Grazhir :: Harry Potter :: Breakpoint :: 06 :: Anticipation

06 • Anticipation

Draco was, to put it mildly, miffed. How dare his master take on a second apprentice, and at that, Theodore Nott! The balance of power within the Slytherin dorms had changed because of it. After all, Theo held a huge bit of blackmail over his head, forcing him to play nice with the other boy.

He was already seriously annoyed and frustrated by the fact that his master refused to actually touch him sexually. It was made worse by the fact that he had been strictly forbidden to seek out his own pleasure, or even cause it by his own hand.

But then things changed.

“Well, boys,” Snape said, “now that the pleasantries are out of the way, it’s time to do some more testing.” And in that case, pleasantries consisted of being allowed into the man’s chambers. “Theo, it’s time for Draco to have his potion. See to it.”

Theo smirked nastily and fetched a vial, then handed it over to him, taking back the empty when he had swallowed the contents and tossing it in the bin. Snape nodded, and Draco knew what that meant, so he immediately stripped down and knelt on the floor. His master had been overlapping the obedience potion, never giving him a chance to rebel, or even obey of his own accord.

“Now fetch his dinner,” Snape said. As soon as Theo was out of sight Draco noticed a curious thing. His master brought out a tea set and poured two cups, which was normal, but then dosed the one intended for his fellow apprentice.

Theo returned and practically tossed the bowl down, then slumped into a chair and began to drink his tea. Draco set to eating, hating it because it was messy, but inwardly dying to know just what his master was up to. Ten minutes later Snape looked up and said, “Strip.”

And Theo did; Draco inwardly crowed.

“Kneel.” Snape then went to his desk and fetched out some papers, to be placed on the table, and also provided a quill and ink. “Theo, sign the papers.” A minute later the contract (presumably) was tucked away safely, at which point Snape drawled, “It is nice, Theo, that you happen to be seventeen now, and therefore need no adult to sign on your behalf to enter binding contracts. And now I have two little slaves to do with as I wish. Both of you, over the table.”

They were each spanked, but Draco was almost used to it, having been punished on a daily basis. Theo, however, was moved to silent tears, which made him feel rather superior; he had never succumbed to such girlishness. Even so, he had his doubts, not that he was ever allowed to voice them. Once again he had to question the wisdom of having placed his trust in Snape. Had his father been correct? And did the Dark Lord even know that Snape tested potions on sons of his minions?

Eventually his master produced two more vials, one for each of them, and waited after they were downed, not saying a word. Draco came to realize after a time that he was becoming, if possible, even more aroused, and naturally wondered just what was in that potion. Snape chose to relieve his ignorance, though it was probably just coincidental timing.

“Now, boys, that particular potion is designed to make the victim desperate for sexual release, but unable to obtain it. I’ve waited until today, after Theo came of age and could join you, Draco, as a contracted apprentice, to test this. So, you will now take position on the floor, on your sides facing each other, but in opposite directions.”

When they had done that he ordered, “Now suck each other’s cocks until I tell you to stop.”

It had never once crossed his mind that sexual pleasure could be so damned agonizing. No matter how close he came to orgasm he could not quite reach it, and he was forced to suck the penis of a boy he despised. Snape began laughing quietly. “Our lord will love this one.”

Only about ten minutes had passed when a knock sounded at the door; Snape rose to deal with it, and shortly Draco could hear a familiar voice.

“Hello, darling. Oh, how adorable, I see you’ve managed to acquire another one. What is it that they’re testing for you?”

Snape explained as they moved into the room proper, causing her to release a silvery peal of laughter. “How delightful! I can’t wait to hear about what else you’ll have them test. But that reminds me, Severus, about the upcoming holiday. Will Draco be staying here, or will I be needing to arrange for. . . ?”

“I believe that would best be discussed in private.” He looked over at them and said, “Stop sucking, but do not release each other’s cocks from your mouths.” Then he ushered Narcissa into his bedroom.

Right about then Draco was beginning to think that strangling his own mother would not be such a bad idea. His father had always made it known (politely, of course) that he neither liked nor trusted the woman, but she had always been kind to Draco, and frequently indulged his whims where his father would not. Now, however. . . .

By the time the two emerged again he and Theo were thrusting into each other’s mouths, but neither of them were assisting the other in any way, subject to their orders. It had not helped the least bit having to listen to the cries of ecstasy coming from the bedroom.

“Oh, no,” his mother was saying, “look at the time. I’m terribly sorry, Draco darling, but I simply can’t stay any longer. Perhaps another day I can find time for you. Now, you be good for Severus, and he might consider allowing you to come home for the holiday.”


He was feeling a touch concerned. Lucius continued to receive a weekly letter from his son and they were more or less normal, but for one thing. Draco had stopped mentioning Severus entirely. He could wish that it was because his son had finally seen the light and moved on, but he could not quite bring himself to believe that. More likely, Draco simply wanted to avoid the issue, believing with all the obstinance of youth that he was right, and Lucius was wrong.

Thoughts about that continued to occupy his mind as he made his way to the Black suite, but he shook his head clear on knocking at the door. He was mildly surprised, when it was opened for him, that it was Sirius rather than Saiph standing there.

“C’mon in.” Sirius stepped aside to allow passage, then closed the door and turned to face him. “Saiph is getting cleaned up. There was a little accident in the kitchen.”

Lucius arched a brow. “Should I return later?”

Sirius shook his head. “He’ll be out soon. But while he’s occupied, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

He took that as an invitation to take a seat, and did so. Sirius sat across from him, his expression somewhat hesitant. “You like him.”

“Yes. He is an engaging young man.” Was Sirius saying what he thought?

Sirius frowned. “You’re attracted to him.”

It seemed that Saiph was not off the mark in accusing his father of matchmaking. “Why are we having this conversation?” he asked. “I am a married man.”

“Sure, and I don’t dispute that. I’m not even suggesting you break your vows. I do, however, think that should something happen to me you would take care of my boy. And further, should you find freedom from my cousin, you’d. . . .”

“Should I take that to mean you approve of me, Sirius?”

“Don’t be all icy on me, Lucius. You’ve got to have some idea how hard it can be for a parent to approve of anyone their kid has interest in. I know you see how he is. And I don’t know if it’s because of all the shit he went through when I couldn’t be there for him, and all the shit that Saxeten did to his head. He’s not—he needs someone he can rely on and trust, someone who won’t let those vultures out there take advantage of him. I think he got through the past five years on pure nerve.”

Lucius heaved a gentle sigh and slid his gaze off to the side. “He does seem to value my advice,” he ventured after a minute. “Yes, Sirius, I would take care of him.”

“You agree with me?”

“Yes”—he noticed in that split second pause that Saiph was just emerging from his room and smoothly changed the subject—“I do think that Swiss chocolate is far superior,” he said, “and I would not be surprised if Saiph would also agree.”

The young man in question blinked in surprise. “Um, I . . . don’t know if I’ve ever had Swiss chocolate. It wasn’t one of the countries I visited.”

Sirius patted the spot beside him on the sofa invitingly. “We can fix that, you know.”

“The chocolate or the country?” Saiph asked as he sat down and leaned into his father.

“Either,” Sirius said.

“Your father mentioned an accident. Is there cause for concern?”

Saiph grinned and shook his head, then jerked a thumb at Sirius. “Just dad being clumsy. And by some strange coincidence he got away with no consequences. I, on the other hand, ended up covered in cocoa powder.”

“Ah, that probably explains why your father engaged me in a quite serious discussion on the merits of chocolate,” he fibbed.

“Yeah, well, he tends to think with his stomach,” Saiph said teasingly, then jerked away when Sirius poked him in the ribs. “Be nice, or I’ll tell the twins you promised to let them ride Padfoot around for an hour.”

“No!” Sirius said in mock horror. “But, since we’re on the subject, d’you suppose that cake is done?”

Saiph rolled his eyes and edged away as though frightened. “I suppose I should be glad that you didn’t attack me while I was chocolaty.”

Sirius huffed in indignation and bounced to his feet. “As Padfoot, maybe, and not even then, as chocolate is bad for dogs.” He then strolled off to the kitchen. Lucius wondered if the man was satisfied to stop chaperoning things so closely given his promise.

“He’s such a kid sometimes,” said Saiph, his eyes shining in amusement.

Lucius regarded the young man thoughtfully for a minute, then said, “When was the last time any of you saw a mediwizard?”

“Er. . . .”

“I would feel better, Saiph, if you would let me give each of you a checkup. You might not feel comfortable in going to St Mungo’s, or even finding someone in private practice.”

“No, I wouldn’t, you’re right. People . . . talk. I’m pretty sure we’re all okay, but if you think we should. . . .”

He felt another frisson of pleasure shoot down his spine, and strengthened his resolve, backed by Sirius’s approval, to protect Saiph from those who would mean him harm.

“You wouldn’t mind dad knowing you’re a healer?”

Lucius shook his head. “I sincerely doubt he will find reason to spread that information about. And I rather think he would be no more happy at the thought of seeking any kind of treatment at St Mungo’s, not with the uproar it could cause in the media.”

Saiph nodded, then smiled. “So, what would you like to teach me today?”

He stifled a groan, his mind traitorously supplying any number of interesting things he could be teaching the young man, most of them not at all innocent in nature. “Today we shall begin lessons on estate management.”


Draco was absolutely livid. That sly bitch, Theo, had purposely tripped him in Potions, causing him to make a fool of himself. And now, now he was sure that Snape was annoyed with him. As a result he was nearly consumed with nerves when the time came for them to present themselves to Snape for their evening activities. Snape handed over their potions as usual, and afterward they stripped and knelt.

Their master sat in his chair for some time in contemplation before stirring himself to speech. “Tell me, Draco, who you dislike most among your fellow Slytherins.”

He inwardly quailed, unable to determine the underlying meaning of the question, but certain it meant nothing good. “Zabini is a blood traitor, master, and I despise his pose of superiority.”

“I see. And you, Theo?”

“Parkinson, master,” he said, not bothering to offer a reason.

Snape seemed to lose himself in thought again, then said, “It is a shame in some respects that Potter died, though I allow I found immense enjoyment in his death. Had he lived, you see, I would have made certain he was kneeling right alongside you two, contract or no. I would have taken great pleasure in his helpless submission to me.”

And that made Draco feel confusion. If his master would have enjoyed Potter’s service, what did that say about his own role in the man’s life?

“Now, we come to the matter of your departure from form today, Draco.”

He tried to send a silent plea to Snape, wanting badly to speak, but the man snorted and shook his head. “Anything you might have to say, Draco, would be tiresome in the extreme. No doubt, you would seek to place the blame on another for your own lack of grace, and thus slip free of consequences once again.

“In the normal course of things that is exactly what you should be doing, but these are not those circumstances, are they, and I will not tolerate that kind of disruption in my classes. Therefore, you will be punished for your actions. Draco, over the table.”

He obeyed, shivering in fearful anticipation.

“Theo, as you have managed to behave yourself today where Draco has not, you may have the pleasure of disciplining your fellow apprentice. First, feed him this potion.”

Theo appeared in front of him on the other side of the low table with a vial in one hand, then tipped it down Draco’s throat with the barest hint of a smirk hovering at his mouth. Theo moved away when Draco heard a snap, and within a minute his ass was being paddled with entirely too much vigor. And at that, the instrument of his punishment did not sport the usually smooth surface, but instead something gritty, and Draco was fairly certain it was going to draw blood.

He was mortified on being unable to prevent tears from rolling down his cheeks given the amount of pain he was enduring. Snape eventually ordered Theo to stop, then commanded him to take his pleasure in violating Draco’s ass. His breath froze in his chest at having to repress vocalization, and the utter degradation of his situation made the tears streak down his face even faster.

On top of that, he knew that Snape had dosed him again to prevent his release; his cock was throbbing almost painfully in and of itself. And as though his master had picked up on his thoughts he heard, “Theo, do remember to give Draco’s cock some attention with your hand.”

He didn’t even want to think about what potions they might have to test that night. He only wished he could think of a way to tell his father what had befallen him, even if it meant sincerely begging for the man’s forgiveness and help.

Then Snape spoke again. “Tell me that you like it, Draco.”

And he did.

“Excellent,” Snape drawled. “Now tell me that you love it.”


“Since you have a lesson coming up, I’ll take the squirts off to play,” Sirius said, then hefted the twins up and disappeared into their bedroom.

Lucius had to wonder about the timing of that retreat given that it was only Saiph left for him to check over. He turned his attention to Saiph and brought up his wand again, then began to run the usual sorts of general diagnostic scans.

Saiph sat quite patiently through them, not making any sort of a fuss, which was more than Lucius could say for Sirius. “You’re fine, Saiph. I do hope that you will come to me, though, should there ever be any question for you or one of your family.”

“Of course,” Saiph assured him, “though I doubt it would happen much. I can’t remember the last time I was actually ill, and I don’t think quidditch injuries really count. For that matter, I don’t have any idea how often one is supposed to have a checkup. It’s not like the Dursleys ever took me to see a doctor.”

Lucius shuddered inwardly. True, even a few months ago he would have shrugged in disinterest for the most part. Despite the naughty little fantasies that had revolved around Harry Potter, knowing that they would never come to pass had in consequence left him mostly cold and indifferent. Now, however, he had become emotionally invested, and that Saiph’s muggle family had denied him even basic medical care was detestable to him.

“That may be so, but that will not henceforth be the case.”

“I really am grateful, Lucius. It never even occurred to me to worry about seeing a mediwizard so long as everyone felt all right and showed no signs of anything being wrong.”

Saiph paused then, looking rather hesitant, then said, “Do you know of a park or something that I could take the twins to for an outing? I used to take them out once a week on a little trip, but I wasn’t all that worried then about, er, potential complications.”

Lucius tilted his head to the side to relieve the tension in his neck as he considered the question. “There is a small park in the area generally frequented by families, and it is pet friendly. However, to address your concern, you should be reasonably safe there, though I could request a token from my master—”

“Wait,” Saiph interrupted, which was most unlike him. “May I show you something?”


Saiph got up and vanished into his bedroom, and returned a minute or so later. He extended his hand as he reclaimed his seat, holding out a pendant, which Lucius took to examine. And he knew immediately what it was; the silvery oval was etched with a somewhat flowery letter S and set with a multitude of emeralds, a simplified replica of a locket Slytherin himself had once owned.

“This is one of my master’s tokens,” he confirmed as he offered it back. “The purpose behind it is to alert any allies that the bearer is to be considered off limits, and under the protection of the Dark Lord. They are quite rare, and he crafts them himself.”

“Oh.” Saiph pursed his lips for a moment. “I didn’t think to attach any significance to it. He gave it to me before I was sent back, but didn’t really go into detail. Well, he did say I ought to wear it outside my clothes, so it was visible. I feel kind of silly now, actually.”

“Why so?”

“Well, at the time I didn’t like to question the gift. I thought it would be rude, and there didn’t seem to be anything magical about it. I wore it a lot because I like it, and I . . . fancied that the S stood for Saiph, but I suppose it’s really for Slytherin?”

He nodded, and Saiph continued, though he ducked his head, “And I liked how the colour of the stones matched my real eyes. Do you . . . think I should thank him again, now that I understand the meaning behind it?”

Lucius shook his head, faintly amused that Saiph had pinked slightly. “I do not. Knowing my master, he did not wish for you to attach any particular significance to his gift, and your understanding now does not change things. You have already thanked him, and that is enough. Still, should you choose to go out in public, magical or muggle, I would strongly recommend that you wear that visibly, especially now that you’re back in the United Kingdom.”

“All right. Um, so with this displayed, those with me would be similarly safe?”

He nodded again. “They would. If you wish, though, I can inquire of my master if he thinks your father should have one as well. The twins are safe simply by virtue of being children.”

“Will you, please? I know, dad will probably play lovable pet dog in public, but. . . .”

“I will see to asking.”

Saiph shot him a grateful smile and excused himself for long enough to return the pendant to his room. “Speaking of children,” he said slowly, “I’m curious about something. It’s another one of those potentially impertinent questions.”

“Please continue,” he said, feeling rather curious himself. Saiph’s impertinent questions usually led to an interesting bit of conversation.

“Well, I’ve wondered at times why, er. . . . Have so many people not liked me because they thought I was a brainless idiot in Dumbledore’s back pocket?”

Lucius arched a brow at the phrasing. “What sort of people? Do you mean students? Death Eaters? The general public?”

Saiph let out a soft snort of amusement. “All of the above. I mean, the Slytherin students either displayed open hostility or ignored me, but knowing now what the actual conflict is. . . . I guess I’m confused, because if they knew that Dumbledore was Saxeten, wouldn’t they be a lot more wary than they would be of the real one had he lived?”

He shook his head. “The students don’t know. Some of their opinions are based off what they see from their parents, without knowing the true details. For instance, you were an enemy of my master, therefore you were to be targeted, though I would not doubt that some of them did also find fault in your . . . shall we say . . . political affiliation.

“I would even doubt that Saxeten’s people, for the most part, have any idea just who they’re working for. From what I understand Saxeten is extremely possessive of his power and his knowledge. At any rate, most of what is thought to be known about this conflict is fabricated by the media and tongue-wagging, gossiping alarmists. As it generally does not hinder my master, he takes no action to correct any of it.”

“But the Death Eaters know?”

“Yes. Any person sworn to my master’s service knows the reality.”

“But I’m not a Death Eater,” Saiph commented, and before Lucius could respond said, “Though I suppose I’m a rather peculiar exception to the rule, and now dad, collaterally.”

“Yes, your situation is unique. Granted, had you come to question Dumbledore on your own, and sought a way to speak with my master in a neutral setting, he might have explained things despite you not being one of his own.”

Saiph nodded thoughtfully, then tilted his head and said, “Lucius, would you mind terribly if we didn’t have a lesson today? I know I do need to learn these things, and I will, but I just don’t feel like being a student right now.”

Lucius was given to feeling indulgent on seeing the unintentionally appealing picture Saiph presented, and nodded. “You have been an excellent student thus far, and I hardly think a day off is too much to ask for. And even so, we are not on a rigid schedule.”

A broad smile of happiness flashed across Saiph’s face. “Can we just sit and talk, then? Or . . . maybe you might . . . show us that park?”


“You have twenty minutes, Miss Parkinson.”

“Yes, sir. Before I start, though, I was wondering about something. If that’s all right.”

Snape arched a brow, so she said, “I would really, really like to become the next Mrs Malfoy, you see. So I was wondering what it would take, you making Draco get me pregnant so he’d be forced to marry me.”

Had he been able to, Draco would strongly have considered throwing what precious little dignity he had left out the window and pitching a hysterical fit of massive proportions. He did not specifically like Pansy, nor dislike her; she was usually good for his ego.

However, the idea of being made to marry her, on top of everything else in his present life, plus the blunt knowledge that most of her actions were completely mercenary. . . . Were he capable Draco would have run screaming from the room, modesty be damned, straight to the hopeful safety of his father’s arms.

He could only pray that both Pansy and Blaise were under some kind of oath to prevent them from blabbing to the entire dorm about his and Theo’s fall from grace.

“You do realize, Miss Parkinson, even should that happen, your potential husband would remain my slave.”

“Yes, of course, and I don’t care about that. Besides, by the time I produced a male heir and secured my position, sir, I’d probably be bored with him. I just care that he’d be able to father children until then.”

“I see. In that case I shall arrange a time for us to discuss this, so you should be thinking about what you’re willing to offer as payment. Now, Zabini, you also have twenty minutes. And you will both remember that I expect you will not irreversibly damage my property.”

Pansy licked her lips and crooked a finger at Theo. “Come here, baby.”

Draco died a little bit more inside when Blaise sent a superior smile his way.

Associated Shapshot: Take Two