The Alibi, a Potterverse PWP by Seeker. Rated NC-17, no copyright infringement intended.

He could always say later he'd been waylaid by Aurors before he made it to the Final Battle. That is, if the Dark Lord survived. As it was, Lucius Malfoy did what he did best.

Let others do the dirty work and make sure he came out on the winning side.

The first part was easy; all those silly masks and disguised voices were a help, and the fact that Voldemort was obsessively fixated on Potter to the extent he couldn't be bothered to distinguish between one minion and another also helped. Narcissa was off in hiding in Belgium with her latest paramour, and wouldn't be coming back any time soon. Draco had been warned to stay in the dungeons until the worst of it passed, and knowing his son as he did, Lucius had no doubts whatsoever his heir had kept himself quite safe.

Which left the second part of his task unfinished. Pleading Imperio whilst slathering bribes on all and sundry worked well the first time Voldemort was vanquished, but wasn't apt to be as easy the second time. This time there were too many goody-two-shoes (he grimaced as he thought of Arthur Weasley) poking their ratty little noses into corners where they didn't belong. No, this time he needed ... an alibi.

Polyjuiced up as a young Frank Longbottom, an anonymous enough guise given the fact that the original had been babbling in isolation at St. Mungos for nigh on twenty years, Lucius cast a withering eye on the celebrants at the Hog's Head, one of the few buildings still extant in Hogsmeade. It had been a destructive showdown, but Potter had prevailed, as usual.

The irritating little slimeball.

Lucius knocked back another glass of mineral water, needing to keep his wits about him so that when an opportunity presented itself he might snatch it. His nose wrinkled unconsciously at the bland taste, and as if in response a fetching young witch with bushy brown hair and a grin that showed rather too many teeth winked at him. His eyes widened.

Not at the witch; cute as she was, she wasn't on the menu. But next to her swayed a nearly inebriated, freckled, gangly red-head who could only be a Weasley, and leaning against the wall completing the trilogy was a shorter, stockier, surprisingly attractive if extremely unkempt young man with blazing emerald eyes.

Ah. The conquering hero. The hero with a mighty thirst, from the way he was tossing down whiskey. Lucius winked back at the witch, then gave her an apologetic smile and nodded at the red-head. She looked vaguely regretful and smiled back, then returned to the conversation the Weasley continued, unaware of her previous inattention. Lucius smirked, then smoothed his face into an innocuous smile and worked his way around the perimeter of the party. It was all a matter of timing.

Four and a half hours later, he'd taken two pee breaks, drunk at least a double-wide keg's worth of disgusting mineral water, and nearly fallen asleep waiting for the witch to drag her Weasley out of the way. Finally, finally, patience was rewarded. The witch took one arm, Potter took the other, and the trio staggered out the door to much praise and hail-fellow-well-done nonsense. A few blocks from the pub, Potter shooed the witch and the Weasley on their way. Lucius sidled up to his prey.

A wand at his throat stopped him mid-step, and he froze before he impaled himself.

"Who are you and what do you want?" The question was a low growl, and Lucius shivered in spite of himself.

Danger always had been an aphrodisiac for him. Which would explain why'd he'd still been going down on his knees for Voldemort when the Dark Lord was barely corporeal. Lucius stared into the narrowed eyes glaring back at him, and shivered again.

Potter looked suspicious. Then confused. Lucius cleared his throat. Carefully raised his hands so Potter could see he was unarmed. Turned his hands palm out, then palm in, to show they were empty. Thumbed the tiny button on the back of his ring and released a high-pressure cloud of minute droplets into Potter's face.

The intense eyes glazed immediately. The wand dropped, followed a split second later by the wizard. Lucius caught him before he hit the ground. As soon as he had a good hold on the warm body, he touched the portkey stone in his pocket, and a moment later he stood in the parlor of the Manor.

Alibi in hand.

Literally.

From there it was a simple matter to set the rest of his plan in motion. He stripped Potter off, grimacing in distaste at the streaks and splashes of blood, sweat, and less identifiable gore from the battle on Potter's clothes, skin, and most disgustingly, ground into his hair. What had he done to kill Voldemort, jump on top of him then grind him physically into paste? From the filthy mess Potter'd made of himself he may as well have. Lucius grumbled under his breath the whole time he manhandled Potter into the bath. Of course, he could have had the house elves perform this task, but he had to keep a close eye (and both hands) on Potter in case the anesthetic aphrodisiac with which he'd dosed Potter switched from acting as the first to the second too swiftly.

Timing was everything. His, as always, was impeccable. Potter was clean, slightly damp, and just coming around as Lucius dumped him in the center of the bed and sprawled (elegantly) atop him.

Potter's still-glazed eyes blinked up at him. Lucius wondered for a moment just how blind Potter was without his glasses, then the question became moot as Potter muttered, "God, yes, Draco, it's about bloody time!" and did his best to swallow Lucius' tongue in a kiss that was much more enthusiasm than expertise.

Vaguely wondering what else his son hadn't been telling him about his adventures at school, Lucius was about to use a particularly sneaky version of Imperio on Potter when the aphrodisiac kicked in. Literally, it seemed, as Potter jerked against Lucius, then clamped both arms around his body strongly enough to make breathing impossible, then rolled them over until he was on top and Lucius was pressed into the sheets. He was still trying to break the iron grip and gasp for some much-needed air when Potter pushed his knees between Lucius' legs and pried them open.

Lucius made a noise that could only be classified as a strangled whimper. It was embarrassing. Then he gave what could only be called a girlish scream, as the arms around him slid down to his hips and the voracious mouth dropped to his prick.

His rock-hard, rather painful, vertically-waving prick. When had that happened? Lucius tried to regain some... any... even a hint of control over the situation, but Potter's tongue wrapped around the base of his prick, slid up to the end, did something absolutely indecent to the slit at the top, dove under then pushed back over his foreskin, and slithered back to stab at his balls, and his brain was buried in a rush of sensation the likes of which he'd never felt in his life.

Right. So he was screaming. Coming. Flopping about like a half-stunned fish in the bottom of a boat, clawing at the bed linens, and, well, screaming some more. From the way Potter kept hold, kept licking, and kept sucking all the way through his thrashing, it was apparent he was used to this sort of reaction. Lucius could only be thankful one of them was.

He'd had a plan. He really had. He couldn't remember what it was at the moment, but neither could he remember his own name, or how to form words, or how to breathe, so it wasn't surprising that his strategic capability was destroyed along with most of his higher thinking functions. Lucius opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure quite what, and realized Potter had moved when a dripping wet, oversized, heavy and quite hot prick was shoved into his mouth. Going with instinct, since that was all he had left anyway, Lucius closed his lips, pushed up with his tongue, and sucked hard.

Then nearly drowned as Potter arched, screamed, "Fuck, yeah, Draco, eat it all!" and came down his throat.

He really had to do something about this misapprehension Potter had that Lucius was his son. Later. Much later, after he'd finished gulping and licking his lips and wiping the spillage off his face and getting his breath back and trying to figure out what just happened.

Another sloppy, gape-jawed, prehensile-tongued kiss cleaned up everything Lucius had missed, then Potter sighed happily, wrapped his arms and legs around Lucius as if he were a human variant of giant squid, and snorted into the side of Lucius' neck. In moments he was sound asleep.

Lucius lay there staring pie-eyed up at the drapings above his bed. He felt as if he'd just flown into the side of a mountain. Only satiated. His jaw, his throat, his prick, his thighs, and his hands hurt. Every muscle in his body quivered and shook. His bones felt as if they were the consistency of boiled oats. His face ached.

He raised one slightly shaking hand and touched his mouth. Oh. No wonder it ached. He had a ridiculously wide smile stretching it out of shape. He tried to force it down into his usual smirk. His lips refused to curl.

This... could be embarrassing.

The thought still circled that he had a plan he simply had to remember and return to when he fell asleep.

A few, a very few, hours later, Lucius was awakened by movement in the solid body draped around his. Awake in an instant, a side effect of prolonged service to Voldemort, he was startled to find Potter biting the side of his neck.

So distracted was he by the unusual spike of pleasure this sent through his spine, he didn't notice that Potter was also shifting his thighs apart. This oversight was brought abruptly to his attention when Potter muttered something under his breath and Lucius felt a slippery wedge open in his arse.

NOT what he'd intended. He opened his mouth to soundly berate Potter for his presumption, then cast an Imperio on him as he'd originally intended, since with awakening had come remembrance of his cunning plan.

Potter's tongue in his mouth stopped the words from escaping, and an instant later Potter's prick took the place of the wedge, and Lucius could do nothing but lie there.

Well, lie there and squirm. And, when Potter finally gave him his mouth back, squeak. And humiliate himself with the occasional whine. Finally he resorted to biting his tongue to keep from screaming, "Harder! Fuck me harder! Deeper! Oh, god, just like that! Yes! YES! FUCK ME, POTTER!"

Gradually it dawned on him that it hadn't been his tongue he'd been biting, not that Potter protested, the masochistic little bastard. As well, all the encouragement he'd thought he wasn't screaming echoed in the room for quite some time after Lucius came, so he had plenty of time to simmer in his own utter debasement as Potter kept thrusting and thrusting and thrusting.

Ah, to be nineteen again.

Lucius felt the impossible arising, and arched back far enough to see that yes, he was indeed getting his third erection of the night. Well. Another first. Thank you, Mister Potter, he thought sarcastically, then gasped out, "Ah, god, yes, thank you, thank you!" involuntarily as Potter twisted his hips and Lucius exploded again. This time, he took Potter with him. Moments later, Potter buried his face against Lucius' neck and was snoring again.

Lying there, Potter once more sound asleep on top of him, Lucius felt a blush extending from his toes to his hairline, and wondered if it was possible for a wizard to spontaneously combust from a combination of being completely fucked out and utterly embarrassed at the same time. Who knew Potter was such a tyro?

He really had to have a talk with young Draco.

Potter shifted in his sleep, his prick softening completely and slipping the rest of the way out of Lucius' body, and Lucius gasped at the sensation. Perhaps he wouldn't be in such a hurry, after all. Perhaps he'd simply stay in bed for the rest of his life and keep Potter there with him. After all, it wasn't as if they'd starve. The house elves would bring them food.

Tightening his arms about Potter's dead weight, ignoring the suggestion of drool from the lax mouth against his shoulder, Lucius gave up trying to wipe the stupid grin off his face and called for his wand. Freeing one hand, he caught it, pointed in the general direction of the wards around the manor, and murmured a spell. Three particular wards that he knew were under Ministry surveillance wavered and fell.

He'd give them two hours.

They took one hour and fifty seven minutes.

Three aurors burst into his bedroom, wands at the ready. "Lucius Malfoy," the leader intoned, "you are under arrest for consorting with the Holy hell that's Harry Potter!"

His voice rose an octave on the last five words and it was all Lucius could do not to laugh in his face. Pointing his own wand back at the men, petting Harry's naked arse with his free hand, Lucius shot back, "There's no law against consorting with Harry!"

"Is that what we were doing?" Potter asked groggily.

"Not with Potter," one of the other aurors sputtered, "with Voldemort!"

The third auror was too busy hyperventilating to say anything.

"Not Voldemort," Potter grumbled. "KILLED Voldemort."

"I have no affiliation with He Who Shall Not Be Named," Lucius lied through his teeth, confident in the fact that his Dark Mark had faded to nothing when Voldie died and Lucius had made damned sure there was no traceable evidence that could tie him to the Death Eaters. "My lover and I were celebrating his victory when you so rudely burst in here. Leave now, or I will have your heads for this!"

"Victory," murmured Potter, then latched onto Lucius' mouth again and kissed him so hard Lucius dropped his wand.

"Ah," said the lead auror.

"Perhaps we should go," suggested the second.

"Augh!" screamed the third, and ran from the bedroom.

Lucius didn't notice when the other two left, because Potter was shifting up between his thighs again, and Lucius was too busy being ridden into the mattress to be aware of anything else. When he finally did scream his way to climax, right painful by that time, he collapsed against the sticky sheets and stared wide-eyed up at Potter.

Who grinned down at him with a decidedly wicked gleam in his bright green eyes. Lucius gulped. Tried to smirk. Ended up blushing again. Potter nudged him in the belly with his still-hard prick.

"I won't say anything if you won't. As long as I can have some of this. Any time I want it."

Lucius didn't have time to say yes before Potter shoved his prick right back down Lucius' throat and Lucius' manners were too refined for him to talk with his mouth full. He made do with a nod. Potter didn't seem to mind.

Neither did Lucius.

END