Hey!!! My first fanfic ever posted, I feel like I should be giving a speech (Maybe not, considering before the last speech I did, I tripped up the stairs and knocked myself out)

Here is my try at a disclaimer:

DISCLAIMER: All and anything to the Harry Potter series, written by J K Rowling, belongs to her, NOT ME

Anyway, enjoy!

Draco Malfoy stood staring at the gigantic metal door, and smoothed his hands down the front of his robe, a last ditch attempt at getting rid of the sweat that had built up.

He was the epitome of perfection, if he did say so himself. With his perfect body and aristocratic features, he was the envy of all men who came across him, except for the ones that wanted to shag him. He made girls swoon, with one smouldering look. He had at least five marriage proposals every week. So why, he thought to himself, am I scared shitless of a meeting with the Dark Lord? It's not like he's going to kill me. Uh, right, let's just stay away from that until it comes up.

He had been sent for by Voldemort himself, and he had an awful feeling that it wasn't for praise. Hopefully he would get away with a quick crucio. Steeling himself, he mentally went though everything Severus had taught him about a meeting alone with the Dark Lord. He raised his hand, and with a sense of growing dread, knocked on the door twice. It had an ominous donging sound that vibrated right to Draco's bones.

"You may enter" A voice hissed out, muffled by the door.

Draco squared his shoulders and turning the ornate door handle, pushed the door open.

"My lord," He whispered, glancing up through his fringe at the forbidding man/creature standing in front of him. The room was bare, a ghastly shade of red interspersed with black painted on the walls. The last Death Eater meeting had been two days ago, and the room hadn't been used since. "You called?"

Voldemort gestured for Draco to stand in front of him. "Yes. I have arranged punishment for your misdemeanour last Thursday." He said delicately, drawing out the 'S' in Thursday.

Draco swallowed thickly and remembered last Thursday. His father, Lucius, had been hosting another muggle hunting party. When they had all been caught, Voldemort had called for Draco to finish the last one off, a little boy no older than 5 years old. He had tried, really he had, but he just could not work Avada Kedavra.

The tapping of a wand against the flesh of a hand across from him brought him back to the present. He looked up fearfully and, struggling to keep the Malfoy facade up, said in an even voice, "Whatever you see fit to punish me with my lord, would not be as detrimental to me as disappointing you."

The dark Lord regarded Draco for a moment "Yes, as it should be." Here, Voldemort paused, and took a sibilating breath, as if to calm himself. "Recently, a person of great importance was captured and is being held in the dungeons. This is your punishment," He paused and reached into his robe, pulling out a vial.

Draco stared in fascination as it pulsed, illuminating the spider-like hands holding it. Draco had an extensive knowledge of potions, but could not identify this particular one. He felt a mommentary pang of annoyance, for he was supposed to know everything, and he couldn't identify a measly potion! Draco focussed on his master again.

"You are to take this potion down to the dungeons, and give it to the prisoner there, even if they struggle." The dark lord stared hard at Draco.

Draco felt as if there was a hole being burnt into his face. He quickly looked down and nodded.

"I expect an answer." His voice was deadly cold, and told Draco that he was treading a fine line.

"Yes, my lord." Draco looked back up, determined to be brave and get back into his lord's inner circle.

"This potion," Voldemort continued, swirling the liquid around in the vial, "Is very rare. It is a cousin of the love potion Amortentia. It releases the inner animal inside a person, takes them down to the primal being residing in the deepest recesses of the brain, a thing driven only by lust. You will let the prisoner do whatever they want to you, and you are not to struggle. Hopefully this experience will teach you a lesson," Here, Voldemort paused and a murderous look entered his eyes, "And break the prisoner so completely they will never be a threat to me again."

Voldemort held out the vial and Draco took it with trembling hands. "The prisoner is in the first cell. You may go now. Oh, and Draco? You are not to prepare yourself for this in any way."

Draco stood up gracefully, bowed and exited quickly. On the inside, he was raging with emotions. He felt himself break out into a cold sweat, as he walked slowly down towards the dungeons. Luckily, he did not meet anyone on the way, for he would not have been able to control himself enough to pass as normal.

A short while later, and not nearly long enough for Draco, he arrived in front of the cell door. He paused for a moment and took a deep breath. He glanced down at the vial he was holding, and tried to stop his hands from shaking, with no luck. From what he could gather, once the potion was taken, the prisoner would force them self onto him, regardless of whether he wanted it or not. But he would have to endure, for he had been ordered.

Oh shit, I am absolutely fucking screwed, no pun intended. I hope at least they're clean. I can't even do anything to prevent the pain! Okay, suck it up Malfoy, you've endured worse than this...

He reached out, and performed the spell to open the door. He strode in, and got his first good look at the prisoner.

"Potter?"

Cliffie! Reviews are appreciated. Thanks! Labrador-luva