Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling & Warner Bros own all characters & places; I'm making no money from this. Thanks to Duae, Elisavet and Krissy -- the latter parts of the YMDA pamphlet belong to them.
Author's Notes: Contains sociopathic snitchseq!Luc, evil vespa!James, anal-retentive snitchseq!Sev. Poor lad.
Pretty much an apology fic for NMW. SORRY! >.< I'm a fucktard.
Young man, are you listening to me?
I said, young man, what do you want to be?
I said, young man, you can make real your dreams.
But you got to know this one thing!
No man does it all by himself.
I said, young man, put your pride on the shelf,
And just go there, to the Y-M-C-A.
I'm sure they can help you today.
-YMCA, The Village People.
Lucius Malfoy was possessed of a singularily attractive bum, and it very nearly made up for his lousy personality. Out of proportion with the sleek lines of his body, his buttocks pushed enticingly tight against the back of his trousuers, so perfectly rounded that they created a little ledge just below his waistband. And, when he bent over, as he was doing now, his pants rode low over his hips, the crack of his arse visible in the wedge of skin revealed beneath the ends of his shirt.
Severus Snape had often fantasised about using that particular anatomical niche to hold a sugarquill, or perhaps prop up his books, or -- if his daydreams were tending towards the whimsical -- as a perch on which to rest his chin.
Letting out a quiet ‘omph' noise, Lucius lifted the last box of YMDA pamphlets onto the tabletop. One hand resting on his well-defined buttocks, he stared down the busy street. Diagon Alley was its usual bustle of activity: mothers dragging reluctant young children on their shopping errands, adolescent wizards hanging out, attempting to look cool, older wizards and hags complaining on street-benches about how much better the world had been in the good old days. Plenty of customer prospects there. Plenty of people tired of the daily grind, ready to try something new and exciting. Plenty of people the YMDA boys could exploit in the name of political disharmony and general evilness.
Lucius grinned, then turned to regard his partner in crime, rubbing his hands together all the while. Severus, deprived of his enviable view of the Malfoy posterior, blinked rapidly. "What?" he said, guiltily averting his eyes. "What did I do?"
If Lucius was aware of Severus' drifting attention, he made no sign of it. "Is that lemonade ready yet?" was all he asked, a solitary eyebrow lofted.
Severus stared at the jug on the table, which he'd pretty much forgotten about, and swirled a spoon in its contents warily. The spoon didn't begin to rust, and Severus took this to be a good sign. "I guess so," he muttered, shrugging. "Want to taste?"
In response, Lucius opened his mouth. Obligingly, Severus spooned up some of the bright yellow liquid and set it against Lucius' lips. Lucius sipped, swallowed, winced. "Squickeh," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Really, I can't believe you got a better mark in Potions than I did, if that's the best lemonade you can make. Look... try some of this." He dug into his pocket, removed a small plastic envelope, and before Severus could stop him, he'd poured in a generous amount of the powder within.
"Just sweetner," said Lucius, looking rather amused by Severus' horrified expression. "Good grief. What did you think it was?"
Lucius smirked, poured out a glass of adulterated lemonade for Severus, and passed it over. "Silly," he chastised the boy, "I keep my crack cocaine in my *other* pocket. Now, don't look so poutiful. Have a try."
Severus, horrified by both the use of the word ‘poutiful' and the shame of it being mentioned in reference to *him*, took the glass and tried it. The lemonade still tasted foul, but at least now it was a sweeter type of foul. He wiped his mouth, about to make some vague desultory comment about the taste, then caught sight of Lucius' eager look. Dutifully, Severus finished the drink without a whimper.
"There, that wasn't so bad," said Lucius, beaming. "They should go down with my freshly baked chocolate cookies. I watched the house elves make them all by myself, you know." He bent over again, this time picking up a tray of cookies. "With such wonderful incentives, who could resist joining the Dark Side?" he asked rhetorically, spinning around to face Severus. Then he frowned. "Were you looking at my arse again, Sevvy dear?" he inquired.
"No! No... not at all. And don't call me that, dammit."
"Hm." Lucius rubbed his chin, clearly disbelieving. "Perhaps, in order to further the Cause," he continued thoughtfully, "we should also offer 8x12 images of my buttocks, and thus attract other latent homosexuals..."
"I am *not* a latent homosexual!"
"I could flex them for you," said Lucius, leaning unmercilessly close, breathing his hot-lemon scented breath into the curve of Severus' neck. "And maybe, if you're very very good, I'll let you touch them later..."
And leaving that temptation/threat lingering in the air between them, he wiggled away. Severus took a deep breath, and dug his nails into the palms of his hands until he felt the blood pulsing to the surface. With a great effort he resisted the urge to bend Malfoy Jr. over his lap and give him a good spanking... and then, to take his mind off this new, and equally exciting mental image, Severus leant over the tabletop of their YMDA stall and stared purposefully down the street. Kids, mothers, fathers, delinquents -- the usual patrons of Diagon Alley passed him by with only a cursory glance in the direction of the lemonade and cookies.
There were a couple of people Severus recognised in their midst: an old friend of his mother's; a boy who'd come to a YMDA meeting once, but burst into tears and ran out when Lucius started asking pointed questions about Oedipus; a couple of students from Hogwarts, and...
"Ah, crap," said Severus. He pressed his hands to his forehead. "Lucius..."
"Oh, so tight," said Lucius, who was flexing away happily, half bent over a crate of pamphlets. "Oh, so supple!... oh, what?"
"We have Gryffindors at two o'clock," Severus muttered.
"We do?" Lucius straighted, adjusting his hair.
"Potter and Pettigrew. Crap. Crap!"
"What, right here?"
Severus looked at Lucius. Lucius looked at Severus, and giggled. "You're such a flirt," he told his stunned counterpart, and then peered out into the street. It was definately Potter and Pettigrew -- the Gryffindor duo were unmistakeable. Especially since they were wearing their school scarves. Potter was barrelling down the footpath towards the YMDA stall, a furious look on his face, while Pettigrew waddled along hapelessly behind him as fast as he could. "Maybe we could convert them," Lucius suggested.
"Somehow, I don't think so," said Severus. "Perhaps we should, um, make a run for it...?" he began, but it was too late. Potter was upon them, the boy's eyes simply radiating hatred, and Severus cowered a little despite himself. He'd been the brunt of James Potter's anger before, and the outcome of their fights had never been weighed in Severus' favour. But Lucius seemed quiet unphased by this turn in events, even when the first thing Potter did was to slam his fist down heavily on the tabletop, so that the contents of the lemonade jug spattered to the rim.
"What the *hell* do you think you're doing?" Potter demanded, shouting into Lucius' face. "Trying to convert young, impressionable minds with your evil promises? Trying to recruit new members for the Dark Cause? How low is that?"
Lucius looked at the cookies and the lemonade. "Pretty low," he conceded, whistling under his breath. "But not as low as trying to *pay* me for sex, I think you'll agree."
Potter was only momentarily taken aback. "Who the f**k do you think you are?" he yelled, ignoring a highly surprised look from Pettigrew. He banged the table a second time.
"Poster child of the new generation," Lucius replied sweetly, re-arranging the sheaf of pamphlets. "Would you be interested in eating a cookie while you peruse some questionable and possibly mind-altering literature?"
"Oooh, cookies," said Pettigrew, his mouth starting to water. But before he could reach out and snatch up one of the chocolate-chip biscuits, Potter grabbed his wrist. Pettigrew whimpered. Fixing Lucius with a particularly nasty glare, Potter picked up a pamphlet and began to pour through the contents. Lucius smiled, displaying several galleons worth of magical orthodonistry.
"We also have freshly squeezed lemonade," he said. "Sev made it up 'specially."
Potter merely snorted. "What is this?" He waved the pamphlet. "‘Kids! Life's more fun with the Dark Arts!'" he read aloud. "‘Ever experienced unrequited love? Ever got a bad mark on a paper? Parents nagging you? Bullied at school?'"
"‘Well, with an Imperious curse, you can get the girl! One little Avera Kedavra does away with nasty teachers and relatives! And a Cruatius curse sure will put those bullies back into their place!" The Head Boy scoffed. "Really, Malfoy. I would have thought you'd have more tact than this."
He turned the glossy pamphlet centrefold to face Lucius. Severus peered over Lucius' shoulder to look it over. A grinning and naked Lucius was giving the camera-wizard the thumbs up. Infront of him knelt a nude girl, her body and head preserving Lucius' modesty. Though her attention appeared riveted by the Malfoy family jewels, she still had the presence of mind to wave enthusiastically behind her with a free hand. To the left of Lucius a group of ‘bullies' were heaving in the throes of arcane agony, and dead bodies wearing teachers robes littered the ground at his feet.
"I don't think the light's very flattering," Lucius admitted. "My nipples do look frightfully pink, don't they?"
"‘The Dark Arts. Are *you* going to miss out on the fun?'" Potter quoted, rolling his eyes. "Owl now and you'll recieve your free Dark Arts starter kit... honestly, is that the best you lot can do?"
"No, wait!" said Lucius.
"There's more," Severus agreed.
"Owl within the next two hours and you'll get your very own shrunken Muggle head keyring, and a brand new set of steak knives," Lucius finished, slightly breathlessly.
"...shrunken head. Steak knives," Potter echoed dully, appearing more unconvinced by the second.
Lucius looked expectantly at Severus. "We have cookies, too," Severus offered weakly.
"Oooh, cookies," said Pettigrew again, and recieved a cuff over the back of the head from Potter. "You'd better leave," Potter told his smaller companion. "This could get ugly."
Pettigrew stuck out his lower lip. Lucius waved a cookie at him hypnotically. Pettigrew reached out. Potter cuffed him again. Muttering a series of low curses, Pettigrew stomped off. Lucius nibbled at the cookie, moaned, and faked a very unconvincing orgasm. "Merlin's beard!" he exclaimed loudly, shouting up the road after the departing Pettigrew, "this is the BEST cookie I've EVER tasted, oh YUMMY..."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Potter snapped. "Maybe you can tempt people like Pettigrew to your Dark Ways, but it'll take something a lot stronger to turn me into one of the slavering minions of the Dark Lord. And while there are people like me around, strong-minded, honest wizards... well, you'll never stand a chance." He laughed, slapping the cookie out of Lucius' hand. "Go on then, pretty boy," he taunted Lucius. "Show us some of your precious Dark Magic. Let's see how good you really are."
Lucius was staring at the fallen cookie, agast. It was lying, broken into crumbs, in the gutter. He said, in a very quiet voice, "You... killed... the cookie."
"It *deserved* to die," Potter snarled. "It was a Death Eater cookie."
"You killed... it..."
"I sure did. And if you don't watch it, I'll kill *all* your cookies. Muhwuhwuhwuhwuh," Potter taunted.
"You... f**king... cookie-killing prick!" Lucius shreiked, finally losing all self control, and leapt over the table onto Potter.
Ever after, Severus would be unsure of exactly what gone on during the following few minutes. All he remembered was the sight of Lucius and Potter rolling over and over in the middle of the street, grappling with their wands, screaming curses which either missed or shrivelled away across the flagstones. None of the passerbys were about to bother the two -- children fighting in the streets was a common enough occurence, especially if the two very obviously came from opposing Hogwarts house. They simply gave the boys a wide berth, evidently figuring that someone else could sort out the fray.
Lucius and Potter rolled closer to Severus, until they were practically lying at his feet. Severus reached down, hoping he'd be able to pry them apart, when he heard Lucius hiss something, a word that struck terror into Severus' heart.
"Imperious," said Lucius.
Severus hadn't been aware Lucius knew how to cast such a powerful curse, but it seemed to have worked. There was no puff of smoke from Lucius' wand, but beneath the Slytherin's trembling body, Potter ceased to writhe. The boy's eyes crossed behind his spectacles, and he lay very very still. Satisfied with his handiwork, Lucius rose, fixing his robes. Severus was dumbstruck. "I..." he mumbled. "Are you... crazy, Luc?"
"Oh, this will be good," said Lucius smirking. He prodded the prone Potter with a toe. "Get up."
Potter rose, with his eyes still crossed, a stunned look on his face.
"Say, Lucius Malfoy, you are the god of sex," said Lucius.
"Lucius Malfoy, you are the god of sex," said Severus, automatically. He was feeling suddenly feverish; he pressed his hand to his forehead. His brain hurt, though he wasn't sure what had triggered it. He'd been fine a few moments ago, but now he was getting hot flushes, heat which centred in his cheeks and in the pit of his stomach.
"Not you, silly," said Lucius. "Potter. You say it."
"Lucius Malfoy, you are the god of sex," said Potter obediently, in a monotone.
"Gosh. We now have a zombie-Potter," said Lucius, beaming. He rubbed his hands together in a way that Severus knew from experience boded no good. "Right, Potter," said Lucius. "Let me see -- what's the *worst* possible thing I could do to you..." He glanced sideways at Severus, and seemed to come to a decision. "I know!" he cried jubilantly. "Potter... make out with Severus Snape. Right... now."
"Hey! What?" Severus shreiked, backing away until his shoulders pressed against the wall behind him. "I'm too young to... erk!"
Potter pounced. He gripped Severus by the back of the neck, pinioning him with his weight. His spectacles pushed into Severus' face, his lips pressed forcibly against Severus', so that Severus couldn't even scream. Severus' mouth was filled with Potter-tongue, it drove straight down his throat, and Severus was forced to fend it off with his own tongue, until they were well and truly lip-locked. Potter's teeth were grinding painfully against Severus', and so... Severus realised, with growing horror... were his hips.
And then, for some reason that Severus would never fully comprehend, he found himself responding. Potter, who'd previously only filled him with disgust, was now suddenly, wonderfully sexy. Severus' jeans felt horribly constrictive; he rubbed his body along Potter's thigh and heard a moan croon out from deep inside of him. Potter's fingers snaked down the back of Severus' pants, gripped one buttock in his hand. He squeezed. Severus released a terrified and ecstatic wail, and was just about to tear James' trousers off with his nails, when a loud, horrified voice interupted them.
"Severus Snape! What *are* you doing?"
"Oh, don't you know, Mrs. Snape?" Severus heard Lucius say. "That's Severus' boyfriend, James Potter."
"What?!" Mrs. Snape and her son shreiked in unison. Severus tore the breathless Potter off his body and onto the pavement, and stood there, trembling. His mother was standing there, her hands on her hips, glaring down at him -- and probably noticing the fact that his fly was partially undone. Severus winced. He still felt awfully horny, but somehow the sight of his mother quelled all lustful impulses.
"Mum, I can explain..." he began.
"You certainly will! Just think what your father will say about this."
She reached out, grabbing Severus by the ear, and began to tow him away up the street. Severus shot Lucius a ‘you-bastard' look before vanishing into the midst of the crowd. Lucius waved cheerfully back at him, and giggled.
After a few minutes had passed, Potter got to his feet behind the YMDA stall, groaning and rubbing his head. "Damn. I almost had the portkey out of my pocket, too," he muttered glumly. "Bloody mothers."
"Such a shame. A few seconds more and you might have actually gotten to go the whole way with him," said Lucius cooly. "At any rate, you still owe me twenty five sickles. And, I really have to say, that was the worst impression of the Imperious curse I've ever had the displeasure of seeing. You're very lucky that Severus isn't the brightest of sparks."
"I didn't even get to third base!" Potter protested.
"I gave you every bloody opportunity," said Lucius firmly. "And I put myself on the line for it. Twenty five sickles."
Grunting, Potter dug into his pockets and withdrew the cash. He tossed the coins onto the table. "I'll let it slip this time," he said. "But next time you set up something like this, I *demand* head at the very least. And if I don't get it, by your mouth or his, I'll be forced to tell your mum exactly what happened to her lacey black negligee."
Lucius winced. Potter poked a finger at Severus' abandoned lemonade glass. "Aphrodesiac of some description?" he speculated.
"Nicked straight from your dearest daddy's bedside table," Lucius rejoined sarcastically. "Don't be so bloody bitchy. Your reputation will remain intact, I'm sure." He clasped his hands to his cheeks. "'It wasn't me, sir! Malfoy made me do it!'" he said, pantomime style.
"Indeed." Potter reached out and pinched Lucius' cheek; Lucius recoiled with a hiss. "You'll keep," Potter told him brusquely. "Be seeing you, Looshie."
"May you shit scorpions for all eternity, Jamie," Lucius replied bitterly.
Potter laughed. Picking up a cookie from the tray and a brand new pamphlet, he strode away down the street. Lucius glowered. //You'll get yours, Potter,// he thought angrily. //First against the wall when the revolution comes. Dammit.//
Muttering grumpily under his breath, Lucius Malfoy gathered up Potter's money and slotted it, sickle by sickle, into the YMDA donations jar on the table.
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