Narcissa didn't care if he was the Dark Lord. He was having a relationship with their son and therefore she saw no reason why she shouldn't invite him to have dinner with them. She could not understand why her husband was looking at her as though he were seriously considering having her committed to a secure ward for the permanently spell damaged. Anyway, she told herself, Lucius was not the important one right now. Draco was.

Exhausted, Draco had flopped into the chair behind the desk, he slouched back and closed his eyes for a moment, trying to recover from the morning's ordeal. It was not yet mid day and already he had experienced a whole plethora of emotion and felt like he just wanted to sleep for a week to recover. Of course he did not have that option. Clearly his mother had decided the last 24 hours had not been traumatic enough so she had felt the need to invite Voldemort to have dinner with them that evening. Draco wanted to see Voldemort that evening, but he wanted to see him alone, preferably at the Riddle house, away from his parents. He wanted to crawl into bed with him and be fucked into oblivion, until all the upset of the day disappeared. He could honestly have hexed Narcissa, but one doesn't hex one's own mother!

Narcissa approached Draco. She felt like she had waited so long for answers to so many questions and in the last 24 hours she had received so many answers that she had almost lost track of what all of her questions were. She knelt down beside him and took his hands.

'Draco, darling, are you alright?' She asked.

Draco opened his eyes. Had his parents seen enough of his relationship with the Dark Lord that they would not feel the need to actually ask him anything about it? Draco hoped so.

'I'm ok.' He said calmly. 'I'm glad that Snape will be ok too.' He added.

'Me too!' Narcissa smiled at him warmly. 'You were so clever to figure all that out. The Dark Lord really listens to you doesn't he?'

Draco cringed internally.

'Yeah, I guess so.' He replied. 'Do you think we could have some coffee? I am really exhausted.' He pleaded, in an attempt to change the subject.

'Of course.' His mother answered and turned to her husband. 'Lucius, my love, could you go and instruct the house elf to make coffee for all of us and serve it in the drawing room? Then I will need to speak to him myself about the meal tonight.'

Lucius nodded, and Draco felt a renewed closeness with his father as he noticed the look of disbelief and horror Lucius had given his wife when she mentioned the evening meal.

Once they were alone, Narcissa turned again to her son. Draco got a sinking feeling.

'You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, darling...' She began.

Draco tensed.

'But please, just tell me this. Does he make you happy? Is this what you want?' She whispered softly.

Draco supposed these were not unreasonable questions. He gave her a small smile.

'Yes.' He answered. 'He does make me happy.'

She remained silent, hoping to get some more from him.

'I was scared of him at first, but like I told you before, he's not unkind to me. Quite the opposite in fact, and yes, yes it is what I want.' Draco hoped this was a complete enough answer.

Narcissa gave a deep sigh. Of all of the glowing futures she had dreamt up for her son, this was nothing like any of them. But if Draco really was happy, she would try to be happy too. It wasn't like she had any choice but to accept it, but she didn't have to like it if Draco wasn't happy. But if he was, well, that was what she wanted more than anything else. She nodded.

'That's alright then darling.' She whispered. 'I just want you to be happy. Does he... does he take care of your needs?'

Draco's eyes widened in horror giving Narcissa the clear message that this was the line which he did not want to cross. He blushed furiously and Narcissa smiled. That was her answer.

'OK, darling, I'm sorry. I won't ask you.' She smiled and stood up. She extended her hand to Draco. 'Come, let's go and have that coffee.'

Draco watched, aghast as his mother turned the flowers in the table centrepiece from blue, to red and then to white as she tried to decide on which was the most appropriate colour for the evening. His stomach twisted with nerves, taking him to a level of nervous nausea he had never experienced before.

Narcissa had already angsted for half an hour over which cutlery should be used and yelled at the house elf for bringing out the old napkins rather than the best ones.

Lucius stood behind his son and rested a supportive hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco glanced up at him with a pitiful, powerless expression on his face. Lucius smiled a faint, understanding smile.

'She's always loved entertaining.' He whispered apologetically.

Draco cringed and Lucius hugged him. Actually hugged him! It was a one-arm hug, but a hug none the less. If nothing else, this whole ordeal was bringing them closer.

'Draco, you will have to go and change.' Narcissa exclaimed at once.

'Why?' Asked Draco incredulously.

'Your outfit clashes with the table decorations.' She snapped. She had decided on a very deep shade of purple for the table arrangements, and felt that Draco's blue silk shirt was not a complimentary tone.

'Mother, don't be ridiculous!' Draco gasped. It was a long time since he had seen this side of his mother. On one hand it was nice to see her throwing herself into a project instead of sitting and fretting. One the other hand it bought back memories of her changing his outfit up to 15 times when he was a child, just so she could be sure he complimented her own outfit, and the decor, perfectly.

'I'm serious, Draco.' She said crossly. 'You should be wearing something more traditional anyway. Go an change into those beautiful dark green dress robes we bought you.' She instructed.

'I'm not wearing those.' Draco said stubbornly. 'They are far too formal and...'

'Just you go and change into them right now, Draco Malfoy! I will not argue with you!' Narcissa screamed.

Lucius and Draco both jumped in fright and Draco slunk out of the room to change, afraid that if he hadn't left at that point he might have dissolved into a nervous, hysterical giggling fit.

It wasn't funny at all. He thought to himself as he smoothed down the robes his mother had insisted he wear. One consolation was that he did look pretty hot in them, he thought to himself. The sweeping, floor length robes in deep emerald green made him look particularly slim and elegant, and contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and hair. He used his favourite scent and smoothed his hair down, so that it looked neat and silky as it framed his porcelain face. 'If I have to die of embarrassment this evening I suppose I can at least leave an attractive corpse...' He mumbled as he descended the stairs.

'Oh! Darling!' Narcissa cried when she set eyes on him. 'You look so perfect!'

She rushed towards him and kissed him, her eyes shining with tears.

Draco shrugged out of her grip.

'Calm down, mother!' He sighed.

Lucius stood in the corner of the room, a glass of port already in his hand. His wife had chosen his outfit and had made sure he was perfectly groomed, which made a pleasant change. He looked almost like his old self again. He looked at his son, his handsome, clever, brilliant son and wondered why he had never told Draco he was all of those things when he was growing up. It was probably a bit late now.

Narcissa glanced at her own hair in the mirror and then fussed with Lucius's neck tie. Draco gave a pained and anxious frown.

'He'll be arriving soon.' Narcissa said busily. 'Draco, I think you should be sitting in the chair by the window when he arrives. But you must stand up to greet him, of course, when he gets here. We want you to make the right impression.'

Draco wondered if he had somehow fallen out of his own reality and crash landed in the middle of a regency romance instead.

'Mother, I have actually met him before. You know that, right?' Draco clarified sarcastically, and Lucius stifled a smile.

'Don't be cheeky!' Narcissa hissed. 'This all started very badly. Now is the chance to put it right.' She said authoritatively.

Draco sighed. She had been through a lot. Perhaps he owed her this.

Sitting in the designated chair, Draco thought it was probably a very good thing that someone as forceful and intimidating as Voldemort had been the one to take him, as his mother would clearly have frightened off a less terrifying suitor.

Over at the Riddle house, Voldemort was also nervous. How in the name of the Gods had he got himself into this situation? Why did he, the Dark Lord, now find himself in a situation what he felt he could not get out of? Did he not have more pressing things to be doing this evening than having dinner with the Malfoys? Draco didn't want this, and he was the only one that mattered really. A formal dinner with Draco's parents? One thing was for sure, it was never meant to be like this!

He couldn't not go, although the thought had occurred to him. That would be desperately unfair to Draco. He had hurt Draco enough in the past without doing so again. He would go. They could suffer it together.

He could be charming. He had been charming before. Voldemort thought back, way back. As a young man he had charmed people into doing what he wanted, rather than frightening them into it. Perhaps he could channel some of that charm this evening and survive a civilised and polite dinner party? When he came to power it would probably be necessary for him and Draco to travel around a lot, so they wouldn't be near Draco's parents often, he mused hopefully.

Voldemort appareted outside the front door of the manor and rang the door bell as this was probably the correct thing to do in these circumstances. In the drawing room, Narcissa jumped when she heard the bell and instantly looked all about her in panic, despite having checked at least 3 times that everything was perfect.

'He's here!' She gasped and she hurried out of the room to answer the door. She would not usually answer the door herself, but felt she should for such an important guest.

Draco had hoped he would be allowed to answer the door. He had formulated a plan that he would open the door, leap onto Voldemort and apparate them away to a deserted island somewhere, where they could hide from his parents for the rest of eternity... Narcissa knew her son too well however, and insisted that he remain in the drawing room with Lucius and she would show the Dark Lord in.

She opened the door with her most courteous smile, looking cool and collected despite her fluttering heart. This was not easy for her either, Draco and Lucius seemed not to have considered that. She was terrified of the Dark Lord. She would never have wanted Draco to have even have met him in person, had she had her way. But they had met, and become lovers. The fact that they were truly lovers, mutually and consensually, was the one glimmer of hope that Narcissa could hold on to. Draco was not being abused, and it seemed that the Dark Lord had some sort of feelings of affection towards him. Therefore Narcissa would battle to master her fears and would try her best to redefine her feelings towards the Dark Lord, for Draco's sake, and the sake of the whole family.

'Good evening, my Lord.' She beamed as she opened the door and gave a small respectful curtsey.

'Good evening, Narcissa.' Voldemort said coolly, although he felt very awkward. He had a sinking feeling that this was to be the least awkward part of the whole evening.

She lead him to the drawing room where Lucius and Draco were waiting. Draco had risen from his chair, as instructed.

Lucius stepped forward and greeted the Dark Lord, handling his nerves almost as well as Narcissa did.

'It is a great pleasure to have your company, my Lord.' Lucius said.

Voldemort narrowly avoided giving him a sarcastic look.

'Draco...?' Narcissa beckoned her son forward. 'Come and greet our guest.'

Draco looked beautiful. Voldemort had never seen Draco so traditionally dressed before. Draco's clothes were always very fashionable wizard attire, but often in a more contemporary style. He certainly looked very appealing in these formal dress robes. Also uncomfortably appealing was the look of total helplessness on Draco's face as he stepped forward. Voldemort almost laughed. After everything they had done and been through, he couldn't recall ever seeing Draco look so genuinely pathetic and powerless. He stepped forward looking like a frightened little lamb being lead to slaughter. Like one of those innocent young pure-bloods you hear about that were forced into an arranged marriage at a young age to secure a family allegiance... Voldemort took a deep breath and tried his very best to push any sexual thoughts away... for the time being, at least.

'Good evening my Lord.' Draco said flatly.

It was all Voldemort could do to keep from laughing out loud. Draco's tone of voice shattered the illusion of innocence in a heartbeat. He sounded so cross and sulky about the whole situation.

'Good evening, Draco.' Voldemort hissed, sounding, to Draco's mild annoyance, completely cool and together.

There was an awkward silence. The first of many, Draco feared. They had all said 'good evening' to each other, now someone would have to think of something else to say. Draco feared it would probably be his mother who managed this first.

'Would you like a drink, My Lord? Narcissa offered gesturing to the drinks cabinet.

'Hell yes!' Voldemort thought to himself.

'Yes thank you, Narcissa.' He smiled politely.

She poured him a drink and handed it to him. She smiled.

'I will just go and check on how long dinner will be.' She beamed. 'Lucius, darling, perhaps you will come and check that the wine is ready?'

'Yes, dear.' Lucius replied, pleased to be able to slip out of the room for a moment, although a little surprised that Narcissa had suggested it.

'It's only right to give them a few minutes alone together.' Narcissa clarified once she and her husband were in the hallway. 'Not too long, though...' She added cautiously. 'That would not be proper.'

Lucius took her hand in a caring and supportive way, the way you might do with an ill relative.

'Darling...' He began awkwardly. 'Don't you think it might be a little late to be worrying about things like that?' He suggested gently.

Narcissa pursed her lips crossly.

'Anything that I have any control over whatsoever, will be conducted properly. Regardless of what may have happened before.' She replied coolly.

Back in the drawing room, Draco and Voldemort were both enormously grateful to have been allowed a moment alone. Draco had flung himself into Voldemort's arms, whispering a shower of apologies.

'I'm sorry! I'm so sorry about this!' He buried his face in Voldemort's robes.

Voldemort held him tightly for a moment and kissed him firmly on the lips.

'It's alright, Draco.' He whispered. 'Stop apologising.'

Draco stood back and looked at him, but did not let go.

'You look beautiful.' Voldemort hissed as he trailed his hands over Draco's slender form beneath the expensive silk of his robes.

His hands moved lightly over Draco's hips and his eyes widened.

'You're not wearing anything under those robes, are you?' He whispered, and Draco blushed.

'No. I'm traditional like that.' Draco replied.

Voldemort's hands explored further, caressing the sensuous curve of Draco's pert, round ass cheeks, which felt delicious beneath the silky fabric of his garments.

'Damn it, Draco! I'm going to be thinking about that all through dinner!' Voldemort hissed, pressing his body against him, and groping for a way to get his hands under Draco' clothing.

'Stop it!' Draco giggled. 'They'll be back in a minute!'

Voldemort nibbled his neck playfully.

'I could just take you away right now...?' He suggested. 'You are the only thing I'm really interested in having for dinner anyway.'

'Gods! Don't tempt me!' Draco whispered. 'We can't go. My mother would kill me. She'd probably kill you, too!'

Just at that moment they heard the returning footsteps of Lucius and Narcissa. The door opened and they leapt apart just in time, Voldemort quickly arranging his robes so as to hide his inappropriate erection.

'Dinner is ready.' Narcissa announced.

Draco didn't know whether to be relieved or even more stressed. If people were eating it would detract from the need to make conversation, which he feared would be the aspect of the evening which was the most excruciating. On the other hand, he himself had never been a good eater and he found it very difficult to eat if he felt stressed or nervous. This meal would not be easy for him.

'We are dining in the smaller of our dining rooms.' Narcissa explained as she lead the way. 'It's more suited to intimate gatherings like this one. The larger hall is much better suited for big occasions... like, say, a wedd..'

'What are we having for dinner, Mother!' Draco interjected assertively.

Everyone was seated without too much trauma. The table was relatively small and Narcissa had allocated seats for everyone. Voldemort and Lucius were seated at what could be considered the ends of the table and Draco and Narcissa were opposite each other, between them. Draco wondered if his mother was within kicking distance if she began to say anything dreadful.

The starter was served, along with a nice white wine, which Draco drank rather quickly, his father noticed, but couldn't honestly blame him.

Lucius, to his credit, put his years of diplomatic experience to good use and managed to make polite and surprisingly acceptable conversation. He steered clear of discussing details relating to the upcoming war, certain as he was that his wife would not consider this a proper dinner table topic. He engaged Voldemort in conversation about historical matters, goblin-made furniture and the architecture of magical buildings in Albania. It was still all rather painful, Draco thought, but infinitely preferable to the hideous long silences and cringe making moments when someone was asked to pass the salt.

Draco was making a brave attempt to eat as much as he could. He could never cope with 3 course meals at the best of times. He tried every technique he could think of to focus his mind and try to take the edge of the searing embarrassment and awkwardness he felt.

He avoided looking at Voldemort. It wasn't that he didn't want to look at him, it was simply that every time he did he got flashes in his mind of thoroughly inappropriate memories. Every time Voldemort spoke in his soft seductive hiss, Draco vividly remembered sordid whispered promises. Every time he opened his mouth to take a bite of food, Draco pictured times when Voldemort's lips had been on his flesh, and his teeth had sunk into his skin. Draco tried to control his thoughts a little better. It was possible the wine was not helping.

The main course was drawing to a close and Draco nervously pushed the food around his plate.

'Do try to eat a little more Draco.' Narcissa said. 'You need to keep your strength up.'

There was aloud clatter as Lucius actually dropped his fork, followed by an uncomfortable silence. Draco wished the ground would open up and swallow him. Him, or his mother. It didn't matter which.

They battled on through desert and Voldemort actually complimented Narcissa and Lucius on the food. Draco felt ever so slightly annoyed at how well he seemed to be coping with the whole situation.

Finally they retreated to the drawing room for drinks, Draco praying that the ordeal was nearly over. Lucius poured drinks for all of them, including Draco, much to Narcissa's disapproval. Draco guessed his father felt he had earned it!

The clock chimed 10 and Voldemort decided this must surely be late enough for this sort of event to finish. He stood up.

'Thank you for your kind hospitality this evening, Narcissa, Lucius.' He hissed silkily. 'But I really must be going now.'

'Oh, it's been our pleasure, my Lord.' Narcissa exclaimed. 'We have all enjoyed your company, haven't we, Draco?' She prompted.

Voldemort spoke before Draco could answer.

'I will take Draco with me, if it's all the same to you, Narcissa.'

Draco visibly relaxed. The ordeal was over!

'Oh.' Said Narcissa awkwardly. 'Yes. Of course, my Lord.'

Draco stood up, ready to leave at once.

'There are some things I want to discuss with you, Draco.' Voldemort clarified, hoping this would make it less uncomfortable.

'Well, it's very late. Make sure it's not too long before you get to bed.' Said Narcissa.

Lucius covered his face with his hand.

Draco sighed. It was like she just couldn't resist one last parting shot.

'Goodnight mother.' He said flatly and linked arms with Voldemort.

Voldemort apparated them away in what had to be one of the quickest exits in history.

Safely back at the Riddle house, Draco flopped into Voldemort's arms over come with relief that the evening was finally over. Emotions rushed over him, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He decided on frantic apologising as the best course of action.

'Gods, I am so, SO sorry about that!' He gushed.

'Which bit?' Asked Voldemort with an amused smile.

'ALL of it!' Draco exclaimed, on the verge of thumping Voldemort for finding anything about the last 3 hours amusing.

Voldemort wasted no time in getting his hands back onto Draco, caressing his hips and thighs and burying his face in his hair and kissing his neck.

'Oh, it wasn't that bad!' He whispered.

'Who are you kidding?' Snapped Draco. 'It was the seventh circle of hell!'

Voldemort laughed out loud at Draco and was momentarily distracted from his mission to get inside Draco's clothing.

'Your mother is quite something, isn't she?' Voldemort smiled.

'Don't!' Groaned Draco, covering his face with his hand. 'Can you send her to Azkaban, please?'

'You don't mean that.' Voldemort smiled.

'Well, can't you make dinner parties illegal or something? Honestly, I thought she was going to bring out the baby photos at any moment!'

Voldemort gave Draco a sadistic grin.

'I'm going to ASK to see them, next time.' He hissed, earning him the punch Draco had thus far held back.

'No you're not.' He retorted. 'Because there won't be a next time. Because we are going to move to a remote island in the north of Scotland and never socialise with anyone.'

'I think the worst part was having to look at you all evening, knowing you had nothing on under that robe. Having to wait all that time to get you alone.' Voldemort mused as he returned to his task of groping Draco. 'Having to make small talk all that time when all I could think about was all the obscene ways I want to fuck you! Gods! I'm not sure I've ever been so desperate to fuck you!'

The embarrassment of the evening began to soften a little for Draco. Voldemort was good at distracting him from any cares he had. He gave a soft moan as Voldemort began to bite at his neck.

'Gods, you really are perverse!' Draco whispered.

Voldemort gave a low laugh.

'All this time you have known me and only now you decide I'm perverse?' He asked?

'Well if having dinner with my parents gets you in the mood, then yes! That's a new level of perversion as far as I'm concerned!' Draco retorted, making Voldemort laugh again.

'I think it was seeing you in a different setting, wanting you but knowing I couldn't just take you there and then. That, and you do look good in formal wear.' Voldemort whispered. 'When I come to power I'm sure there will be lots of parties and occasions we have to attend where you will have to be dressed up formally and I will hardly be able to keep my hands off you. Of course, then no one will dare to question it if we disappear for half an hour while I fuck you against the wall in the cloakrooms...'

Draco tingled, imagining the scene. He rather liked the idea of sneaking out of a society party to have a quick and downright dirty fuck session...

'Then we will have to return to the party afterwards looking as though nothing has happened.' Voldemort continued. 'You will have to look completely neat and tidy again so that on one would guess all the filthy things I'd just done to you.'

Draco blushed.

'As long as my parents aren't there!' He smiled.

Voldemort paused for a moment and felt a rush of empathy towards Draco. Draco was so apologetic about his parents behaviour, when all they had done was want him to be treated the way any pure blood aristocrat would want their child to be treated. Did Draco feel he didn't deserve this treatment? Did he feel that Voldemort was above having to treat him respectfully? Voldemort could treat anyone and everyone exactly how he wanted, but he was more than willing to treat Draco well. He would even give him a formal pure-blood courtship if he wanted one.

'I'm sorry Draco.' He said sincerely. 'Tonight... well... It should always have been like that, shouldn't it?'

Draco looked at him, aghast and shook his head in disbelief.

'Surely you aren't that much of a sadist?' Draco asked. 'You wouldn't put me through a night like that again, would you?'

Voldemort laughed. Draco's humour was wonderfully reassuring.

'I just mean that, I adore you, and that maybe if I was better at these things I would have courted you like that from the start.' He answered.

'Let's thank the Gods you're not better at these things then!' Draco smiled playfully. 'Now, what was it you wanted to discuss with me?'

Voldemort gave a sheepish smile.

'Well, if I'm honest, I really just wanted to discuss getting you out of those robes and onto my cock as quickly as possible.' He grinned.

'So that's your idea of a formal courtship, is it?' Draco laughed.

Voldemort sat on the bed, leaning against the head board.

'Come here and get those clothes off.' He commanded flatly.

Draco followed his orders happily. This was, without a doubt, the best part of the whole evening.