In his final year at Hogwarts, Lucius Malfoy was undoubtedly one of the best-looking young men in the world. His chin-length white-blond hair was swept back from his beautiful face and hung shimmering and immaculate, the envy and desire of witches and wizards alike. The blue eyes were captivating, the elegance of movement mesmerising. And for the more practically minded, he was also deliciously wealthy. Finding girlfriends or random shags had never been a problem, in fact, the problem was in keeping the females away. Sometimes they just wouldn't get the hint, the classless trollops.
With such an abundance of interest, Lucius was able to cherry pick the only the finest pureblooded witches with which to amuse himself (though the pureblood rule was occasionally set aside if the creature in question was particularly well-stacked or talented), he had never felt the need to indulge in any experimentation with his own sex. As in any boarding school, all those raging teenage hormones locked up together, it was not uncommon in any of the houses for homosexual soulmating, love affairs, discrete 'arrangements' or drunken experiments to occur, though as a rule, the slytherins tended to keep such matters private, so many of them carrying the responsibilities of making advantageous marriages and continuing illustrious family lines.
It was with a degree of confusion, then, that Lucius found himself indulging in thoughts of an improper nature connected with that dark little freak Snape one Sunday afternoon. Intrigued by an Arabic manuscript he had found locked deep inside a safe in his father's secret study, Lucius had swiped it and brought it to school, hoping to find someone trustworthy to translate it, or at least to find out why it was so secret.
"Snape, you're a bit of an Arab," he had noted arrogantly to the fourteen year old, bent intently over his texts in the empty common room.
Glare.
"You are though, aren't you?"
Glare. Shrug.
"I'm not going to hex you for it. I have a vague idea that your mother was Egyptian."
Glare. Tentative nod.
"Can you read this?" he pushed the 4th year transfiguration textbook aside and set down his father's manuscript, opening it at the front page. Snape gave him a withering look and flicked the manuscript so it was open at the back page.
"Right to left, not left to right like Western script."
"Really? So you can read it?"
The younger boy briefly scanned the page, frowning slightly.
"Mostly. I would need a dictionary to get all of it."
"What does it say?"
The black eyes glinted malevolently at Lucius. He closed the book and shrugged again.
Malfoy rolled his eyes, recognising that look from previous interactions. He reached for his wallet.
"How much do you want?"
"It's a dark text. Illegal, I should think. If I were caught with it…"
"You won't be. I have a private bedroom, you can work there for hours undisturbed. What's it about?"
"Poisons," his eyes were glittering again, "Really effective ones."
Lucius swallowed. Oh, this was perfect. Unusual foreign dark potions, and the little brute would enjoy studying them just as much as Malfoy would.
"How do I know you're telling the truth. I wouldn't be able to tell if you were making it up."
"Not if I brewed them for you."
Lucius hardly dared breathe.
"You can do that? I mean, it is within the capabilities of a fourteen year old wizard?"
Snape shrugged again, and without arrogance, but simply stating a fact, he pointed out,
"I am infinitely superior to the average fourteen year old wizard."
A bargain was struck, and Severus became a frequent visitor to Lucius' room, sprawling on the sumptuous silk bedspread surrounded by his notes, various potions texts and Arabic-English dictionaries both ancient and modern, cigarette in hand. Lucius found his presence conducive to study, which was fortunate as he did not trust the little bugger enough to leave him alone in his bedroom. He would work on his NEWT revision after supper or at weekends, occasionally stopping as Snape revealed a particularly interesting secret from the book, while the slytherin populace had to accept that even their golden prince needed pass his NEWTs at the temporary expense of his social life.
That particular wet Sunday afternoon, Lucius was at his desk as usual, when a particularly tedious goblin rebellion caused his mind to wander and his eyes to drift over to the strange boy on his bed. A skinny, scruffy little thing of good but impoverished Yorkshire wizarding stock. The Snapes had been fair haired for generations until this one broke the mould, but as if to compensate, he grew the largest snapish hooked nose in 300 years. His family had been absolutely delighted, Severus less so.
"Interesting," he murmured to no one, poring intently over a passage in the manuscript.
Putting down his quill, Lucius moved over to the bed and lounged next to him.
"It has to be more interesting that History of Magic. Tell me what it says." Severus took a drag on his cigarette and hummed to himself.
"It's nothing to do with the potion, merely a grammatical point. Modern Arabic is much easier. This text is quite old."
"Tell me," insisted Lucius, realising that he liked the sound of Snape's soft voice, and the way his eyes lit up as something sparked his interest. Their faces were quite close together now so the younger boy could point out a particular sentence, and Lucius found that instead of listening to the words he was saying, he was watching the way his lips moved. With a shiver, he realised he actually wanted to kiss them, and to run his hands through the soft black hair.
What a Malfoy wants, he usually gets. Leaning forward, he gently pushed Severus onto his back and leaned over him, kissing him slowly. Meeting no resistance, he continued, pushing his tongue delicately inside his mouth, tasting smoke and hints of the ginger pudding they had eaten at lunch. They continued lazily for perhaps five minutes, Severus's hand finding its way into Lucius' hair, Lucius' hand finding its way under Severus' shirt. The older boy pulled up finally, his own perplexed half-smile met by one raised black eyebrow.
"So it looks as though the subject wanted to claw out his own eyeballs, but in fact he did not. But I could be mixing up the tenses, and in fact he went on to claw them out. This is where it becomes unclear," Snape continued right where he left off, as though nothing unusual had happened. Lucius was taken aback for a moment, accustomed to girls gibbering out compliments and going starry-eyed after any kind of physical intimacy. He recovered quickly.
"I see what you mean. In this instance, however, I believe the effect of the potion is understood clearly enough. The only way to find out would be carry out a test. On a rat, perhaps."
Snape's eyes glinted again at the prospect of putting theory into practice.
"Do you have a rat?"
Tempted by the reappearance of that charming gleam, Lucius leaned down again and captured Severus' mouth for another slow and deliberate kiss.
"I shall find you one," he murmured against the smooth skin of the boy's throat.
"Better get a few," he advised, tilting his head back to allow the kisses to trail down his neck. "Accidents will happen."
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