Chapter Text
Location: Potter Manor - Master bedroom
July 21st, 1996 11:21 AM
"Aaaallll," Lucifer whined, limbs outstretched like a starfish, taking up much of the bed despite being much smaller than the king-sized mattress. "I'm tiiiiired."
Alastor's eyes opened to glare lightly at his husband. "Then go back to sleep," he grumbled in return, rolling over so his back was to Lucifer. He sighed and buried his face into his pillow, body already relaxing again for more sleep.
"But I don't wanna sleep," came the sulky reply. A few heartbeats of silence passed. "Aaaallll, I'm boooored."
A very heavy, long-suffering sigh was his only answer before Alastor rolled back over to face Lucifer with a flat, unimpressed look. "Then go do something," he suggested dryly.
They both knew he wouldn't. And Alastor knew, with all the certainty of someone who'd been married to the chaotic angel for forty-seven years, that he would not be getting any more sleep after a long night of frolicking outside with a werewolf.
Then, in a surprising twist Alastor had not seen coming, Lucifer listened.
The man gave a soft, whiny hum, then slipped out of bed and disappeared into the ensuite bathroom. Alastor lifted his head to stare in disbelief, ears twitching before dropping his head back to the pillow with a sigh.
'What are you up to now?' He couldn't help but wonder. His ears twitched again as he heard Lucifer rummage through a drawer at the bathroom sink. A couple of seconds later, the man returned with a soft-bristle brush and a smug smile.
Lucifer jumped onto the bed and crawled back over to his husband's side. Alastor watched him with quiet amusement and half-lidded red eyes, already resigned. Lucifer's dark fingers curled around the pale wooden handle as he drew closer, a mischievous glint in his golden eyes. His tail flicked into view behind him, swishing playfully before it slithered beneath the blanket as he stopped at Alastor's side.
Alastor could feel the tail sliding down his side slowly, gliding through his fur and teasing the waistband of his boxers. He raised a brow as if to say: really? This is your plan?
Then he gave a surprised squeak when that long tail threw the blanket up and off Alastor's long body, exposing him to the cooler air. His legs snapped up to his stomach and his arms wrapped around his knees as his gaze bore into Lucifer indignantly. "I was comfortable."
"Aww, poor Al," Lucifer mocked, pitching his voice in a faux sympathetic tone as he pouted dramatically. "Are you cold now? Need me to warm you up, sweetheart?"
"Don't call me that," Alastor groused, though the color on his cheeks showed how much he didn't mind the nickname. His ears twitched, flicking back then upright again as he drew his body tighter into a ball. "And yes. I'm cold now."
Lucifer snickered lightly and waved his tail over Alastor, hovering the spaded tip just above his body as warmth started to chase the chill away.
It wasn't by any means cold. It was the middle of summer. However, both Alastor and Lucifer were used to a much hotter climate than Earth's summer—particularly England's summer—and it just didn't get hot enough for them.
A shiver ran through Alastor before he relaxed again, unwrapping his arms and letting his legs stretch out, his cloven hooves wiggling as he warmed up. He shifted, laying on his back as his arms strained above his head, rolling his wrists until they gave little clicks.
"Better?" Lucifer asked, watching his husband stretch languidly across the bed. His eyes shimmered with a warm look, the tip of his tail twitching beside him. He gave a quiet growl as he climbed over him, easily settling himself on Alastor's thighs while waving the brush in his hand. "When's the last time I got to brush your fur?"
Alastor gave a thoughtful hum and looked away, pursing his lips as he tilted his head to the side. "It's been a while. I think I've started getting knots, Luci," he said with a sigh, his eyes cutting back to Lucifer as the corners of his mouth twitched in clear amusement.
Lucifer's free hand flew to his chest in mock offense and gasped. "Knots?! Now, we can't have my gorgeous, fluffy husband with knots! Tsk, tsk. I've really been neglecting your grooming."
"Indeed you have," Alastor agreed with a soft hum, eyes burning into the angel atop him. He ignored the fluffy comment entirely. "Since you're not going to allow me to sleep, you might as well make it up to me with a good grooming." His smile sharpened as he laced his fingers behind his head, watching Lucifer intently.
Lucifer grinned and leaned forward, gently nuzzling his face to the underside of Alastor's jaw. He placed a quick kiss there before he drew back again, golden eyes glinting. "Then just relax, my deer."
Alastor let out a long, quiet sigh as the bristles of the brush glided through the fur of his side. The muscles jumped at the ticklish sensation before finally relaxing into the strokes. His eyes fluttered closed and he hummed softly in the back of his throat, his static settling into a calm, steady white noise.
Lucifer's grin softened into a something more tender as he watched his husband relax beneath him, running the brush gently through the thicker fur of his chest. There were a few tangles there, noticing how the fur curled and twined from lack of grooming. He gave a slight wince, realizing he truly had been neglecting this. It had been a few months since he had pampered Alastor with a good brushing. With his free hand, he untangled the knots, fingers gentle as he worked through the curls, then swept the brush over to smooth the fur one more.
A low, contented rumble vibrated from Alastor's chest, his ears low and relaxed as his chest expanded and fell in soft, even breathes. He looked asleep, but the subtle flicks of his ears, the quiet static hum beneath his breath, told Lucifer he was awake. Just placid and savoring how the bristles slipped through his fur and scratched the skin below in a pleasant way, tingles whispering in their wake.
"Feel good?" Lucifer asked quietly, not wanting to break the peace that had settled over the room. He brushed with steady, even strokes, making sure he got all the tangles. He ran the brush down Alastor's stomach, gliding the bristles over his bellybutton, all the way down to the edge of his boxer shorts before he repeated the motion several times more.
For several minutes, Lucifer focused on grooming the front of Alastor's abdomen, his fingers following each stroke, enjoying how soft and smooth the velvety hair felt under his palm. His eyes lingered on his husband's face—Alastor lying there with a small, contented smile, eyes closed, and ears drooped as if he had no care in the world at the moment. Just as Lucifer had hoped.
"You've been under stress lately," he murmured softly, brushing over a nipple intentionally before continuing down his side. "It's good to see you relaxed."
Alastor gave a soft sound, arching up slightly in a stretch before settling again. "I have things under control," he replied just as quietly.
Lucifer shot him a flat look, aware Alastor couldn't see it, but had no doubt he could feel it. "Just because you have things under control doesn't mean that you're not stressed, Al," he said, his tone just as flat. He sighed, but never stopped his steady strokes. "You've been doing a lot and there is still so much more to do. Do you even know how long this war, all these plans, are going to take?"
Alastor's smile slowly morphed into a thoughtful frown. "Hmm. No idea," he admitted. "I suspect longer than we think. Gathering allies. Forming another side in the war. Manipulating two prideful, deranged old men. Weakening both their factions. Trying to build a future from the allies we gather…" He exhaled slowly. "I suspect it will take at least a year. Maybe more."
"A year?" Lucifer echoed incredulously. His hand finally stilled, more in shock than anything else. "A year?" He repeated again, gaping down at Alastor. "Th-this can't be done in a summer?"
Alastor cracked an eye open, frowning up at his husband. "Unfortunately no, Luci. Building a case against Dumbledore alone to destroy his reputation will take months. Being sneaky and filching allies from both sides will take months. Preparing them to help build and run the future will take months."
Lucifer continued to gape at him, completely thrown by the news.
Alastor sighed and sat up, cupping Lucifer's face with both hands. "Mon ange, relax. I knew this going in. And I apologize that I didn't inform you. I thought you knew as well. War takes time. Fixing a broken world takes time." He pressed a gentle kiss to Lucifer's mouth, finally jolting him to move. "But, if you need to—if you have to go back to Hell to manage things there—I'll understand. I won't—"
"Shut up."
Alastor's mouth snapped closed at the soft command. He blinked down at his husband with an arched brow.
Lucifer had closed his eyes and was drawing in a breath. He released it slowly and shook his head. He met Alastor's gaze, golden eyes narrowed with determination. "I'm not leaving you. I promised I would help you with this, promised I'd be by your side and support you. I am not leaving."
His gaze was intense and unwavering as his eyes bore into Alastor's. The brush had been forgotten, resting in their laps, and his fingers now gripped Alastor's thighs, grounding himself in the touch. He wanted Alastor to feel the truth in his words, to ensure that Alastor understood. He would chose Alastor over Hell itself every time.
"Lilith is still Queen of Hell. She knows how to run it," he continued, running a hand through his hair, pushing the blonde strands away from his face. "Hell, she runs it better than I do." He gave a half-shrug and pursed his lips before he looked back up at Alastor. "But I'm not going anywhere. If this takes a year, two years, more—I'll still be here. Right here. By your side."
Alastor exhaled softly, tension bleeding from his shoulders he hadn't even realized he'd been harboring. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Lucifer's and brushing their noses together. His thumbs ghosted over the apples of Lucifer's cheeks in gentle strokes.
Lucifer reached out and slid his fingers under Alastor's jawline, cradling it as they sat in silence for a few long heartbeats. They sat there, just breathing against each other, savoring the softness, feeling and just being.
Then, with a slight tilt of his head, Lucifer pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Alastor's lips, which was returned just as gently. They kissed softly, again and again, holding their breaths as they shared a moment that buzzed with devotion for each other.
Finally, Alastor pulled away with a sigh, blinking slowly. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice so quiet it was almost impossible to hear if they weren't so close.
Lucifer let out a small huff. "Forty-seven years and you still think I wouldn't chose you?" He pulled away and rolled his eyes, smiling wryly. "Silly deer. Now, roll over so I can brush your back."
With an exaggerated eyeroll and his own wry smile, Alastor laid back down and rolled over. He folded his arms under his head and sighed, his tail giving a lazy swish.
Lucifer resettled himself, straddling the back of Alastor's thighs as he began to run the brush down his back. The fur prickled at the gentle sensation, raising briefly before settling again under the slow, calming strokes.
For a while, Lucifer dragged the brush through the fur between his shoulder blades, undoing a few stubborn tangles there, before leisurely gliding the bristles down to the small of Alastor's back and to the base of his tail. He was careful as he brushed the short, twitching appendage, earning quiet hums and static-laden giggles—though Alastor would vehemently deny making such a sound. The small tail flicked and wagged playfully, trying to escape the brush's path.
Lucifer chuckled as he held the tail in his hand to keep it still, gently running the bristles with practiced ease. He watched it wiggle in his grip, unruly and defiant just like that man it was attached to. Then, with a wicked gleam in his eyes, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the white underside of the fluff.
Alastor's ears twitched, low and relaxed. But he didn't protest when Lucifer continued to pay extra attention to his tail.
Lucifer's own tail—which had been resting on the bed beside him—stirred to life, swaying lazily through the air with intention. His smile grew as he brushed a few more strokes through the soft fur, one hand still holding the small ball of fluff. Then he leaned down again, his breath hot as he mouthed it gently along the curve, his tongue darting out to tease the edges.
Static buzzed louder as Alastor tensed slightly, burying his warm face into the crook of his arms. He crossed his ankles and locked them, toes curling against the bed as a strained groan slipped out from him as Lucifer teased his tail. "Lucifer," he warned, his voice strangled as he tried not to moan. "That doesn't feel like a brush."
Oh, Lucifer knew that. Amusement sparked in his chest as he gave the tip of the tail light nip, rewarded by a sudden burst of staticky distortion in response. He chuckled and pressed a kiss above the tail as apology. "Couldn't help myself," he murmured against the warm fur of Alastor's back.
"Mmhm. I'm sure," Alastor replied sardonically, his voice muffled against his arms.
*Smut starts here
Lucifer's grin curled slowly as he set aside the brush and smoothed his hands along Alastor's waist. His fingers combed through the soft fur in lazy strokes as he leaned forward, lips trailing affectionate open-mouthed kisses up his spine.
Alastor turned his head as a flush of warmth rippled through his body. Static buzzed around him softly, a dial stuck between the stations as he allowed himself to melt into the mattress, his heartbeat picking up just slightly. He suppressed a moan in the back of his throat as he felt the gentle scrape of Lucifer's teeth between his shoulder blades, a shiver skittering down his spine to the tip of his tail. It flicked up instinctively, the soft fur brushing against the skin of Lucifer's lower belly.
A sound rumbled low from Lucifer's chest as he pressed closer, settling his weight over Alastor. His teeth grazed across skin, his hands squeezing, fingers digging into fur and flesh. He leaned in and dragged his tongue up, slow and deliberate, through the space between sharp shoulder blades, breathing heat into Alastor's back.
Static skipped and spiked, a small whimper managing to eke out of Alastor's throat as his fingers curled into fists, grasping the pillow beneath him. "Lucifer," he growled, arching his back slightly. He could feel a hardness against his ass that hadn't there a few minutes ago, but he also knew how insatiable his husband was. "I wasn't aware you could groom with your tongue."
His face burned, heart skipping a few beats as he felt Lucifer's chuckle vibrate through his spine. He bit down on his bottom lip, struggling to keep a sound in as he felt that wet, hot tongue against his back again, longer and firmer this time.
"I can stop," Lucifer suggested, his voice low and husky, sending another flood of heat and static through Alastor.
"Don't you dare," Alastor clipped out immediately, his own voice scratchy and strained. He lifted his hips and pressed up against Lucifer's erection, grinding just enough to drag a strangled sound from the angel.
Lucifer chuckled again, nipping at the flesh of Alastor's back and leaving a small mark beneath the fur. "Then I won't." His tongue swept over the bite, soothing the ache before his teeth sank into a shoulder blade, just hard enough to sting.
A groan tore free from Alastor's throat before he could stop it, his ears flicking up sharply before sagging again in helpless pleasure. Air caught in his throat as he gasped, his breathing growing heavier.
Lucifer growled as he nuzzled the bite, pressing a soft kiss to it while rolling his hips forward. His erection strained against the front of his boxers as he ground it firmly against the cleft of Alastor's ass. "I love it when you indulge me," he breathed, his breath heavy against his husband's back.
"You're…insatiable," Alastor said, the words strained and bleeding static. Then he jerked his hips up suddenly.
"Fuck," Lucifer groaned, gritting his teeth. One hand gripped Alastor's waist while the other fisted the sheets by his shoulder. He panted, grinding against him with a deep, aching need. His forehead dropped to Alastor's back as he chased the friction. "You love it." He thrust his hips, pressing into Alastor's rear as he grumbled.
Alastor huffed a breath, his cheeks stained red as he arched into Lucifer's grinding. "You're not even pretending this is about grooming anymore."
Lucifer snorted against his back, teeth scraping skin lazily. "I'm grooming still," he protested weakly, then pressed his tongue against Alastor's spine again and dragged it slowly up to the nape of his neck, hot and wet. He rolled his hips again, slower this time, letting the friction drag and build. "See?"
Alastor grunted, panting against the pillow. "I…see," he managed, struggling to get the words out as he felt Lucifer grind deeper between his cheeks. The fabric of his boxers dragged roughly against his hole, sending sparks of static jolting across this skin. His tail flicked up sharply, flashing the white underside on instinct.
Lucifer groaned, the sound low and desperate. The vibration traveled through Alastor, making him shiver. "You're so stunning," he whispered, lips mouthing the curve of his neck. His hands moved, one hand sliding up the flat of Alastor's back, claws tracing hidden scars. The other slid beneath his husband, his palm resting low on Alastor's stomach, encouraging him to lift his hips more.
Alastor obeyed, his head dizzy from the heady sensations, his static buzzing around them like a hoard of bees in search of sweet honey. He shifted and lifted his hips just as Lucifer pressed down again. A whine scratched from his throat as he felt the blunt head of Lucifer's cock drag across his entrance through two layers of fabric.
"Lucifer," he growled, his voice strangled and garbled with static. "You can't…force your way through two pairs of clothing." He grunted, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth. "And that's not a challenge to try either. Don't you dare."
Lucifer let out a husky laugh, licking his lips as he nuzzled the nape of Alastor's neck. "I wouldn't dream of it," he said, mischief curling with every word.
"I mean it, Lucifer," Alastor snarled, jerking his hips up almost violently in warning. "Clothes. Off."
"Alright, alright," Lucifer grumbled, pulling back with a dramatic huff. "Spoil my fun. Crush my dreams. You're so cruel."
Alastor knew Lucifer wouldn't be able to see him, but he rolled his eyes anyway. He squeaked when he felt his boxers magically disappear, their sudden absence taking him by surprise. One ear flicked in mild annoyance as he turned his head back to glance over his shoulder with a dry, unimpressed look.
Lucifer grinned at him, wide and toothy, and completely unrepentant. "What? Magic makes things easy," he said brightly, shrugging. Then he settled back over Alastor, his weight comfortable as he pressed his face between shoulder blades again. He growled playfully, his tail whipping behind him. "Besides, now I can really play."
Alastor huffed and laid his head back down on his folded arms, relaxing against the warmed sheets. "Then have fun playing, my love," he murmured, closing his eyes with a soft sigh.
As much as he made an attempt to remain unaffected, to stay composed, Lucifer's touch always ignited something inside him. It wasn't just the heat of it, or the way his husband knew every inch of him like his own body. It was the weight and intention behind each and every movement, the quiet reverence woven into every kiss, every brush of fingers, hands, and lips. All that power, their history together, their love—it left Alastor pliant and open, a warmth blooming low in his belly and deep in his chest right beside his pounding heart.
A low, gravelly moan rumbled up from the back of his throat, breath hitching as slick fingers slid inside him. The stretch forced a tremble through his limbs, his thighs tightening as his claws dug into the pillow beneath his head. His hips shifted, canting back instinctively, inviting more. Small whiny noises fell from his parted lips, his breathing thin and quick as pleasure built like a slowly smoldering fire.
Lucifer's breath ghosted over the nape of his neck. "So tight," he murmured, voice thick with arousal. His fingers moved deliberately against those tight walls, coaxing Alastor open and brushing against the spot he knew would make him gasp. On queue, a ragged moan tore free from his husband's mouth before he could stop it.
"You sound so sweet, my deer," he whispered softly, pressing gentle, lingering kisses to Alastor's skin. His teeth scraping deliciously, leaving raised red lines as he dragged them down. "All those pretty sounds, just for me." A rough grunt slipped from his throat as he withdrew his fingers.
A high-pitched whine followed instantly from Alastor. He pressed his hips back as he wiggled underneath Lucifer, begging without words. "Lucifer…" he mumbled, his voice raw, tail twitching as he felt his husband's weight shift above him. In desperation, he threw his right hand back, catching Lucifer's wrist beside his shoulder and held it in a tight grip.
Lucifer froze, eyes softening as he looked down at the man beneath him. He leaned down again and nuzzled the crook of Alastor's neck, lips ghosting along his shoulder. "Shh, I'm not going anywhere," he whispered, gently turning their hands to interlace their fingers, squeezing. "See? I'm right here."
Alastor let out a shuddering breath, his grip squeezing back before he relaxed. His ears hung low and his chest heaved with uneven breaths. His tongue darted out to wet his dry lips, trying to steady himself as a buzz of want skittered across his skin.
Lucifer's other hand trailed down Alastor's waist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he leaned back and settled his weight over Alastor once more. His cock, hot and heavy, slid between the soft cleft of Alastor's ass, nudging deliciously up to the base of his tail and dragging moans from them both.
He exhaled slowly through his nose, shifting to guide himself. The swollen head of his cock met Alastor's tight entrance, and he pressed forward, sinking past the taut ring of muscle into searing heat. A sharp breath hissed through his teeth as he squeezed Alastor's hand, his forehead resting against the sharp edge of a shoulder blade.
A loud moan, laced with thick static, tumbled from Alastor as he pressed back. His grip on Lucifer's hand tightened, claws from his other hand digging into the pillow. The stretch burned, but it was a burn he welcomed from the man above him.
He rolled his hips, pushing back until Lucifer was finally fully seated inside him, their bodies flush. Then he gave a soft sigh as he relaxed into the mattress, limbs loose. A small, satisfied hum slipped from his throat, a faint smile on his face.
Lucifer stilled once he was fully sheathed, straddling Alastor's thighs and savoring the scorching heat and euphoric tightness wrapped around his cock. His long tail swayed slowly before it wrapped around Alastor's thigh possessively, squeezing lightly. His eyes fluttered open as he lifted his head to stare down at his husband, humming and bleeding satisfied static. He felt Alastor melt beneath him, completely open and relaxed, his breath warming the pillow, their hands locked.
"My beautiful deer," he murmured against Alastor's nape, the short hairs tickling his lips. "You're spoiling me, you know that?" He rocked his hips slowly, barely pulling out before sliding back in with aching slowness. "Lying here…all loose and lax. All for me."
A pleased rumble vibrated through Alastor's chest, his tail giving a lazy, happy flick against Lucifer's abdomen. His smile widened, soft and shameless, while his grip on Lucifer's hand stayed firm and possessive. "Only you," he murmured, his voice slow and low like syrup.
Lucifer groaned, rolling his hips again. He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Alastor's neck, his breath hot. "You're going to ruin me with those words, dear hart," he growled, punctuating his words with a shallow thrust, sharing a shudder between them. "Do you feel how tight you are? How I stretch you? How your body was made for me?"
Another roll of his hips followed, deeper. He slid in and out slowly, but deliberately, dragging out filthy, static-laden moans with every roll and thrust. He pressed a smile into Alastor's back, greedy as he drank in every sound. Every moan, every breath, and every garble of static; it fueled his need to drawn more out.
"I'll never get tired of your sounds. All these lovely noises you make as I fill you," Lucifer said, his words coming out breathless and needy. He scraped his teeth down Alastor's shoulder blade, not deep enough to draw blood, but enough to sting and light nerves on fire. Then, he laved his tongue over the angry marks beneath the fur, soothing the burn. "Do you even know what you do to me?"
A soft whimper was the only response he received.
Alastor laid there boneless against the bed as Lucifer moved in and out of him, not bothering to move. He didn't need to lift a finger as every thrust, every word, and every kiss was meant only for him to enjoy. And he was content to simply feel and be taken care of.
His breath picked up as he felt the heat curl low in his stomach. His cock, aching and neglected, throbbed between his gut and the bed. The friction was building maddeningly slow. He knew he wouldn't find his release as quickly as Lucifer, not like this. Not with how Lucifer was already spiraling and his thrusts were growing more desperate and sloppy.
An ear flicked as another moan tumbled past his husband's lips, the vibrations echoing through his back. He answered with his own soft moan and smiled faintly, squeezing his walls around Lucifer's cock as it sank back in.
A strangled choking sound was his reward. Satisfaction settled deep in his chest and his smile widened that he'd made such a large impact on Lucifer despite having barely moved.
"F-fuck," Lucifer choked out, a full-body shudder rushing through him as he forced himself to hold still. "You…you did that on purpose."
Alastor's lips quirked up further, yellow teeth flashing. "Possibly," he sighed, his voice light yet needy.
Lucifer growled and bit the back of Alastor's neck, sharp teeth sinking into the flesh just enough to make Alastor flinch and moan. "Brat," he muttered against his skin, affection clear in his voice.
He rutted forward, pressing himself as deep as he could go, and held there for a moment, panting against Alastor's neck. The heat between them broiled and pulsed, thick and fervent. He moved his free hand and braced it against the bed beside Alastor's ribs, pushing himself up. He set a steady pace, filled with purpose and need, quickly falling into something more desperate.
"You just love to push me, don't you?" He growled teasingly, snapping his hips forward in hard, deep thrusts. The bed creaked beneath them with each harsh movement, a breathless moan falling from his lips as he drove into that familiar heat again and again.
His gaze dropped between them where they were connected, watching with dark hunger as his cock moved in and out, glistening and stretching Alastor open around him. The sight almost made him come right then.
Another low sound rumbled from his chest as he dropped his head once more, forehead resting against Alastor's spine. His breath came in short, hot bursts against sweat-damp fur. With every thrust, his tail twitched tighter around Alastor's thigh as he felt himself falling closer to the precipice.
His thrusts faltered before they turned erratic, his hips pistoning deep and fast—driven by the need to bury himself so far inside Alastor he would never leave again. His tail tightened around Alastor's thigh, drawing a whimpering squeak from the man beneath him. The heat in his gut swelled, pressure building as those tight walls clamped around his cock.
With a strangled, guttural groan, Lucifer stilled. He buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching as his release tore through him, hot cum spilling inside. He gave a few slow, shallow rolls of his hips, his whole body shuddering before he collapsed forward, his weight sinking over Alastor and panting heavily.
Alastor hummed and sighed, his ears twitching as he listened to Lucifer fall apart behind him. His fingers twitched, tightening briefly around Lucifer's, but didn't let go. He laid there, content despite his own untouched cock pressed between him stomach and the sheets, begging for its own release.
Lucifer pressed his face between Alastor's shoulder blades as he sucked in lungfuls of air, the ringing in his ears fading and his heart rate easing from the marathon it had sprinted. With one more deep breath, he pressed a kiss to the heated fur before lifting himself up again.
"I might need to brush you again," Lucifer breathed out, eyeing the curled and matted fur from sweat and saliva. "My bad."
Alastor huffed, turning his head enough to glance over his shoulder, his eyes still glazed over with desire. "Don't act contrite now, Lu. We both know you were only after sex," he teased lightly, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Lucifer rolled his eyes, but a smile crept up his face. "While sex was part of it, I did want to help you relax. Grooming was the plan," he replied, planting a kiss to Alastor's cheek. "Now, how about I help you out now?" He squeezed his hand one more time before letting go and getting up, slipping out of Alastor.
Alastor grumbled at the loss. His tail twitched as the cool air brushed over it now that it wasn't trapped beneath Lucifer's stomach.
"You're not going to move, are you?" Lucifer asked, quirking a brow as he watched his husband continue to lay still. He only got a few wags of a tail and a small crackle of static—which suspiciously sounded amused and mocking. "Ugh, seriously? You're gonna be a pillow princess now?"
He huffed, shaking his head in amused disbelief before reaching over. His tail slithereing around Alastor's waist and rolled his long husband over onto his back. Alastor's small, but knowing grin met him, a gleam of shameless glee sparkling in his red-on-red eyes. "Brat," he snipped playfully.
A warm chuckle rumbled up from Alastor's throat as he laced his hands above his head, watching Lucifer through a lazy, half-lidded stare. "You're the one who wouldn't let me go back to sleep. I'm allowed a bit of a lazy morning."
Lucifer shot him a look. "I didn't hear you complaining—not with those noises you were making," he shot back. His eyes flicked down to Alastor's still hard cock resting against his belly, the tip glistening with pre-cum and dripping against his fur. "Speaking of which…"
His expression darkened with renewed hunger. With a low growl, he used his tail to lift one of Alastor's legs and ducked under it, positioning himself between those long legs. "I'm going to suck you off now," he said bluntly. His tail slid further down, winding around Alastor's calf. The spade tip traced slowly through the dark fur, keeping the leg held up, because he knew damn well Alastor wasn't about to hold it up himself. Lazy bastard.
"Do as you please," Alastor hummed nonchalantly, though his voice hitched slightly, not quite as unaffected as he tried to be. His eyes never left Lucifer, watching as his husband bent over him and dragged his long, forked tongue up the length of his cock.
It twitched in interest, betraying Alastor's feigned indifference. He huffed in affront, then gasped sharply when Lucifer wrapped his lips around the head without any warning. His eyes widened before fluttering closed, the warm, wet heat of Lucifer's mouth drawing a low moan from him and bringing a flush to his cheeks. One hand slipped down to cover his mouth, panting into his palm. "Lu…"
Lucifer gave a low hum in reply, the vibration traveling down Alastor's length and straight to his balls.
"Fuck." Alastor arched and whimpered, his fingers digging into his cheek. His lifted leg trembled in the grip of Lucifer's tail, his crimson-cloven toes curling as Lucifer took him deeper until the head of his cock nudged the back of his throat. Static crackled and screeched in response as he trembled against the bed, the heat building low in his gut.
Lucifer slowly pulled back, hollowing his cheeks until only the tip remained, swirling the tines of his forked tongue around the sensitive head in teasing, deliberate circles. Then he sank back down, his tongue flattening to lap long strokes along the underside as he set an easy rhythm.
Alastor writhed, biting down on his knuckle to keep himself from keening embarrassingly loud. The muscles of his stomach tensed and untensed as the coils of pleasure tightened dangerously fast. "L-Luci—"
Lucifer only hummed again, the vibrations sending another pulse of heat surging through him. Alastor's hips twitched, the coil in his gut winding tighter. The spade of Lucifer's tail gave an idle flick in amusement.
Then, Lucifer pulled back from the tip with a wet pop. His tongue curling down past his chin, and he grinned smugly. "Oh? Are you close already, deerest?"
Static crackled sharp and loud in answer. Alastor's internal dial spun furiously as a growl rose from his throat. His eyes snapped open, glowing red on black as he glared down at Lucifer. One hand curled into a tense fist like he was seconds away from grabbing Lucifer by his hair and shoving him back down. "Lucifer," he snarled, voice rough and desperate. "Don't tease me."
"Ooh, you must be really close if you're snarling at me," Lucifer said with a snicker, a cocky grin curling up his lips. But before Alastor could snap at him or bite his head off, Lucifer took Alastor back into his mouth, swallowing him down fully to the hilt in one smooth motion.
Alastor froze, eyes wide, before they rolled back as pleasure short-circuited every violent thought, his head dropping back to the pillow with a staticky whine. His body went pliant and loose beneath the devil, the irritation bleeding from him as shudders and gasping sighs racked his body, that unbearable heat coiling low once more.
Lucifer didn't dare make the snarky comment that was on the tip of his tongue. Tempting fate was fun, but he liked having his tongue attached. And right now, it was far better put to use.
His hands slid over Alastor's inner thighs, claws dragging slow, sensual lines across the skin beneath the fur before resting on his hips to hold him down. He bobbed his head up and down steadily, hollowing his cheeks while keeping his tongue firmly planted against the throbbing vein on the underside. He pushed forward until his flat nose was buried into the soft hair and Alastor's cock slid easily down his throat.
"M-mon aaange—please—" The words broke on Alastor tongue before they were interrupted by a loud moan he couldn't hold back. His clawed fingers dug into the sheets and pillow, threatening to tear them to ribbons. His hips jerked under Lucifer's strong grip as his free leg bent to try to escape his hold. His other leg bound by the whip-like tail, shook in an effort to move, but the tail locked his leg in place, bent and raised. "Lu-Lucifer—"
Lucifer growled deep in his throat and swallowed around the thick length. Then he pulled back slowly, sucking hard enough to draw out a filthy keen and a loud screech of distorted static so loud it rattled the air. His golden eyes glowed as he watched Alastor shatter.
Alastor's back arched, his eyes squeezed shut so tight that stars burst beneath his lids. A wave of white-hot pleasure washed through him like a heat wave, spilling across Lucifer's tongue and down his throat in hot spurts. Static crackled and a cacophony of musical instruments clattered together before a loud pop silenced it all at once. He collapsed against the bed with twitching limbs and shuddering breaths.
Lucifer swallowed him down greedily before he pulled off, licking his lips with a swipe of this prehensile tongue, looking far too pleased with himself. "I think that's the loudest and hardest you've come in a long time," he said smugly, voice rough.
Alastor grunted weakly, chest rising and falling with heavy, ragged breaths as he struggled to catch his breath.
*Smut ends here
Lucifer released his leg, setting it down with his tail before he trailed back up to plop down right next to his spent husband. He brushed sweaty red bangs from Alastor's forehead with gentle fingers, a small, fond smile resting on his face. "How about a quick shower, a proper brushing—no distractions this time—and breakfast?" He pressed a kiss to Alastor's temple. "How's that sound, dear hart?"
Alastor's eyes fluttered open, still hazy and blissed-out. He blinked slowly, ears twitching, but remaining low as he listened to Lucifer's soft, but wrecked voice. "…I think it's lunchtime."
Lucifer snorted and grinned. "Okay, lunch then, you brat," he replied with a roll of his eyes.
Alastor hummed in contentment, closing his eyes again. "As long as you don't expect me to move."
Lucifer gawked at him. "Are you—Al!" He broke into laughter. "Pillow princess treatment is done! Up, you menace, and to the shower with you. Or I'll dump a bucket of cold water on you."
Both of Alastor's ears pressed against his skull in irritation. His cracked one eyes open to glare lightly at Lucifer. "Don't you dare," he grumbled as he finally pushed himself up into a sitting position. "Threaten me… not an angel… so rude." He continued muttering as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, wobbly.
Lucifer snickered as he caught snippets of his husband's grousing and stood as well. He stretched, arms over his head and tail swishing behind him, before he followed after his grumpy deer to the shower.
—
Location: Potter Manor - Hallway
July 21st, 1996 3:39 PM
"Alastor!"
Alastor stopped mid-step just short of his office, invisible ears twitching as he caught Hermione's voice and her quick, but light footsteps behind him. He turned and smiled pleasantly at Hermione.
"Good afternoon," he greeted, turning on his heel to face her. He had seen the others briefly at lunch when he and Lucifer had finally emerged from their bedroom, but it was always polite to greet others—as his Maman would say.
"We heard back from Luna," Hermione said in lieu of her own greeting, a piece of parchment in her hand. She stopped in front of him with a smile. "She says she's coming by Saturday, sometime in the late morning. She said something about bringing gifts for 'the rulers of fire and static'." She shrugged, bemused. "Whatever that means. It's Luna—I suppose that just means she's excited."
"Ah, lovely," he replied with a nod, eyes glinting in amusement. "We'll be looking forward to her visit. I suppose I should think of something to gift her in return." He tapped his chin in thought before shaking his head. "Thank you for letting me know. For now, I do need to speak with Sirius about the trial tomorrow."
Hermione nodded, but a spark of interest lit in her eyes. "Do you need us to do anything for tomorrow? Ron and I can offer up our memories from third year."
"No, it's quite alright, Hermione," Alastor replied. "I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not involve you in this messy case. Luci and I found very solid evidence that will come as quite the shock to the Wizengamot." His smile grew sharp. "But I'm sure Sirius will be doing a play-by-play tomorrow evening at dinner as a free man."
Hermione's shoulders sagged a little and her smile grew smaller. "Oh…okay…" She drew her bottom lip between her top teeth, looking uncertain.
Alastor lifted a brow. "I know that look. And I want you to remove those horribly negative thoughts from your head this instant," he said firmly. "It may not seem like it, but believe me when I say you are helping. All of you. Reaching out to Luna, perusing through the Potter library, and educating yourselves on the past, asking questions and prodding where it matters."
He paused, holding her gaze, unwavering. "Just because you not raising your wand at a combat dummy or staring down danger doesn't mean you aren't helping. Keep digging deeper into the Potter library, into the dusty tomes that haven't seen the light in decades. I have no doubt you'll find something that could help Balance further," he said with a wink.
Hermione's shoulders drew back, her spine straightening, and a determined glint sparked in her brown eyes. "I know what you're doing," she said, her voice firm in a no nonsense tone. "You're trying to keep us here. Keep us from getting hurt—from digging deeper into this war. Just like all the other adults."
Alastor blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard. His eyebrows climbed up his forehead and his invisible ears flicked back, then straightened again.
Her brows pulled together as frustration painted her expression, a fierce frown tugging her lips down. "I thought you would treat us better than that, Alastor," she said, her voice breaking halfway through her sentence. "But you're no better than the other adults shutting us out, because we're just kids." The last word came out hissed between her teeth, like the word was an insult.
A frown cut across Alastor's face. "That's not—"
"Yes it is!" Hermione snapped, cutting him off. Her fingers curled around the parchment in her hands, the soft crinkle of paper sounding out of place after her outburst. "You may not think you're pushing us away, but you are! You used to rely on us. And now you barely even tell us you've moved!"
Alastor winced, a grimace pulling on his mouth. She wasn't wrong, he realized sharply. "I'm just trying to protect you," he said, frustration bleeding into his voice. "I don't want to see you broken and dead. Those images are still burned into my brain and I refuse to ever let them come to pass."
"So you're just going to ignore us? Keep us locked in this house?" She demanded, voice sharp as a whip crack. "You don't think we don't know the risks? Ron and I have been facing magical chess matches, dementors, werewolves, basilisks! We've been jumping into danger with you since we were eleven! You trained us last year during the D.A. to help defend ourselves against the upcoming war. And now, you're just going to stop?"
She huffed, the furious glint in her eyes growing brighter as her frizzy hair seemed to expand with her agitation. "War is here, Alastor. There's no stopping it—or our involvement. The Weasley's are obviously not on the Dark side. And I'm a muggleborn. We're already targets! If you keep trying to protect us like this…we're just going to end up dead anyway!"
Her words were like a punch to the gut. He felt a coldness—an emotion he didn't associate with very often anymore—creep up inside of him and he didn't like it. Fear. He hated it.
Anger quickly burned through the fear—though it still lingered somewhere in the cogs of his black heart. He just managed to stop himself from baring his teeth into a snarl. Static crackled faintly, and the shadows crawling low along the walls began to writhe as his temper flared.
"Don't you dare get angry with me!" Hermione said, eyes narrowed the moment she noticed the shift in his face. "I'm just telling you the truth! And when you're done acting like a self-important jerk—and done treating your old best friends like children—come find me!"
She pivoted on her heel and stomped away, the letter in her hand nearly crumpled up into a ball.
Alastor swallowed a growl and drew in a large breath, holding it until his lungs started to protest. He was dead, yes, but his lungs didn't necessarily appreciate the lack of air still. Just as his heart continued to beat. Despite his lack of body—that was long buried and rotted. It was a strange paradox not even Lucifer understood.
He exhaled slowly. With it, his shadows calmed and the static went quiet again. "Damnit," he cursed, rubbing his forehead. He could feel a headache beginning to pulse behind his eyes. He was never very good at handling emotional outbursts. Especially when he they caught him off guard.
"I need Cece," he grumbled as he turned back to the office door and entered. 'Her or a stiff couple of drinks just to figure out this complicated mess I've landed myself in.' He shut the door behind him, feeling the runes flair to life, preventing eavesdroppers.
"Al?" Lucifer called from where he sat at one of the three sofas, his gaze steady on his husband. Sirius sat across from him on another sofa.
Alastor sighed and walked further into the room, his feet leading him to Lucifer. He was very tempted to grab the decanter of whisky, but refrained. Now wasn't a time for alcohol when they needed to focus on the trial tomorrow. "I'm fine," he said finally, gently sitting himself next to Lucifer. He rubbed his temple with a wry frown. "Just a headache."
"We heard Hermione's voice," Sirius said, gray eyes fixed on him. "She didn't sound too happy."
"She isn't," Alastor replied simply, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it. A problem for me to sort out later." He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he spread the paperwork over the coffee table. "Let's focus on what's going to happen tomorrow."
Sirius straightened up, an interesting mix of anxiousness and hopefulness warring on his face. "Yeah…right. Tomorrow…"
Alastor ignored the hesitation in Sirius' voice, pushing forward with facts—things that made sense and didn't require emotion. "Tomorrow, the trial starts at eight AM sharp. We'll be sneaking you in as Padfoot two hours earlier in case someone's watching for you or they try to change the time," he said with a scoff. His eyes narrowed, one hand curling into a fist. "I'd like to see them try."
One of Lucifer's brows lifted at the heat in his husband's voice. Whatever was said between him and his friend Hermione had clearly worked him up.
"We'll be convening in Madame Bones' office, where we'll meet with your solicitor," Alastor continued, ignoring Lucifer's burning gaze on the side of his head. "Once the time comes, you'll be escorted by some trusted aurors to the courtroom. Myself, Lucien, and Ms. Skeeter will be the only guests. Permission granted by the Minister himself."
He rolled his eyes, but wasn't going to try to dissuade the man from doing them a favor. No doubt Scrimgeour wanted something in return, but perhaps he should've gotten it in writing. One corner of his mouth quirked at the thought. He would have been terrible at demon deals.
"From there, the Minister will preside over the trial. Calling for evidence, asking for your side of the story of what happened on Samhain 1981," he said, sliding his eyes up from the parchment to Sirius. "I was told by your solicitor that it would be wise to volunteer for Veritaserum. That way, even the huffy, stiff-collared traditionalists in the Wizengamot won't be able to twist your words."
Sirius gave a wheeze that might have been laughter. Anxiety was obviously winning and overwhelming hope. His knee bounced as his eyes stared at Alastor, unseeing. One hand covered his mouth.
"With the evidence, no doubt I'll likely be asked to step forward as well," Alastor said.
"Wha—why?" Sirius suddenly said, his gaze snapping back into focus.
Alastor raised a brow. "Because my Vault Verification and my parents' Will are being used as evidence. The Wizengamot will want to know how these documents became part of the court's evidence—and how Harry Potter managed to provide them when they still believe he's missing."
"So…you're going to reveal yourself?" Lucifer asked, voice quiet and hesitant, watching Alastor carefully.
Alastor's gaze flicked to Lucifer and offered him a confident smile. His emotions may be a bit mixed up elsewhere, but he was confident in this. "I am. If it will help my godfather against these blind bigots, then yes."
Sirius swallowed loudly and pressed his hand more firmly to his mouth, his breathing quickening. "You…you shouldn't…"
"Hush," Alastor interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. "It's no issue. And it was bound to happen eventually. This way it will be under my control as to opposed to someone betraying my trust once again."
Dumbledore's name was unspoken, but the implication was crystal clear. He narrowed his eyes.
Sirius drew in a large breath and exhaled through his nose, then nodded. "Right."
"Once the evidence has been proven true and your story is told, a final statement will be read, and the Wizengamot will vote," Alastor continued, leaning back with a sharp, satisfied smile. "And if the court isn't filled with complete, half-brained twits, then you'll be declared innocent of all charges and you walk out a free man at last."
The silence lingered for a moment.
"But what if they don't?" Sirius choked out, his knee bouncing faster. The tap-tap-tap of his heel against the carpeted floor grew louder and more frantic.
"Then Lucien portals you out. Simple," Alastor replied nonchalantly, though his eyes burned with anger. "And I refrain from murdering the idiots who voted against you."
"That would put a few kinks in our future plans if you kill them, Al," Lucifer said with a sharp smile.
"I know that, Luci," Alastor grumbled in return, fingers curling against his knees. He felt a spike of irritation, static bleeding through once more before he forced it back down.
Lucifer raised a brow, studying his husband. Then he glanced back at Sirius, who was still anxiously staring down at the coffee table. He forced his voice light when he spoke next. "Oookay… Sirius, why don't you go find Remus, hmm? Get a round of hanky-panky in to calm your nerves."
Sirius blinked slowly. "Yeah…yeah, good idea," he mumbled absently, pushing off the couch. His boots scuffed the carpet as he shuffled toward the door. It clicked shut behind him softly.
Lucifer waited a moment before his glamor dropped, his golden eyes narrowed on Alastor. "Okay, what the fuck is going on?" His voice was low and flat, a warning to Alastor not to dance around the question.
Alastor huffed and turned away, his lips pressed thin as his glamor dropped as well. His ears pinned back in irritation and his red eyes fixed on the window across the room. Shadows flickered faintly around him—his form smoking—before he tapered it down. He opened his mouth to answer, but paused and growled instead, low and frustrated.
He knew he couldn't lie to Lucifer. One, he was the Father of Lies, he knew when someone was lying. And two…well, this was his husband. His partner of nearly fifty years. They told each other pretty much everything. Though he couldn't help but feel embarrassed now. Not only with how he had poorly handled Hermione's valid anger, but also the fact of how dismissive he'd been treating her and the others.
"I may have fucked up, love," he muttered finally, his voice soft with frustration. He turned his face away, eyes unseeing as he spoke. "I've been a terrible friend to Hermione and Ron and the others. Treating them like children. When I swore I wouldn't."
"Is that what the yelling was about?" Lucifer asked quietly, scooting closer. One leg bent on the couch , the other planted on the floor, he leaned in to rest his forehead against Alastor's upper arm. One of his hands found his shoulder, warm and steady and supportive.
"Yes and no," Alastor replied, subtly leaning back into Lucifer, though he kept his gaze locked on his desk. One ear flicked. "She's upset because I've been acting like a self-important jerk, patronizing. But also because I don't seem to trust them anymore."
Lucifer hummed, his thumb rubbing slow circles into Alastor's shoulder. His other arm carefully circled around Alastor's waist, drawing them both closer.
Alastor went absentmindedly as he continued talking. "It's not that I don't trust them. It's that I'm…" He paused and winced, his words catching in his throat. He leaned further back into Lucifer, ears turning back slightly in a visible sign of shame.
"You're afraid," Lucifer murmured, finishing the thought. "Afraid they'll see what you've become. A demon with few morals left and who thrives on killing."
"A monster," Alastor corrected with a roll of his eyes. He finally turned in Lucifer's hold, pulling back enough to meet his gaze. "Because that's what I am, Lucifer. And I'm quite proud of that fact."
"Okay, but you're my monster," Lucifer said with a growing grin.
"Indeed I am," Alastor agreed with his own grin. "However, I don't think that explanation is going to hold over well with the others." He sighed and ran his crimson-tipped claws through his hair, barely avoiding his antlers. "I'm not sure how to fix this mess. I need Cece."
Lucifer hummed, tilting his head with a frown. "You do know she'll figure out exactly how to fix this in two seconds flat…and then refuse to tell you to make a point, right?"
Alastor made a sour face at him, then deflated with a huff. "Most likely."
Lucifer nodded with a semi-serious expression before he smiled again, softer. "I can help you, though. Be there when you talk to them," he offered quietly, leaning in again to rest his head on Alastor's shoulder. "Offer help without revealing your bloodthirsty hobbies."
Alastor gave a soft snort, dropping his cheek to rest atop Lucifer's soft hair, his breath ruffling a few loose strands. "I actually wouldn't mind that, mon ange."
They sat like that for a few heartbeats, warm and quiet in each other's hold, just enjoying the comforting heat. Then Lucifer finally moved, slowly pulling away. He leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss to Alastor's cheek sweetly before standing, his touch lingering.
"Later, though," he spoke quietly, eyes soft and full of love. "I got somewhere to be soon. Maybe after dinner?"
Alastor tilted his head in thought. "Perhaps it's best to give Hermione a little time to cool down. She does have an infamously scary temper." He gave a small shudder. "Remember the story I told you about her punching another student in the face because he thought it was funny a Hippogriff was sentenced to death?"
Lucifer snorted into his hand, eyes sparkling. "Ah, yes, I do remember that story. The famous right hook of '94."
"Exactly," Alastor said with a quiet chuckle. "Perhaps after the trial tomorrow."
"Alright." Lucifer turned, but paused. "Oh, you cooking tonight?"
Alastor shook his head. "No, it's takeout tonight. Sounded like Greek won out—Molly mentioned it earlier."
Lucifer's eyes lit up. "Ooh! If I'm not back, can you make sure you get me the lamb souvlaki? Pleeease?" He clasped his hands together like a child begging for dessert.
A small chuckle tumbled past Alastor's lips and he rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'll make sure you get your lamb. Extra tzatziki sauce and side of baklava?"
"Yes please!" Lucifer beamed. He quickly leaned back in and placed a much sloppier kiss on Alastor's cheek, before darting away.
Alastor wrinkled his nose and scowled at his husband. "You're dreadful."
"And you married me!" Lucifer sang brightly, giggling. "I'm off. See you at dinner. Love you!" With that, he summoned a portal, snapped his glamor in place, and disappeared with a wink.
Alastor exhaled through his nose and shook his head, watching the portal snap shut.
—
Location: Little Whinging
July 21st, 1996 5:11 PM
Lucifer's POV
Lucifer hummed a random tune under his breath as he sauntered down the sidewalk, heels clicking against the pavement. Row after row of identical houses blurred together like a dull parade of passing houses of brown bricks and clipped hedges. The only differences were the numbers on the side, the cars parked in the driveway, and the occasional flora in the garden.
"This place is Hell," he muttered to himself, his eyes drifting over yet another white-picket fence. Another cookie-cutter home. And another. "Al grew up here?" He pressed his lips together in wry disbelief. He honestly couldn't see it. Alastor, his Alastor—who was charming, charismatic, slightly unhinged, and thrived on chaos—grew up here in a boring suburban neighborhood for fourteen years?
He shook his head, blinking a few times. "Crazy," he muttered. "There's nothing of Alastor here." Still, a part of him was obviously curious. Seeing where his husband spent his earliest years—painful as they were—was something he couldn't pass up.
"Now, we just need to swing by New Orleans before we head home," he said, pursing his lips in thought. "I think he'd like that. A nice little surprise." His lips quirked up into a pleased smile. He could plan something special for him. Maybe they could have dinner, take a moonlit walk through the bayou, check out his old neighborhood—see how much it had changed in sixty years.
He hummed absentmindedly as he continued walking, then shook his head to clear it. He refocused—he could plan a romantic getaway later—his eyes roaming for Number Four as he turned onto Private Drive. It wasn't exactly hard to miss, but it also would have been easy to overlook—just like every house in the neighborhood.
"How miserable," he said to himself as he approached Number Four. "Let's get this over with."
He adjusted his bow tie and paused, his eyes fixed on the flowers in the front garden. The first thing he noticed, lining along the fence, were foxgloves, tall and delicate in a dusky pink, obviously impressive. Two large hydrangea bushes sat comfortably underneath the front window, their blues popping against the vibrant green leaves and shading a cluster of bright red poppies in the garden dirt. Near the far corner of the house, almost hidden, was a small white lilac shrub—almost half-forgotten, if it hadn't been so recently pruned. And nestled around its base were bright orange-gold marigolds, vivid pops of color standing proudly against the white flowers behind them.
He stared, his thoughts swirling as he went over every meaning behind each flower with a tilted head. 'Did Alastor plant and care for these? Or did Petunia plant these?' Did she even know the language of flowers? Because if she did…she was telling quite the story.
He shook his head and made a thoughtful, curious noise. Adjusting his clipboard, he made sure the paper was visible before he knocked politely on the door.
It took a few moments before a thin, middle-aged woman with a long, severe face, long neck, and tight blonde curls opened the door. She blinked at him a for a moment before the sour look on her face melted into something more interested.
"We're not buying anything," she said finally, though her pale blue eyes looked him and down. She didn't shut the door.
Lucifer smiled—though internally, he grimaced. "Oh, no. I'm not selling anything, miss," he replied brightly, his voice chipper and professional. "I'm actually here with the Garden of Eden Association. My name is Lucien and I'm here because your lovely garden has been nominated for Best Flora feature." He gestured toward his clipboard with a smile. "It's a rather unique composition of flowers we don't often see, and we at G.E.A. love to see such original work and shine the spotlight on it!"
Petunia blinked in surprise, placing a hand to her chest. "Oh. Is that so?" She asked, her tone changing to something low and humble, offering Lucifer a warm smile. "Well, that's wonderful news. I work very hard on my garden, you know."
"We can tell," Lucifer replied smoothly. "Your flowers are beautifully arranged and tenderly pruned. But, you wouldn't mind if I come in for a few minutes, would you? There's a form that I need you to fill out to verify the nomination. And I would love to hear more about your inspiration."
"Oh, yes! Yes, Of course. I would love to have such a handsome gentleman in my home," she said, a raspy note creeping into her voice and making an unpleasant shiver run up Lucifer's spine.
'Oh, hell no, lady,' he thought, forcing his smile to remain in place as he entered the house. He reached out with his senses, only sensing two souls in the house, both adults. 'Good. Just Petunia and Vernon. Don't need to worry about the cousin.'
Petunia guided Lucifer into the living room, tacky floral wallpaper stretched from wall to wall—apparently a popular choice among humans for their décor these days. He arched a brow. Taste was always subjective.
His eyes flicked to the portly man sitting in a worn armchair. The man's beady eyes locked onto Lucifer the moment he entered.
"Who're you?" He asked gruffly, his bushy broom-like mustache twitching with the movement as he spoke.
"Darling, this here is Lucien," Petunia cooed from beside Lucifer, her voice simpering and sugary. Her eyes were alight with excitement as she introduced him to her husband. "He's with the Garden Association."
Vernon Dursley let out a grunt and a dismissive grumble, his interest lost as he turned back to the television by the boarded up fireplace.
'Charming fellow,' Lucifer sneered internally, raising a brow.
"Lucien, please, sit. Make yourself comfortable," Petunia said, her hands fluttering in front of her as she gestured toward the couch—also floral and smelling of bagged potpourri. "Would you like anything? Tea? Biscuits?"
Lucifer sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, his clipboard on his lap. He shook his head politely. "No, I'm okay. I have dinner plans after this actually."
Petunia hummed in slight disappointment, but sat on the opposite side of the couch.
"Now, before we get to filling out the paperwork," Lucifer said before Petunia could speak, his voice pleasant and practiced, "how about you tell me about your inspiration for your blooms out front? I'm rather curious as every flower has a story and meaning. And yours…well, it's quite the combination. I'd love to know why you planted these specific varieties."
Petunia folded her hands in her lap with a tight, polite smile. "Oh, I wouldn't say there's a particular inspiration," she said lightly. "I just picked what looked nice at the shop. Foxgloves and hydrangeas are brilliant and beautiful, you don't see them too often in gardens around here. The rest I sort of…filled in as I went."
Lucifer tilted his head slightly, pursing his lips as he studied her. "Really?" He asked, voice still pleasant, but a tinge of amusement bled through. "No inspiration at all?"
Petunia gave a nervous little laugh. "Well, I do enjoying gardening. It's quite calming and peaceful." She sat up straighter, smoothing out the skirt of her dress. "It's nothing more than that, I'm afraid."
'Liar.' Lucifer hummed and clicked his tongue, eyes glinting as he leaned forward just a bit. His fingers tapped against the wooden clipboard idly. "Interesting. Because to someone who understands the language of flowers—Floriography—your choices paint a much different picture. They read more like a confession than a decorative arrangement, Petunia."
Petunia's smile faltered. "I…I don't know what you mean."
"Oh, I think you do," he replied smoothly, narrowing his eyes slightly. "Let's start with the foxglove, right at the front of the garden. Beautiful, poisonous, and symbolic of both insincerity and complex emotions. Then there's the hydrangea, typically associated with apology, coldness, or boastfulness, depending on the shade. Yours are blue. That means regret."
Petunia sat up straighter as his words washed over her, her knuckles turning white as they curled into fists.
"Now, the poppies," he continued, voice a touch quieter, a thoughtful look in his gaze. "Bright red. Classic symbol of death and remembrance. Very fitting, considering your late sister. And then, off to the side, at the corner of the house, a small white lilac bush. Youthful innocence, early love. Could have been easily overlooked, but you keep it pruned, don't you? Still remembering days since long past."
Petunia said nothing, but her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
"And then, nestled around it," Lucifer went on, his tone soft, but needling, "marigolds. Associated with grief, jealousy, and pain. Bright and bold, especially planted near the white lilac."
The two sat in silence for a moment, the only noise coming from the television, where Vernon grumbled about commercials, completely oblivious. Lucifer's fingers stilled, the tap-tap-taps still lingering.
"Get out of my house," Petunia finally said, her voice sharp and waspish. "I don't know what kind of trick this is, but we want none of your kind here."
Lucifer's smile didn't waver. "My kind?" He echoed, tilting his head. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Petunia. I'm not a wizard." He paused, letting his words hang for only a moment before he was speaking again. "I'm actually here for one, though."
"I don't care," she snipped at him, standing abruptly, her expression much less welcoming. "If you're associated with those freaks in any way, you need to leave. Or…or I'm calling the police."
A surprised chuckle tumbled from Lucifer's lips, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sorry, I don't mean to laugh," he said as he noticed her affronted look. "Just…they won't be able to do anything."
He leaned back slightly and shook his head with a small smile. "Aren't you curious as to why I'm here? Who I'm here for?"
"Absolutely not!" She snapped, raising her voice over the television and finally drawing her husband's attention.
"What's going on?" Vernon asked, his eyes flicking between Petunia and Lucifer. "Pet?"
"This…man…is here on behalf of them," she replied, still glaring at Lucifer.
"What?!" Vernon roared, trying to bolt out of his seat, only to struggle slightly due to his weight. But he managed to get to his feet and point a thick finger at Lucifer. "OUT! Out of my house this instant!"
Lucifer's eyes darted between the couple, amusement clear as day on his face. "So…you're not interested in what happened to Harry and his disappearance? Or…if he's even alive?" He asked, his eyes focusing more on Petunia than Vernon. "Because, judging by those flowers out front…you care. At least a little bit."
Petunia froze, eyes going wide. Her face paled and her lips quivered slightly as she stared at Lucifer in shock.
"Why would we care about that ruddy freak?!" Vernon shouted, taking a step toward Lucifer. He puffed up his chest to try to intimidate the much smaller man, looming, but Lucifer remained seated on the couch, completely unbothered. "Get out!"
"W-wait…" Petunia's voice was quiet, barely a whisper, but it was sharp enough to stop Vernon's bluster.
He blinked, thrown off. "Pet?"
She shook her head once, here eyes still on Lucifer. "What… You know what happened to Harry?"
Lucifer raised a brow, surprise flickering across his face. He hadn't expected for her to actually care. And yet, there it was. A small spark something in her voice, in her face, that showed she did care.
"Huh…" He studied her more closely, a faint frown on his lips. "I didn't actually expect you to care, considering how you treated him over the years."
She winced in response then drew herself up. "We didn't have a choice," she snapped sharply, a bitterness bleeding into her voice. "He was dumped on us after my sister's death. And I was just expected to take in an extra mouth to feed. While dealing with the grief that my sister is dead."
Lucifer nodded slowly. "That makes some sense. Still…the way you treated your nephew was deplorable. And you know it."
Her jaw clenched and she tilted her head up before crossing her arms. "It doesn't matter. What's done is done and there's nothing you can do about it."
His lips curled up into an unpleasant smile. "I wouldn't so sure about that," he said vaguely, tone lilting. Then he waved his hand dismissively. "Now, about Harry. He disappeared on December 31st, 1995, just before the new year. Aren't you curious as to what happened to him?"
"And you know?" She asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"I do!" He replied with a bright smile. "It's a strange story involving time travel—which yes, is real." He pointed a finger at her like he was sharing a fun secret. "But it's so complicated. Wizards have only managed to go back , oh…five hours at most. Safely, at least."
Both Petunia and Vernon seemed to be reel from the news, unsure on how to handle the existence of time travel. Especially since, somehow, Harry was connected to it.
"But, Harry—well, he goes by another name now. Alastor," Lucifer explained, giving a half-shrug, "was swept back in time. He ended up in the early 1900s in New Orleans. The height of jazz and prohibition, made a name for himself—you could probably look him up." His lips twitched up slightly then shook his head.
"You're making this up!" Petunia suddenly snapped, finding her voice.
Lucifer cocked his head to the side, a strange smile on his face. He folded his hands over the clipboard still in his lap. "Now why would I make this up?"
He let the silence stretch just long enough before continuing, voice still polite but sharp.
"I know exactly what you did to him. I know about the cupboard under the stairs. I know about how you kept him hungry for both food and love. I know that you worked him like a slave to clean the house. I'm honestly surprised you kept taking care of the garden after he disappeared."
The blood drained from Petunia's face the longer he spoke, proving he obviously knew her nephew.
Lucifer gave a light sigh, setting the clipboard aside on the floral couch cushion. "But, if you want proof…" He finally stood, reaching into his back pocket. He pulled out a photograph he'd taken recently with Alastor. It had taken many, many bribes to get Alastor to pose with him. They were in their human disguises, and Lucifer now owed Alastor several hoof massages—but it had been worth it. Especially since the photo wasn't distorted.
He handed it over to Petunia, who took the photograph with shaking fingers.
In the Polaroid, Lucifer was standing next to a taller, dark-skinned man with bright green eyes behind black glasses and messy dark brown curls. Their cheeks were squished together. Lucifer's smile was large and radiant while Alastor's was small and soft, his eyes focused on the smaller man rather than on the lens.
Petunia stared. He looked just like James Potter, but with Lily's eyes. And if she squinted, she could just make out the faded lightning bolt scar under his messy curls. "This… This is Harry," she whispered. "But he's all grown. You're telling the truth." She blinked at the photo in disbelief—until it was snatched from her hand. Lucifer tucked it back in his pocket.
"Of course I am," Lucifer replied, shooting her an offended look. "Why would I go through all this effort to lie to you?"
"Well, so what?" Vernon interrupted before Petunia could continue, his voice blustering through the room once again. "All grown up—good riddance, I say!" He shook a thick finger in the air and nodded with a satisfied grunt.
Petunia ignored him. "So… He's alive? He's safe?"
"Oh, no, he's dead," Lucifer said frankly, huffing in amusement. "Dead, dead."
Petunia's hand found her husband's shoulder as she swayed, her face so pale she looked sickly. Vernon reacted by grabbing a hold of her before she could fall. "Wh-what?" She scratched out, her voice thin and strained. "He's…dead?"
Lucifer blinked, surprised by the intensity her reaction. "Yeah, but he's fine now."
"That makes no blasted sense, man!" Vernon barked, helping Petunia sit in the armchair he had occupied earlier. "He can't be dead and fine at the same time!"
Lucifer raised a brow at him, looking at him like he was obtuse. "His body is dead. His soul isn't. When a mortal body dies, the soul doesn't just vanish. It goes somewhere."
Vernon's mouth opened and closed, gaping like a fish.
Petunia drew in a few deep and shaky breaths, her hand over her chest. Then asked, in a breathless, uncertain voice, "Is he… Is he in Heaven?"
Lucifer barked out a laugh, loud and harsh in the stilted room. "Oh, absolutely not! No, no. Alastor's soul fell to Hell."
Both Petunia and Vernon were stunned silent once again before Vernon finally spoke, a mean glint in his eyes. "See. I knew it. That boy was going straight to Hell for his freakishness."
Lucifer's amusement vanished instantly. His easy grin dropped into a scowl, his eyes narrowing dangerously. His voice was clipped and cold and final. "Shut up."
The air in the room stilled. Then the temperature began to rise. Lucifer to a step toward Vernon, still only a few feet away, a sneer slashed across his face. "You shut your fucking mouth, mortal." His voice was low, but seething.
"Alastor didn't fall to Hell because he was a wizard, because he was gifted with magic. He's in Hell because he's a serial killer. He took the lives of those who thought they were above the law. Who thought they could get away with beating their wives and their children. People who thought they could get away with murder because of their skin color was light enough, or pockets were deep enough."
His lips pulled back into a silent snarl, baring his teeth as his blue eyes flashed red and gold. "Alastor made sure the streets of New Orleans were a bit safer for people who were suppressed. He's powerful, respected, and feared. He stands besides those who lift him up. He's a wonderful husband and step-father. And he keeps order in the Pride Ring—something I've struggled to do for centuries."
Suddenly the heat vanished and Lucifer straightened, eerily calm. His expression stoic and his voice quiet. "Then again…you'll find out soon enough."
Vernon staggered back half a step. "Wh-what do you mean? Who are you?!" He shouted, his fear obvious, but he tried to puff himself up, to shout at the threat in hopes of scaring it off.
Lucifer scoffed before a slow, cruel smile curled up his face, his eyes glinting like cold glass. "Oh, apologies. Allow me to introduce myself properly," he mocked, giving a dramatic half-bow, one hand sweeping to the side. "Lucifer Morningstar. Fallen angel, Devil, King of Hell. I also happened to be married to Alastor. Who was once Harry Potter."
Petunia started at him like her world had tilted sideways and refused to right itself. Her fingers dug into the armrest, knuckles pale, and her breath coming in shallow puffs. "That's…that's not possible," she whispered, though her voice lacked conviction. Her eyes flicked over Lucifer's face again. He was beautiful, flawless in fact, with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. "You're…you're mad. You must be."
Lucifer tilted his head, studying her with a look that seemed to pierce right through her. "Ah," he murmured, "but you don't really believe that, do you?"
She flinched, averting her eyes to her lap.
"No." Vernon stepped forward again, anger flaring hot and loud, smothering the fear creeping up his spine. "No, she can't believe that! Because you're talking rubbish," he barked, jabbing a finger toward him. "You're some nutter invading our home. Probably escaped from somewhere. That's what this is."
Lucifer's gaze slid from Petunia to Vernon, his lips twitching in clear amusement. "Oh, I love this part," he said, light and mocking. "The denial. The excuses. That if you shout loud enough, it might drown out that fear prickling at the back of your neck."
Vernon scoffed, his mustache twitching. "You expect us to believe you're the Devil? That you married that boy?" His face twisted into a sneer. "You're barking! Get out of my house before I call the police!"
Lucifer gave in and smiled, but it wasn't pleasant. It was sharp and menacing, stretching too wide across his face.
Petunia swallowed hard and reached out to grab her husband's arm, fingers trembling. "Vernon," she warned quietly, her eyes never leaving Lucifer. "I don't think—"
"I said out!" Vernon roared, taking another lumbering step forward.
"No… I don't think I will," Lucifer replied matter-of-factly. "I came here—filled out the proper paperwork, in fact—for a reason. So I'm not leaving. Not until I have your souls in my possession."
A growl, deep and guttural, vibrated around the room as the temperature spiked sharply. Hotter than before. Sweat formed on Vernon's brow instantly and his face grew flushed within moments. Petunia cotton dress clung heavily to her frame, and she began fanning herself with shaking hands.
Then, in a shimmer of red and gold, Lucifer dropped his glamor. In his place stood a creature of divine beauty. His skin was the color of alabaster, his once rosy cheeks became perfect red circles. His clear blue eyes now glowed bright gold, swimming in molten red sclera. Two pointed crimson horns curved elegantly up from the top of his head, and behind him swayed a long whip-like tail, the spaded tip flicking in an almost playful manner. Then six red and white wings flared out behind him like a peacock's display. They filled the small living room in a rush of power and heat, overwhelming.
His whole outfit changed as well, changing from a simple light blue button down shirt and pressed khaki pants to his crisp white suit, accented in bold red, and a pink and white striped vest. Perched atop his head sat a white top hat with a small golden crown, a yellow hissing snake, and bright red apple resting on the wide brim.
Lucifer's smile widened, stretching impossibly across his face, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth that did not belong to any human mouth.
Petunia gasped, loud and sharp, as she collapsed against the back of the chair. Tears of fear welled in her eyes as a hand reached for her neck to clutch non-existent pearls, as if sheer decorum could shield her from the Devil himself.
Vernon's face went from beet red to ashen within seconds. He staggered back, nearly tripping over the armchair his wife still occupied. "W-what in—" His voice cracked and failed, dissolving into a strangled noise that sounded like a dying animal.
Lucifer chuckled, tapping a single black claw against the apple headed handle of his cane. "Ya see?" He said lightly, as if commenting idly on the weather. "Your souls are already bound for Hell. I'm just here to 'expedite the process', so to speak."
He leaned forward slightly, demonic eyes glittering. "And it definitely has nothing to do with revenge for how you treated my husband when he was a child." The tone of his voice dripped heavily with irony. The implication was crystal clear: it had everything to do with exactly that.
"Now then," he purred, voice as smooth as honey, "while I did come here for your souls, that doesn't mean it's going to be that simple. No, no, noooo." His eyes narrowed, studying them with a sharpness. He tilted his head to the side, his horns catching the weak overhead light. "I think a little punishment is in order."
*Brief mention of torture
He eyes landed on Petunia first. She whimpered, trembling in the chair, her eyes locked on his glowing gaze. "Petunia Dursley," he spoke softly. "You starved little Harry of food and affection. Isolated him, called him terrible names…" His smile sharpened. "Let's see how you fare being starved and isolated."
He lifted his hand, his finger and thumb forming into the shape of a gun, and pointed it at her. "How about a little psychological fun? Locked away in your own mind." A tiny pinpoint of golden light lit the tip of his finger before it shot straight between Petunia's eyes.
She slumped back as though she had simply passed out, her body going completely limp. Her chest still rose and fell, slow and steady, looking peaceful. But she was trapped in her own mind as Lucifer's punishment played out behind her closed eyes.
"Pet?" Vernon asked, a note of alarm in his voice. "Petunia?"
When she didn't wake, or so much as twitch, he whirled back around to Lucifer, anger blazing in his beady eyes. "YOU—"
He choked as a golden whip snapped around his neck and yanked him down hard to his knees.
Lucifer smirked, twirling the end of the whip around his hand. "And you…" he said, eyes gleaming with malicious delight. He tucked his cane under his arm as he used both hands to work the whip. "You liked to hit little Harry. Broke his bones. Took swings at him for asking questions. Took your anger out on him after you had a bad day. I think a fitting punishment for you should be a bit more…physical."
Vernon let out a strangled wheeze, his fingers clawing uselessly to try and loosen the whip around his neck to no avail. His face turned a bright red as he scratched at his neck, eyes bulging as tears streaked down his round cheeks.
Lucifer watched with detached boredom. He didn't loosen the whip until the color drained from Vernon's face. "Now…it's nothing personal," he derided, ignoring Vernon's hacking coughs and gasps. "Just justice. Divine retribution, really."
His grin turned sharp like a knife, all teeth and promise. "Shall we begin?"
The room pulsed with a low thrum of power and heat.
*Scene over
—
Location: Little Whinging
July 21st, 1996 10:56 PM
Lucifer sighed and let the front door shut behind him with a gentle click. His glamor was back in place, but a frown settled on his lips as he stared down at the cracked pavement leading up to the door, lost in thought.
He stood there for a few heartbeats before he shook his head and released a long sigh. He took a few steps down the sidewalk and turned, quietly staring at the house. Then, without conscious thought, his gaze dropped to the front garden and the flowers, their message a strange mix of remorse and warning. They had tried to say something, in their own mortal way. But it didn't matter now.
His lips pressed into a thin line as he tilted his head to the side. He raised his hand, and with a spark of magic, summoned a small flame. It hovered in his palm, golden, yet hungry. Then, without blinking, he tossed it into the white lilac bush and marigolds.
The fire caught immediately. It consumed the flowers with an unnatural speed, quickly leaping toward the hydrangeas and poppies, until the flames licked up the front of the house.
Lucifer stood and watched the fire in silence, face unreadable as it consumed and ate away at the house. Then, he turned and walked away, humming a little tune under his breath, unworried about being seen or the fire being discovered until it was too late.
'Perks of magic,' he hummed internally. He snapped his fingers, conjuring a portal leading back to Potter Manor and disappearing from Little Whinging.
…And leaving the scene of a burning home with no life inside.
'Starting with those damn flowers.'