A Draught of Life

Remus watched. It was something he'd become quite good at, a skill he'd been forced to develop. Like a skittish colt not broken to harness, he trusted warily, and had learned through bitter experience that promises were broken and words meant next to nothing. So he watched and waited before giving his heart.

He'd given it to Sirius, and Sirius had rejected it, had never wanted it because all Sirius could see was James and he didn't even care that James wanted Lily. 'So half of James is better than all of me?' he'd asked, and Sirius had tried to explain, but it was all lies and excuses.

And then had come the 'prank' and Remus knew that despite all Sirius' words about not caring or even noticing his 'condition', Remus wasn't really human to Sirius. He was a creature, a thing. After that, Remus had shut down and though on the outside, the friendship had continued, inside was another matter.

So he came to Hogsmeade alone on a chill day in early spring the year he was to leave Hogwarts. He'd once thought he would move in with Sirius – James and Lily were getting married, after all, and maybe in time Sirius would change, but Remus knew that wasn't going to happen and he faced an uncertain future in a world that viewed his kind as less than human.

The Hogs Head was mostly deserted, with only a few locals drinking in quiet corners. James and Sirius were picking out a birthday gift for Lily, Peter was escorting a group of 5^th year girls to see the fearsome Shrieking Shack, and Remus was hoping for some time and space to think things through.

"Lupin, isn't it?" The voice was smooth as silk and thick as clotted cream. He turned and recognised Lucius Malfoy, who had been several years ahead of them – Head Boy, Slytherin, Remus recalled. He had not remembered that Malfoy was so beautiful.

"Yes," he answered, warily. Rumours were that Lucius Malfoy was a rising star in the ranks of the Death Eaters.

"May I join you?" Without waiting for an answer, Malfoy pulled out the chair opposite and sat down. His hair was remarkable. Remus had once gone to a Muggle museum and seen Egyptian gold, beaten thin as paper, and it hadn't half the sheen and quality of this man's hair. He had to stop himself from staring.

"I can't stop you, obviously," Remus said, staring down at his bottle of butterbeer.

Malfoy beckoned to the bar man who brought him a glass of something, then turned back to Remus. "So you're a great friend of my cousin, I understand. I'm surprised he's not with you."

He'd forgotten that Malfoy was married to Sirius' cousin Narcissa. "He's off shopping with James Potter. We're not as close as we once were."

One pale brow arched, and an expression unreadable crossed the other man's face. "Pity that. Still and all, I imagine it's fairly difficult for you to find friends in our world."

The hairs on the back of Remus' neck were prickling. Surely Sirius wouldn't have told Narcissa or worse, Malfoy himself about his condition? "What do you mean?"

"Well, being a werewolf and all." He must have judged the meaning behind Remus' expression. "I have connections at the Ministry. The head of the Werewolf Registry was a business partner of my father's, we have lunch fairly often. Don't worry, I assure you, your secret is safe with me."

They sat in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, drinking occasionally. Remus found himself surreptitiously watching the older man, so confident as he sat there in his robes, hints of his body revealed through movement of arm and the shifting of his body in his seat giving evidence of something rare and fine, and Remus wanted it fiercely as he'd never wanted anything before in his life, not even Sirius. Malfoy was the golden sun whose power and beauty drowned the stars into nothingness.

The silence had gone from companionable to awkward. "May I ask you something?" Remus blurted, feeling like an awkward 14 year old again.

Malfoy nodded, sipping his whisky.

"They say you follow You Know Who. Why would you do that? Why would anybody?"

Malfoy smiled. "Really, Lupin, I'm certainly not going to admit publicly membership in a proscribed organisation."

Remus flushed, realising how stupid it had been to expect anybody to speak openly about He Who Must Not Be Named.

"But," Malfoy continued, "speaking hypothetically, I can think of any number of reasons why someone might choose to work for change in our world. Look around you, Lupin."

Remus looked around the dimly lit pub, noting the disreputable looking wizards and a few surly witches who clustered at the tables.

"See beyond this," he waved a hand lazily at the pub. "Look at the Ministry, full of dreary bureaucrats and third rate functionaries designed to insulate us from the Muggle world. Think of your dealings with the Werewolf Registry, the restrictions on your kind."

Remus snorted. As he'd grown older, he'd come to a keen realisation that he would have been better off by far in the Muggle world in some respects – they didn't even believe in werewolves. "But You Know Who is a murderer! I've read about what the Death Eaters do to the Muggles and Muggle-borns. How can you justify that, even in the name of change?"

"Sometimes one needs to take extreme measures at the outset of a movement. I'm sure that the Dark Lord regrets those unpleasant but necessary actions. We wizards need to take our proper place in the world. We have great power which brings with it great responsibility, you know." Malfoy was looking him straight in the eyes, holding him spellbound with a gaze that reached straight down into his groin.

"Malfoy-" he began, trying to control his breathing.

"Lucius, please," he smiled, and under the dazzling smile the seedy pub faded and the world narrowed to just the two of them.

"Lucius," he whispered, forgetting whatever it was he was planning on saying.

"If you would like to discuss this further, I have a room upstairs," Lucius said. He rose with animal-grace, and Remus stood as well, the chair clattering behind him as he blushed at his own clumsiness.

What prompted him to follow Lucius Malfoy up the stairs to the small room he could never thereafter say, but it was as though he were entranced, as though Malfoy was a Pied Piper of sensual delight, leading Remus with an unspoken promise of pleasures he'd never dreamed of.

The room was shabby and threadbare, like Remus himself, unworthy to be in the presence of this golden god. But Malfoy was smiling, gesturing him to a chair while he took a seat on the brass bedstead. Remus watched his hands, long and elegant, playing over the mattress, fingers swirling in languid spirals against the sheets. He realised he was staring and looked away, face flushed and tightness blooming in his groin.

"W…werewolf regulations?" he asked, glancing around the room, staring frantically at everything except the beautiful, captivating eyes of the man on the bed.

"Do you really want to talk about the Ministry for Magic, Remus?" How could a man's voice be music, be silk over skin? Remus met his eyes and was lost. "Come here," Lucius said.

Somehow without volition, Remus found himself laid out on the bed and those wonderful hands were opening his robes, one excruciating button at a time while Lucius held himself up on one arm, staring down at him with hooded eyes. Remus closed his own eyes, giving himself over to the sensation of slow exquisite torture as inch by inch, his body was exposed to the cool air of the room and to Lucius' gentle ministrations.

He came alert as Lucius' tongue started to trace the path his fingers had forged, tongue dipping into the hollow of his throat, mouth closing on his jugular to suckle briefly, the way an animal would mark his property, before moving on to his chest, to nipples that he'd always considered afterthoughts before but which were suddenly sources of incredible pleasure.

Lucius' tongue dipped, serpent-like into the well of his navel, fucking it in the rhythm of a slow drumbeat that his heart seemed to echo. Remus' prick was aching, hard, swollen as he'd never known it before in his limited experience of wanking over pictures of Sirius, and he brought his hand down to try to touch himself.

"No." Lucius caught his wrist in his own grip and pinned his hand above his head. "Let me," he said, and Remus braced for the feel of another man's hand on his organ for the first time in his life. But Lucius' hands remained occupied holding Remus' wrists, mouth teasing Remus' nipples and belly and the thatch of his pubic hair while his leaking cock strained upward, desperate for contact.

"Please," he begged, writhing on the bed in anticipation, "please!"

"I am glad to see," Lucius tongue flickered over Remus' cock head and he gasped at the fleeting sensation of tender friction, "that Hogwarts," the tongue licked up his shaft, "still teaches manners."

His mouth closed over Remus' prick, completely engulfing it in the most intense sensation he'd ever known. Better than wanking, better than dreams, better than anything he could have imagined, the talented mouth slid up and down his shaft, teeth held carefully away, tongue riding over him as his cock seemed ready to explode.

"Oh, God, I'm not going to last," he gasped out, feeling the familiar tightening in his balls that signalled impending orgasm.

Lucius pulled off him slowly and stood up. "Yes, you are. You're going to last till I say otherwise."

Remus watched from the bed, breathing heavily as Lucius Malfoy stepped from his robes and stood before him, a golden angel from a Renaissance painting, Lucifer tempting Adam with knowledge of forbidden bliss. Lucius' own prick was already hard, and as Remus watched, the other man fisted himself twice, bringing droplets of moisture seeping from the slit and glistening in the half light of the room.

"Would you like to taste me?"

Not trusting to speech, Remus nodded, and Lucius returned to the bed. The organ tasted salty and bitter and he gagged slightly as he took it in, but Lucius moaned softly when Remus began to fuck him with his mouth, and his hand rested lightly on Remus' head as he made encouraging sounds, like a man taming a wild beast.

The enormity of what he was doing suddenly seemed to rush over Remus like an immense tidal wave of guilt. He was alone in a bedroom, doing unspeakable things with You Know Who's alleged right hand man. As though Lucius could sense his doubt, he withdrew his prick and took Remus into a gentle embrace.

"Shh. Just let me please you. It doesn't matter, you know. Gryffindor or Slytherin, Dark or Light, male or female. Here, in this bed, nothing matters but the pleasure we can give each other."

"I shouldn't…Sirius and James wouldn't understand," he stammered, trying to pull away, but every nerve in his body was screaming for release.

"They don't matter, Remus. Live for yourself. Your life doesn't belong to Sirius Black or James Potter or even Albus Dumbledore. Live for you, live for now, because now may be all we've got." And his mouth closed over Remus and that same tidal wave that threatened to send him running from the room now bore him away to a place where his universe was centred on Lucius Malfoy's talented tongue, where the planes of Lucius' body were pressed against him so their cocks were clashing like swords as they thrust against each other.

"What do you want?" Lucius breathed into his ear and suddenly Remus knew exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck me, oh Merlin, please fuck me." Whenever he'd had the fantasies about Sirius, he'd been the one doing the taking, but now his body felt empty, like a gaping hollow that had to be filled, that only one thing could satisfy.

Lucius was rolling him onto his belly, positioning his legs so to better expose his arse to the exploring hands. And then he felt those wonderful hands lifting his balls, fingering them and rolling them in their sac till Remus bucked against the mattress begging, "Fuck me, take me, please, I want you inside me."

"Patience, Remus. You have to be ready, you have to be prepared," and somehow the words jolted straight to his groin and his arse, which clenched in anticipation.

There are spells for everything, Remus, always the scholar, thought as Lucius muttered low words and he felt his body relax and something slick easing the entry of the finger that was probing gently into his passage. He'd expected pain, had prepared for it mentally, but there was only a sense of fullness and an overwhelming desire for more.

"Just a little longer," Lucius said, and he pushed his finger in further and Remus world tilted as every nerve in his body caught fire.

"Yes I thought you'd like that, but that's only the appertif, you know." The digit was withdrawn and something large nudged against his opening, and Remus remembered Lucius' prick, how huge it was, impossibly huge to fit where it was trying to go, but before he could protest, Remus felt a burning sensation and he was opening before Lucius' onslaught and the weight of the other man had him pinned to the bed, like a butterfly pinned to a box.

But soon he was adjusting, his body accommodating to the intrusion, and Lucius was riding him and every stroke was better than the previous. Again and again he battered at Remus' arse, pulling almost all the way out only to ram home again in a slow rhythm that was simultaneously delicious pleasure and agonizing pain.

"And now," gasped Lucius between thrusts. "Now, you can come." His hand reached underneath them to grasp Remus' cock and one, two, three sharp strokes and an orgasm that seemed to come, not from his prick like normal, but from his entire body, ripped through him as he screamed out Lucius' name.

Lucius must have come as well, because he'd stopped thrusting and there was warm moisture trickling from Remus' arse. He was lost in languid, post-coital bliss, wondering how he would ever be able to wank again as everything would be anti-climactic now, when he realised Lucius had left his side.

"Can't you stay?" he asked, for the other man was pulling on his robes and straightening that gorgeous hair.

"No, I wish I could, but I have a meeting," Lucius eyebrows rose giving Remus no doubt about what sort of meeting it was.

"Can I see you again? I'd like to know more…about what you believe."

Lucius bent down to give him a swift kiss. "I'd like that as well. I think you'll find we have much in common, Remus. Much more than you'd think."

Slipping his cloak around his shoulders gracefully, Lucius paused at the door. "I will be in touch." Then he was gone down the stairs. Remus shivered at the memory of those touches. Sirius may not want him, but somebody did. Somebody who made Sirius look like a callow youth in comparison.

Remus had always been the good boy, the tame wolf, doing everybody's bidding, first his parents, then Dumbledore's and James' and Sirius'. No more. Lucius was right; he would live for himself now, and follow his own road, wherever it might lead.