Author's Note - Sorry for the delay. No excuse outside of good, old fashioned writer's block. M rated up to the first break. Happy reading! -MM
August 1996
Muggle London, England
"Draco, I have to go."
"It's too early, love. Go back to sleep," he rebutted, clutching her closer to him.
Lyra hummed and pressed a kiss to his chest. "I would love to but I have to beat Severus back to Diagon Alley. He'll have my head if he knows I've been out."
He grumbled unhappily, but released her so she could dress.
"I should have brought a change of clothes," she remarked as she donned her tight black dress from the evening prior. "This thing screams 'walk of shame' for sure," she added, pulling her panties over the flare of her hips.
"Come here," Draco said darkly to her.
Lyra wasn't even looking at him, but just the timbre of his voice made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.
She looked over her shoulder. He was sitting on the side of the bed, gloriously naked. His hair was tousled and his erect cock was teasing her as it arched deliciously up towards his belly.
She went to him immediately and stood between his legs. Reaching up, he began tugging unceremoniously at her underwear, which she'd just put back on. "Hey!" She protested.
"Oh no, sweetheart. I'm keeping these," he informed her as he slid them past her knees. He grabbed her waist and turned her around suddenly so she was facing away from him, looking into the mirror along the wall. "Skirt up. Sit down," he growled to her.
She brought her hands timidly to her hem and pulled the dress up over her ass. Reaching back for him, she planted her hands on his thighs and lowered herself into his lap. As soon as she was settled, his pale arm snaked around her and she watched fascinated as he started toying with her aching sex.
Draco loved touching her. Her sleek, warm flesh acquiescing to his gentle probing, engorging at his command. She got so soft and needy for him during those sweet moments that he wanted to engineer some sort of time bending device that could trap them in their foreplay forever.
She was scandalously wet this morning, with a slight tackyness to her that was his remnant from the night before. Feeling himself on her most intimate skin, painted on to her, was amazing. She loved him, wanted him and trusted him enough to let him leave part of himself inside of her whenever they made love. Draco still dreamed occasionally of the black-haired, gray-eyed baby he'd first seen the night his father was arrested, but knew that Lyra came armed to the gills with contraception potions, charms and wards (courtesy of her mother) and so unintended pregnancy was never a pressing concern, which was for the best.
After petting her for a bit, he withdrew his fingers and helped steer her so she could impale herself on his hardness.
"Fuck," she hissed, sitting back into him. His entry burned a little but he felt so good. His cock was stretching her in a way that she wasn't used to and it was so intense.
"Move," he commanded.
Lyra pressed her feet into the floor next to his for stability. She started by rotating her hips in a little circle and jolted when she felt the underside of his penis rub hard against that spot that she loved when he teased her with his fingers.
"Don't stop," he encouraged, flexing himself upward in search of another deep stroke.
Lyra arched her back and leaned into him, increasing her speed.
He reached around, grabbing the inside of her thighs and pulled hard to widen her legs. "Look at that," he rasped into her ear.
Lyra lifted her head from off his shoulder and looked into the mirror. She was instantly mesmerized by the sight of her sex taking him over and over, making him glisten with her need.
She rode him hard, eventually bowing forward for leverage to work herself up and down his shaft while he pulled her back on to him roughly. When he came though, Lyra picked herself up to watch with fascination the erratic throb of his cock as he filled her.
Draco was limp as a stunned cat for the first minute or so afterwards. It was Lyra flexing her sweetness around his softening prick that brought him back to attention.
He rewarded her teasing with a satisfied groan and reluctantly pulled his forehead away from the back of her neck.
She gave him a cocky hum that made him smirk into her hair. He lifted one of her arms and wrapped it around his shoulders so they could both look in the mirror with ease. His witch was so gorgeous that it almost struck him dumb. A simple twist of his hips caused him to slip from her body, smacking wetly into the sheet below them.
"Look," he whispered into her ear, nuzzling along the lobe with his nose.
Lyra shivered anxiously but complied, watching his semen peak out slowly from between her well-fucked folds. She made no effort to hide the atomic blush that blazed across her face and chest and, after a few moments, started shifting a bit to reduce her exposure.
"Shhh...stop. Don't be embarrassed. I love seeing you like this," He soothed, bringing his hand around to push his escaping seed back inside her.
The intimacy of the gesture left her breathless. She writhed wildly in his arms, gasping secrets to him as he built her pleasure for her.
"I love you so much," she panted. "I need you. You're what I dream about. Your voice, your hands, your mind, your cock. I've never wanted anything like I want you."
Draco buried his face in her shoulder to hide the tears that gathered in his eyes as she confessed to him.
"Please find me before I leave tomorrow. When I have you...I...I can't be without you very long. It hurts," she pleaded as a tear of her own tracked unashamed down her flushed cheek.
He maneuvered to catch her mouth in a quick kiss. "I'll find you. I promise," he vowed. "I love you, Lyra."
August 1996
Wizarding London, England
Draco was replaying her words in his head over and over as he wandered alone down the Alley, which was pleasently deserted in the hours of early morning. He'd seen Lyra safely back to her room at the dingy little pub Snape had her holed up in and was headed down to the baker in Knockturn to fetch some pastry that was a favorite of his Mum's.
He flooed back to his family's London townhouse where he and his mother were staying until he was set to go back to Hogwarts. He rather liked it. It was more modern than the Manor and far less imposing. The Manor was lovely in its way, but he tired of having to owl his mother to reach her in her wing of the house. Here, he could just call to her or send her a message by floo, if he was feeling especially lazy.
His mother was on him as soon as he stepped out of the fireplace into the neat foyer.
"Where have you been? I've been owling you all bloody morning, Draco!" She called, grabbing onto the sleeve of his suit.
He froze for a moment. His mother had cursed. She never cursed. "What's the matter?" He asked her immediately, sensing her distress.
"We need to return to Wiltshire at once to make preparations. The Dark Lord will be visiting us this evening," she told him shakily.
"What?!" He exclaimed, in disbelief.
August 1996
Malfoy Manor
Wizarding Wiltshire, England
"Are you not hungry, my Lord? If the meal doesn't suit you, we can have anything you like brought up from the kitchens," Narcissa chatted politely while she moved a well-stabbed leaf of lettuce nervously around on her plate.
"Hmm. I require little food these days, but do enjoy yourselves," he replied placidly. "I'll be in Lucius's study. Send your son to me when you are finished."
Draco, who had his eyes fixed intently on his barely touched dinner, used all of the energy he wasn't expending on occlumency to keep his hands from shaking and rattling his silverware.
"As you wish, my Lord," his mother replied as the snake faced wizard sitting at the head of their dining table disintegrated into wisps of black smoke.
"Draco," she called to him once they were alone.
He snapped his head up to look at her, hoping for her guidance, hoping that she would lead them into the fireplace to some planned hiding place, hoping for some kind of out to this bizarre situation.
"Bring a bottle of the Domaine Boingneres with you when you go. Your father always has a spare in the Library," she chirped, mantaining her well practiced 'social voice.'
Draco frowned but nodded and went back to rearranging the quail eggs on his plate for an appropriate amount of time before kissing his mother on the cheek and going to meet the Dark Lord. He stopped off at the library as instructed and grabbed the pristine bottle of his father's favorite brandy. He then ascended the great staircase that led to his father's imposing study. Draco hadn't been inside since his 15th birthday, after his time with Olivia, where his father had badgered him with inappropriate questions before launching into a predictable rant on all of the 'blood-traitors' and 'brutish fools' at The Ministry and The Daily Prophet.
Steeling himself, he knocked on the door, which was slightly ajar.
"Mr. Malfoy, do come in. This is your house, you need not knock on my account," the ancient wizard said to him in a voice that was friendly, but edged.
Draco pushed the door open and stepped inside. The Dark Lord was standing behind his father's desk, ruminating over the collection of books and volumes that lined the shelves.
"Quite a neat little collection. I had no idea Lucius was so interested in runes. Lot of potential there," he mused, running a long, pale digit over the dragonscale spine of one of the manuscripts. He turned to face Draco. "And speaking of potential, let us talk about yours."
"My Lord, I am at your service," he replied plainly, expending a great deal of mental energy to keep thoughts calm and his face composed.
"Yes, yes. I know. So many I have at my service," The Dark Lord dismissed with a wave of his hand, before installing himself regally in the plush chair behind the desk. "and so many disappointments. Dolohov, Crabbe, McNair and not the least of all your own father," he continued, sounding almost tired.
Draco winced but held the wizard's gaze. Unsure of what to do, he approached slowly and set the brandy down on the desk in front of the Dark Lord with an inoffensive thud. "Drink?"
Something Draco couldn't place sparkled in the elder wizard's eyes and he thought he caught the faintest hint of a smirk. "You have the same charm about you as your father. I always liked him best when he was faking sincerity. Now it seems such a waste," he said wistfully.
Draco swallowed hard.
"Anyway, I have an assignment for you."
"An assignment, my Lord?" Draco asked.
"You return to Hogwarts soon, yes? I would like you to do some things for me while you are there," he stated.
"Of course," Draco replied, partially in automatic deference, partly out of genuine interest.
"There is an artifact at Borgin and Burkes that I would like you to familiarize yourself with before your departure."
"Should be no problem," Draco responded.
"Secondly, I would like you to take the Mark," he said in a blase tone.
Draco's stomach lurched uncomfortably. Taking the Dark Mark, becoming a Death Eater, was certainly not something he expected to hear after his father's failure at The Ministry. The Slytherin in him, or maybe it was just the Malfoy, started scheming immediately. This could truly mean something for him and his family. Maybe their prospects weren't as tarnished as he thought. If he could do this, they could win back favor with the Dark Lord. In his mind, he saw a series of flashes, recent memories of his mother crying over their situation. Maybe this would stop her tears.
The older wizard sneered, dropping his amiable facade. "Your mother will probably cry regardless. She has none of the passion of her sister and seems to have inherited all of the weakness," he fired, plucking the animated thoughts from Draco's mind. "Understand that I am giving you my Mark because you will have need of it, not because I choose you. You have done nothing worthy of my favor."
"I've knocked Potter off a broom once or twice, which my father couldn't even manage, so I figure that's got to count for something," Draco fired back without thinking. He hadn't meant to say anything, but he was fuming mad after the insult to his mother.
The Dark Lord laughed. It was an odd, artificial sound, but it was enough to allow Draco to draw breath again after his outburst and recloak his thoughts.
"We will see, won't we."
"I suppose we will," Draco answered. "Is there anything else?"
Voldemort steepled his fingers thoughtfully under his chin. "Yes. I would like you to kill Albus Dumbledore for me."
Draco laughed. He couldn't help it.
Voldemort did not laugh. He stared calmly until the young wizard had regained his composure. "You should have a drink, Mr. Malfoy."
Draco paled at his tone. "Do you really mean it?"
"Well quite frankly, I couldn't care less whether you have a drink or not," he quipped dryly.
Draco shook his head in confusion.
"About The Headmaster, however, I am completely serious."
"I..." Draco began.
"Understand that Albus and I have had our disagreements but his death would be out of necessity and not malice. I need something from him for the coming war and he is unable to give it while he lives. Despite my reputation, I abhor spilling magical blood. Still, I am a man of the truth and the truth is that his death is required to further our cause," the snakefaced wizard stated plainly. "Restore the proper balance. Magic for the worthy, the well practiced, the devoted. Those with the heritage and the sense of perspective to know what magic truly means."
Draco said nothing. The Dark Lord rose from his seat and walked over to him, planting a hand on his shoulder. Draco registered that his hand was cold. It felt dead. Inhuman even.
"Go to your room. Rest and prepare. You will take the Mark tonight and then Burke and Greyback will help prepare you for your other tasks," he said. "I'll send your Aunt Bellatrix along this afternoon to speak with you and...tend to your mother," he added with distaste.
Draco's body was on autopilot. He gave a wooden nod and vaguely registered that The Dark Lord had disappeared at some point while he stared unseeing into the fireplace.