InsaneJournal

Slytherin Love (1/7)
Title: Slytherin Love
Pairing: SS/DM, SS/HP/DM
Rating: NC17
Word count: ~ 27,900
Warnings: threesome (obviously), rimming; ignores most of DH
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: There is a Potter-looking intruder in Draco’s home, and Draco thinks that Severus is a bit too interested in the mystery of the captive’s identity
Author's note: written for ravenna_c_tan as part of the hp_summersmut.

It was my first time of trying to unselfishly write what someone else wants to read. I’m not sure I’m good at it. It’s also my first time writing slashy threesome smut. And although the muses didn’t exactly cooperate and let the characters run wild – Draco got away and decided to make decisions on his own – I hope it’s to your liking, ravenna_c_tan.

Huge thanks are in order to: 1. e and l, n and t for help, comments, and beta; any remaining mistakes are my own because I couldn’t stop fiddling. 2. G, N, and S for patiently allowing me to bore them to tears. 3. Howard Shore for the soundtrack to Return of the King.




Slytherin Love


The rays of the afternoon sun blink through the high window and streak across the room. They dance over a beige carpet and paint loops of light onto the delicately patterned wallpaper.

At a desk in front of the window, half-shadowed by dark-blue velvet curtains, sits a young man. His blond head is bent low over a leather-bound tome. His right hand holds a quill from a snow-white bird. His left hand rests on one page of the book. There are columns of numbers on each page, and the young man is deeply concentrated on adding them. A slight frown mars his smooth forehead as he pens another number at the end of one column and, with a sigh, turns the page. There are more columns and more numbers.

The young man sighs again and runs a frustrated hand through his hair so that some strands stick up at the back. A moment later, he seems to have noticed what he has done, for he quickly smoothes the silver-blond strands back down.

The quill in his right hand trails down a column but stops in the middle. The young man’s frown deepens. He turns to the side and shuffles a pile of paper, obviously looking for something. He pulls one sheet out of the heap and compares two numbers. With a growl, he suddenly throws the quill down, spattering ink all over the pages of the book.

Leaning back in his high-backed chair, he rubs his tired eyes with the balls of his thumb. He looks exhausted.

Draco turns his head to gaze out of the window at the blue sky. He yearns to be outside, perhaps fly and chase a Snitch. The weather would be perfect. Instead he is trapped inside the Manor and at this desk, doing the accounting.

He isn’t very good at it. No one has ever explained to him exactly how to do it. This had been his father’s task. But these days Draco’s father is barely ever lucid enough. So the task has fallen to Draco. He must now sit inside and struggle with accounting, as well as all the other tasks that come with managing the estate.

He hates it. Not only because these new tasks cut into his time and deprive him of such carefree and childish pleasures as an afternoon spent flying. No, he hates it because his father cannot do this anymore. His father, once so proud and seemingly in control of everything is now only a shadow of his former self, ruined in the service of the wizard who once called Lucius Malfoy his loyal follower.

Draco sneers at the memory. He ruined his father, the Dark Lord did, and Draco’s Aunt Bellatrix had happily assisted. They had pushed and demanded and forced him until Lucius’s sanity, fragile after his years at Azkaban, finally snapped. And now they are doing the same to his son.

They have been branded failures, the Malfoy men. Lucius messed up his assignment of capturing Harry Potter years ago, got himself captured in turn and sentenced to Azkaban. He had revealed the Malfoys as Death Eaters. Draco was unable to perform the task given to him to redeem his name and status amongst the Death Eaters. Failures both of them, and they are never allowed to forget it.

Treasurer of the Dark Lord, they call Draco these days. Draco’s hands clench into fists. It is an insult. It says he is capable of nothing of importance. All Draco can do is add columns and give money.

Oh, yes, the Dark Lord uses Draco. He tells the young man to be proud. After all, he is of use to the Dark Lord and his noble cause. The Dark Lord uses Draco’s name, his resources, his connections, and his money. He is slowly bleeding the once proud Malfoys dry.

If Draco saw a way out, he would take it. But there is nothing he can do.

Draco’s gloomy musings are interrupted by the sudden Apparition of a house-elf. The creature is new. It has only recently been given to Draco by the Dark Lord. Another slap in the face. Another reminder that the Malfoys have lost to Harry Potter. Another reminder that Draco needs help for everything he does.

‘Young Master Malfoy,’ the elf squeaks with a bow so deep its large nose touches its knobbly knees. ‘There are wizards here to see Young Master Malfoy. Very quickly. The wizards tell Kooky to bring Young Master Malfoy quickly. There is important goings on.’

Draco nods at the elf.

‘Thank you,’ he says tonelessly and rises from his chair. Treated like a servant in his own house. He grits his teeth and takes a deep breath before stepping out of the room.

He makes it a point to walk slowly down the long hall towards the grand staircase. He will not rush. He will cling to the reminder of his dignity as long and as tightly as possible.

When he has reached the top of the stairs, he sees a group of excitedly chattering wizards in the entrance hall. For a moment a smile threatens to break his calm mien at the sight of a familiar dark head among them. But he has himself under control quickly.

Slowly, he descends the stairs. Half-way down, he raises his voice.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen. My elf told me you wanted to see me?’

The group turns to face him. Draco can see one or two sneers before the faces are masked. This is rabble, and they do not yet dare mock him openly.

One wizard steps forward. He wears the nondescript, slightly shaggy robes of a Hound. His eyes sparkle with excitement, and his cheeks are flushed. He looks obscene, Draco thinks.

‘Mr Malfoy, great news!’ the man booms. ‘We’ve caught Potter!’

Draco stops short and blinks. For a moment he thinks he hasn’t understood correctly. But the other wizards assembled exclaim loudly in surprise and delight. Apparently this is news to them as well. Draco glances down into what seems to him a sea of flushed, leering faces. Looking down at them, he is the only one who notices a pair of black eyes widen for a moment in shock, before the initial reaction is masked.

Draco wonders. Why should Headmaster Snape be shocked at the capture of Harry Potter? Or was he shocked? Suddenly Draco isn’t so sure. The moment was so fleeting, and now, there is only the familiar sneer on Severus’s thin lips.

Draco realises they expect him to say something. He takes a controlled breath and moves down the last couple of steps.

‘That is indeed great news,’ Draco says coolly. ‘How did you manage that?’

As he walks forward, he catches Severus’s eyes and nods a slight greeting at him. From the corner of his eyes, he notices one shaggy wizard elbow another with a meaningful wink. Draco chooses to ignore them.

‘Caught him right around here, Mr Malfoy! Right around the corner. Trying to sneak onto the grounds, he was.’

‘Probably thinking the Chosen One can take out a dozen of Death Eaters alone,’ a rough voice jeers.

‘Trying to sneak onto the grounds?’ Draco repeats, surprised.

‘Yes, yes,’ the Hound nods eagerly. ‘And a fair slippery fellow he was to catch, throwing hexes and trying to weasel out o’ our trap.’

In the background, some wizards snicker. Draco only nods.

‘You have brought him inside, I take it?’ he inquires.

‘Yes, yes.’ The Hound waves his arm wildly. ‘The Questioning Room.’

Draco sneers. The Questioning Room was once the breakfast parlour. A comfortable room, with large windows facing east. Today, it is bare of all furnishings except an ornate chair reserved for the Dark Lord.

‘Indeed,’ Draco says flatly. ‘Have you found out what he was trying to achieve?’

For the first time, the Hound doesn’t look pleased with himself. ‘Er, no, sorry, Mr Malfoy. He’s resisted all attempts to ask questions so far.’

Intimidation, threats, Crucio, Imperio, Draco translates for himself.

‘And, ah …’ The man seems positively uncomfortable. ‘We … uh … We decided to give Veritaserum a try, and I was sent to get you and ask you for some. Or if you could brew some. Didn’t know Headmaster Snape was here.’

And, of course, the former Potions master is a much better – and more trustworthy – candidate to brew such a complicated potion. Draco tries not to resent the man for his words. He is right. This has nothing to do with Draco’s disgrace. He forces himself to nod.

‘I believe Professor Snape will be able to help you out as there is no Veritaserum in the house.’ Draco’s eyes flick questioningly to the man standing in the background.

Heads turn towards Snape, and he answers coolly, ‘I have no Veritaserum on me, Mr Malfoy, but I shall be able to send some from Hogwarts when I return.’

Draco looks at the Hound. ‘I hope that is sufficient?’

The man fidgets. ‘Um, actually … It’s like this: we’ve caught Potter! We … um … we must let the Dark Lord know as soon as possible. And we’d better get some answers out of the guy before that.’

‘Inform the Dark Lord,’ Draco says pensively. ‘Yes, of course.’

He is only half aware of his right hand rubbing his left forearm. Two wizards step back from him. Did they forget he is wearing the Mark? The Hound begins to look panicked.

Severus steps forward and looks hard at the Hound. The man flinches back.

‘Have you made sure to that it is indeed Potter you have caught?’

Severus’s sharp question takes all by surprise. The Hound’s eyes are wide.

‘He’s got the scar! He looks like Potter!’

There is some murmur in the background.

Severus snorts derisively. ‘Even you must have heard of Polyjuice.’

Draco sees his astonishment mirrored in the faces around him.

‘Polyjuice?’ a wizard standing behind Draco asks, confused. ‘Why should he …?’

The Hound then shakes his head. ‘Beg your pardon, Professor Snape, but what with the fight and the running around and the questioning, we’ve had him for more than an hour. If he’s Polyjuiced, he’d have changed back.’

But Severus shakes his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Draco knows that stance. He has seen it at school, before Professor Snape began to censure a particularly slow student, usually either Potter or Longbottom.

‘Allow me to rid you of your misconception,’ Severus says icily. ‘If he is Polyjuiced, he would not necessarily have changed back if you have not administered a counter-acting potion. You are quite aware of the fact that the potions specialists of the Auror Department experimented with Polyjuice and developed a longer-lasting variant? The same Auror Department by the way that, despite all our attempts, apparently still has some connections to Potter.’

‘But why in Merlin’s name would someone Polyjuice into Potter?’ a muscular wizard, who Draco recognises as Jugson, asks.

Severus turns and raises both eyebrows in an expression of surprised contempt. ‘It would not be the first time.’

Jugson doesn’t respond, biting his lip. They all remember a number of occasions where they were tricked by more than one Potter, the last one about six months ago when they had been alerted that Potter had tried to break into Gringotts. Rushing in, they had found a dazed Travers in a Gringotts wagon full of fake Galleons while Potter and Granger duelled their way out of Borgin & Burkes.

The silence in the entrance hall is thick and nervous as they all look at each other with varying expressions of unease. Snape does not need to say it aloud: if the Dark Lord is called and the prisoner turns out to not be Potter, he will not be pleased.

Finally, the Hound coughs, breaking the silence. ‘Um … then we’d better, er, identify him first, eh?’ He looks around pleadingly, as though unsure of what to do next.

Jugson gives a sharp nod. ‘Yes. Immediately.’

They seem to have forgotten Draco, and although he is not at all keen on getting involved with something that might turn out so disastrous, he is even less willing to be further disregarded in his own house.

‘Well,’ Draco says slowly and heads turn to him. ‘I suppose I had better go and see him, then. Professor Snape, you will come with me, of course?’

Severus inclines his head, but before they can turn to walk away, Jugson scoffs.

‘And what do you, whelp, think you can do, eh?’

The other men snicker.

Draco turns to look Jugson full in the face. Inside, he is shaking, with anger, hatred, and fear, but outwardly he is unmoved. His face shows nothing but the trademark Malfoy arrogance. ‘I went to school with Potter for six years, in case you have forgotten.’ He raises his eyebrows to emphasise his words. ‘I do believe I know more about him than how he looks.’

Jugson flushes angrily and the men around him mutter. The Hound, though, nods his head.

‘Yeah, you’re good, Mr Malfoy. And the Headmaster, yes, yes. Now, come along.’

Both Draco and Severus make a point of waiting several seconds before they follow the Hunter. They are not sheep to be herded along like that. At the door, Draco turns around once more.

‘Gentlemen, do accompany us,’ he says sarcastically. ‘You might want to be there, in case I decide not to recognise Potter.’

He knows they will hate him for that, but he couldn’t resist. It feels so good to put them in their place at least a little bit.

Unsurprisingly, they all follow him.

~*~



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Part 6/7
Part 7/7