Despoiling Harry

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The characters and the situations within these fanfiction stories are not my property. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Brothers, and others, and are used without permission; challenge to copyright is not intended and should not be construed. No profit is being made from the use of these characters and situations; these written-down imaginings are only presented in an internet forum for the interest of and consumption by the like-minded individuals who enjoy them and recognize them as unauthorized fanfiction only, and are not in any way meant to be confused with the originals NOR presented as authorized materials of these owners.

Short Stories
by Amanuensis

Summary: From a Dictionary Drabble challenge on Beloved Enemies.
The word:
florilegium: a collection of excerpts; an anthology of short pieces.
Pairings: Harry/Lucius

Ten objects on a table.

Lucius does not quite hold his breath as the boy stares at them. It looks so very like the memory game of old. And oh, it is a memory game, but nothing like the one most are familiar with.

He does not dare to look at Voldemort as Potter touches the first item.

A white owl feather.

--"Consider it a birthday present, child," says Lucius Malfoy, smiling as Harry takes the owl's cage from him, too overcome to speak--

A remembrall.

--"Father thinks you'd make a fine Seeker," says Draco Malfoy, tossing it in the air. "Go on, give it a try!" Harry's best friend gives the glass sphere a healthy throw, and Harry is already off after it--

A thick emerald green jumper.

--"these wet things off you before you freeze..." and strong hands are pulling the rain-soaked jumper over Harry's head, and wrap a throw about his shoulders, still warm from the hearth--

A water-warped black book with a ragged hole through the middle.

--"can try again some other day, Harry." Lucius puts the ruined book upon the small table next to his armchair, and draws Harry onto his lap--

Splinters from a broomstick.

--"never mind what it cost me," Harry says fiercely, refusing to be moved from Lucius's hospital bedside. "I got you out of there and you're going to be all right and that's what matters"--

A square of worn parchment with nothing written upon it.

--Harry bends low, and whispers, "The Dark Lord will rise again," and the blank parchment becomes a map--

An empty butterbeer bottle.

--"enough of that for one night," Lucius says, but he's smiling, and Harry says, "Haven't either," and he's never felt so bold as he leans in close to the older man--

A tiny gold hourglass on a chain.

--"can't have you losing either sleep or study time to come here at night, now can I?" says Lucius, and Harry sits up, letting the sheet fall to his waist as he reaches for it--

A golden egg.

--"how to open it, then take what's inside and put it on. And wait for me." Lucius leans closer. "Naked, of course. And don't you dare touch yourself." Harry shivers--

A long, thin black quill with an unusually sharp point.

--on his thigh, right there, not more than an inch from his cock, and Harry doesn't know whether it will be the point or the feather edge this time, and it doesn't matter, as long as Lucius doesn't stop, doesn't stop, doesn't stop--

Harry looks up from the table, and moves around it to stand before Lucius.

Touches his shoulder lightly and kisses him. "I've missed you. When did I get here? I can't quite remember."

Voldemort chuckles. "Nicely done, my friend. Very well, you may keep him."

Potter's head tucked comfortably under his chin, Lucius smiles.


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