A/N: AU, non-magic, OOC characters – at least to start with, smut.

The story uses the Catholic Church as the basis for its setting and plot but is not intended to insult or make a political statement. Having said that, it's probably not recommended that you read this story if you are a practicing Catholic.

It was originally written for a competition that had a word limit. While it's got the potential to be longer and more detailed, I'm just going to keep it the length it is now.

Trigger: there is a rape scene; unfortunately, it was essential to the plot. I've indicated where the scene stops and starts. If this isn't your scene, please don't waste your time reading and stating the obvious in the comments. Your time is much more precious than that :)

Father Draco Malfoy's temperamental Jeep rattled to a stop in the carpark of St Dumbledore's, Gryffindor Ridge's church. This was Draco's first posting since he became fully ordained as a priest. He was to assist Father Severus Snape with his parish duties.

When he asked Bishop Shacklebolt what Father Snape was like, the kindly man tapped his nose and said 'I think it's best that you form your impressions yourself, my son.'

Even wrangling information out of his gossipy secretary Father du Fresne was impossible. He was under strict orders not to talk about Father Snape, du Fresne said miserably. Otherwise he would jump at the chance to help their newest brother in Christ.

Therefore Draco was as impressionless as a wax tablet.

He slammed the Jeep's door shut (otherwise it opened all by itself), checking that he hadn't caught his long black cassock in it first. His Jeep liked to eat cassocks. He propped his sunglasses up on his blonde head, smiled and nodded pleasantly to a couple of open-mouthed middle-aged ladies who were descending the church's steps – and headed inside.

One of the ladies said in hushed tones: 'Did you see that young priest?'

The second lady rolled her eyes and said 'Of course I did, Minerva, I'm right next to you. You could hardly miss him! He looks like he should be on the cover of those weekly magazines my Ginny wastes her money on, topless with his skin gleaming from some sort of oil.'

Minerva stared at her companion, aghast. 'I think you need to go back to confession, Molly.'

Molly grinned. 'If he's hearing them, I'll confess all day long!'

Minerva puffed in and out like a blowfish.

Resigned, Molly took her arm. 'Come on. Let's get a shandy into you before pass out.'

Oblivious to the fact that his body was undergoing an oil-based speculation, Malfoy crossed the church's Notice Board-festooned vestibule and headed inside the long, large nave, where the congregation sat. While he dipped two fingers into the Holy Water font at the entrance and made the Sign of the Cross, his striking grey eyes roamed his new house of worship.

It was a nice size, with large stained-glass windows lining each side of the nave.

And yet...

...Goosebumps crawled over Draco's arms.

Up ahead, a tall figure clothed in a black cassock stood at the altar, his black-haired head bent to inspect its cloth covering.

Banishing his disquiet, Draco walked down the nave and headed up the steps to the altar. 'Father Snape?' he asked pleasantly.

At length, the figure turned around and stared at Draco with a raised beetle-like eyebrow.

Draco realised he still had his sunglasses on his head. He swiftly removed them. 'I'm Father Draco Malfoy.' He held out his hand. 'Your assistant priest.'

Snape transferred his stare to Draco's hand, but did not move.

'I was told you were expecting me?' Draco asked, feeling like a fool, standing a couple of steps below Snape with his arm sticking out. He had a feeling it was purposeful.

'I have been informed,' Snape drawled in a baritone voice that carried easily around the church. He inspected Draco's outstretched hand as if it were a particularly badly decomposing animal.

Draco kept his sigh to himself and lowered it.

Father Snape sailed off towards the Sacristy. 'The Bishop has kindly decided to lighten my load,' he said tonelessly. 'Not that it was requested, you understand. This… boon' – spat between clenched teeth – 'is a blessing, indeed.'

Draco followed him in to the roomy office. 'I'm eager to learn from your experience in the Church, and with this parish,' he said neutrally. 'Given time, I hope you'll see the advantages of an extra pair of hands around the place.'

Snape glared at Draco. 'We shall see,' he drawled. Then, without a word, he left the Sacristy through its external door and swanned off down the path Draco assumed led to the Rectory.

Draco let out a breath and followed him.

'I tell you, love, he's no ordinary-looking priest,' Molly promised, dandling grandson James on her knee and ignoring Minerva's censorious glare.

The Fighting Cockerel was a pub located just across the road from St Dumbledore's. Co-owner Ginny Potter delivered shandies to their table. 'So, he's not a hundred and three years old with a beer gut, balding hair, stained false teeth and a red nose from imbibing too much Communion wine?' she chortled.

Minerva transferred her glare to Ginny.

'Lord, no!' said Molly.

'Shame,' Ginny sighed. 'That would be an improvement on Father Snape.'

'You mind your tongue, young lady!'

Ginny ignored her mother's grumpy old neighbour. 'So, what's the newbie got that's so special? A wooden leg?'

'I doubt it,' Molly smirked. 'Do you remember that series of films about witches and wizards that Father Snape ordered us not to watch, lest our dirty souls become even more corrupted?'

'As well he should!' Minerva spat.

Molly sighed and plonked her grandson onto Minerva's bony lap. The old biddy squawked in panic, which set James off.

'Yes, Ma.'

'Remember the blonde teenage boy in it you fancied…?'

'Yeah…' Then Ginny gasped. 'Oh! Don't tell me he's left acting to become a priest?'

'No!' Molly cried, exasperated. 'This priest looks similar to that boy, if you add another ten or so years on.'

Ginny laughed. 'Oh Mum, you should do stand-up comedy!' She picked James up and kissed his forehead, nestled him on her hip and headed back behind to the bar to tell her husband Harry the joke.

It was evening, and Draco was in the mood for some company that wasn't belligerent, sly or negative. He'd brought in his meagre belongings from the Jeep under Snape's watchful but unhelpful eye, spent some time unpacking and then in silent contemplation in his clean, plain bedroom.

He went downstairs and into the kitchen, where he found Snape polishing off the remains of a mince pie with mashed potato while he glared at the newspaper. When Draco asked if there was any left, Snape simply shrugged and said the housekeeper was not around to be asked.

Therefore, he was also hungry.

Salvation appeared in the form of a pub. Fairly certain he wouldn't find any actual battling roosters inside, otherwise he'd have to find a less controversial pub for a man of his standing, he headed inside.

It was early in the week, and the pub wasn't full, just a smattering of what looked to be entrenched regulars. Draco headed to the bar, smiling and nodding at the people who stopped and stared as he went past.

He was used to this. Priests tend to stick out in their all-black uniform of trousers and shirt, not to mention the long cassock and the white clerical collar around their neck. He was a public figure, and was available for advice, assistance or succour twenty-four hours a day.

Also (without committing too big a sin of pride) Draco knew he was a good-looking man. He was good-looking before he became a priest – capitalised on it, from time to time – and his blonde hair, startling grey eyes and toned figure hadn't changed much since those days. He'd developed some stock phrases to gently discourage the women – and men – who wanted to see what he kept underneath his cassock.

He nodded pleasantly at a frazzled red-haired lass who wandered in from the back, a fretting baby clinging to her t-shirt like grim death. Her mouth fell open; then she rushed up to the bar.

'Oh my Lord, my mother was right!' she gasped over the baby's squawks. 'I'm Ginny Potter. I own the pub with my husband Harry, who's… somewhere…' she looked around vaguely. 'And this little noisemaker is James. I'm so sorry, he's being a bit clingy.'

Draco smiled. 'Father Draco Malfoy,' he said. 'May I hold young James for a bit? I know I don't look it, but I've had some experience with little ones.'

'Go for it,' Ginny said, unhooking James's fingers from her t-shirt and handing him over the bar with some relief. 'I'm sure my eardrum's about to burst!'

Draco held James in his arms, gently jogging him up and down. James stared at the man in black in awe before deciding he was better off with Mum. He worked up his lungs for a good shriek, but was distracted when Draco gave him his battered cell phone in a rubber case. James solemnly accepted this gift and started gnawing on a corner.

'My ears are ringing from the silence!' said a man with messy black hair and green eyes, coming in from the outdoor area with a tray of empties. He smiled at Draco. 'Harry Potter,' he said cheerfully. 'Half of the creator of the wee little noise monster you're holding. Are you available for babysitting?'

Draco laughed. 'Father Draco Malfoy,' he said. 'I just arrived at St Dumbledore's.'

Harry's eyes lit up. 'Is Father Snape retiring?' he asked hopefully.

'Not that I know of,' Draco said carefully.

'Ah, well, never mind. In addition to a baby, is there anything we can get you?'

'Whatever pale ale you've got on tap, and can I take a look at the menu? The Rectory, uh, ran out of dinner.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'The greedy guts,' she grizzled, then looked ashamed. 'Sorry, Father. Here you go.' She placed a laminated menu in front of him and organised his beer.

Draco looked at James, who was dribbling copiously and pushing one button on his phone over and over. 'What do you recommend, my child?'

James gripped the menu and started nibbling it. Draco rescued his rather drenched phone.

Ginny laughed when she placed Draco's beer in front of him and put some napkins within reach for his poor phone. 'Has James given you any recommendations?' she asked.

'He says the fish and chips are not to be missed.'

'Good boy!' Ginny blew her son a kiss.

'What do I owe you?'

'Nothing, Father. James was driving customers away with his racket – the babysitter called in sick, you see, otherwise he wouldn't be here. So I insist.'

'I'm not here for charity, Ginny,' Draco said gently.

'Well, you can pay for your food but not the beer and that's my final offer.' Ginny's eyes and hair sparked.

'Well… all right, then.'

As he drank his beer and ate his dinner – with James sitting on a high chair next to him, squelching chips in his fingers - Draco nodded at the patrons who passed by.

As he finished, he half-noticed a young woman pass by, holding a book and looking down at her feet. She was plainly dressed in a cotton skirt and t-shirt with a summer cardigan over the top. Her brown curly hair was scraped into a ponytail which frizzed everywhere, and her face was clean of make-up. She was nearly out of the door when Ginny, coming to collect Draco's plate, said cheerily 'Bye, Hermione!'

The woman froze; then quickly turned around and did some sort of odd wave from her elbow. Smiling briefly, she quickly left.

'Oh, Mr Potter, look at you!' Ginny said exasperatedly with her hands on her hips.

'What have I done now?' Harry complained from behind the bar, where he was discussing the rugby with a local farmer.

'Not you, my other Mr Potter!' Scooping up Draco's plate and glass, she said to James 'I think we'll take you and your high chair outside and hose the both of you off!'

Draco looked at the baby, who was gurgling with glee while he rubbed his chippy hands in his wayward black hair. 'Oops,' he smiled.

'Oh, believe me, the peace and quiet has been worth it!' Ginny laughed. 'Come back anytime, Father. You'll always be welcome.'

Draco stood up. 'I'm sure I'll be back often.' Waving to Harry, he left the pub.

Ginny looked at the door. 'Wow,' she said dreamily.

James wasn't happy to have lost his new friend, and started up again.

'I know how you feel,' said Ginny consolingly.

The next morning at the Rectory, over breakfast (bread and cereal being in plentiful supply, thankfully), Snape fished out a stained letter that looked like it had been crumpled up and thrown, then retrieved, from the rubbish bin. 'His Grace, the Bishop Shacklebolt, writes that you are to manage youth parochial duties,' he scowled.

Draco, looking for the milk and discovering the fridge was bare, said 'Okay. What does that involve?'

'There is a school attached to this Church, called St Hufflepuff's. It's co-educational students range from five to eighteen years old. You are to perform school chaplain duties as required. You will also be expected to resurrect the youth programme at the church.' Snape slurped his copiously milky cornflakes.

Resurrect? Why did it lapse?

'And First Communion classes? Do you want me to manage those, too?'

Snape shrugged. 'If you wish. Hardly any bother, these days.'

With this, he took his cup of tea and retired to his room. But just before he left the kitchen, he said 'You've an appointment with the Headmistress of St Hufflepuff's. At eight-thirty a.m.'

Draco checked his watch. It was eight-fifteen.

'I'm terribly sorry for being late, Mrs Sprout,' Draco apologised again.

The cheerful Headmistress Sprout giggled. 'Oh, nonsense! Twenty minutes is neither here nor there. Now. Let me organise some tea, and I'll show you how the chaplaincy fits into our school. Then we'll pop in to some classes so you can see for yourself how our school's values and virtues are implemented.'

She signalled to her secretary - still staring bug-eyed at the gorgeous chaplain - for some tea, and they got down to business.

Draco spent an enjoyable day at the school, meeting teachers, observing classes, and answering the sorts of questions schoolchildren are never afraid to ask.

Draco was balancing precariously on a small chair while he sat with a small group of six-year-olds who were doing some colouring in. A crayon was thrust into his hand, so he joined in.

'You're nicer than Father Snape,' lisped a little girl with a mop of ginger curls.

'Is that because my hair's a different colour?' Draco smiled.

The girl shook her head solemnly. 'He's… scary.'

'I guess Father Snape can look a bit scary,' Draco said carefully. 'But he's a priest, and is here to help you, just like me.'

The little girl looked doubtfully at him, then at her neighbour, who shrugged.

Then Mrs Sprout took him to see the students in their final year.

'People!' she said over the excited babble that started up when Draco entered their homeroom. Getting no reaction, she clapped her hands. 'PEOPLE!'

They settled, the girls looking at Draco demurely under their eyelashes; the boys not caring much.

'This is Father Malfoy. He's to be our new school chaplain, and' –

She was drowned out by the girls' excited exclamations.

'GIRLS!' she thundered. 'Honestly, I don't know what's gotten into them,' she muttered to Draco. 'Behave yourselves, please! Father Malfoy, would you like to say a few words?'

Draco smiled and stepped forward.

He ended his short speech with 'If you have any questions, please feel free to ask. If you want to speak in confidence, I'm happy to arrange that.'

He received some questions about availability and other administrative issues. Then a girl with short black hair and a couple of holes in her face were piercings normally lived, smiled coyly and asked 'Have you been a school chaplain before?'

'No, this is my first posting since I was ordained.'

The girl grinned wickedly. 'First-timer, eh?'

Draco grinned back, albeit a watered-down version. 'I hope you'll be lenient as I learn.'

The class laughed, and Mrs Sprout frowned.

A girl with a messy ponytail asked 'Are you a virgin?'

'Penelope!' gasped Mrs Sprout in shock over the shocked titters of the class.

'It's okay, Mrs Sprout,' Draco said. 'I did say 'any questions.' Penelope, is it?'

The girl nodded boldly.

'I'll answer your question if you answer one of mine after. Sound fair?'

She nodded, her ears burning.

'I'm not.'

The class gasped and burst into chatter. Mrs Sprout had to make some ludicrous threats to get them to settle.

'I was an ordinary person before I became a priest,' he continued. 'Yes, it is against the Church's teachings to have sex before marriage, but it's not something I can go back and fix, right?'

They laughed

'So, Penelope. Why did you want to know whether or not I was a virgin?' he asked.

'Because… I find it hard to relate to priests who haven't the slightest idea about what living in the real world's actually like,' she said defensively. 'It's bad enough you think you're qualified to give us counselling on things like marriage when you've never been married and never will be, and' –

'Penelope Stillwater, I'm ashamed for the both of us!' Mrs Sprout cried. 'Father Malfoy, I'm so sorry' –

'It's perfectly fine, Mrs Sprout.'

'You are much too kind, Father. Well, we still have some people to meet,' she said firmly. 'Thank you, everyone, that will be all.'

Following Draco out of the classroom, she turned at the door and zeroed in on Penelope with laser-like eyes. 'Detention, young lady!' she hissed.

Malfoy had now been installed at St Dumbledore's for nearly a week, and Father Snape was beginning to possibly think about the likelihood of thawing out to his junior colleague, somewhat. He'd proved useful, taking on duties that Snape found tedious, and didn't insist on making wide, sweeping changes. He watched, asked questions, and was respectful.

The Church held confession on Saturday afternoons. It bored Snape to tears, because hardly anyone confessed these days, but you had to hang around, in case of an emergency.

Except for her. His lip curled. Her confessions had been unbearably tedious as of late. She may require more of his 'counselling,' soon.

Peering from behind the Sacristy door, Snape was unpleasantly surprised to find that his church pews held more penitents than normal. Nearly double, in fact. Word about the new priest must have spread.

He started removing the purple stole he wore to hear confession. 'Malfoy, you can take confession this afternoon.'

'Thank you, Father.'

Inwardly, Draco was surprised, but knew better than to ask why. He put the vestments on and headed into the church to sit in the confessional.

Draco slid the grille between his and the penitent's confessional booth open. He could just make out the features of a woman whose face was framed with a pile of dark curly hair. A faint smell of delicate orchids wafted through to his partition. 'Welcome, child,' he murmured.

A loud bump and a stifled curse came from the other booth.

'Are you all right?' he asked, concerned.

'Y-you're not Father Snape...'

'Ah, no. I'm Father Malfoy. Would you prefer to confess to Father Snape?'

'No!' she said quickly. 'I mean, it's fine. I was just… surprised.'

'All right, then… when you're ready.'

She made the Sign of the Cross. 'Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,' she whispered. 'It's been seven days since my last confession.'

Draco waited.

There was some fidgeting from the other side of the confessional, but other than that, nothing but silence… which was starting to become uncomfortable.

Just as he was about to prompt her, she whispered 'I've committed the sin of fornication.'

Oh. A serious sin.

'Do you know that fornication is a grave sin?' he asked gently.

'Yes, Father.'

'Did you commit this sin of your own free will?'

Silence. Then he heard an exhalation of breath. 'Yes, Father.'

Draco frowned. 'Are you certain?'

She cleared her throat. 'Yes, Father.'

'How often did you commit this sin?'

'Eighteen times, Father.'

What? He banged his elbow against the wall. Now it was his turn to stifle a curse.

'Are you all right, Father?'

'Uh, yes, thank you,' he replied vaguely. 'Do you mean eighteen times throughout your life?'

'No, eighteen times since last Saturday.'

Oh…kay.

She read his silence correctly. 'I'm a sex worker, Father,' she said flatly.

Right … with eighteen men. Or so.

So much for an ordinary confession of minor sins to start him off. Thanks, Snape.

'Um…' the woman whispered nervously, 'shall I do what Father Snape requires when he takes my confession?'

'What's that?'

'He requires me to be, um, specific. He believes that full sexual intercourse is more sinful than fellatio, for example, and he requires the details in order to determine my penance.'

To the woman, it looked like Father Malfoy had bowed his head and brought his hands together in prayer. In reality, he'd propped his elbows on his knees and buried his head in his hands. He was lost. It felt wrong, cruel even, to make this woman recount the times she had sex with multiple men. On the other hand, the penance must be suitable for the sin. How would he know, otherwise?

His very first confession…

He sat up, leaned his head against the back wall and closed his eyes. 'Please proceed.'

'I… performed fellatio, mostly,' she whispered.

'I see.' What else could he say?

'I - I stroke their cocks quickly and lick every inch until they glide up and down in my fist. I flick my tongue over the top of their cocks, then I pull them into my mouth and fellate them, sucking hard so my cheeks hollow out. I stroke the remainder of their cocks until I take their entire erection into my mouth and throat. They usually grab my head and hold it so they can fuck it like it's my, um, vagina …'

Jesus, help me, he prayed.

But she wasn't done. 'Often I gag. They push in too far, demanding their moneys' worth. It excites them. They pull my hair and say things like 'Take my huge cock, you fucking whore,' 'Swallow my load, bitch,' et cetera. I pretend to be aroused and moan for them. Oh. I guess that's another sin, Father - lying.

'They ejaculate in my mouth, usually. I have to swallow, then open my mouth and show them that their slut's been a good girl and they've gotten value for their money. Others come on my face. Some spray their come on my' –

'Stop.'

Draco had heard enough, and he'd had enough. He was seriously disturbed. His head was reeling, and to top it all off he was shamefully hard.

'D-don't you want to hear it all?' she whispered.

He breathed in, then out, to calm himself. 'I've heard enough to decide your penance,' he said carefully. 'Five Hail Marys.'

'Um… I'm sorry?' she sounded confused, then dumbfounded. 'Father Snape gives me so much penance I have to pray for a couple of hours afterward. That's why I come so early.'

Draco closed his eyes. 'I think you've been punished enough.'

'I… I ... thank you, Father.' Her voice cracked.

'I absolve you of your sins,' Draco said, and made the Sign of the Cross to the grille. 'In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.'

'Amen, Father. Thank you.'

'Go in peace.'

He heard the door on her side of the confessional slide open, then close.

He slumped down on his bench, clutching his hair in his fists.