Title: A Lesson in Humility|
Author: Juxian Tang
Warning: underage abuse, non-cons
Disclaimer: These characters and places belong to JK Rowling. I am making no
Summary: Dumbledore becomes a Hogwarts Headmaster, Lucius becomes a Hogwarts
student. Personalities clash. Not everyone comes out of it unscathed.
A LESSON IN HUMILITY
His orgasm is a long spasm,
almost painful in its intensity, and at the moment it passes horror washes over
him in a cold wave. He wrenches out of the tight cavity, hearing a muffled shriek,
feeling how the thin body shudders under his palms. Albus Dumbledore falls back
on the sofa, trembling violently. His cock, a limp, darkened thing, is dripping
white and red, staining his unzipped pants. He gasps; it seems his chest will
burst if he doesn't make an intake of breath deep enough. But pleasure still
lingers in his lower body like softly smoldering fire.
The boy takes a shaky breath
and scrambles weakly to the corner of the sofa, pulling his legs up. The motion
is instinctive; he tries to hide himself, to hide the wide opened, bleeding
wound of his anus. He whimpers as moving apparently hurts. Small fingers dig
into the velvet upholstery of the sofa so hard that the fingernails go white.
The boy's hair, straight,
feathery and blond, light like the thinnest silk, is messed up and sticks in
all wrong directions. The haughty, smug expression is wiped off his face; now
it looks unpretty, streaked with tears. His eyes are red-rimmed and pale
eyelashes wet and sticky.
Doesn't look like little something
any more, Albus thinks; doesn't look like he was born with a silver spoon in
In fact, the boy's mouth is
rather red and crumpled now, the skin around it raw and inflamed, and Albus
recalls with a pang of remorse how he covered it with his lips, muting the
cries, shoved his tongue in, how he sucked and bit on those sweet, salty lips
in the frenzy of lust.
Lust… how did it happen? It
shouldn't have to. Albus feels bitter taste in his mouth and swallows with an
effort. He just… he just invited the boy to talk, worn out with unceasing
complaints that came from all teachers and all Heads of Houses except
Slytherin. Only two and half months at Hogwarts, and Lucius Malfoy has got on
everyone's nerves with his arrogance, his rudeness, his complete confidence
that he has the whole world in his pocket.
Snotty little bastard. Albus
tried to be patient with him. It was his first year as the Headmaster, and he
made promises to himself, before starting it. Of not playing favorites. Of
being fair to all children. Of taking their problems to heart. Of being there
for them, as long as there is someone who needs him. Of not letting any of them
succumb to evil, as Albus saw it happening so many times during his long life.
But Lucius Malfoy tried his
patience beyond endurance. Albus could bear it when the boy, his pointy chin
raised, listened to his admonitions as if they were an old man's ramblings. He
could bear it when Malfoy looked down at him, even though it was Albus whose
chair was set on the dais. He even controlled himself when the boy muttered his
unrepentant answers through the set teeth.
"With all my respect to
Respect! He didn't even try
to pretend he meant it. And just listen to him, an eleven-year-old talking like
It was the never-ending
drawled "My father…" that got to Albus. His father; the member of the
Board, one of those who put Albus into this position - and who could take it
away any moment, as it clearly sounded in Lucius's every word.
This was something Albus
Dumbledore couldn't tolerate.
He was the right man to
occupy this position. No one dared to doubt it. He was the defeater of
Grindewald, the most powerful wizard among the living. He was there to protect
the children, to establish peace between the Houses, to consolidate forces
against the new evil that he sees forming during last years.
The little stuck-up brat
didn't have the right to ruin everything for him.
Albus vaguely recalls getting
up, stepping towards Lucius, towering over him - and the flicker of fear in the
pale grey eyes sending a pang of joy through his chest. And Albus wants more of
this joy, of this fear that he spotted in Malfoy's light eyes; it is an almost
physical need that fills his body, bubbling there like sparkling wine. He
raises his hand and slaps the boy.
He hears a gasp - and the
boy, with all his arrogant bearing, is just a skinny child; the blow is heavy
enough to throw him off the chair, make him land on his arse on the floor. It
feels good; it feels good to see the sleek, proud Lucius Malfoy sitting on the
floor pathetically, holding his cheek - and Albus's palm tingles warmly with
the sensation of soft, hot skin under it.
There is an expression of
utter shock in the boy's eyes. No one probably has laid a finger on him before.
His hair is tousled and there is an angry red imprint of Albus's hand on his
Even now when Albus looks at
him he can see this trace, although the boy's face is all pink and
He remembers shock exchanging
with indignance in the boy's eyes. Lucius stares at him furiously, stammering:
"You… you didn't have the right… My father…"
He shouldn't have said it.
Something snaps in Albus. He has to teach the boy a lesson, to show that he has
all the rights here, he's calling the shots. Lucius squeaks in fear as Albus
grabs the collar of his robe, yanks him up. The boy's clothes are made of the
finest fabric - and his body is so light, weighs nothing at all, like a frail
Albus remembers throwing him
on the sofa - and how the pale eyes go dark with dilated pupils, and he
remembers thinking how beautiful it looks - nearly black eyes, and half-opened
little mouth, and the imprint of his hand on the pale cheek… but it's an odd
thought, beautiful has nothing to do with it, all he wants is just to teach the
stubborn child obedience, to give him a lesson...
The clothes tear, buttons
clattering on the floor - Lucius's tie, green and silver, is yanked off - and
under the black robe Lucius's shirt is a flash of blinding white. And beneath,
his chest is pearly and smooth, a narrow boyish chest, contours of the ribs
visible under the skin that is so pale it looks nearly translucent. His nipples
are pink and pale, too, small, flat and puckered, and Albus remembers doing
something to them, because they were so vulnerable, so begging to touch them,
and it was good to hurt the boy a little, to teach him that not everything goes
as the Malfoys want it to, that all their money and power sometimes mean
The boy holds his arms around
his chest now, sobbing. The sounds are dry, he's shed all his tears by now.
Behind his arms, Albus can see how bright red and swollen his nipples are. He
remembers their taste, the taste of Lucius's skin, warm and slightly salty,
remembers twisting them in his fingers in cadence with his thrusts.
Heat washes through his body
at this memory. Thin legs thrown wide apart, a hand covering the boy's mouth to
prevent him from squealing - and huge, mindlessly scared eyes staring at him
over his hand… And the tiniest opening stretching for him, after some
resistance, and a thin scream that he muffles with his palm, and Lucius's oddly
moving chest as if the boy is choking… Lucius writhes under him, as if trying
to escape the thing that enters him but it isn't possible, Albus is much
stronger, and his cock is already buried too deep inside him anyway.
And Lucius is so tight and
hot around Albus's shaft that it seems almost incredible how such a stuck-up,
obnoxious little brat can feel so good. But he does, and Albus can't help it,
can't wait, can't stop - thrusting, riding him, battering into him brutally, as
if punishing him with every stroke.
His vision goes dark, sweetly
dark in approaching climax, and everything else stops existing, everything but the
building pleasure in his groin, and his cock slides in and out of the boy
smoothly, and it's so, so good…
But now it is all over, and
reason comes back to Albus as he looks at the shivering boy huddling in the
corner of the sofa, at the red stain soaking into the upholstery between his
thighs. Terror comes, too.
No matter that it was his own
fault, that he forced Albus to do it - he'll manage to turn it so that it will
become Albus's fault. The brat will appear a victim and his, Albus's, life will
be ruined, all his good intentions will come to nothing, all the good he would
be able to do as the Headmaster will be forfeited.
Because of the little shit
who couldn't keep his legs crossed.
It's wrong. Albus doesn't
deserve it. The boy provoked him, practically begged for it - with his snotty
attitude, his aristocratic habits, his pureblood conceit.
Albus looks at him, sees him
shaking, his gaze frozen - but very slowly animation returns to Lucius's light
eyes. He uncurls slowly. He looks disgusting, truly like a whore, with his
swollen nipples and reddened genitals - Albus recalls yanking and rubbing the
boy's cock, trying to arouse him, to no avail. But despite his debauched,
slutty look the little bastard still dares to look indignant as he gazes at
Albus and starts:
Then Albus knows what to do -
as clearly as if 'Lumos' sounds in his head.
"No a word more, Mr.
Malfoy," he says. His voice is calm - as calm as it usually is when he
talks to the students, but the note of force in it must remind Lucius who he's
talking to. Albus Dumbledore is not someone you can play games with. "Keep
your mouth shut until I allow you to talk, or you will regret it."
And something in his words
obviously penetrates the boy's mind. Malfoy's breath hitches and he just stares
silently as Albus flicks his wand, removing any traces that could be left on
and in the boy's body: blood, and sperm, and damage done to his anus, and even
the red mark of his palm on Lucius's cheek. Albus picks up the scattered clothes
and throws them at Lucius's face. The boy blinks.
Yes, that's the right thing,
this kind of approach. The little Malfoy obeys the orders unquestioningly; the
spoiled brat probably simply needed someone to rule him with a rod of iron. All
right, a rod was involved into it, iron or not, it's not up to him to judge but
Albus is still quite good for his age, he thinks in secret amusement. He
reproaches himself for this thought at once, it's no time for dubious jokes
Lucius's fingers shake as he
buttons up his shirt and he can't tie up his tie but it's all right, let him
leave it hanging around his neck. He stops when seeing that the buttons of his
robe are gone - and Albus sighs and puts them back with a simple spell.
The boy's pale eyes are almost
iridescent with anger, fear and unshed tears as he looks up at Albus. The look
is so passionate, making the boy's colorless face so attractive that Albus
almost feels sorry that he will make this look disappear a moment later.
He raises his wand, preparing
to say 'Obliviate'. And then he can't do it, simply can't relinquish what he's
got today. The thought of never experiencing it again - this heat, this
tightness, this struggle - would be unbearable…
And the brat still needs
someone to teach him manners. Put him down a peg or two, so to say.
'Obliviate' is a simple
spell, even a seventh-year can master it. He, Albus Dumbledore, knows much more
sophisticated ways to deal with a human mind. He doesn't even need a wand for
He reaches into the boy's mind,
into the mess of anger, pain, terror and shame there - and shifts things just a
little. Lucius won't tell anyone. He won't think about it - but he also will
never fully forget it. It will be a shadow on the edge of his mind, something
that will change him forever.
Albus looks at the smooth,
startled face of the boy, his hands frozen in a mid-movement, clenched on ends
of the tie. He knows something is wrong, something has happened - but he
doesn't know what. Then Lucius moves, sitting straight, as he apparently was
taught, and wincing in pain. Albus's healing spells were not perfect, it seems.
Albus says, "in my office, Mr. Malfoy. We'll continue our
Yes, he can afford it; he's
made all the arrangements for it.
The boy swallows hard,
looking as if he wants to refuse, and then nods.
"Now go, my boy,"
Albus says benignly.
As Malfoy leaves, limping a
little bit, Albus thinks with sudden sadness that no matter how he tried, this
one is already lost for him. And not only because, despite the clever web of
spells over his mind, Lucius still will always be wary of him, will feel
something is wrong. But Albus himself will never be able to love him as he
loves his other students, those who are untainted - will never be able to care
for Malfoy as much, won't struggle as hard trying to save him from evil.
Well, Albus knows he can't
protect everyone. It's beyond the powers of a man - and he's just a man. And
even if this one is lost, there are hundreds of other children Albus Dumbledore
will be able to protect, to direct to the right path. He relinquishes Lucius
Malfoy but there are Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs who can and should be
Yet he feels disappointed and
mildly unhappy. Of course, he knows what happens to the best laid plans - but
he hoped so much he would be the best Headmaster in the history of Hogwarts,
will manage something that no one before could, wouldn't lose even one student.
It's too late now. He has nothing
else to do but to accept the situation and fortunately he is clever enough to
Albus smiles slightly as this
lesson in humility and strokes the warm place on the sofa where Lucius Malfoy
has sat so recently.