Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R.
Don't Like Slash: Go away.
Let me entertain you Let me make you smile Let me do a few tricks Some old and then some new tricks I'm very versatile And if you're real good I'll make you feel good I want your spirits to climb So let me entertain you And we'll have a real good time, yes sir
We'll have a real good time
The day Lucius called Draco into his study, in the broad daylight, by himself personally and not through a house-elf, was the day that Draco Malfoy would continuously refer to as "Black Sunday" when recounting the events surrounding it to himself when he was lonely or just remorseful. He would often try to pretend that it was all Lucius. Never Draco. Always Lucius, pulling the invisible strings attached to Draco's wrists and legs, making him dance this way and that, entertaining friends, enemies and Death-Eaters alike with his spitting image. Draco hated him.
But still, he went when he was called.
He counted the steps as he walked as slowly as he could towards the ominous mahogany door located at the end of the hall that since today, he'd been forbidden to enter or even dwell near for too long. Once as a child he'd rolled a ball (a mixture of accident and subconscious, morbid curiosity) through the tiny crack that the door allowed when it wasn't shut properly.
"Three, four," counted Draco as he walked towards the door, his perfectly shined shoes clicking against the perfectly shined floor in the perfectly shined hallway. "Five, six…"
The ball had rolled under a bookcase, and a giggling five-year-old Draco bounded in after it, despite Dobby's constant shrieking of "Young Master! Please come back! Dobby will get you a new ball, sir!"
"Seven, eight," Draco murmured, his resolve waning as he recalled his last visit to Lucius' study.
"Hurray!" cried out Draco when he finally clasped his tiny hands around the ball. He immediately began to skip towards the door to continue playing when the shadow of his furious father loomed over him. Draco's smile vanished as the cane his father often brandished was raised into the air.
"I thought I told you to NEVER--- "
"LUCIUS!" screamed Narcissa, shoving her husband out of the way and scooping a now sobbing Draco into her arms. "He's just a boy!"
"My darling," Lucius replied poisonously, "he knows not to be in here."
"The house-elf must not have been paying attention," Narcissa snapped, rubbing her son's back as he cried into her shoulder. She whipped around and started walking back down the hall towards Draco's room. "And if I ever, and I mean EVER, see you raise a hand to my son again, I will personally deal with you, Lucius Malfoy."
Lucius' lip curled in fury. "My dear, you keep him where he is supposed to be, and my hand will never have to be raised to him." With that, he slammed the door so forcefully that it sent Draco into more spasms of uncontrollable sobs and muffled apologies.
"I'm sorry, Mother, I just wanted my ball—"
"Shhh, my dragon," she soothed as she lay him on his bed. "Now you know not to go into Father's study. If something rolls in there, you tell me or Dobby, and we'll get it for you." She sat him up and washed his face with the water from the bedside basin. It felt cold against Draco's hot face, and he sniffled. "Now come," Narcissa continued. "No more crying. Sing with mummy. Ten little wizard boys jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head!" She scooped her son up and tickled him until he shrieked with laughter. "How many wizard boys left on the bed?"
"Nine." Draco stood directly in front of his father's study, staring down the door. Had his father really asked him to come here, or had he dreamed it and was now awaiting a neat thrashing? Overcome with paranoia and fear of the man he should have loved and respected over any other, seventeen-year-old Draco Malfoy wanted his mum. He fidgeted and the floorboard squeaked beneath him.
"Draco?" His father's voice boomed through the thick door. "What are you doing out there? Get in here, you foolish boy!"
Immediately, Draco's hand latched around the silver, elegantly carved handle and was so overwhelmed that he shoved it open, and it swung violently and crashed into the bookcase, knocking a few of the books in it to the ground.
"My, my, aren't we eager?" spat Lucius, standing up angrily. "Well, pick them up!"
Draco immediately bent down to pick up the books. "I'm sorry, Father," he said automatically; the words had been programmed into him since he was born. Disappointing Lucius was one of Draco's stronger talents. His hands shook as he picked up a leather bound copy of The Art Of Torturing Muggles. Draco shoved it into the bookcase where it had been and forced himself to forget what he just saw. Another of his talents.
"If you're through ransacking my study, sit down." Lucius sank back into his green leather chair and laced his fingers together on his desk. Draco obediently sat in a green chair in front of the desk. "You remember Macnair, of course."
A man Draco indeed remembered was in the corner of the study, pouring over a book that Draco highly doubted was about fairy tales. The executioner peered over the top of the book and smiled to reveal graying and yellowed teeth. "Young Master Malfoy."
"How do you do, sir?" Draco nodded his head politely. The dealings Draco had with Macnair and the hippogriff were nearly five years ago, and Draco had sincerely hoped that this compatriot of his father's would stay out of the Manor and away from him.
Lucius sipped a snifter of brandy that he had in front of him. "You must be wondering," he drawled, "why I've called you into the most secretive part of the Manor, in the broad daylight, without telling your mother."
"Mother doesn't know I'm here?!" Draco yelped out before he could stop himself. His only ally was being deliberately kept in the dark!
"Don't interrupt," Lucius said coldly. "I'd prefer not to burden your mother with this. She's been far too busy as it is with charity balls and what not to keep Fudge happy. Now listen to me." Lucius leaned forward. "You've been given your first assignment by the Dark Lord."
Draco wasn't expecting that. He wasn't even expecting anything but a reprimand for a silly mistake he'd made days before, so insignificant that it wouldn't matter to anyone but Lucius, who was a connoisseur of Draco's follies. He was sure he had felt his heart stop completely. It had begun to rain outside, and Draco watched the drops hit the gilded window beside Macnair, who was still practically coming in his pants over the awful book he had in his gnarly hands. "Father," said Draco quietly. "I've not even been given the Mark yet, and I've already been given an assignment?"
Macnair suddenly snapped the book shut and looked towards Lucius. His mouth shut tightly in a firm, small line, and his eyes were nervous slits. "Master Malfoy…" He began to take a step over to the desk. "Sir…"
A sudden crack sounded throughout the room as Lucius swiftly rapped his cane directly in front of Macnair's foot, the sharp snake fangs missing his toes by mere centimeters. "I'm sorry, Macnair, were you going to say something?" Lucius' grey eyes were still on Draco, and from his mouth poured the poisonously sweet words to the executioner.
"N-no. No sir." Macnair looked at Draco for a split second before turning and walking back towards the bookcase, picking up a copy of what to Draco looked like something called The Art Of Seduction Spells. Draco reminded himself to laugh later about the thought of Macnair having sex with a woman. Laugh, or maybe vomit. He would decide later.
Lucius briskly snapped his cane back to his side and folded his perfectly manicured hands on the table. "Now, Draco. Do be honest with Daddy. Are you a virgin?"
"What?!" Draco blurted out before he could stop himself. He looked over to Macnair, who immediately whipped towards the window and hummed over something in the book he was reading. "Father, I don't know what the Dark Lord has planned for me, but—"
"Oh, relax, Draco!" hissed Lucius, rolling his eyes. "The Dark Lord doesn't want to have his way with you or something equally ludicrous. Now get these foolish notions out of your head and answer my question!"
Draco felt colour creep up on his cheeks. No, he wasn't a virgin, and hadn't been for three years. Pansy had convinced him after the Yule ball fourth year. She'd slobbered all over him and her breath was bad, and Draco was panicked that someone would walk in on them. All in all, the first time was quite an unpleasant experience that turned Draco off from sex altogether for about a year until he'd found a suitable partner in Blaise Zabini. Granted yes, Blaise was a boy, but it's certainly true that boys know their way around boys' bodies far better than any girl ever could.
Blaise was fun for a start. Draco then moved on from partner to partner, selecting them carefully and exclusively. He burned white hot for them for a month or so, and then he gradually grew bored with them, disposed of them properly, and began afresh with someone else. Like any good lover would, Draco always had another one lined up before he dismissed the previous one. Zabini, then Finnigan, Boot, one of the Weasley twins (George, he was fairly sure, but Draco was convinced that sometimes they switched places on him), Macmillan, Pucey, and his latest conquest was a Hufflepuff by the name of…Flinch-Rightly? Fletch-Finchley? It wasn't hard to find a horny boy in Hogwarts, Draco soon learned.
"No, Father, I am not a virgin." Draco had never felt more embarrassed and stripped of all dignity when he uttered those words. At least his father would now dismiss the idea of him being a virgin sacrifice.
Lucius face quickly transformed to one of happiness. "So, you would venture to call yourself an excellent lover?"
Draco immediately realized that the previous question of virginity was nowhere near as mortifying as the new question of sexual ability. He wondered if Crabbe and Goyle had to answer questions like these. Yes, all his lovers were in ecstasy with him, and made no qualms about telling him so. In fact, when he called off the affair, some of them were known to send him owl after owl, pleading with him and asking what they had done wrong. Draco reveled in the attention and took pride in the fact that sex was his greatest talent besides Potions. And annoying Potter to no end, of course.
"Yes, I suppose," Draco said quietly, clapping his eyes on the floor and shifting his feet nervously. "Father, what is this about?"
His father's chair creaked as Lucius leaned back. "This is ABOUT your mission, Draco. The Dark Lord requires your assistance in seducing someone. You must bring them to your bed, make them love you, and lead them straight into the Dark Lord's hands, because he is VERY interested in this specific person."
Draco felt his stomach sink to the bottom of his abdomen. "No…you don't mean…please tell me that one of his nicknames is not The Boy Who Lived."
Lucius smiled a hideously sadistic smile. "And here I thought you were a complete dunce. Ten points to Slytherin, if I could give it. Potter is at his most vulnerable now, Draco, after the death of the Diggory boy and his canine godfather. His friends are leaving him behind gradually, and being the Boy Who Lived just doesn't have the perks it once did. If his worst enemy at school suddenly came to love him, imagine how he would feel. He would do anything you asked, Draco. Just keep him distracted and entertained."
Burying his face in his hands, Draco knew better than to ask if he really had to do this, but his instinct took over. "Entertained? Like it's a show? Father, why do I have to do this?"
Lucius stared back at him for a moment. Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. "Lucius!" Narcissa's voice echoed through the mahogany door. "Where is Draco? Is he in there right now? Lucius! Where is he?"
Lucius looked at the door, and looked back at Draco. "Because," he replied, "something very terrible could happen to someone you care about immensely."
"ALOHAMORA!" The door swung open and Narcissa stomped in, shielding her wand back in her robes. "Draco! Lucius, why didn't you answer me? Why is Draco in here?" She began to feel Draco all over, as if Lucius had done something physical to him. "Are you all right, my darling?"
"Yes, mum," Draco answered quietly, taking his father's promise to heart. "I'm fine."
Lucius sighed and turned his face to the papers on his desk. "Go now, Draco, I'm through with you. And my dear Narcissa, in the future please wait until I say 'Come in' before bursting into my study like a wild woman."
Narcissa shot him a look and wrapped her arm around Draco. "Come, my darling, one of the house-elves just made some cookies."
"Yes, mum," said Draco again as the study door began to swing shut behind him. He looked over his shoulder and saw Lucius smiling back at him, his eyes full of glee and triumph, as if Potter was already dead and Voldemort was the almighty ruler of the world. Then the door clicked shut and Draco saw him no more.