen.

Then their nightly visits became more and more vivid. Their smoky shadows started to crawl out of the keyhole of his wardrobe every night, just as they had appeared out of Voldemort’s wand that night in the cemetery. The first time that happened, Harry felt confused and certainly somewhat tense and nervous. But not scared. Never scared. Although they didn’t speak, his parents always smiled warmly and every time his mother would show him the chain. They made him feel so unbelievably loved that yes, he cried his eyes out every time they left. He even tried to prevent them from leaving by sealing the keyhole with gum and tape. A stupid, childish thing to do, but it always hurt so indescribably. It was as if his essence was taken away, as if he was being ripped to pieces, and that pain only increased every bloody following time.

However, it also inspired Harry to seriously think once more about the existence of some sort of afterlife. Luna had been convinced there was one. Nearly Headless Nick also indicated there was a place people went to when they died and he still had his suspicions about that veil in the Ministry.
Not long after that the first thoughts of killing himself surfaced. They should have scared him, alarmed him even. But they didn’t. Instead, they felt logical, yes, even natural. Like going home.
Finally going home.

There were practical and mentally programmed conditions to overcome, of course. People were not supposed to kill themselves, for one thing. It was considered a weakness, a cowards act.. Then there was his ‘disease to please’- he didn’t want to disappoint people and it would most definitely make them all very upset if ‘their hero’ suddenly turned out to be anything but perfect. Harry also discovered that he would never have the courage to actually kill himself; a couple of half-hearted pitiful attempts soon made that very clear. It left him with somewhat of a problem because he could not see himself asking Ron or Remus to ‘oh, by the way, can you just Avada Kedavra me before you go?” Not only would they refuse, they’d also make sure that he would immediately visit that ‘comfy little white room’ in St. Mungo’s. Common sense told Harry that no one he knew would grant him his wish. So he reluctantly kept on living. For the nights. He was clutching on to the nights, when he could see his parents again.

And then he emerged. Staring at Harry from the front page of the Daily Prophet with this contemptuous look in his cold, grey eyes. Acquitted. Again. The rumours were true then; he was a free man. How he managed to pull that one off, Harry never knew. To be fair, he never asked either.

A free man.Tainted, yes, and severely so, but free nevertheless. From gazing at his picture, Harry could tell that his pride and dignity were as strong as ever, though. If not stronger. Realisation dawned on him that five months at Azkaban had only made Lucius a more dangerous man, if not downright evil. Harry’s first reaction expressed itself in a wave of pure panic and he almost threw up. Surely Malfoy would come after him and try to take revenge for his testimony at the hearing!

Oh Merlin, that was... brilliant! Yes, of course! That was it! If *anybody* would be willing to kill him, it would be Malfoy! And he would certainly enjoy every single second of it, which would most likely mean an agonisingly slow death. Add to that, the very real possibility of excruciating torture before that, just to amuse himself and punish Harry for... whatever. Lucius would not need a reason for such sick behaviour.

The thought was enough to make him feel instantly disillusioned and depressed. Then Harry remembered that Lucius was a Slytherin. To the backbone! All he had to do was think of some sort of reward that would tempt the bastard enough to kill Harry on *his* terms – one which would mean no hurting or torture of any kind and just a fast and painless death.

From that moment on, Harry spent every free minute of his time in book stores. Mostly the shady ones. His presence there made the other customers extremely suspicious and often hostile, but that stopped the minute a very smart shop owner carefully approached him and offered the opportunity to browse privately after closing time. All for a royal consideration, of course. Harry accepted shamelessly, paid him generously and on his fourth visit, found something he could use. Harry bought the book and studied willingly for the first time in his life.

The next obstacles were getting a Pensive and getting in touch with Malfoy. That was a difficult task as Harry knew Lucius would never willingly have a conversation with him.

Lucius still can’t stand the fact that Harry was even able to track him down. A Malfoy should not be traceable unless he wants to be. But he grudgingly accepted Harry’s explanation that not many doors stay closed when Potter the Hero wants something, especially when he is willing to pay for it. It is exactly according to the Malfoy life style, after all.

And that is why Harry knew Lucius would be at Ollivanders at three that Tuesday afternoon. Since his wand was confiscated on his arrest and destroyed after his transportation to Azkaban, he needed a new one and had to pay Mr Ollivander’s store a visit. Harry made sure to be there.

Oh, the moment Malfoy cast his first glance at him! His eyes burned immediately with such an all-consuming hatred and contempt that, for a few seconds, the world completely seemed to disappear and Harry was barely able to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

“Mr Potter, we meet again. Unfortunately.” His voice dripped with menace but for the rest his outward appearance remained controlled and perfectly intact. Scary and commendable at the same time. Yes, Malfoy definitely was the right choice.

“Mister Malfoy.... “ Now what? Just say, “Please, kill me”? Suddenly Harry was lost for words.

“Well? What do you want, boy?” The surface cracked a bit and loathing bled through.

“I... I have a request. A very unusual request,” Harry stammered, cursing his insecurity. “Can we... discuss this somewhere more private? Please?”

That last word clearly caught Malfoy’s attention. “’Please’? Well, well, you really must be desperate then - ” Lucius mocked him, obviously enjoying doing so. “And why would I want to do that?”

“Because it might give you what you want?”

“Which is... ?” At least he was now curious enough to stand still.

“To kill me and get away with it unharmed.” Harry’s stomach started to cramp quite painfully.

Malfoy just stared at him, without flinching, keeping completely silent. Harry was confused, then realised that Malfoy, of course, did not trust him and suspected some sort of trap to frame him somehow.

“Don’t tell me you would have a problem doing that,” Harry tried to grin and break the tension.

“I can assure you that I do not have a problem with inflicting pain or even worse on disobedient house elves, no,” Lucius answered smoothly.

Harry understood the unspoken and could not help but feel a hint of admiration.
“You’re good.”

Lucius just smiled faintly, nodding his head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“You can scan me for tricks or whatever, if you’d like.” Everything to get past his distrust.

It worked. Malfoy gestured Harry to follow him and they walked to a remote dark alley two streets down the road.
After making sure they were indeed alone, he took his new wand and pointed it at Harry. Lucius then mumbled a quick incantation and this reddish haze started circling around and even through Harry; a prickly, irritating sensation. It certainly took its time but finally the haze vaporised.

“So, about the killing...” Harry’s nerves made him feel like a pathetic idiot.

“Oh, I am *very* tempted to do just that, Mr Potter.” Convinced at last that they were indeed alone and Harry was not playing some foul game, Lucius dropped his façade, grabbed Harry by the throat and pulled him up against the wall. Harry desperately fought to pull the hands away and get some oxygen. This was not the way it was supposed to happen! Not like this!

“However... “ Lucius loosened his grip somewhat, “... no matter how much I will enjoy killing you, there has to be more in it for me than that. Glee only lasts so long, you see.”

“I’m sure you can think of something... “ Harry croaked, trying to ignore the increasing throbbing in his head.

“For once I would have to agree with you.” Lucius simply withdrew his hand and Harry fell to the ground. Hard. Swallowing a painful moan, he scrambled slowly to his feet but froze the moment Malfoy’s cane landed on his shoulder, pushing him back down onto his knees. “Tell me about the part where I would get away with it unharmed, please, Mr Potter,” Lucius hissed, pulling Harry’s hair back so hard, the tears sprang in his eyes.

“Can we talk about not mistreating me first?” Harry’s voice trembled, giving away his fear. Damn.

“You certainly know how to take away the fun." Lucius pulled even harder and now the tears *were* gliding across Harry’s face.

“Hey... I’m already giving you the satisfaction of killing me and taking advantage of it the way you want! I will even make sure that you will and can not be accused of murder or anything, so the least you can do is tre-“

“Yes, yes,” Lucius interrupted irritated, finally letting go of Harry’s hair with one last vicious pull before he stood upright again. “You will meet me at the manor tomorrow at three p.m. Make sure you are punctual, Mr Potter.”

“Don’t you want to know why I... “

Lucius gave him his most contemptuous glare and snorted. “Frankly, I could not care less.” And left.

Harry went back home, trembling and sick to the stomach, regretting even approaching Malfoy. What had he got himself into? What was he thinking?

Once inside his flat, Harry walked from the living room to the kitchen, the bedroom, then to the spare bedroom. Restless, desperate, scared, wanting to cry out for help but knowing that he wouldn’t. Oh, the pain! Pure mental anguish was tearing him to pieces. This was beyond distraction with grief, this was-

No longer able to keep the desperate scream in, Harry simply let his body go limp and fell to the floor with a muffled *thud*, courtesy of the thick yellow carpet Hermione had insisted him on buying.

Lying there in foetal position, he closed his eyes and cried until there were no more tears to spill. He must have fallen asleep shortly after that because the next thing Harry remembered was this golden snitch chain again and how his mother held it out in this loving, inviting manner. Apparently he’d tried to reach for it because, when he opened his eyes, his right arm was stretched out.

Harry sat up with a sad smile, rubbing his eyes and feeling very, very tired and relieved at the same time. Because suddenly he understood – his pain, fear and all those other hurtful emotions had nothing to do with Malfoy! In fact, thinking about Lucius made him feel calm, peaceful, relieved, appreciative and, above all, ready. Yes, he was definitely ready to take the last step. The pain merely came from all these emotions he’d always kept inside, hidden and secure. Now they could come out to the open at last. No need to hide them any more. It was like emptying a bucket which you no longer had any need or use for. It all simply poured out and left him empty and purified at the same time.

Once Harry understood that process, his energy level increased dramatically. That was a good thing; he had to make last ends meet. Several farewell letters were written, explaining that this suicide was Harry’s own decision and exactly what he wanted; he had never had a real home before and now finally he was going home. His parents were already waiting. He didn’t bother about dividing his belongings but, in a letter to Gringott’s, did leave instructions to donate all his remaining money (still a substantial amount) to St. Mungo’s and the flat to Remus, if he was interested. If not, he could sell the place and keep the proceeds.

Almost the entire night was spent on filling the Pensive Harry had recently managed to buy. He even warded every single contribution with a truth spell so people would know he had left them with nothing but the truth and no, he had not been under any kind of spell forcing him to do so. Not that Harry put much in the Pensive, though. It all seemed so trite, really.
He then went to bed and slept soundly for the first time in months.

~* ~

Harry gets up at noon. Breakfast, a shower, dressing, a last walk through his flat; all done unhurriedly and very relaxed.

It is a good day to die.

He Apparates to Malfoy Manor at a quarter to three and ‘lands’ in what looks like the study. And of course Lucius is waiting for him, sitting in his chair, poised, elegant and cold.

“Mr Malfoy...” Harry gives a slight bow, then adds somewhat cheeky, “Probably thought I would back out of it, right?”

At first Lucius does not respond. Well, apart from that little twitch around the right corner of his mouth. He just sits there, staring at Harry. Then he suddenly rises. “Let us deal with formalities first, shall we? Your wand, please, Mr Potter. You will no longer be using it, after all.”

“Only if you promise t-“

“I will not harm you in any way,” Lucius grits through his teeth, obviously with tremendous aversion. “You have my word as a Malfoy.”

“Ah, found some use for me then, have you?” Harry flares.

Lucius chuckles in a way that does unnerve Harry a bit then. “As a matter of fact, yes, I have. And believe it or not; all you have to do is die willingly. Aren’t you lucky, mmm?”

“Fine with me, but just out of curiosity – what’s in it for you?” Judging by his smug look, Malfoy’s reward will indeed be generous. Trust him to always benefit the most.

“Your magical powers, actually. How raw and undeveloped as they still may be.” Lucius gives Harry a challenging look, probably expecting him to protest or worse. Instead, Harry whistles softly and again is unable to hide his admiration for a moment. Oh, dear world, you all have something coming!

“That does not bother you, Mr Potter?”

”Nope. I am about to go home and that’s all that matters to me. Let someone else clean up the mess. I’m sick and tired of that job.” Without the slightest hesitation Harry hands over his wand and silently watches as Lucius throws it in the fire. The flames roar and slowly turn red, yellow and then black and back to normal while Harry’s body tingles. He cringes as a wave of nausea sweeps over him. Warm hands gently push him down onto the sofa and push a glass in his hand. Brandy. Harry takes a little sip and instantly feels better.

“What was that?” he asks, confused and curious at the same time.

“That, Mr Potter, was the destruction of your magical finger-print, your DNA, so to speak. Burning your wands equals burning every trace of you ever existing, in the magical sense of the word.” Lucius also takes a brandy and calmly sits down next to him, not in the slightest hurry and obviously feeling completely in control. Which, of course, he is.

“Wow, I didn’t even think that was possible.” Harry takes another sip, pleasantly surprised about the absolute calmness and peace that has now taken over his body as well as his mind. It is ... refreshing. “Are you going to Avada Kedavra me?e

“I can’t, as you should well know. And how effective as that would be, it is rather er... primitive for this happy event.” Malfoy’s eyes twinkle! His eyes bloody twinkle!

“What?” Something about the way he’s stared at, bothers Harry.

“How are your wanking skills, Mr Potter?”

“Excuse me?” Harry’s mouth drops open.

“Well, since you will have to depart in the highest spirit possible, an orgasm seems the next logical st-“

“I will *not* wank in front of you!” It is probably the first time someone interrupts a Malfoy. “Not bloody likely! I would have to be pretty drunk to even consider that!” Harry feels his cheeks blush.

“Language, Mr Potter,” Lucius scolds him, surprisingly mild. “I regret to say that getting drunk is not an option, nor is the use of any form of aphrodisiac. Your blood has to remain as pure as possible.”

Harry tries to ignore his significant and insufferable smart look. It doesn’t work.
“I’m not – I couldn’t even get it up if I wanted to!” Even he can hear the embarrassment in his voice. Sex is good. Harry likes it. A lot. But not when someone is watching and he is definitely not giving Malfoy a show of any kind.

“Would it help if I assist you in achieving an orgasm?” Lucius clearly has lost all sense of shame years and years ago.

“And here I was thinking you would never touch a half-blood or er... less,” Harry tries to be funny and fails. Miserably.

“I have no doubt that the reward will compensate any ... resistance I might feel,” Lucius answers smoothly, caressing Harry’s left cheek with surprisingly soft and warm fingers. Harry knows that his eyes go wide with trepidation and the urge to throw Malfoy back is almost overwhelming. He trembles.

“There has to be anoth-“ Harry tries to distance himself.

“Sshhh, just relax. You will enjoy every second; that is the least I can do,” Lucius whispers, gently pressing his lips on Harry’s. He hears himself whimper but Harry doesn’t back off. Lucius’ hand against the back of his head would prevent him from doing so anyway. And it *is* a nice feeling...

It doesn’t take very long for Harry to part his lips and give Lucius’ tongue full access, Gryffindor bravery finally kicking in. And in all honesty; it feels good. Really good. How ironic to discover that Malfoy, of all people, turns out to be the best kisser he had ever had the pleasure of meeting.
Lucius’ tongue tastes his palate and teeth and every possible inch he can reach, taunting Harry, coaxing him, drawing him in. Without realising it, Harry soon joins in whole heartedly, only becoming aware of it the moment he feels Lucius’ hand disappearing under his shirt where he touches Harry’s naked flesh and nipples seductively. A moan escapes Harry’s throat the moment one nipple is pinched while Lucius’ mouth goes to the crook of his neck and licks the sweat of Harry’s skin in a very, very erotic way.

His resistance leaves and Harry lets himself be pushed back until he is laying down on the sofa. Lucius covers him with his weight and a stirring, deep long kiss follows. Merlin, Malfoy can kiss! Harry groans again and pulls at Lucius’ shirt, trying to remove it, desperately wanting to feel skin on skin but Lucius chuckles softly and slowly slides down, out of reach.

“Please... oh yes, please.” The hell with shame or dignity; Lucius’ warm breath on Harry’s now freed cock is all that matters! And he wants more. Much more!

“This is all I can give you.” It is all the warning he gets before Lucius closes his heavenly warm, wet mouth around Harry’s rapidly growing cock. His hips jerk and he moans again. A voice in the back of Harry’s head says that Malfoy meant that this is all he is *willing* to give him. Harry knows that, accept it. Lucius is really doing his best to let him see stars and that is already more than Harry has ever had, really. More than anyone has ever done for him. They had only been interested in having had Potter, the hero. Even Charlie, to a certain extent. Malfoy, at least, has the courtesy to let him believe otherwise. And for that, he is grateful.

Oh, that talented mouth. Heaven. Soft, warm, wet tongue and lips and licking, sucking and humming. Harry’s hands claw the sofa, his hips start jerking more violently, as much as they can with Lucius’ hands restraining them in an almost iron grip. His breath is becoming more and more shallow and agitated by the second. The pressure that is slowly building up inside Harry’s body seems to gather inside his brain; a sensation so intense and divine it actually starts to make him cry and laugh at the same time. He is blind with need. So very, very blind, moved and completely lost in this new, thrilling world of steadily increasing pleasure that makes him shiver, tremble, tingle and wallow in ecstasy.

Malfoy is ravishing Harry, sweeping him away with so much skill and dedication, constantly keeping expertly attuned to him and his needs. Harry stays very aware of Lucius’ presence. Whether the man is sucking his cock or taking his balls in or whatever he manages to do down there – he constantly keeps and radiates power, dominance as well as distance. In the end it is Malfoy’s notorious coldness and ruthlessness that, oddly enough, thrills Harry beyond belief. It is dormant, hidden under this fine layer of finesse, but it is there just the same and occasionally shows through in his eyes when Lucius looks up at him.

And then his fingers finds that wonderful, wonderful gland inside him. Harry desperately tries to prevent it from happening yet, but loses it. He can hear himself actually roar like crazy while his whole body spasms. At the same time Harry vaguely registers Lucius’ wand against his right temple, the mumbling voice and some blinding white light exploding inside his head. After that there is this vicious tugging sensation which seems intent on pulling his brains out through his nose and th- - -

~* ~


EPILOGUE

“I don’t need any proof to know that you killed him! You killed him, you bastard!” Snape burst into Lucius’ study, furiously waving the newspaper in his hand before throwing it on the desk on top of the papers Lucius was working on. “You killed that Potter boy, didn’t you?” he spat, raging and raving.

Lucius stayed calm and collected, smiling at his long time friend as if he was just a clumsy toddler. “On his request, Severus. I merely fulfilled his last wishes.”

“You sick bast – you what?” It took a few seconds before the Potions master understood. But when he did, his mouth dropped open and he started looking at his fellow Slytherin in pure awe. “He wanted to? Oh Circe, you didn’t! You... the Transfer spell?” He almost whispered the name of the ancient dark spell.
Lucius just smiled. Only to then slowly rise and give his friend a wicked grin.

“Would you like to join the new Dark Lord, Severus?”

“Oh, yes! Yes!” The Potions master immediately kneeled in front of his new master.

Again, Lucius simply smiled.

Life was good.

“Let us celebrate with my finest whiskey, shall we? To the living room, my dear friend.” He gestured Severus to leave the study first and the potions master did.

Lucius followed, on his way out indifferently tossing some metal in the fire. As he closed the door, the moving air caused the flames to dance and shortly revealed a golden chain with a snitch.

“Stupid boy.”