Lady in Waiting (R; Lucius/Girl!Harry; 905 words): Lucius can see exactly for what Potter's waiting.
Harry Potter stood by the open terrace doors, hiding behind a large fern and under a Disillusionment Charm, which Lucius' new spectacles—purchased at great expense, although not as great as it would have been had their maker known for whom they were being made—allowed him to easily discern. It was still months before he'd be allowed a wand under the terms of his sentence, but he had no intention of being completely helpless in public—and he would not hide. He was surprised to find Potter hiding, but then, perhaps Potter's excuse was greater than his might have been had he been a lesser man, and one interested in redemption.
Casually, he made his way towards Potter, taking in the sight of his female form clad in a pair of cunningly cut red robes, robes which covered everything, and yet, given their cut, only served to emphasise what Potter no doubt still wished to hide.
"Mr Potter," Lucius said, lighting a cigarette and stepping out onto the terrace, "would you care for the protection of an escort while you decide whether or not you actually intend to put in an appearance tonight?"
"How do you see me?"
Lucius tapped the frames of his specs.
"Of course. You wouldn't care about Ministry regulations, would you?" Potter asked, remaining in place. "And it's not 'Mr' anymore, as you can apparently see."
Intrigued that Potter hadn't outright rejected his offer, Lucius remained by the door. "Do come out from behind the plant. You can always cast another charm."
With a furtive glance, Potter stepped outside.
"Better," said Lucius, when Potter didn't cast another charm. "How lovely you look."
Potter flushed. "What do you want, Malfoy?"
"What every soon-to-be-divorced wizard does." Lucius raked his gaze over Potter and smirked.
Potter's eyes widened in horror. "You just called me 'Mr'. How the hell can you flirt with me?"
"Someone should be doing a great lot more than that to you. Haven't you tried, yourself? If I suddenly found myself with a pair of high tight tits like yours, I'd be—"
"Don't shout. You wouldn't want to cause a scene, now would you?"
"Seriously," Potter replied, "what do you want from me? I know it isn't an offer of soul bonds."
"Ah, of course. You would be receiving such offers," Lucius said, tossing his cigarette away as the strains of a waltz filtered out of the hall. "All I want, however, is a dance."
With no further warning than that, he took Potter in his arms and waltzed him into the hall; a hush fell over it, which caused Potter to cease struggling against Lucius and begin to follow his steps. Pleased, Lucius failed to hold Potter the regulation twelve inches away.
Speaking low enough for Potter's ears alone, Lucius said, "I called you 'Mr' Potter because I can't imagine that you've forgotten everything of manhood simply because yours has been transformed. Draco certainly hasn't, although, to my great disappointment, my 'daughter' is still unable to face the world as you are."
"Bastard. I'm not ready to—"
"Nonsense. If that were true, you wouldn't be in public in witch's robes. That's a good thing, isn't it, given that the curse from which you suffer cannot be undone? Would you prefer to hide?"
"Why do you care?"
Lucius turned Potter rather more vigorously than he might have, eliciting a gasp from him. "I like witches, Potter. Do you?"
Flushing, Potter hid his pretty, feminine head against Lucius' chest. "I don't know."
A flashbulb popped, and the susurration of conversation rolled throughout the hall. Lucius smiled into every shocked face he saw and continued to dance as if nothing unusual was occurring—and then he bent his head to whisper into Potter's hair.
"Would you like to find out?"
Potter went rigid and faltered, but Lucius soon had him back into the proper rhythm.
"I want . . . I want to go home."
"This instant?" asked Lucius. "That would occasion comment."
Potter looked up and met Lucius' gaze. "If you don't get me out of here right now, I will hex you."
"What the hell?"
"You didn't say which home, so I brought you to mine. Come, let us have a drink. You look as though you could use one."
"Why did you do that?" Potter demanded.
Lucius smirked. "Why did you allow me to?"
"I'm your son's age!"
"Yes," Lucius replied, suddenly deciding he was tired of playing, "but you're not," he continued, taking hold of Potter again, "my son."
He wasn't gentle when he crushed his mouth to Potter's, and Potter's lust-soaked moan was all the encouragement he needed. Of course, the press of Potter's breasts against him as he attempted to claw his way up Lucius' body was also a useful gauge of his consent. Lucius made himself useful by pulling up Potter's robes so that Potter could wrap his legs around him, but the friction was too much.
With an effort, Lucius forced himself to pull his head away from Potter's sucking mouth.
"I'm going to Side-Along us to my chamber, Harry," he said hoarsely, "after which I'm going to strip you off, touch every inch of your body with my hands and lips and tongue, and then, when you're trembling and gasping and," Lucius said, reaching down to cup Potter's mons, "weeping for me, when you can no longer bear the deprivation, I'm going to give you my cock."