The Loathing In Those Green Eyes

It always shocked him in a completely delicious sort of way. By the second, third and even forth time he had his way with the young whore, Lucius would have expected that defiant spark and that overall feeling of persevering innocence reflected in those eyes to have faded into black nothingness. It hadn’t, even after almost three years. That was why he kept coming back for more.

He ushered the boy – nearly a man now, to be honest, but that daring way his eyes challenged Lucius wouldn’t allow him to think of him as anything other than a slightly naïve boy – into a room for which he’d paid to stay the entire night. Regardless of any talent the boy may show at drawing the inevitable out just so, Lucius knew it would not take until morning for him to satisfy his needs, at least for the moment. It paid to be prepared, though, and a Malfoy never did anything by halves. In the worst case, the boy could stay here the night alone and be more rested – and perhaps more disposed to doing his bidding without question – the next time Lucius had need of him.

As usual, it was a dingy sort of place that was cheap but reasonably clean. It was one of the more upscale places the boy was likely to have conducted his business over the years, even though it was located deep within Knockturn Alley and Lucius could have easily afforded far better.

They frequented that particular level of accommodation because it was expected that a patron of his kind would only spend so much for a night of debauchery. Comfort took a backseat to financial practicality in this modern world. Lucius sneered at such low-class ideals. He certainly had no need of them. However, in the current political environment, a Malfoy couldn’t afford to call any attention to himself and the fact that he took part in this sort of behaviour by acting in a manner that was not ordinary, much as it pained him to be so common. It would reflect badly on his Lord, and that could hardly bode well for him. Lucius may have almost become accustomed to the Cruciatus Curse after over a decade serving the Dark Lord, but there were worse things he could be subjected to, as his Lord routinely demonstrated when his servants deigned to disobey or humiliate him.

One day the Dark Lord would rule outright rather than by merely having a decisive influence on the Ministry of Magic’s actions. When that day came, no one but the Dark Lord himself would ever question Lucius’ actions again. To have one man wield such total control over him was certainly a worrying thought for a man like Lucius, who preferred to command his own affairs. However, at least the Dark Lord was steering the wizarding world, and Lucius himself, towards a goal that Lucius was willing to suffer a small amount to achieve, unlike anything the Ministry had ever done (for even in its present state of being slowly taken over by those loyal to the Dark Lord, no decisive moves in that direction could yet be made).

If nothing else, it would be a relief to be able to make progress without the subterfuge that was currently necessary to keep the masses content.

Until then, Lucius was willing, if not entirely content himself, to practice the discretion required to keep his rendezvous with his little street urchin mostly secret.

Once they were inside the room, the boy turned questioning eyes on Lucius, waiting to be instructed as to what kind of pleasure Lucius sought tonight. He knew that at this stage the boy would usually arrange exactly what his client would receive and demand payment for just that before his hand so much as strayed towards the top button of his robes with intent, but Lucius was a highly valued client. The boy knew that Lucius would pay him for whatever activities progressed. He also understood that it was in his best interests not to draw attention to the fact that what they were doing was taking money out of his coin purse. Lucius may have been rich, but it displeased him to be reminded how much money he was spending when there should be other more pressing matters on his mind.

It felt strange to Lucius to be trusted in such a way, though. The boy, in essence, was showing his confidence that Lucius would give him his money at the end of it all, and Lucius was not accustomed to such a demonstration. The Mark burned into his arm usually inspired the opposite reaction, though the boy seemed intent on simply ignoring its existence. People respected him grudgingly for being one of the Dark Lord’s most favoured servants, but they did not trust him. Even the Dark Lord did not trust him entirely. The constant threat of harm coming to Narcissa and Draco being held over his head kept Lucius ever conscious of that.

He didn’t really want to be thinking about Draco when he had this boy, who was the same age as his son and so very like him under the darker exterior, standing before him ready and willing to do as Lucius liked.

“Undress,” he ordered after a moment of consideration. “And then undress me.”

It was familiar territory for the boy. He made quick work of his own clothing, since Lucius had not asked him to make a show of it, but when he moved toward the older man, his movements were slower and somehow more purposeful. Lucius Malfoy, after all, did not have his clothes yanked off quickly. They were removed with finesse, or the one removing them would have to be reminded that they were servicing a Malfoy, not the normal gutter trash that probably used this boy and his kin.

Lucius slipped his wand out of his robe and gripped it tightly. Though many of the Knockturn Alley whores owned their own wands despite being largely unable to use the equipment as intended, he knew this particular boy did not have a wand in his possession. Lucius was careful never to risk having the boy gain control of his wand. He was quite certain that it would be a bad idea to let this particular child have any measure of power over him, even for a moment. It hardly mattered that the boy wasn’t likely to be able to perform any spells that weren’t taught in the first three years at Hogwarts, and thus nothing that Lucius couldn’t handle even unarmed himself. The mere possibility of him having a wand where Lucius did not was simply unfathomable.

That lack of genuine threat to Lucius’ power was, however, enough to persuade him not to actually aim the wand at the boy as he approached. Instead, he let his arm fall to his side, his hand still clenched in a protective fist around the shaft of wood. Only then did he allow the boy to reach for the top of the row of clasps that held his immaculate black robes closed.

As each clasp unfastened under the boy’s nimble fingers, rogue-painted lips leaned in and traced every curve of skin that was revealed in a descending line. Lucius narrowed his eyes in want as those lips eventually met his navel and the wet touch of a tongue darted into the hollow.

Lucius considered spelling the rest of his clothing off and taking a more proactive approach to caring for the rock-hard length that had formed as soon as the boy had looked at him just so out on the street and had only intensified since that moment. However, he knew better. Drawing out every intoxicating moment would only make the end sweeter, and Lucius refused to act in any way that would not allow him to entirely get his money’s worth. Besides, the boy had long since become a practised whore, and he knew just how to let Lucius’ pleasure build to just the right point.

That didn't mean, though, that Lucius didn’t have an idea of his own as to how he might accomplish that. The passing of the years had certainly not gone unmarked in his life in that respect. He was just as capable of dragging the boy to the edge and dangling him there until it suited him to push him over.

The boy fell to his knees in order to continue in his work, but his mouth ceased its actions in favour of gracing Lucius with a knowing smile. When the last button was flicked open, the boy stood, and Lucius noted with mild satisfaction that he sported an erection to match the one poking out of the gap in his own robes, though the boy’s was much more obvious against its naked canvas. The whore reached out and pushed the robes out of the way, leaving them hanging gingerly on the cusp of Lucius’ shoulders, while the boy paid his previously-neglected nipples the attention he knew that they deserved now that they were no longer hidden by dark material.

Lucius made no noise throughout this. He would not allow the boy the satisfaction of hearing him vulnerable until he had really earned that opportunity. Lucius would hear his cries, and perhaps even his begging, long before he returned the favour to any extent.

However, when sharp teeth flicked the nub on the left side of his chest persistently, Lucius had to dig his own teeth into his bottom lip to muffle the groan that would have otherwise spilled forth. As punishment for the boy’s impudence, he spun his wand to target the boy’s back and cast a Stinging Hex. The boy yelped, bolting upright at the same time as he jumped away from the source of the pain. Lucius was hardly upset that this action drove him right up against his chest.

He brought his free hand around the boy’s smarting lower back to hold him in place and thrust his hips into the boy’s. He saw green eyes flutter shut as Lucius gyrated against him. The friction was almost too much for both of them for a moment, Lucius sensed, and he pushed the boy away. His face showed nothing of how near he was when the young whore’s eyes opened to survey him once more.

Lucius stepped backward toward the bed and fell gracefully onto his back, pulling the boy with him so that the younger man lay on top of him. It would have seemed to any outsider in that moment that it was the boy and not the man with the wand who was in control of the situation, but neither of the parties involved had any illusions of that sort. They both knew exactly who was dominating whom.

“Suck me,” he demanded, as if to prove just that.

The boy shimmied compliantly down Lucius’ body, his stomach and chest creating barely-there friction that only elevated Lucius’ problem, until it was his mouth that was in close proximity to Lucius’ cock.

A teasing flick of the boy’s practised tongue, and then another, preceded the sensation of his cock being swallowed whole. Had he not already been on the edge, he might have berated the boy for moving so quickly and not building up to the moment when Lucius’ cock would hit the back of his throat. He felt, however, that in this case the mere anticipation of it had been more than enough build up.

It would have been almost perfect if the boy had chosen that moment to look up and glare at him with the complete and utter hatred Lucius felt that his position should have awarded him. In all their encounters, he had never seen such an expression on the boy’s face. He longed to, though he was also slightly apprehensive of that moment, should it ever come, for it might well end the mystery that drove him back again and again. There would always be an itch that Narcissa couldn’t quite alleviate, no matter how much she might wish to, and Lucius didn’t at all look forward to the day when he would have to search for a different young man to help relieve him; a time when the boy was no longer enough.

The look never came, though. Lucius had tried all manner of activities to prompt it, but the boy seemed largely immune to his attempts. For all that he gave off that air of innocence, the boy had been jaded long before he ever started working the streets. The world had not been kind to him, and it gratified Lucius a little to know that he had been a part of that cruelty.

When those eyes did meet his, they weren’t full of fake passion, as many whores were prone to displaying. However, nor did they hold more than extremely mild distaste for Lucius and what the older man was making him do. It wasn’t quite enough, but Lucius had learned to work with it. He could do so again.

A cry that obviously didn’t come from the boy, since Lucius could not feel the vibrations of it around his cock, echoed through the small room. Lucius flicked the wand he still held in a death grip at the door, which he noted was abruptly glowing red-hot. The door’s colour faded back to normal and then the wooden barrier was flung back to reveal the man who had tripped the wards Lucius had set on the door to ensure his privacy. The man cradled his left hand gingerly, pain evident on his face even through the sheet of dark hair partially obscuring the expression. Even from where Lucius lay he could see that his hand had been burnt, though not too severely, where he had rested it on the door prior to the door’s sudden increase in temperature as the contact tripped the wards.

“I don’t appreciate unannounced voyeurs,” Lucius chastised. “Either come inside or leave.”

For the barest moment Lucius thought that Snape looked tempted even apart from the accusing look in his eyes. The other man seemed to push aside his pain in order to survey the scene, his eyes almost glazed with lust at the sight of the boy in all his naked glory, still obediently bobbing his head in between Lucius’ legs despite all of the distraction.

But then the boy’s head shot up from Lucius’ cock so quickly that the older man was surprised he didn’t feel the burn of scraping teeth. He imagined it had just occurred to the whore what exactly Lucius was offering, and that it was going to impact upon him personally.

“That’s never been part of our arrangement,” he spat out, glaring at Lucius indignantly. He then turned to glare at the other man in kind. “It’ll cost a lot extra, even if he’s just watching.”

But then the boy’s green eyes went wide in recognition as they settled upon the greasy Potions professor standing just outside the doorway.

Severus’ eyes went similarly wide. “I don’t think so, Lucius,” he said. “Unlike you, I don’t seek my pleasure from children. Tell me, do you think of Draco when you are with him, or does the thought of screwing the Boy Who Lived suffice?”

Lucius merely smirked. “Oh, he certainly has his own merits. Are you sure you don’t want to sample them?”

“He’s a child!” Severus hissed venomously. “He was my student!”

“That was years ago,” Lucius said dismissively. “And if I recall, you never treated him much like any other student of yours. A little special treatment now would not be unreasonable.”

“I’m not a child!” Harry Potter responded angrily, barely waiting for Lucius to say his piece and ignoring what he’d said entirely in favour of rejecting what his old professor had claimed. Lucius’ eyes dropped down to where the boy was still half-lying on his legs, but had swivelled around so he could look at his old teacher, the erection before him now forgotten even though it had barely diminished. For the first time Lucius saw real loathing in those eyes. He’d never seen anything so promising in his life.

“You will always be a child, Potter, in every way that counts,” Severus retorted. “You ensured that the moment you walked away from Hogwarts and any possible chance at a worthwhile future.” He glowered at the boy, and then at Lucius once more for good measure. Then he stalked away from the room, the door magically slamming shut in his wake.

“I never had a future,” the boy muttered indignantly, though Lucius imagined that he wasn’t meant to hear his words. He was glad he had, all the same.

Lucius looked at the boy speculatively. “Change of plans, Potter,” he said smoothly, as if they had not just found Severus Snape listening in on their activities, only to have him leave moments later in a huff. He pushed the boy off him. “Bend over the side of the bed with your arms out in front of you.”

Potter was no stranger to these games, Lucius knew. He himself had used the boy in such a way on occasion. This, however, would be different.

“How do you want me, Master?” the boy asked, slipping into character. Lucius could hear the distaste in his voice, as always, but it was still not that quite the out-and-out hatred or resentment that he craved.

Lucius smirked. “New rules tonight. You will not call me Master.”

Potter looked surprised when he turned around to where Lucius stood behind him.

“How will I address you then, sir?”

Lucius rubbed his had over Potter’s arse in anticipation. “You will refer to me as Professor.”

He saw the boy’s eyes darken slightly in anger.

“No,” he said, suddenly struggling to get up.

Lucius’ hand pushed down on his back and held him in place. His other hand, his wand hand, raised to point at the boy’s extended arms, and shackles appeared around his too-thin wrists. The attached chains fastened immediately onto the headboard at the opposite end of the bed, jerking the boy’s arms straight and holding them suspended inches over the bed. The rest of his upper body was pushed flat into the mattress. The shorter board of wood at the bottom of the bed trapped his erection – still as hard as ever, much like Lucius’ own – against his abdomen.

“You will,” Lucius responded, “or I won’t pay you, now or ever again.”

It was a pointless ultimatum, since both of them knew that Potter couldn’t afford to lose Lucius Malfoy’s custom. He probably accounted for a third of what the brat had earned in the past year.

Potter mulled it over for all of half a second, as if there was actually a decision to be made.

“All right,” he said grudgingly, “but this will cost you more as well.”

As Potter flattened his chest against the bed once more, Lucius caught the flash of emotion in his eyes that he’d been looking for since the night had begun – no, since their interactions as a whole had first commenced. He smiled. Whatever the price the boy asked would be worth it.

He caressed his wand thoughtfully.

“Beg me,” he said.

Potter resisted for a moment, but folded almost pitifully quickly, all things considered. He still hadn’t lost that look from his eyes, though, and that was what mattered to Lucius.

“I’ve been bad, Professor,” Potter responded. It was said almost tonelessly but for the slight catch in his voice at the word ‘Professor’. “Please punish me. I need it.”

Luckily, no amount of bad acting could ruin that moment for him. He’d seen the loathing in those green eyes.

When the first burn of a magical whip landing scorched the boy’s back, Potter cried out his anguish and his anger as he tried to jerk away from the pain. Unlike when he’d been subjected to the Stinging Hex, there was no haven of arms to jump into, only an unyielding mattress. There would be no mercy.

Lucius savoured the moment and prepared for the next blow.

“Don’t worry, Mr Potter,” he said, making his voice sound deep and silky. “This is just like having points deducted. You still have yet to actually serve your detention. I’m quite certain you’ll enjoy it.”

~Fin~