Honey Trap.
'You can say what you like about the death eaters...' Draco thought to himself as he rooted through a large wardrobe... 'They may have their faults, but they sure know how to dress!' He grinned a devious grin as he pulled from the wardrobe a beautiful set of black silk robes. Long, flowing and cut wide at the neckline to the point where they were positively androgynous. He looked at the label, it was a very exclusive designer. With a smile he removed the robes and the coordinating black satin trousers from the hanger, applied the tailoring charms as the labels directed and slipped the garments on. He shivered with pleasure as the tailoring charms pulled the garments into the perfect fit for his body.
Draco admired his reflection in the full length mirror. He had to admit he had been truly blessed with his looks, and it did feel so good to be clean, well groomed and nicely dressed again after those few days of muddy forests and long walks. He smiled... But he could hide up here no longer. The Dark Lord and his death eaters were dining in a room downstairs and he had the honour of joining them. Steadying his nerves, Draco took care to transfer all of the contents of his pockets into the pockets of the new, beautiful robes he wore before he left his dressing room.
Draco sashayed into the great dining hall. He had done his grovelling now. That wasn't something a Malfoy could keep up for too long! Now he was clean and beautifully dressed. He had provided information and was in the Dark Lords favour. There was no reason not to stand tall now.
The dining room was not dissimilar to the one at Malfoy manor. A long wooden table with chairs down either side and more ornate chairs at each end. The snob in Draco couldn't help but notice that the style was somewhat incongruous with the building. The building was Georgian neo-classical, whilst the table pretended to be medieval. The family who had owned this house had clearly made their money in the late 18th century but had wanted to give the impression it was inherited. Draco tried not to judge but couldn't help it.
He felt superior, but then again, he usually did. He wondered in to the room and ignored the majority of the occupants and looked straight at the Dark Lord at the head of the table. Draco smiled a seductive smile. He knew he looked perfect and was able to be himself again.
'Good evening, my lord.' Draco drawled, making a flamboyant flourishing bow.
Voldemort laughed at the marked change in his appearance and demeanour.
'It's amazing what a bath and a good set of robes can do!' He hissed. 'Do you feel clean now, Draco? Have you washed that foul filthy Auror off your skin...?'
Several of the death eaters laughed but Draco held his ground. He drew himself up tall.
'I can't allow myself to remain tainted by him forever.' Draco said flatly. 'I might not be worthy of the great honour of being in your presence, my lord, but I am certainly worth more than him!'
Voldemort laughed again.
'Indeed you are.' He affirmed. 'And you are a Slytherin are you not..? You're resilient.'
'Yes.' Draco replied confidently. 'My lord.' He added in time.
'Come and sit beside me.' Voldemort beckoned. 'You may have been a filthy little Auror whore this afternoon, but you really have cleaned up quite well.' He laughed with malice. 'And besides, you bought useful information, you should be rewarded for that at least.'
Draco sauntered over to Voldemort, a proud conceited look on his smooth icy face, his arrogance irritating several of the death eaters who felt they had endured more over the years, for far less reward.
Voldemort extended his hand to Draco who took hold of it and raised it to his lips. He kissed Voldemort's cold grey skin lingering over the task long enough to make eye contact with him flirtatiously.
Voldemort smiled an evil smile as he pulled Draco close and made him sit beside him.
Draco sat as close as he could and gazed up at the Dark Lord with both desire and admiration.
Voldemort summoned a servant to bring wine. The wine was for him to enjoy, not because he felt it would be necessary in order to get the Malfoy brat into bed. That would be all too easy! The brat could have some wine, if he wanted. It didn't really matter. Voldemort planned to fuck him half insensible anyway. It was merciful of him to allow the boy to drink first, Voldemort mused. But then again, he bore the boy no ill will. In fact he was pleased with him. The boy had been brave, loyal and useful, but that didn't stop Voldemort from planning to fuck him like a whore once he took him to his bed. He was the Dark Lord after all and Draco Malfoy was a devoted follower so therefore Voldemort could do what he liked with him.
Voldemort wasn't usually given to lust. He considered such things beneath him, but the Malfoy brat really had put it on a plate for him. There could be no misunderstanding the way he had behaved that afternoon. The little slut wanted it bad and Voldemort, being a kind lord, as well as a merciful one, thought it would be fun to give it to him. It was a mercy mission really after what had endured from that lecherous old Auror. Voldemort tried not to smirk every time he imagined it. The thought of the boy being violently defiled by an ugly old man who he hated both amused Voldemort and aroused him. Perhaps he'd make the boy talk through it in every detail, as foreplay...?
Wormtail poured wine for Voldemort with a simpering smile.
'And some for little Malfoy here.' Voldemort prompted. 'He may find he needs it.'
There was laughter from some around the table.
'Thank you.' Draco replied smoothly not letting the laughter phase him.
Draco was not naive, he could anticipate the Dark Lords plans for him that evening. In fact he had engineered the situation quite on purpose. What better way to get right to the top?
Draco drank slowly and extremely carefully knowing from recent experience he was not the experienced drinker he sometimes thought he was. He was grateful when Wormtail was instructed to leave and it became his responsibility to pour the wine. That way he could give himself less than everyone else and it could go unnoticed.
Draco slipped naturally into the subservient role, pouring wine for Voldemort with a coquettish smile and a flutter of his long eye lashes. He showed little more than a patronising tolerance to the others, which seemed to very much amuse the dark lord.
Draco had no intention of getting drunk, he wanted to be fully alert for the evening, but he did know he would have to at least act a little drunk so that the others would think he was drinking as much as they were.
He spoke louder. He boasted and bragged about his wealth and influence. He described with relish how he had tricked the Minister for magic, how he had convinced everyone he wanted their help. He laughed about how he had tricked them into wasting their best Auror resource on guarding him when all the time he hoped to get information and then to run.
'You had to pay quite a high price though, didn't you?' Greyback barked from across the table making many of the death eaters laugh.
'Very amusing, Fleaback.' Draco retorted dryly with a haughty sneer. 'I am more than prepared to make personal sacrifices if I can please the Dark Lord.'
Draco's response was met with a greater laugh than Greyback's comment, which angered the werewolf but amused Voldemort who was rapidly beginning to hold the Malfoy boy as something of a little favourite, in spite of his flaws, or perhaps because of them.
'You'll be laughing on the other side of your face when you find yourself making similar 'personal sacrifices' later tonight.' Greyback snapped.
'I can only guess at what you are insinuating...' Draco began slickly, 'And I personally cannot imagine that the Dark Lord would chose to bestow such a great honour upon me.'
Draco gave Voldemort a coy, seductive smile.
'As smooth talking as your father!' Voldemort laughed. 'But braver, and certainly more entertaining!'
Draco glowed and smiled a smug satisfied smile as he moved a little closer to Voldemort, glancing at him playfully.
The evening wore on. Insulting and teasing Draco became less and less the order of the day and Voldemort seemed more and more amused by Draco's rudeness to the others.
Draco moved closer and closer to Voldemort until he was practically draped over his lap. Whenever he found cause to speak to him directly he would practically whisper to him making communication as intimate as possible.
'Would you like some more wine, my lord...?' Draco whispered softly, lingering over each word, his lips inches from Voldemort's ear.
When Voldemort said 'yes' Draco purposefully leant over him to reach the bottle ensuring physical contact between them. He poured the drink and Voldemort actually thanked him.
'It's a pleasure to serve you, my lord.' Draco whispered as it gave him an excuse to get close again.
Slowly the death eaters made their excuses and began to drift away. Some to rooms within the house and some back to their families. Draco recognised some of them as Hogwarts parents, many of whom he had not known were involved with the movement. Draco made a mental list of names and faces.
Soon only Voldemort and he remained with Wormtail hovering somewhere in the background in case he was needed again.
'Just you and me left, my lord...' Draco said smiling. 'You know I have no home I can go to, I wonder if you will let me stay...'
'No need to act coy on my account.' Voldemort hissed. 'You've no audience to impress now, and you know full well I'm going to take you to my bed this evening... My most worthy and favoured follower!'
Draco blushed and leant close to whisper;
'It is a great honour my lord and I will please you in any way I can.'
Voldemort laughed.
'Certainly, you will. It pleases me that you are so well trained. Come, now, this way.'
He stood up almost knocking Draco onto the floor as Draco was practically sitting on his lap. He gestured towards the grand entrance hall where the stairs led up to the bedrooms.
'Can we take some more wine?' Draco asked quickly.
Voldemort paused.
'You are a spoilt little lap dog, aren't you Malfoy?' He hissed. 'I would have thought you'd had enough by now.'
'I'm an aristocrat, we always drink too much.' He replied.
Voldemort laughed. Draco was wonderfully cocky. It was very entertaining, and of course it could be beaten out of him if Voldemort ever tired of it.
'If you like, you little brat.' He replied. 'Take a bottle from that cabinet. And bring two glasses.'
'Yes my lord.' Draco smiled to himself smugly as made his way to the cabinet and picked up the strongest wine he could see.
He made his way back to Voldemort who grabbed him quite roughly by the arm. Now they were standing up the effects of the alcohol seemed to suddenly become more dramatic. Draco amended his walk to a drunken swagger to match Voldemort's.
Voldemort led Draco back up the stairs he had descended earlier that evening but took him to a far more ostentatious room than the one where he had bathed. There was a grand bed with thick opulent bed covers, and just for a split second, Draco thought how comfortable it looked and how nice it would be to sleep there after all those nights of roughing it. He checked himself at once. He wasn't going to be doing much sleeping tonight, after all.
Voldemort locked the door behind them. Perhaps he thought Draco might try to run away or perhaps he simply wanted to prevent them being disturbed. He grinned lecherously thinking what perfect payback for Lucius's incompetence it was to blatantly take his only child as a sex-toy-whore while he was locked away. Draco looked set to be a most willing and amusing slut to play with, as well as being quite a useful one, too.
Voldemort quickly made his way to the bed while Draco looked around for a table for the wine, preferably in a corner of the room where he could pour it with his back to the Dark Lord.
The room contained no such furniture and Draco's heart began to race now, the reality of his situation dawning on him. He couldn't stall forever. He began to break out in a sweat but tried to keep his cool.
'Bring me some wine.' Voldemort commanded as he reclined on the bed loosening his robes.
'Yes my lord.' Draco replied silkily.
Realising the only surface on which to put the wine was the dressing table Draco suppressed a sigh as he realised he couldn't block Voldemort's view of him pouring, due to the reflection in the glass. He surrendered and poured and equal amount into each glass before approaching the bed.
Voldemort snatched the glass from him and drank nearly all of it in one go giving Draco the chance to take only a minimal sip of his own before putting the glass down. Then Voldemort grabbed him.
Draco found himself on his back at once and Voldemort was on top of him. Draco's first impression of him was that he was very strong. He was big too. He seemed bigger here than he had down stairs, even when he'd been sitting on his ridiculous throne. Here, just the two of them, he seemed very large and very powerful simply because of his physical size and strength. Draco felt suddenly very small and weak and he didn't even want to consider the magical power advantage Voldemort had over him.
In truth Draco didn't have much time to think about anything this bizarre encounter was suddenly happening so fast. First he was simply aware that Voldemort was on top of him. Draco wasn't meaning to fight him but somehow despite Draco's compliance Voldemort seemed to be fighting to restrain him and they thrashed around on the bed like two fighting cats.
It was a good few minutes before Draco even noticed that Voldemort was kissing him. Was it kissing? Draco supposed you could call it that. It was more like a starving wolf was trying to eat him alive, starting with his mouth. Draco found himself almost gagging as he gasped for breath.
Voldemort's mouth was all over Draco. Licking, sucking and biting at his neck and his face, the only exposed skin as he was still fully clothed. It hurt pretty much everywhere but Draco had no time to give that any attention. He could hardly believe this was actually about to happen.
At long last Voldemort eased off from his angry wrestling foreplay and Draco, his head a little foggy, seized his chance.
He sat up quickly and moved to the far side of the bed. Voldemort watched him.
'Not scared are you Malfoy?' He drawled with a grin.
Draco smiled seductively.
'Surely I must undress for you, my lord?' He replied softly.
Voldemort was amused, and although he had little interest in a strip tease, he nodded his head and picked up his wine to drink again while Draco undressed.
Draco quickly and seamlessly slipped his hand into the pocket of his outer robe, giving the impression he was undoing a fastening. He located a small vial of liquid he had hidden there when he had dressed earlier that day. It was the vial of liquid he had been hoping all night to slip surreptitiously into a glass of wine. This was his last chance!
Inside the pocket he opened the tiny bottle and let its contents run into his hand. He placed his hands together coating both palms and as he let his robes fall to the floor, with his back to Voldemort, he dragged his hands over his neck and his chest spreading the sweet smelling potion over his skin. He braced himself, hoping to the Gods this would work.
He glanced back over his shoulder at Voldemort with a flutter of his eyelashes.
He was rather nice unclothed Voldemort thought. He was glad he hadn't chosen to torture the boy for any reason. It would have been a shame to damage that perfectly formed body in any way other than this. He grabbed hold of Draco's wrist and pulled the naked boy back onto the bed and clamped his mouth back over his lips again.
Draco caressed him as best he could as Voldemort seemed intent on pinning him down, however yielding he was. Without wanting to seem as though he were pulling away from the dark lords ferocious kisses, Draco turned his head to the side giving Voldemort the chance to access his neck and the naked, potion-covered flesh.
Voldemort's lips sucked hungrily at Draco's neck, his cold tongue licked him moving down to his chest, again as if he planned to devour him. Silently, Draco prayed to anyone who might be listening...
He could feel Voldemort's erection against his hip, and once Voldemort forced his way between his thighs, Draco knew he foreplay time was rapidly running out. He turned his head again so the Voldemort licked the other side of his neck.
Was it purely desperate optimism or was Voldemort's grip on him actually loosening? Were his movements really slowing down...
Yes!
His body weight was becoming heavier and heavier and his violent kisses were now merely nuzzling.
Draco kept praying.
Voldemort tried to speak, something about how hard he was going to fuck Draco that night, but the words were lost in a deep yawn. Then, at last, he flopped forward completely, his whole body weight on Draco. His breathing became deep, heavy and relaxed.
Somewhat trapped, Draco lay totally still in considerable discomfort for several minutes until he was completely sure that Voldemort was asleep. Only then did he slowly wriggle out from under him and hurried over to the dressing table where a jug of water stood.
Hurriedly he dipped the edge of a curtain into the water and scrubbed the last traces of Dreamless Sleep potion from his neck and chest as he was unsure if the potion could be effective on him through his skin.
He glanced over at the bed where the Dark Lord lay sleeping, probably more peacefully than he had done in years. Draco felt a thrill of excitement at this little victory! For a second he could almost understand the appeal of a dangerous job like being an Auror! However, he reminded himself he was not out of danger yet. He told himself to stay calm and not to get carried away. He was lucky, very lucky, to have got away with this much. It would certainly have been foolish to try to harm the dark lord in any way whilst he was in a house which was full of death eaters, but it was very odd to be alone with him like this.
He would be alone with him this way all night. He dare not let himself fall asleep in case Voldemort woke up and his appetites rose again! He would have to simply stay on the bed, all night, and be as still as he could be. It was a very long, very dark few hours.
As Draco sat staring in the darkness, counting down the hours until morning; far away, at Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore was just concluding a meeting with Cornelius Fudge and Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had already completed his escort mission. The three men were just about to call it a night when suddenly a silvery white light burst through the office window and a powerful yet desperate spell entered the room.
Hands on their wands they watched it circle before it came to the centre of the room above Dumbledore's desk. They stared in shock as it suddenly flickered into its corporal form, the shape of a brilliant, white peacock.
The message it carried was scratchy and disjointed. The caster was clearly inexperienced, however the message was clear enough to understand. Clear enough for Kingsley and Fudge to know exactly what they needed to do.
When morning began to break through the curtains, Draco hurriedly finished dressing and he quietly slipped out of the room. He found Wormtail downstairs and snapped at him that the Dark Lord required breakfast. Draco watched gloatingly as Wormtail prepared it and when it was done Draco snatched it from him.
'I'll take it to him!' He snapped arrogantly. 'He won't want you barging in there, first thing in the morning!'
Wormtail looked thoroughly deflated as Draco hurried off with the tray of breakfast. Draco knew he could distract Voldemort with food and then remind him just how spectacular last night had been, if necessary. As he was up and dressed and there was much to do, he was optimistic that he was safe from any more sexual attention from the Dark Lord, for the time being at least. Now all that remained was the small business of launching an attack on Auror Alastor Moody.