TOPPED
By Your Cruise Director

"The Potter boy cheated," Lucius Malfoy declares to his son as they walk together toward the dungeon with the Head of Slytherin House close behind. "Everyone in the stadium saw all that ridiculous twirling and flipping he was doing. And the way he attacked you at the end to get to the Snitch! He should be barred from Quidditch for the rest of the season. Don't you agree, Severus?"

"I tried to have him removed from the Gryffindor Quidditch team for his dishonesty, sneaking about the castle the night of the Halloween feast." Snape nods agreement, though Lucius' bitter words barely penetrate his consciousness. His eyes are fixed on Lucius' head and the fur hat that somehow keeps its balance there, resting on Lucius' long smooth hair as if it has been charmed in place.

"He did cheat, Father!" Draco sounds very much like a petulant child, and even though Lucius first made the suggestion, he frowns slightly. "The Gryffindors never play fair. You heard about what Weasley tried to do to me? And he wasn't even punished."

"Well, you will simply have to find a way to outwit him." Lucius' voice hardens slightly -- he is careful not to coddle his son, even though Snape and everyone else in Slytherin House know that the reason Draco has become the Quidditch team's Seeker is because his father bought a set of brand new, very expensive Nimbus Two Thousand and One broomsticks for the team. "Must I remind you again, Draco, that it is imprudent to express such hostility toward the boy regarded as the hero who overcame the Dark Lord?"

"No," mutters Draco sullenly, walking into the Slytherin common room with a pinched, angry expression. Just then Parkinson, Crabbe, Goyle and most of the members of the Quidditch team descend on the boy, complaining about those nasty Gryffindors and their tricks, and Draco is soon off with his friends, smiling with a degree of satisfaction at their grumbling.

Snape pays little attention to any of this; he is still watching Lucius, who regards his son with a pensive expression. "Was I too hasty, Severus?" he asks. "He flies well, but if he should be injured..."

Having spent the past hour sitting next to Lucius, watching the man's intense focus on his child, the last thing Snape wants to discuss is Draco's prowess as a Quidditch player. "It was his first game, he did very well, you can see that he's already more agile than Flint," he replies shortly. "You must be thirsty after sitting for so long in that wind. Can I get you a drink?"

Though Lucius cocks an eyebrow as if he suspects an ulterior motive, he waves farewell to Draco and follows Snape to his room. Snape has a bottle of very fine firewhiskey that he won in a bet with Minerva McGonagall on a previous year's Quidditch results; he takes it out and pours, watching as Lucius studies the jars and bottles of ingredients Snape keeps locked in his private room where no students are ever invited. In the light from the wall sconces, Lucius' hair gleams more golden than it did outside in the pale autumn sunshine. It is a glorious temptation, all the more so when with meticulous care he removes his hat and places it on the table by the sofa.

"This is excellent firewhiskey," he says approvingly, taking a sip. "But I'm afraid that I must leave you for a few minutes -- I have a message for Dumbledore from the Board of Governors. They are not at all pleased about these Chamber of Secrets rumors, you know." Snape's dismay must show on his face, for Lucius smirks, leans so close that his hair brushes Snape's chin and murmurs, "Don't fret. I'll be back shortly."

Snape watches, helplessly entranced, as Lucius sweeps out the door, tossing his long hair over his shoulder as he marches towards the stairs. He drinks his own glass of firewhiskey slowly, remembering the feel of Lucius' hair on his skin and the barely discernible scent of the man which had maddened him all through the Quidditch match.

And then he realizes: Lucius has left his hat sitting on the table in the dungeon.

Lucius has only been gone for a few minutes; surely it will be several more before he returns. He and Dumbledore are certain to quarrel -- it is no secret that the Board of Governors, under Lucius' direction, has been seeking excuses to have Dumbledore removed as Headmaster, and Snape dares not interfere nor speak, particularly since Dumbledore has ordered him to keep silent and remain in Lucius' good graces. Dumbledore is probably well aware that Snape has his own reasons for wishing to keep Lucius close, though nearly all of Dumbledore's plans these days seem focused on the eventuality of the Dark Lord's return.

For men who are very careful in their planning, it is perhaps surprising that where this subject is concerned, both Snape and Lucius prefer to live in the present. Though of course they have never discussed it, Snape is under the impression that Lucius has been pleased with his life since the Dark Lord's fall. Now he controls the Board of Governors of Hogwarts and is in line to become Minister of Magic -- a position from which it will be possible via formal, legal means to institute the regulations and offices he seeks. He has always suggested that greater things lie in store for Severus, should Severus wish it.

The only thing Snape truly wants from Lucius now is his proximity, and at the moment, his hat is proving a tempting substitute. Snape knows nothing about luxury millinery, but he knows that the fur will be supple to the touch yet strong and luxuriant, like Lucius' hair, like Lucius himself. And after an afternoon resting on Lucius' head, the warm underside will smell like those clean, gleaming blond locks, with perhaps a few loose strands caught in the lining.

Reaching for the hat, Snape rubs its soft fur against his face. The outside of the hat smells faintly of the winter woods, with traces of smoke in its musky warmth, but when he turns it over, it is just as he had imagined. The soft, smooth lining, made of a softer pelt, holds the distinct sweet scent of its owner's scalp, herbs and soap mixed with something that is distinctly Lucius Malfoy...

"What are you doing?"

The door must have opened without Snape's even noticing, so engrossed had he been in the scent and feel of the fur covering his face, which has blinded him and muffled the sounds in the room. Biting very nearly through his lip, he keeps the hat in front of his face, searching desperately for a response. Lucius sounds not angry but triumphant. He knows, and Snape fights to keep a mortifying tremble from his voice as he replies:

"I was attempting to guess whether this is mink, or fox, or rabbit..."

Even as the words escape his lips, he knows how ridiculous they sound. Of course Lucius Malfoy would not appear in something as common as rabbit fur, and he will know that Snape could not recognize mink, having grown up without such luxuries. When Snape chances a glance across the room, he sees a familiar eyebrow cocked high on the patrician forehead while Lucius flattens his lips to avoid smirking. "Why, Severus, I had no idea you had an interest in furs," he smiles. "Perhaps I shall send you one for Christmas to wrap around your...neck."

Snape feels his face grow warm. Instantly he decides to pretend that he is embarrassed by the generosity rather than the amusement on the other wizard's face. "That's really not necessary," he says, beginning to rise, but Lucius is across the room in a few rapid strides and Snape jumps in surprise as the snake-topped walking stick descends upon his shoulder, pushing him back down.

"So many things aren't necessary," confesses Lucius silkily, standing over Severus. "It isn't necessary, for instance, for me to bind your wrists before I fuck you, because you aren't going to struggle, but I'm going to tie you up anyway, because I enjoy it." Before Snape has recovered from the tremor that passes through him at these words, Lucius has pulled back the walking stick, withdrawn his wand and with a silent spell unfastened every button and clasp on Snape's clothing. Taking the hat from him, Lucius orders, "Take those off."

Obediently Snape begins to struggle out of his robes, self-conscious yet distracted: Lucius is holding the hat in front of himself, running his fingers over the fur and up and down the triangular top, eyes narrowed as if this experience is so sensual that he has no need to watch his lover undress. Seeing Snape's eyes on him, he rubs the soft pelt against his face, humming softly, forcing Snape to bite back a moan; then, quick as a striking snake, the wand is aiming at him again, shooting thin strong cords that bind his wrists and tug his arms over his head. "Lie down," commands Lucius. Turning his wand, he places the snake-head against Snape's bared collarbone, shoving him backward until he is prone on the sofa.

There is a dangerous look in Lucius' eyes as he bends over Snape, who is naked and completely exposed with his hands tied together above his head. The softness of the hat strokes one side of his face, then a moment later the cool metal of the top of the snake-head slides along the other side, equally stimulating in its own way. "You're hard," whispers Lucius conspiratorially, and even though this is hardly news to Snape, he shivers. The fur trails down his throat and the snake-head follows, slightly warmed from the contact with his skin. "Were you thinking about using my hat to come, Severus?"

As he speaks Severus' name, Lucius turns the snake-head so that the fangs brush Snape's skin, stroking innocently until they encounter and catch on an erect nipple. The sharp points bite into him, not quite hard enough to draw blood but more than enough to draw a loud moan from Snape, who is writhing and twisting from the painful snake-head toward the warm fur being rubbed against his other nipple, not quite as hard as Snape would like. "Shh," Lucius warns and lifts the wand for a moment, aiming a silencing charm at the door. "What would your students think if they saw you like this?"

No one but Malfoy has ever been able to do this to Snape, to reduce him so easily to want and need so great that there is no room for shame. "Lucius..." he groans as the softness of the hat moves into the more wiry hair on his chest and belly while the snake-head returns to taunting his nipple, biting into him as he wishes the man would do with his own teeth, so that Snape could feel those lips and that hair against his skin. Lucius has not removed a single article of clothing save the walking stick in which he sheaths his wand, topped by the serpent, though Snape has always found its exposure a startlingly intimate gesture -- strangely akin to watching Lucius withdraw his cock from his trousers, which Severus finds painfully arousing no matter how many times he witnesses it. "Let me suck you," he requests.

Again Lucius' lips flatten to hide his smirk. "Do you think you've earned that?" he asks, scraping Severus' skin with the fangs of the snake-head. "When you were sitting here plotting to defile my hat while I fruitlessly sought Dumbledore to ask him to put you in charge of investigating these Chamber of Secrets indiscretions?" Snape gasps as the fangs once more press into his nipple. "You thought I wouldn't find out, didn't you," Lucius chides as if he is the professor and Severus a naughty student. "You thought that you could wank in all that soft fur, then Scourgify it with no one the wiser."

Though Snape's fantasies had not had time to develop even that far, he moans deliriously at the suggestion. "Yes." Lucius' hands have moved down; he is raking through the hair on Severus' belly with the fangs atop his wand while the hand with the hat is moving even lower, brushing lightly over Snape's rigid prick which smears a wet spot into the fur. It is not quite the same wicked thrill as when Lucius' hair falls across him, yet because Lucius is doing this deliberately, staring into Snape's eyes, it feels delightfully perverse.

Lucius lifts the snake-head to Snape's mouth and Snape bends his head to kiss the cool metal before it returns to his skin. This time Lucius rakes the fangs in the hair in Snape's armpit, not quite hard enough to hurt, just enough to tickle, and he moans and writhes, pressing his cock into the warm pelt.

"Do you like that? Does it make you feel like an animal?" demands Lucius, squeezing him with the hat. "I think you should be fucked like an animal. On all fours."

"Yes!" Snape cannot restrain the cry as the fangs bite into his side, urging him over. He very nearly falls off the sofa in his haste to turn over, fighting with his bound wrists, lifting his hips and craning his neck to try to see Lucius as the blond man unfastens only the top button of his trousers and works his cock free. He is otherwise still clad entirely in rich dark colors, his hair gleaming like the pale skin of the erection sticking out from his expensive robes.

Aiming the wand, Lucius speaks a spell that makes Severus' arse grow slick. Then Lucius puts the wand down, but he wraps his hand over the thick fur of his hat and smiles. "Turn around and lower your shoulders," he orders, pushing Snape's neck toward his hands, which changes the angle of his hips as Lucius' cock presses against them, sliding up and down the surface. Does Lucius intend to take him without any preparation, just the blunt press of his lubricated cock? That is how an animal would...ohhh.

As the thick shaft pushes past the tight circle of muscle at Snape's entrance, the hand holding the hat slides beneath Snape's body, surrounding his cock with tight furred warmth. Helplessly Snape bucks into it, feeling the fine material of Lucius' robes brush the backs of his thighs, but this is small distraction beside the thick cock stretching him open and the softness grasping his own. "Keep moving," commands Lucius, slipping in deeper with each shudder and jerk of Snape's body. It is an act of possession, a claiming that Snape cannot resist, even though he knows he will be sore later. Now his body craves the relentless invasion as much as the hat, this small token of his lover's that he will be allowed to fuck while Lucius dominates him.

Lucius' hips snap, sheathing his cock fully in Snape and bringing his still-clothed thighs solidly against Snape's unclad ones. "I hadn't realized how badly you needed to be fucked," he says in an amused, aroused voice. "Did you spend that entire Quidditch match hoping to be taken under the stands? And to think I thought you were only concerned about your team winning." The hips withdraw and slam forward again, drawing a cry from Snape. "So hard that you couldn't even wait for me, you were willing to make do with this." The hand around Snape's cock squeezes as he thrusts uncontrollably into the fur. "Isn't this better?"

"Yes," moans Snape, fingernails digging into the skin of his own hands since he cannot claw at the sofa with his wrists bound. Lucius is moving too slowly, the pressure is unbearable, and Snape shoves backward, trying to impale himself on Lucius' cock. "Please..."

"Not until you tell me how much you need it," Lucius whispers. Oh, he is enjoying this himself; his prick is rigid and twitching when he tries to hold still. But he will not fully give himself over until Snape does what he has asked, and Snape wants to feel those hips pumping uncontrollably, to feel Lucius' fingers knot in his hair as he bends over and lets his own hair brush Snape's back.

"Ah fuck -- you know I need you -- " Closing his eyes, Snape tries to shut out the familiar objects of his room, the stacks of parchment and books and bottles he associates with Hogwarts and students. In the darkness there is nothing but Lucius' harsh breathing and swollen cock and hand stroking Snape within the extravagance of the fur. "Please, Lucius, it's too much -- please move!"

The pole of flesh filling his arse slides back, then plunges deep again as if trying to reach an itch within Severus. "Like this?" asks Lucius, doing it again. "You want to be fucked like this?" His thrusts gain speed and momentum, so that Severus must brace his bound fists against the arm of the sofa to avoid his head being shoved into it, and he pushes at Severus' thighs with his knees, changing the angle just enough that he nudges the most sensitive spot inside.

Snape no longer needs to thrust into the hand holding the hat, for Lucius is forcing him to fuck it, giving Snape no choice but to slide rhythmically into the warmth that is almost too much, inflaming his cock, teasing the incredibly sensitive head when the foreskin slides back. At last he can withstand it no longer, and his cock pumps hot jets of come into the fur as he shamelessly calls out his pleasure.

"You are an animal," grunts Lucius with something like approval inflecting his thick voice, but he spares no more energy on speech, dropping the hat to grab Snape's hips and pound into him. The sofa scrapes across the floor with each thrust; in his fevered mind Snape is grateful that they are in the dungeon, with no one beneath who might hear the sounds, save the legendary creature in the Chamber of Secrets whom Snape is quite certain cannot imagine pleasure like this. He braces himself against the sofa arm until with a strangled cry Lucius pulses deep inside him, collapsing with his hair cascading over Snape's back.

"You've made me ruin my hat," sighs Lucius without a trace of regret in his voice. "Even cleaned, I can't wear it to see Dumbledore now; if he so much as glanced at it, I would blush and stammer like one of his students. I'll have to tie my hair back."

"With a ribbon?" Snape asks in as neutral a voice as possible. He is grateful to have studied Occlumency, not because he is worried that Lucius doubts his loyalty but because if Lucius could see what Severus has imagined doing with his hair ribbons, and his hair...

"Of course with a ribbon. Not all of us are willing to go around with our hair blowing in our faces." There is fumbling behind him, then Snape feels the snake-head's fangs in his own hair, drawing it back from where it has fallen over his cheek. Turning his head, he peers at Lucius, who then flips the wand and utters, "Finite Incantatem," freeing Snape's wrists. "Now come here and kiss me."

Rolling over, Snape settles on top of the fur hat, now damp and streaked with semen. He reaches for Lucius, who crawls over him and brushes his hair back again before kissing him deeply.

"Perhaps I won't visit Dumbledore this evening after all," says Lucius when they separate. "I find that I'm in no hurry to move. And you wouldn't object if I returned in, oh, a few days? Might you have a few free hours in the evening to discuss educational matters with the father of a student?"

"I believe it might be possible to arrange." Smiling, Snape settles his fingers in Lucius' hair and draws it forward. He can finally feel it, smell it; no matter how soft and pleasant the hat might have been, he knows that it was only a substitute, for he would rather have Lucius atop him than any hat.

Read the sort-of-sequel, "Ties".