Hi guys! Happy belated Christmas🎅🏻 And happy New Year🥳
I know I haven’t posted anything in a year… And I barely posted anything in 2024. I’ve always said that I’ll try to finish my requests and that I’ll come back to writing stories, but to be completely honest - as of right now, I don’t want to. I have honestly been so much happier not writing and not thinking about having to write.
So therefore: I’ll be taking an even longer break from writing. I might never come back to write again, but you never know what will happen. If I do ever decide that I want to write again, I will only be writing the requests that I want to write, and I’ll mostly write my own ideas. And I definitely won’t be following a writing schedule. Taking requests that I honestly didn’t want to do really killed my motivation.
I hope you all understand🙏🏻 And I’m so sorry for keeping you all waiting for requests that I’ll never finish. If you haven’t already, definitely find somebody else to do your request :)
I’m rarely on Tumblr and almost never on Wattpad and AO3, but I’ll pop in once in a while to check messages here on Tumblr🙏🏻
Thank you so much to anybody who has ever read my stories, and to you who still read my old stories! I hope you’ll still enjoy reading those :)
Here are links to my masterlist and to my Christmas fics, if you are still in the Christmas mood🎅🏻
Btw I’ve updated the “About me” post if you want to know more about me🧙🏻 Also I’ve decided to enable asks if you want to ask me sonething, but remember no requests😇
Hi guys! Happy belated Christmas🎅🏻 And happy New Year🥳
I know I haven’t posted anything in a year… And I barely posted anything in 2024. I’ve always said that I’ll try to finish my requests and that I’ll come back to writing stories, but to be completely honest - as of right now, I don’t want to. I have honestly been so much happier not writing and not thinking about having to write.
So therefore: I’ll be taking an even longer break from writing. I might never come back to write again, but you never know what will happen. If I do ever decide that I want to write again, I will only be writing the requests that I want to write, and I’ll mostly write my own ideas. And I definitely won’t be following a writing schedule. Taking requests that I honestly didn’t want to do really killed my motivation.
I hope you all understand🙏🏻 And I’m so sorry for keeping you all waiting for requests that I’ll never finish. If you haven’t already, definitely find somebody else to do your request :)
I’m rarely on Tumblr and almost never on Wattpad and AO3, but I’ll pop in once in a while to check messages here on Tumblr🙏🏻
Thank you so much to anybody who has ever read my stories, and to you who still read my old stories! I hope you’ll still enjoy reading those :)
Here are links to my masterlist and to my Christmas fics, if you are still in the Christmas mood🎅🏻
𝜗ৎ Summary: Lucius is back. Kind of. He can get it up now at least!
𝜗ৎ Author's notes: This chapter is in present tense as I thought it worked better so I hope it isn’t too jarring after the previous past tense. You can probably read this as a stand-alone fic if preferred!
Lucius slept in your arms every night from the end of the battle to the date of his trial. You knew that when he was ready, he would come to you, and come to you, he did. The night his fate was determined by the Wizengamot (a light sentence all things considered – a temporary ban on magic outside of simple charms in the home and no further time to be served in Azkaban), you’d fallen into bed together exhausted, and slept through the night in one another's arms. And here we arrive at the following evening…
𝜗ৎ
Shadows flicker dramatically up the walls as you cross the drawing room. Lucius is before you, lounging with a dog at his feet, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched toward the fireplace. It’s the only light in the room and it makes the chasm of a space feel cosy; something you’d been trying to introduce to the manor, bit by bit.
His steady hands clutch the Prophet folded in front of him, a quill floating easily within his reach. You sigh, smiling at the slow rise and fall of his chest as he considers the puzzle page. Then your eyes fall on the glint of silver by his side — his cane, resting perfectly against the arm of his chair, and your lips curl into a sly smile.
You step closer, the dog at Lucius’s feet lifting his head and trotting over to greet you. You smile down at him, fussing him for a moment until you feel Lucius’s gaze searing into you with more heat than the flames behind the hearth. Your smile falters as his lips pull up at one side.
‘Bed, Prince’ he hisses commandingly yet somehow playfully, and the dog happily scampers out of the room. ‘And you,’ he says darkly, eyes sparkling, ‘do you care to join me?’
‘I do,’ you smirk, and step around to drop onto his lap, your legs between his as you lean into his chest and cast your gaze over the puzzle he’s been mulling over. ‘It’s wrackspurt.’
Lucius raises an eyebrow. ‘What is?’
You point at the empty column yet to be filled by his quill. ‘Invisible brain confuser, ten letters. Here. You already have the a. It fits, see?’
Lucius draws a slow breath and summons his quill, offering it to you with a gracious tilt of his head. ‘And what, dare I ask, is a wrackspurt?’
‘Invisible brain confuser pretty much sums it up,’ you snark.
His fingers grip your chin lightly, turning your face to his. ‘Is that so?’
Merlin. Those eyes really would be the death of you. You squirm a little on his lap.
‘I read about them,’ you said, muffled where his grip was pushing your lips in that delicious way you hoped would lead to more. ‘In the Quibbler.’
‘Ah.’ He drops his hand, satisfied enough; he doesn’t bother telling you what he thinks to your magazine of choice but it certainly explains why he couldn’t solve the last clue. ‘Well done,’ he says instead.
‘You might consider it drivel, but it’s finished your wizardword off nicely.’
‘I said nothing,’ he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
‘Hmm.’ You hand the quill back to him and he sends it floating off back to the writing desk in the corner where it lives.
When his eyes flit back to you, his brow knits in question for a moment before his gaze is drawn down to where your finger is lightly circling the tip of his cane.
‘What-’ he begins, voice a mere whisper, but he stops as you push your gentle touch down the silver, every finger closing around it to caress the shiny snake tip, and back up, and down again before you wrap your hand entirely around it and squeeze.
‘Ohh-’
The quiet little moan was involuntary, and he clears his throat in a fruitless attempt to cover it up, but it doesn’t work.
‘Everything alright, Luci?’ you purr, pumping your hand obscenely slowly around the studded neck.
He nods quickly.
‘Only, you seem a little… on edge?’
You speed up your hand, trying not to chuckle at the way his eyes flick between the movement and your face as he tries to work out exactly how to play this. But it’s not his game, and he knows it.
‘Is something bothering you?’ You tilt your head mock-innocently.
He shakes his head, shifting beneath you in the seat and- ‘Ah!’ Oh, that one was loud. Unrestrained and obvious.
Your thumb swipes over the snake’s head and he’s vaguely aware of your free hand taking one of his, bringing it to your parted lips, taking it into your mouth to suck, moaning around it.
The warmth and the motion is familiar, and with the view of what your hand is doing to his cane, he groans, finally giving in. His chest heaves as he feels you, watches you, touching and sucking so precisely, just the way he likes it but not where he needs it.
His finger leaves your mouth with a pop, trailing down to press between your thighs and you cry out, the cane clattering to the marble floor as you climb up to straddle him instead, trying to regain control.
‘See something you liked?’ you tease, and he smirks up at you.
You trail your hand between your bodies and find his length, hard and throbbing in his trousers. You know he will see relief cross your face, but it doesn’t matter; you can feel it radiating from him, too.
Eager, you rub him over the fabric once, twice – and that’s all it takes. He unravels, bucking his hips up into the friction of your palm as his head drops back, features contorted in pleasure long overdue as it ripples through him, wave after wave of delicious relief.
He doesn’t hesitate to slip his fingers beneath your layers, finding his way into your underwear to rub quick, tight circles until you’re shaking. He plunges the finger you’d sucked inside, pumping fast as you come undone above him, riding his hand like his touch is your lifeline.
𝜗ৎ
The next morning, when your eyes blink open, Lucius is at the dressing table, perfectly poised in his silk dressing gown, pulling his hair back and tying a neat little black bow to keep it in place.
‘Going somewhere, handsome?’ you ask with a yawn.
He flashes that mischievous smirk – the one that pulls at his lips whenever he’s had an idea that means you’re in for a good time.
‘Lucius Malfoy, what are you planning?’ you smirk back, but he doesn’t answer.
He crosses the space between you slowly, unfastening his robe and letting it slip from his body until it’s pooled around his feet. A pearly bead of precum pumps from his tip, and god, you needed to touch him again, taste him – properly this time, but he doesn’t give you what you crave. Not exactly, anyway. Not yet.
Pushing the duvet aside, he perches by your legs, careful – and freshly moisturised – hands caressing your thighs. Just as you sigh into the motion, he pushes them apart, settling comfortably between them.
‘Darling, I have left you wanting for far too long, haven’t I?’ he groans as his eyes drink you in. ‘Last night was a meagre offering for the length you’ve waited.’
He drops forward to lap gently at your folds and your fingers slip into his hair, pulling at his perfect ponytail while he moans into you like a starved man. Heat licks through your body with every precise swipe of his tongue until your first orgasm shudders through your body.
It does nothing to deter him. His tongue is unrelenting and his fingers join to coax that spot inside that complements the attention of his tongue so deliciously your fingers tear at the sheet beneath you until his tongue tips you over the edge of bliss once again.
Placing the softest kiss to your core, Lucius hums delightedly and sucks his fingers clean as he crawls over you, one hand grabbing your hip and then trailing lower until his elegant fingers curl around your thigh, lifting it around his waist and with a low grunt he guides himself inside.
Finally feeling you wrapped around his length again he stills, eyes sliding shut, forehead pressing to yours. He’s determined to last longer than he managed last night, but he feels like a virgin again after what’s felt like a lifetime without.
Rolling his hips slowly, he groans as your walls clench around him, warm and soft. Your fingers reach to pull at the bow in his hair, loosening it enough for his platinum locks to cascade around his shoulders.
He kisses you slowly as he rocks into you, gripping the headboard. Then his pace switches entirely and he’s slamming into you, hips slapping against the backs of your thighs as the bed creaks beneath you and once again your vision bursts white with stars.
Lucius’s mouth drops open in a silent cry and he spills, hot, inside you, rocking with you slowly again now as he comes down from the high with your legs wrapped around his middle.
He collapses onto you, peppering kisses around your face with heavy breaths as you trace lines up and down his back with gentle fingertips. He moans quietly with every twitch of his cock softening inside you.
You cup his cheek, his tired eyes hot on yours.
‘You fixed me,’ he breathes, the hint of a satisfied laugh lacing his words.
‘You fixed yourself,’ you smile, pulling him down for another lingering kiss.
Come Back Changed
𝜗ৎ chapter two 1.7k words (read the prologue here and chapter one here, and the final chapter here)
Lucius Malfoy x afab!reader
𝜗ৎ Summary: Since Lucius returned, The Dark Lord has taken over your home and your safety, but you won't let him drive a wedge between you and Lucius, no matter how hard he tries. Unfortunately for Lucius, his body has other ideas.
𝜗ৎ Author's notes: The events of this chapter were the spark that started the whole fic, so I hope it isn't as disappointing as Lucius thinks he is in bed these days. There is just one more chapter to go after this one - shall we let Lucius have the happy ending he doesn't deserve?
𝜗ৎ Content/warnings: nsfw, erectile dysfunction, making out, Lucius is sad and pathetic (just how we like him)
‘He took my wand.’
The voice was dim, but enough that your head shot up as Lucius staggered into the room, dazed. The silver snake that was once attached to his wand clattered to the floor.
You leapt up to close the door, warding it against any noise escaping as had become customary since the Manor had been crawling with Death Eaters within only hours of Lucius’s return.
‘He took my wand!’ Lucius howled, the final word punctuated by his fist slamming to the wall, followed by a soft little whimper; it hurt. He sobbed against it, trembling fingers stroking where he’d just punched the wall like some sort of feeble attempt at an apology.
His shirt wasn’t fastened all the way up, his hair was unbrushed and there was light stubble dusting his jaw. You’d seen him like before; the morning after one of your ever successful Malfoy Manor parties, and far more favourably, late at night when you’d been making out a little too hard in whichever room you found yourselves alone in after dinner before you’d drag him up to bed and strip the remainder of his clothes off.
The familiar warmth of your arms wrapping around his middle brought him back to you, his vision turning blurry for a moment as he adjusted to the safety your embrace provided. You’d picked it up, his decorative snake, and caressed it with as much care as you were holding him.
He’d needed you all this time but hadn’t known how to ask, not with everything he’d put you through, instead accepting that he’d ruined everything. There was no way out, but at least he wasn’t forced to drag you down with him.
He melted against you and tried to find his breath while your palm soothed slow circles over his back. With a final gasp, he pulled himself away only to collapse face down on the bed instead, one ankle dangling sadly over the edge, shoulders shaking as he sobbed.
You sat on the mattress beside him, standing the snake on your side table, its emerald eye glinting in the candlelight. You debated how to soothe him. There was one way you knew how but now wasn’t the time.
‘My wand!’ he wailed again, muffled into the pillow this time, groaning and gripping the edges tight before turning his head to breathe. ‘I’m nothing. Look at me.’
Biting back your own tears, you gently swept the hair away from his face, smoothing it over his shoulder. ‘Lucius,’ you whispered carefully, ‘Lucius, come back to me.’
Weakly, he rolled onto his back and you placed your hands to his chest. With a sigh, his slender fingers circled your wrists, keeping your hands there over his heart.
His eyes scrunched shut and forehead creased as he tried to think clearly. How had it come to this? All he’d ever hoped for was that he would do something that one person would be proud of. It would never have been his father, he learned that at a young age. What was breaking his heart now was it would never be you, either — or his beloved son for whom he tried to provide the world the only way he knew how.
He had wanted to be your safety after finding his own with you. Now, thanks to his own mistakes, it was nowhere to be seen for either of you.
‘I got it all wrong, didn’t I,’ he rasped, shaking his head. His fingers tightened around your wrists, ‘the whole time I thought I was protecting you, protecting Draco, and- mmnh!’
You’d crushed your lips to his, not needing to hear another word. His hands dropped away and back up to the pillow in surrender while you pushed yours up to tangle in his hair.
You pulled back, breathless, and his eyes locked on yours.
‘Listen to me, Lucius Malfoy. You are everything.’
‘B-but I’ve let you down- I’ve ruined-’
‘You’ve done no such thing. You were protecting us; you were doing what you thought was right, and you might have got that wrong in the end, anyone could — but you were doing it for us.’
Lucius blinked his gaze away, nodding resignedly.
‘You can’t control the Dark Lord,’ you went on, ‘he will crush anyone in his path, but he won’t crush you. Not if I have anything to do with it.’
Lucius stared up at you as though you’d just brought him back from the brink of death. After a beat he parted his lips, paused, and then spoke evenly for the first time in weeks. ‘Come,’ he said, patting the space beside him on the bed, ‘stay with me?’
Bottom lip trembling, you cupped his damp cheek and nodded. You’d slept alone most nights while Lucius was off being forced to do Merlin-knows-what for the Dark Lord, or simply sleeping in any other room of the Manor rather than face what he’d put you through.
‘I’ve been a coward, weak-’
‘No, Luci-’
‘-I’ve let the Dark Lord take many things, but I will not let him come between us.’
You sat up, dragging in a slow breath before hopping off the bed to strip down to your underwear under his nervous gaze. Now was the time.
A final tear slipped from the corner of one eye, and he let it fall. ‘My love, how I’ve needed you,’ he sighed, his gaze following you around the bed. Oh, you were beautiful.
‘I’m sorry it hasn’t been the same since you returned,’ you breathed as you slipped beneath the sheets and settled into his side, ‘let me help you find yourself again, hm?’
Lucius was wide eyed like it was the first time as you trailed wet kisses down his neck, your fingers quickly unfastening each button of his shirt, giving your eager lips access to his pale chest.
His heart beat faster, his flesh tingled and there was a simmering in his gut that told him to grab you and pin you down, ravage you until you were shaking, the way he should have done the moment he returned from Azkaban. The other half of him craved that feeling you were always so good at igniting while he lay begging and whimpering beneath you, in awe of the way you could unravel him so fast.
But this time something was stopping him. He didn’t feel quite right, somehow. He knew things had changed, knew this might feel a little bit different with all that he’d been through recently, but he could still do it, couldn’t he?
Trying not to break the mood, he adjusted onto his side to get a proper look at you, passionately sucking and lapping at every inch of him as your hands explored his broad shoulders, his strong arms. He tried to focus on the shape of your body, tracing your contours with a single, careful finger.
Nothing.
You slid down the bed, your mouth now somewhere between his bellybutton and the fastening of his trousers, lavishing him with gentle affections that would have had him whining and leaking into his underwear not so long ago — but if you moved just an inch lower, you’d know. He would never be able to look you in the eye again, would he?
‘Hold on,’ he said, pulling you back up to face him.
‘What’s wrong, Luci,’ you smirked, licking your lips in a way designed to make him throb, ‘worried you’ll cum in your pants without me even touching you?’
Lucius swallowed hard. He didn’t think he could be any more of a disappointment, and now this.
‘Don’t worry,’ you smirked, pressing your palm to high thigh and slowly trailing up, ‘you know I love it when you c- oh…’
Lucius sucked in a breath watching the dawn of realisation bloom on your features as the colour drained from your cheeks.
He really had fucked up once and for all.
‘Do you, um… do you need me to-’ you tried, gently rubbing his incredibly soft cock through his trousers.
‘I’m sorry,’ he breathed, ‘I don’t know what I need.’
‘But you always know-’
‘I think I’m broken.’
‘Maybe if I-’
‘Please,’ he spoke under his breath, ‘it’s not going to work. Stop?’
You nodded with a forced smile, flopping onto your pillow. You weren’t going to insult Lucius by asking if it was you. You knew him better than that – this was simply what the Dark Lord wanted. He wanted Lucius broken and helpless, to use him however and whenever he wanted. He’d taken his safety, his home, his wand and now this.
Lucius’s hand found its way to your knee, tracing a shaky path up your thigh. His eyes flicked up to meet yours as he slid his fingers against your core. You absolutely ached for him, and couldn’t deny the thrill his fingers sent through you, or the impulse to push your hips up for more friction, but you grabbed his wrist and snapped your hips away instead, gripping his shoulders and kissing him again with fervour.
‘No,’ you said gently against his lips, ‘you don’t have to do anything, Luci. Not tonight.’
‘I’m so sorry-’ he sputtered. Knowing he was pathetic was quite different to feeling it. He really felt it now.
‘When you’re ready, I’ll be right here and you can have me however you want, just like before.’
‘I don’t know if it’ll ever be like before again.’
‘It doesn’t matter, but you’re not broken. You’re exhausted. Come on, get some rest. With me. He would hate that.’
‘He would?’ Lucius said with the faintest hint of a smile, settling against your chest, the way he used to pull you to his.
‘He wants you alone and broken, but here with me? You’re loved and whole. You don’t need to make me come to prove that.’
‘But I’ve never struggled to- to- well, this has never been a problem for me,’ he huffed. ‘You know it’s not your fault, don’t you? You know you drive me utterly wild? Please don’t think-’
‘I know,’ you soothed, stroking his hair, coaxing his head back down, ‘I know, and it’s alright. You’re more to me than that, Lucius.’
Reluctant to accept your understanding but reassured all the same, he nuzzled into your shoulder, humming softly and slowly slipped into a heavy slumber in your arms, where you held him there until morning.
Come Back Changed
𝜗ৎ chapter one 4k words (read the prologue here)
Lucius Malfoy x afab!reader
𝜗ৎ Summary: Lucius has been in Azkaban for a year, tonight he returns to you.
𝜗ৎ Author's notes: getting some good old fashioned hurt/comfort into this before the real angst sets in!
𝜗ৎ Content/warnings: nsfw, fingering, penetrative sex, pining, Azkaban related trauma depictions, injury minions, hurt/comfort, alcohol, afab!reader referred to as 'Mistress Malfoy' - no other gendered terms.
It had started to hurt physically, wondering if you’d ever see him again. Your stomach churned with guilt, knowing Lucius must have been a thousand times more scared than you, yet still you were fearful. Your heart ached for how it used to be. Your eyes stung with images of him tortured and mistreated flashing through your mind again and again while you tossed and turned in the cold, empty bed that once was a safe haven for both of you.
You’d be with him at any opportunity if you could, even just to hold his hand. But Azkaban was far from visitor friendly, so in the early days you’d worked tirelessly on fruitless ideas and plans to help him escape unnoticed and tried to figure out ways to reason with the Dark Lord to leverage some help, but nothing seemed to make enough sense to work and everything you heard about the Death Eaters current movements made it clear that Voldemort wanted Lucius to suffer. So eventually you simply waited instead, soothing yourself that Lucius would know what to do. He always knew what to do.
When the sun began to set on an early June evening, you’d grown tired of the change of scenery the Malfoy Manor library had to offer. The books you’d loved to read before lay sad and unopened around you; the only thing occupying your mind being the looming one year anniversary of Lucius’s incarceration. How could it have been a whole year already? Before you let the twilight get to you, thoughts tuning darker with the setting sun, you retreated back to your bedroom to prepare for another fitful attempt at sleep without him beside you, his favorite robe draped over your tired body like a blanket, as though it could be the man himself.
You moved through the house almost ethereally; floating from one room to the next until you reached your room. You knew the house elf watched you, feeling his eyes follow you around the place, but he talked too much for your liking and you really didn’t want to talk about anything at all – let alone Lucius – so you pretended not to notice.
Climbing the stairs and pushing the bedroom door open with a heavy sigh, your lungs ceased entirely when you glanced across the room. Your body shivered, joy spilling through it like the summer sun illuminating a previously cold room.
There he stood. Lucius Malfoy, shaking and muttering in the middle of the room, sleek platinum hair matted into a dirty mess with the equally dirty dusting of a beard covering his jaw. He was hunched in front of the fire, dripping wet from the storm in his filthy prison scrubs.
Your legs almost gave out as you ran to him, stopping yourself from the embrace you’d longed for because you’d no idea what it might do to him. Did he even know you were here?
‘Luci, darling, it’s me. What do you need? How long do we have?’
‘I- I don’t-’ he began, voice cracking with disuse. ‘I need you,’ he croaked.
You reached out, carefully placing a palm to his cheek. He felt icy. ‘What have they done to you?’
Slowly, he lifted his head. A stab of pain shot through your gut to see that his beautiful grey eyes were now timid and dull and rimmed with dark circles where they once sparkled with pride.
Weakly, he leaned into your touch.
‘It’s alright,’ you whispered, ‘I’ve got you. You’re safe now.’
You had to get him warm, and judging by the way his cheekbones pressed into your palm, you needed to get him fed too.
You guided him to a chair by the fire, told him you’d take care of everything and drew him a hot bath, candles illuminating every corner of the room while his favorite scents mixed silkily into the steaming water. You hoped to help him feel at home here again, but you knew it might take more than his favorite bubbles.
Calling him through, you left a fluffy towel by the side of the steaming tub and dipped your fingers into the water to make sure the temperature was just right. You turned to see him standing by the door, as though he was a guest in the manor that had been passed down through his family for thousands of years.
You didn’t get into the tub with Lucius as had once been customary, because when you reached for the hem of his stained scrubs, Lucius cowered, backing away and shutting his eyes.
He didn’t want you to see him like this, battered, bruised and bony. You’d never seen him like this before, instead used to his strong arms, his soft stomach, his lightly toned chest, pale skin like the finest milk. The chances of you wanting him back after all of this were slim to begin with, but seeing him like this? Weak and scared with the injuries to show it? No, he couldn’t have that. You deserved better and he deserved nothing.
‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ you smiled weakly, voice wavering. ‘Call for me if you need anything.’
You swept past him before he could pick up on the tears you were holding back. You kept them at bay as he soaked in the tub by busying yourself in the bedroom, securing the door and windows with every charm you could remember, drawing the curtains closed, and finally stepping out of the room to summon the house elf and ask that a plate of food, a glass of brandy and a jug of water be sent up for you.
‘Got your appetite back, Mistress?’ he said with big, hopeful eyes.
Your gut clenched as you lied, ‘Yes. That’s it. Thank you, Slinky. Just leave the tray outside the room, would you? I’ll collect it myself when I’m ready.’
‘Has there been news of Master Malfoy?’
You shook your head, avoiding his eyes. The guilt you felt for lying to the poor little thing was overshadowed entirely by your loyalty to Lucius. You wouldn’t let a short conversation with the house elf sabotage what you’d waited a year for. No one must know Lucius was here. Not tonight, anyway.
You watched Slinky disappear off to the kitchen, shaking his head in sympathy, and sealed yourself back in the bedroom, falling against the door and trying to stop your head spinning. You had to get your thoughts in order if you were going to help him.
Lucius is alone in the bathroom. Go to Lucius.
Grabbing something soft and comfortable from the dressing room on the way, you did just that.
‘All okay in there?’ You listened carefully to catch Lucius’s breathy confirmation, and then followed up with, ‘May I come in?’
‘Please,’ he rasped.
Lucius pushed himself up from under the bubbles, where he’d been completely submerged up to his nose and the first thing you saw was his hair – white again, and then that he was littered with bruises along his shoulders and ribs.
You dropped the clothes you’d picked out with a pair of thick socks on the chair opposite the bath and knelt beside the tub, tilting his head toward you with a gentle finger at his chin.
‘Lets get you cleaned up?’
You took the sponge floating by his feet, dabbing gently at his body.
He groaned a little as you stroked over his bruises, soothing his aches with the warm water. His eyes slipped closed and he hummed, low and quiet. Such comforts were a distant and broken memory, but this was overwhelmingly real. He could barely remember if you really loved him by the time he was broken out of that awful place – but you must, mustn’t you? Why else would you do this for him?
He sighed as you pushed his hair over his shoulder; a touch he’d started to remember, but as you pressed the sponge to the lighter bruises at his neck, Lucius jolted back and pushed your hand away.
‘Did I hurt you? I’m sorry-’
‘No,’ he groaned, ‘no you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry.’
‘Your neck- the bruises-’
‘Broken,’ he stated simply. ‘Fractured in the battle.’
‘Battle?’
‘Department of Mysteries.’
You’d heard about it of course. You knew why Lucius had been sent to Azkaban and you knew why the Dark Lord wanted him to stay there, but this was surreal. You’d no idea exactly what injuries he’d sustained, if any, during the battle you’d otherwise heard so much about. You knew who was there, you knew the outcome, you knew what Lucius had done, but you had no idea he’d been so beaten up from it.
‘Has it mended? Do you need me to find you a healer?’ You tried to sound calm and reassuring, but it was coming off concerned no matter how you tried to adjust your tone.
He gestured to his neck with a wave of his hand. ‘Mended. Just sore.’
You nodded. You’d asked too many questions.
You grabbed his favourite shampoo — or at least, used to be his favourite. The contents had reduced significantly while he’d been away. You’d used it a lot in his absence, imagining he was there with you in the bath or shower, and then relished in the scent of jasmine emanating from your hair as a meagre comfort when you laid your head down at night.
Moving around to the back of the tub, you worked a dollop of it into his hair, massaging with a delicate pressure, which you knew you’d got right because, albeit quietly, he moaned and gasped under his breath. You took your time with this, giving him a chance to grow accustomed to your touch again with this familiar ritual, and he hummed, almost the way he used to, when you rinsed the soap out of his hair.
Oh how you wanted to touch him, really touch him, graze your fingers down his bruised torso, reach beneath the water to offer some real relief from all this pain-
Lucius shuddered then, skin prickling with shivers while he was sitting up out of the water, so you left the conditioner for now. A little bit at a time, you told yourself.
Standing with your back to him as though he’d be disgusted by your thoughts, you spoke quietly, drying off your wet hands.
‘I’ve had food sent up for you – you must be starving? I don’t know what they feed you in there – if they fed you at all, but I can’t imagine it was... Sorry, I shouldn’t- anyway, get dressed when you’re ready, there are clothes on the chair. I’ll be waiting outside. We can eat together, and then… well, if you want me to leave you to get some rest, I don’t mind, of course. You’ve been alone for a year, you might need- oh-’
You’d been so busy tripping over your words, you hadn’t noticed the sloshing of the water as he had raised himself out of the bath. He wrapped himself around you, breathing you in just the way he’d done that morning.
Your stomach exploded with butterflies, your eyes slipped shut and you gasped. For a split second he’d never been gone at all and the past year was nothing but a fever dream – until you felt the damp spread of water soaking into your clothes and you were brought hurtling back to the very real present.
‘I’m so, so sorry,’ he whispered, turning you to face him – you’d seen him now, and not rejected him, after all. ‘I left you here for – how long has it been? Months? Years?’
‘Just short of a year. But you didn’t leave me, Lucius, it wasn’t a choice you made-’
‘Every choice I made led up to that day. All that time I thought I was protecting you. So stupid. For the last year I have been thinking of nothing but how I’ve let you down.’
‘No, Luci-’
He shushed you gently, guiding your head to his chest, where it was made to rest. ‘I have a lifetime of atonement yet to begin, but, just for tonight, please, let me show you how hopelessly sorry I am for leaving you alone. Let us have tonight before- well, before whatever comes next.’
‘We can have tonight and every night, if you’ll just let me take care of things.’
His head dropped to yours. How hopeful you were, how strong, whilst he knew there was only one way his return home could go. But you didn’t know that yet. Didn’t know how weak and useless he truly was. So if you only had tonight together, he was determined to make it count.
You gently broke away for the towel, pulling it up and around his shoulders.
‘I didn’t know you could grow a beard,’ you smiled, an attempt to lighten the mood.
‘I haven’t seen it,’ he said simply, something of your old banter igniting in him. ‘Is it… becoming?’
‘So becoming I fear we can’t let you out with it. Witches and wizards will throw themselves at you. You won’t be able to go anywhere without a screaming crowd around you at all times.’
He smirked, and then, ‘I don’t want to go anywhere ever again.’ He spoke sincerely, a little more sobered and suddenly dying to kiss you.
‘Then don’t,’ you soothed, guiding him over to the mirror where you cleared the condensation with your sleeve.
You saw horror blooming in his eyes as he took in his appearance. The gaunt cheeks, the grey complexion. It was all so very far away from what he remembered of himself, which was very little after a year with dementors praying on his every thought, but it was slowly falling back into place and this reflection did not fit.
‘I need to get rid of it,’ he said, eyes wide. ‘Please, I-’
‘Okay, it’s alright, we can do that,’ you reassured. ‘Do you trust me?’
Lucius did trust you. With everything in his heart and what was left of his mind, the one thing he was absolutely sure of was that he trusted you completely. He nodded, perching on the edge of the tub, waiting diligently.
‘I promise I’ll be gentle,’ you soothed, rummaging for what you’d need in the cabinet and setting it out beside him.
Lucius relaxed a little as you smoothed shaving foam over his face, his eyes trained on yours. You paused when you tilted your head to spread some foam under his jaw, and caught a glimpse of the other side of his neck.
Not just bruises, but a series of symbols and numbers stared back at you in permanent ink, branding him a resident of Azkaban Prison. You tried not to show a reaction — you weren’t even sure if Lucius knew about it.
His hand came up to yours and he guided your fingers to it.
‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ he sniffled, voice cracking. ‘I’m nothing but a convict. I wouldn’t blame you if- if you wanted to leave me for-’
Tears tricked down his cheeks, making deep rivulets in the foam you’d applied.
‘Never,’ you whispered, covering the mark in shaving foam, and steadying yourself, you picked up the razor. ‘Hold really still.’
You carefully skimmed the blade over his jaw, one slow, smooth swipe at a time.
Lucius felt his heart rate increase as you worked, holding off from touching you. It was painful to have you so close like this again and not be able to carry you to the bed and have his way – and your way, more than once – with you.
‘There,’ you smiled, wiping the remaining foam off his chin with a towel as you finished up. ‘Just like new.’
Lucius blinked his gaze away. He’d never felt so self conscious, so uncomfortable under your gaze, because he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve your attention, your care, your love. He didn’t deserve to touch you, but Merlin did he want to.
You tilted his chin up, bending to brush his lips with yours.
A sense of security flooded through him, the discomfort slipping away, because despite it all you wanted him — really wanted him, whether he deserved it or not, and although dizzyingly weak, he pushed up until he was standing, towel left behind on the edge of the tub and arms around you again. He hummed against your mouth, but just as he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, you pulled back.
Ah. Of course. Stupid of him, really.
‘Get dressed, Lucius,’ you whispered, stroking his face, but the simple affection did nothing to calm the storm in his mind that you were just being kind and wanted him nowhere near you; not like that anyway.
He stared at you silently as you cleared away the razor and towels and drained the bath.
‘I’ll be right outside.’
Lucius’s lips quivered. It felt almost final. Get dressed. I don’t want to look at you anymore. That kiss was pity – I don’t actually want to touch you, who would ever want you now?
He took a slow, deep breath. How different life would be from now on. There was a time you couldn’t keep your hands off one another and now you were leaving him naked and mid-kiss, telling him to dress, where once you’d have torn his clothes off to have him like this even for a quickie.
He couldn’t blame you, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.
His hair was beginning to dry, tussled and untamed, and he felt different, and he couldn’t tell if that was good or bad, but he didn’t have the energy to decide so he left it and looked at the clothes you’d left for him. His eyebrows raised.
He didn’t usually go in for loungewear, as you called it. It was either bespoke robes in expensive fabrics or nothing, and you’d got the best of both worlds.
The sweatshirt and joggers were surprisingly soft, though, and he liked that. He slipped them on, wiggling his toes into the thick socks and feeling sort of… warm? Comfortable? This was a luxury he’d never tried and he wondered why he’d avoided it.
You saw the look of disdain cross his features when he emerged from the bathroom. You could almost hear him. ‘Muggle clothes?’ he would have sneered not so long ago, and you bit your lips together to keep from laughing at that.
He looked so soft and cosy, though, perhaps the softest you’d ever seen him, and you wanted to snuggle into him like this.
He took a seat by the fire in the armchair opposite yours and you slid from your spot to kneel at his feet, carefully gathering some cheese from the plate you’d had sent up and holding it by his lips.
He winced when he bit into it. It was like he’d forgotten how food tasted, but his eyes rolled back when the flavours began to spread over his tongue and familiar tastes flooded back to him.
You held the glass of brandy to his lips next. He was accustomed to a glass of wine with his meals, but tonight definitely called for something stronger, something warming to steady his nerves, and so he took that too, snatching the glass from you mid-sip to down the whole thing in one and catching his breath before his next bite of food.
‘You don’t have to do this,’ he uttered after his second cracker with cheese.
‘I know,’ you said simply, ‘I want to.’
A sharp breath and another tear trickling onto his cheek.
You handed him the glass of water. It sloshed a little in the glass as his grip steadied and when you were sure he had it, you laid your head in his lap as he sipped, carefully and slowly this time.
‘The fire feels… incredible,’ he breathed eventually, stretching out his legs and placing a hand in your hair. Just like he would have before. He placed the glass down and closed his eyes for just a moment, feeling content for the first time in months. After what felt to him like only a few seconds, you were gently nudging him awake.
He wasn’t sure where he was at first, bolting up with a shout, expecting pain, torture, anguish, but your face came into focus and he whimpered, relaxing again.
‘Lucius,’ you whispered, ‘let’s go to bed. You need rest.’
He smiled sadly at you, and you took his arm, guiding him to the old four poster.
Plumping his pillows, you made sure his neck was supported, and sweeping his hair away you covered him with the duvet, pressing your lips lightly to his forehead.
You looked away to ask, ‘Do you want me to-’
‘Stay,’ he said, voice simmering with need, and to his delight, you climbed in beside him and stripped down to your underwear. ‘If you need some space, it’s okay,’ you said, leaning over and pecking his cheek.
Muscle memory must have taken over, that or sheer impassioned necessity, because Lucius turned to you, taking you at your word and capturing your lips with his own, one hand tangling in your hair and the other slipping beneath the duvet to grip your thigh and guide your leg over his waist. He moaned loudly at the way your bodies fit together like this; he hadn’t imagined it. It had all been real.
‘Lucius- are you sure you’re ready? I didn’t expect- you need to get your strength back-’
‘You’re my strength,’ he groaned, pulling you completely flush to him and sliding a hand between.
His fingers were no less skilled for a year away, slipping into you with an achingly perfect rhythm. Your back arched as he grazed over that delicate spot inside, and he chuckled to himself, dragging his fingers out and up to massage your clit with such delicate precision you began to shake; and all this between slow, languid kisses that you were simply drowning in.
He was taking his time with you, fucking you on his fingers slowly to relish in every second of your long awaited pleasure. He’d dreamed of this, when he could. Snippets far and few between the mental torture, he’d pictured your satisfied face, the way you melt at his touch. He’d never failed to please you, and in those moments it felt like the only thing he’d ever got right, the only time he hadn’t been a let down to the Malfoy name – your pleasure was his ultimate success.
He felt you tighten around his finger, your thigh tensing around his waist, and your sweet moan of ecstasy peaking before coming to a drawn out end. Only then did he withdraw, leaving you panting and blissed out against his chest, his weak arms wrapped around you.
He knew he wouldn’t be up to much, he could feel himself leaking into his clothes at the fiction each time you moved, but he needed you wrapped around his length so badly, he felt he’d simply perish without.
He pushed the waistband of these godawful but delightfully comfortable joggers down, moved your underwear aside and guided his length to your entrance, pushing carefully inside.
His face melted into bliss – it was the most like him he had looked all night – and the loudest strangled cry he’d ever let out escaped his throat and you were glad you’d placed silencing charms around the room, or he would have woken the neighbours two miles over.
He buried his face into your shoulder, rolling his hips into yours, slow and soft, once, twice, and then with a low groan, rutted a little faster for a few thrusts before emptying into you with a guttural, needy moan, fighting not to sob through his release.
He curled up against you, breathless. When his trembling came to a stop and you thought he’d fallen into a peaceful slumber, you breathed, ‘I finally have you again.’
Lucius stirred, though, and his low voice rumbled through your chest. ‘I haven’t even told you how I got out.’
‘There’s time for that yet,’ you said, hushed.
‘I owe you so much,’ he sniffled and you tightened your arms around him, stroking a hand though his soft, wavy hair.
𝜗ৎ Summary: Everything is about to change for Lucius, and a year later, you'll be there to pick up the pieces. Starting shortly before the battle at the Department of Mysteries, the story will end up set in the aftermath of Lucius's subsequent stay in Azkaban.
𝜗ৎ Author's notes: I wanted to write a longer fic based around this for Lucius, so here's the first part - a short prologue to the main part of the story. It's probably self indulgent, but it's fun and I'm gonna put him through it a little bit (then make it better). He will be pathetic. No disrespect to Narcissa, I love you but I want your husband so bad I needed to make this a reader fic. See, I told you - self indulgent. Title inspired by Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron.
𝜗ৎ Content/warnings: nsfw/not overly explicit, not entirely canon compliant (due to Lucius being paired with reader), more warnings to be added in later parts.
Endless summer nights or cold, dark winter evenings, soft silk sheets on wanting skin, delicate touches simmering with desire; Lucius Malfoy would never waste a single night where you were concerned.
As a man who lived the most decadent lifestyle money and status could afford; the finest robes, a palatial manor, a collection of beloved forbidden artefacts, good food and even better wine, this of course included those other pleasures of the flesh he could scarcely fall asleep without.
But sleep was the last thing on Lucius’s mind when he climbed into bed with you each evening – or, fell into the sheets with you kissing him madly, or carried you into the master bedroom to place you lovingly on the fourposter and undress you with the most elegant fingers you’d ever feel.
Then there were the nights you tore your clothes from one another, hungry and desperate as though it was the first time. It was natural that on those occasions you wouldn’t actually make it to the bed, so caught up in one another you’d simply drop to the floor and end up tangled on the bearskin before the blazing fireplace, skin glowing warmly in the crackling firelight.
Only the most exquisite pleasure would do for Lucius, you see, and so there never was a less than satisfactory night, because despite what many thought of him (and you’d heard plenty), more than anything he enjoyed sharing the finer things in life with you. His body, and what he could do to yours, being the finest.
It would never be enough, of course; he’d always strive for more no matter how satisfied he knew you were, some nights, over and over until your legs were shaking too much to stand and eventually he would carry you to the bath, where he would relish in holding you against his chest. Soaking with you in the warm, silky water, the delicate hands that had caressed you in bliss now tenderly massaged your sensitive flesh with a careful, soothing pressure, until you were ready to fall into a well-deserved sleep nestled against his chest in bed, with the soft scent of jasmine fresh on his skin.
And why should tonight be any different?
Tomorrow, Lucius would fail at retrieving the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, but for now at least it would be just the two of you basking in the familiar heaven the other had to offer.
You’d brushed his hair in the morning, smoothed down his robes and listened to his gentle hum as your hands ran slowly over his clothed body.
He wrapped his arms securely around you and pressed his lips to your hair, inhaling your scent as though it might be the last time.
‘Now, now,’ he smirked, playfully admonishing you in that silky, simmering voice of his, ‘you’ll have me later.’
lucius' unwilling softie: lucius pretends to be the cold, calculating wizard, but whenever narcissa gets a little “accidentally” clumsy—like dropping something—he’s instantly there, like, “are you okay, my dear?” but it’s so extra—he swoops in like he's about to perform some ancient healing magic and ends up making it worse. narcissa, trying not to laugh, just pats his hand and says, “lucius, darling, it’s just a teacup.” his overprotectiveness is adorable but totally unnecessary.
narcissa’s sassy side: narcissa has an internal list of “things that irritate lucius” and loves to casually drop them in conversation just to see his reaction. “oh, lucius, i read about how you once lost a game of wizard's chess to a 12-year-old,” she teases, knowing full well it will make him internally explode while maintaining his perfect facade. she gives him that innocent look, and lucius will glare at her but secretly be kind of proud that she still knows how to push his buttons.
malfoy family game night: every week, there’s a game night at malfoy manor. it starts off “casual” but rapidly descends into utter chaos. lucius takes everything way too seriously. his competitive streak means draco ends up sulking after losing a round of exploding snap, and narcissa is just trying not to laugh. but when narcissa finally beats lucius at wizard’s chess, lucius sulks for the rest of the night, dramatically declaring that “no one will hear the end of this.” meanwhile, narcissa acts so gracious, but you know she’s secretly living for the moment.
lucius' shocking gifts: lucius always buys narcissa the most extravagant, expensive gifts—gems, rare artifacts, enchanted objects. but one time, he tries to give her a bouquet of enchanted roses that keep flying around and attacking him. narcissa stares at him, a smirk on her face, and says, “did you get this from a black market wizard?” lucius, looking so unbothered, casually flicks his wand to make them behave. narcissa’s giggle gives it away that she loves the chaotic effort, even if it’s a bit of a mess.
the “narcissa likes to steal his clothes” game: lucius’ fancy robes are basically the most comfortable thing ever—especially for narcissa. so she’ll sneak into his wardrobe and wear his robes around the house like a blanket, while lucius just stares in shock. “i was going to wear that, you know,” he says in his smooth, dramatic way. narcissa just raises an eyebrow and twirls in his robes, “mm, i think it looks better on me.” draco, on the other hand, is forever caught in the middle, facepalming at the utter chaos his parents create on a daily basis.
lucius' unintentional snuggles: lucius is not a fan of public displays of affection (very much a “i’m-too-proud-for-that” guy), but when they’re alone in their study, he totally melts into ridiculously long hugs. narcissa will hug him for a “moment” and he will stay there for five more minutes while pretending it’s not happening. his hand will sometimes slip up and accidentally brush her hair back like he’s trying to keep it out of her face—cue narcissa giving him a side-eye, and lucius trying to act like it’s no big deal, but it’s CLEARLY his favorite thing ever.
draco's "training": narcissa and lucius both mean well but when it comes to teaching draco “proper malfoy etiquette,” it’s a disaster. lucius insists on giving him speeches that go on for hours, while narcissa just sits there, looking like she's about to lose it. at one point, narcissa just interrupts and says, “lucius, darling, he already knows how to sit properly at the table. maybe try teaching him how to not knock over his glass of pumpkin juice every time?” lucius refuses to admit he’s been giving way too much advice, while draco just cannot wait for the torture to end.
lucius' "unassuming" tea parties: lucius, being the epitome of dignified, refuses to have a “basic” tea time. instead, he invites no one over, yet still sets the table extraordinarily perfectly. narcissa’s just there, sipping tea, pretending to be in a fancy salon while lucius shows off his absurdly perfect tea brewing skills. and they sit there, in an over-the-top, dramatic silence—because it’s way more fun than it sounds. it’s honestly just them being goofy in their own way, but they’d never let anyone else in on it.
lucius + narcissa synchronized sarcasm: they have this amazing talent for syncing their sarcasm perfectly. if someone says something ridiculous at a dinner party, lucius will give the “i’m disinterested” eyebrow raise, and narcissa will instantly chime in with the most sarcastic, dry comment. this always leaves everyone else in the room confused, while lucius and narcissa just share a small, private smirk like this is their little game.
