Those Freaky Malfoys TBGC

Completed:  May, 2006

Pairing:  LM/NM; LM/NM/BL; LM/HP; LM/SS; LM/BZ; DM/HP; DM/SS; DM/BZ (implied); DM/NM/BL; PP/MB (implied)

Rated:  R

Warning:  AU and sex, people.  Lots and lots of sex... though none of it is very graphic... and some of it het (I hate myself)

Summary:  Draco just wants his father to see what he sees.

Author's Note:  This fic was inspires by McTabby's Summary Executions, in which one 'author' listed her summary thus:    They
switch! Father in son's, son's in father's. Crazyness happens. Please I can't really explain this fic, just read it and you'll understand. 
Seeing as I was incredibly bored that week, I started this and some months later, it's finished.  Here's hoping you enjoy.

The One and Only Chapter
Set in Fifth Year

Draco was having an off day.  A really off day.  He’d been trying to brew a potion that would make his father see things the way he saw them - i.e., that he didn’t want to join the Dark Lord’s army and be a slave to some Cruciatus-happy, madman, and that he wasn’t actually interested in marrying Pansy Parkinson, that he was very, very gay, and that he liked... well, who he liked didn’t really matter, the important thing was that he was gay.  He’d spent weeks pouring through volume after volume of texts in the Malfoy family library, translating the more promising ones in the hopes that they would yield a positive result.

Finally, he’d found one.  It hadn’t been exactly what he wanted, but it was close enough.  All he had to do was brew the potion, then he and his father had to drink it while maintaining eye contact, and twelve hours later they would see what the other saw.  He didn’t particularly care to see what his father thought about anything, really, but he was getting desperate, the winter holiday was almost over and the potion was going to take a week to make.  If he was lucky and didn’t make any mistakes, he’d have just enough time to get it done and slip it in his father’s evening wine before he had to leave for Hogwarts, because while he may have wanted the man to know how he felt, he wasn’t suicidal enough to want to be there when it happened.

As it was, he hadn’t made any mistakes.  It had been perfect and even smelled strongly of baked potatoes when it was finished.  The last dinner before he was to leave was held in the formal dining room and his mother and Aunt Bella (who was in hiding at the manor) had attended.  Draco had gotten there early to pour the potion into his father’s wine glass.  They ate and at the end of the evening, Lucius lifted his glass in a toast.  It was the moment of truth, really.  Would Lucius finish the wine even if it tasted off?  Draco was hoping so.  As long everyone else seemed to think there was nothing wrong with it, etiquette dictated that his father should smile and bear it, finishing his glass without complaint.

“To my son, may you return at the end of the year a man, ready to further our cause.”

He’d just managed not to flinch and nodded curtly at his father, holding the older man’s eyes as they both downed their wine.  It had all gone as planned and he didn’t even mind that his father kept throwing him odd looks all night, or that the taste of potatoes and wine lingered on his tongue, even after he’d brushed his teeth.  In the morning, he would get up at seven, be on the train by eight, and nearly be back at Hogwarts before the potion even affected them.  It was perfect.

Well, it would have been perfect, but just as he was getting a well-earned snog in a locked bathroom of the Hogwart’s Express, he started to get dizzy.  The room was spinning and he heard someone asking if he was okay, only it wasn’t a boy, it was a woman, it was... his mother?  What was he doing in the parlor of the Manor, sitting at a table, eating tea and biscuits with his mother when he was supposed to be shagging a boy in the bathroom of a train?

“Lucius darling, are you all right?”

Lucius?  He looked down at his hand and saw a ring.  The ring.   His father’s ring that he always wore, probably even to bathe.  The ring which only the head of the Malfoy family household was permitted to own.  Oh, bloody hell.  “Will you excuse me?”   That wasn't his voice, either.

His mother nodded, “Of course, dear, perhaps you’re coming down with something.  You did say that there was a case of the flu running around the office, didn’t you?”

It seemed a plausible excuse, because he was feeling rather queazy.   “Perhaps.”

Getting up, he placed his napkin in his chair and walked out of the room, put off by the unfamiliar stride of walking, quite literally, in his father’s shoes.  As soon as he was out of site, he made his way back to his room and closed the door behind him.  What had gone wrong?  The text book hadn’t said anything about switching bodies, it had said they would see what the other saw, that was... exactly what was happening.

He sat heavily on the bed as he imagined what his father was seeing right now.  He was a dead man.

____________________

Lucius was angry.  Very, very, very, angry.  He was also confused, which was most of the reason he was angry.  One minute he was discussing his evening plans with Narcissa, the next he was on the floor of a small lavatory with Harry Potter kneeling next to him, asking if he were okay.

 “Of course, I’m not okay!”

“Geez, Draco, fine, I was just concerned.”

Draco?  Concerned?  Why would Potter be concerned about him and why was he calling him Draco?  “I have no idea what is going on, Potter, but I will find out.”

The boy’s green eyes twinkled mischievously and he leaned over, looking Lucius in the eye with unnerving calm.  “You know I love it when you get all snarky on me like that.”

He backed away and then stood up, brushing his robes off in an attempt to retain his flustered dignity.  There had to be a rational explanation for this.  Potter stood up as well, the concern back in his expression, and stepped forward, holding a hand to Draco’s forehead.  “Are you feeling well?  You look kind of yellow.”

Lucius started to pull back and then stopped.  He was several inches taller than Potter, maybe even a whole foot, so why were they standing eye to eye?  He saw the sink just behind Potter and moved around the boy, looking at himself in the mirror, only he wasn’t looking at himself, he was looking at his son.  Oh, for the love of... what the hell had the boy done now?

In the mirror, he saw Potter walked up behind him and felt a pair of arms slip around his waist.   “What’s wrong, Draco-love?”

Draco-love?  Why in Merlin’s name would Potter even be referring to his son by his given name, let along holding him and calling him love?  His stomach churned,   “I don’t feel so well.”

Potter put his chin on Lucius’ shoulder and looked at his reflection in the mirror.  “Do you think you’re sick?”

“Yes,”   Gods, yes, anything to get out of the bathroom.   “There was a flu going around the office.”

Potter pulled back, frowning, “The office?  You mean your father’s office?  Was he sick when you went home?”

Lucius felt his body go even colder and he gripped the sink for support.   He had to get the bloody hell out of there right this instant.  “Yes.  I must have... caught something from him.”

Like the gullible, muggle-raised, half-blood that he was, Potter bought it and backed off, coming around to look Lucius in the eye directly.  “I suppose I should leave you alone, then.  Promise me you’ll go see Snape as soon as we get to Hogwarts?”

“Professor Snape.”  Disrespectful brat.

“Right, Professor Snape.”  Potter rolled his eyes dramatically.  “He’ll be expecting you anyway.”  With that, Potter leaned forward and kissed him.  Lucius blamed shock that he didn’t pull away, not even when Potter put a hand on his face and gently massage his lips, opening them just long enough to slip his tongue inside before retreating.  “I’ll see you in detention.”

Detention?  They hadn’t even made it back to the school yet and they had already gotten detention?  He didn’t have time to ask, however, as Potter chose that moment to stride out the door and shut it behind himself.  Quickly, Lucius locked the door and stared at it in mistrust.  What the bloody hell was going on with his son?  Well, obviously, Draco was shacking up with Potter.  How far it had gone would decide how long Lucius was going to take in punishing him.  This was entirely unacceptable, especially when the boy was already betrothed to the Parkinson girl.

With a sigh, Lucius looked back in the mirror.  He couldn’t go out looking like this.  His hair was mussed up, his face was flushed and his... he did a double take and looked down, just to make sure the mirror wasn’t malfunctioning.  He was hard.  This was entirely unacceptable!  He should not be hard because Harry Potter had kissed him.  He liked women.  He was married.

His mind immediately went to Narcissa, laying on their bed, drowning in white silk sheets that dragged over her curves and molded to her breasts and her nipples, hanging loosely over her hips and dipping between her legs were... he literally felt his erection wilt.  What the bloody hell?   He’d been having sex with women for years and the thought of them had never turned him off, but for some reason, when he remembered Potter’s strong arms wrapped around him and the feel of that firm, flat chest pressed against his back, he could feel his groin tingling with interest, whereas the thought of his own wife made those same feelings run and hide.

Well, fine, perhaps that was for the better.  Narcissa was Draco’s mother, it was probably a good thing that his body reacted negatively to the thought of her in a sexual capacity.  However, that did not mean that it would do so with every woman.   With a cursory glance in the mirror, he straightened his hair and took a calming breath.  He would set things straight with his son and the Parkinson girl and then he would owl Draco to find out what was going on.  He looked up and down the hall of the train.  Yes, that was exactly what he would do... as soon as he found out where he was supposed to be.

Taking a chance, he stepped into the hall, turned left and ran straight into someone.  As he sat on the floor for the second time that day, he found himself looking at Hermione Granger, the willful little mudblood that persisted in besting his son at everything.  “Granger.”

“Malfoy.”  She frowned and looked around the empty hall, before sitting up and leaning towards him, speaking in a hushed voice.  “Harry said you weren’t feeling well.  I brought you a drought for minor illnesses.”

As she reached into her robes, Lucius stood up and fought to straighten himself again.   “I don’t need anything from you.”

Her face reflected hurt, but also familiarity.  “I thought you’d say that.  When are you just going to get over it, Malfoy?  If you’re important to Harry, you’re important to Ron and me.   You’ll have to get used to it.”

She slipped a small vial of blue potion into his hand and walked past him.  “Now come on, or you’ll be late for the meeting.”

Of course, Draco was a prefect.  Well, he did have to maintain his son’s reputation in school as well as his sexual prowess and perhaps it would be best for him to stop and think things through before he acted.  He just hoped that Draco was faring as well at home and he prayed to every deity in existence that the boy had simply told his mother what was going on, or there was going to be a lot of explaining to do later.

___________________ 

“There you are!  What are you doing in Draco’s room?”

Draco was started from his thoughts by the sound of his mother’s voice.  He hadn’t even heard the door open.  He looked around for a moment before realizing that he was in his father’s body, sitting on his bed and in his room.

“Draco thought he might have forgotten something.  I was looking for it.”

His mother came into the room, leaving the door open as she swished over to him, swaying her hips suggestively.  Draco felt light-headed at the site.  This was so wrong.  She sat down next to him and put a hand on his leg.   “That’s so thoughtful of you, Lucius.”

He fought the urge to jerk his leg away, perfectly aware of how odd that would look to her, but also keenly aware that his stomach was threatening to empty its contents if she continued.  “Yes, well, he is my son.”

For a moment, she frowned, then her face softened and she leaned over, kissing his cheek.  “You do realize you’re going soft, don’t you, love?”  In his head he heard the echo of Potter saying nearly the same thing.  ‘Why, I do believe I’ve managed to soften you up, Draco-love.’   As much as he wanted to attribute that memory to his cock’s rising interest, he somehow doubted it.

He gave a noncommittal grunt in response to her question, something he had seen his father do on various occasions when he wasn’t sure his true response would be welcome.  Like when they visited the Ministry and Fudge insisted on talking politics, his father rarely actually spoke on those occasions so much as he nodded and made various noises that were neither affirmative nor negative.

His mother laughed softly, her breath ghosting over his face and then stood.  “I have to go out, I’ll be seeing you tonight?”  He nodded numbly and she brushed her finger tips over his jaw as she stood up.  “Seven o’clock, our bedroom.  Don’t be late.”

Without another word, she left the room, blowing him a kiss at the door.  When the receding sound of her footsteps had faded completley, he threw himself on the bed and stared at the ceiling, aware and yet trying desperately to ignore the fact that he was half hard and any thoughts about a bedroom and his mother were making the situation worse.  He looked down at his father’s treacherous body and cringed.  He was in his father’s body, he was half-erect, and he had to go to the bathroom.  He did not want to see any part of his father naked, let alone touch it, but needs must.

Getting up from the bed laboriously, he made his way into the bathroom and stared forward as he undid the intricate clasp holding the trousers closed.  With a deep breath for courage, he reached in and pulled out his father’s penis, holding it firmly while he waited to pee.  He was trying very hard not to look, but the problem was that he was... well, curious.  People said he looked just like his father and wouldn’t it be nice to know what he was going to look like in thirty years?

Finally, he lowered his gaze and felt his mouth fall open.  His father was huge!  Well, maybe not huge, but he at least compared well to...  Suddenly, it felt like someone had poured ice in his veins.  He’d forgotten about that.  If his father was pissed about Potter, he was going to be furious when he found out about that.  Shaking himself off, he latched his trousers together hastily.  He had to figure out how long this stupid potion was supposed to last before his father found out about all his dirty little secrets.

________________________

Lucius had barely set foot in the school before Severus descended upon him, grabbing his arm and practically dragging him through the halls and into the dungeon.  However, as much as he wanted to protest, he did need to talk to his old friend.  If anyone would know what Draco had done, Severus would.  So, he kept his mouth shut and let himself be propelled through the familiar maze of corridors until they were safely ensconced in the dark, cluttered confines of Severus’ office.

Why was it that the man felt the need to organize everything in such a way that it took up as much space as possible?  There were books on the shelves as well as the floors, papers on his desk, and various potions ingredients on every other surface available as well as in every cabinet.   “Severus...”

Before he could get any further, Severus yanked his arm forward and shoved the sleeve of his robe up past his elbow, looking determinedly at the smooth skin underneath.  “Thank god.   I do fear every time you go home that that man will drag you off to the Dark Lord.”

“What are you...?”  But he knew exactly what this was about and it made his stomach turn even more so than when his body had gotten excited over Potter kissing him.  Severus didn’t want Draco to receive the mark, but that made no sense.  They had talked about it before.  It was an honor.  It would be Draco’s first step in becoming a man, a Malfoy.

Severus scowled and from this height, with him standing over Lucius, looking down at him, it really was quite intimidating.  “Have you seen Potter, yet?”

Lucius felt himself blush.  Did Severus know about Draco and Potter’s little trysts?  Oh Merlin, this was humiliating.  Severus apparently didn’t need answer.  “Of course you have.  Do you boys know nothing of discretion?  You probably pawed each other on the train, no doubt.”

The blush deepened and Lucius, who hadn’t blushed in many years, wished desperately that there was something he could hide under, which was another thing he hadn’t done in many, many years.  “A Malfoy does not ‘paw’.”

A smirk slowly crept onto Severus’ face and Lucius suddenly forgot to be embarrassed as his friend, the boy he had watched grow up, leaned in and put his mouth next to his son’s ear and whispered, “Of course not, never something so base for a Malfoy, eh?  How about groped?”  A large hand enveloped his nether regions and squeezed suggestively, “Or copulated.”  The hand opened and the palm pressed against him, rubbing.   “I’ve often heard you use the word shag.”

Lucius remembered himself and pulled back sharply.  “That is... hardly appropriate behavior for a professor towards his student.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, “Ah, you’re in one of your moods again, aren’t you?  Fine, I’ll see you this evening.  Detention with Potter, seven o’clock.”

Taking that as a dismissal, Lucius fled from the office, hardly caring to ask what the detention was for.  Potter had mentioned it as well, it must have been something that they had done just before Winter break.  Lucius made his way through the halls and into the common room, not bothering to search around for changes, nor to note that things were exactly as he remembered them and, instead, went straight to where he knew his dorm room would be and threw himself on his bed.

Draco was being sexually assaulted by a Professor and not just any professor, but Severus Snape, who was supposed to be a close, personal friend of the family, not some randy pervert with his hand down the boy’s trousers!  Huffing, Lucius sat up and found himself looking at a wide-eyed first year.

Lucius scowled, “What are you doing in here?”

The boy gulped and looked around at the otherwise empty room, before pointing to the bed that Lucius was sitting on.  “You’re on my bed.”

Oh, bugger, he hadn’t thought about that.  He’d been too angry with Severus for having an affair with his son.  Getting up, Lucius stood himself straight and towered over the boy, grateful that there was at least one person appropriately intimidated by him, before storming off into the common room and sitting on one of the stiff chairs.  This was ridiculous.  What did Draco think he was doing, sleeping with Potter and allowing Severus to touch him?  He was a Malfoy, if he were going to be flaunting himself around, it should at least be with a woman.

As if on queue, the portrait swung open and Parkinson came in, Bulstrode at her side and the Zabini boy behind them, looking bored. He eyed Lucius on the couch and winked at him before addressing the girls,  “I told you he would be here, Pansy, I’ve no idea why you were so worried.”

She shot him a glare and immediately came over to Lucius, sitting next to him and draping herself over him.  “Draco, darling, I’ve been looking simply everywhere for you.  Why didn’t you come back to the compartment after the prefect’s meeting?”

“I was busy.”  In truth, he’d had no idea where it was and he’d preferred skulking the train halls, looking intimidating, to peering into all the compartments like a fool, especially with Potter around waiting to get his grubby, Gryffindor hands on Draco.

Parkinson frowned and put her head on his shoulder, pouting in what he was sure she thought was a pretty manner.  “You’re always busy when I want to spend time with you, Draco.”

Lucius decided that was about as much invitation as he needed.   He took her hand and stood up.  “Then why don’t we spend time together now,” he dropped his voice and leaned forward, pressing his body close to hers, “upstairs in my dorm.”

Up close, she really wasn’t a very pretty girl, in fact she looked rather like the pug-nosed dogs Narcissa was always fawning over.  Really, the woman was a pureblood, the least she could do was show interest in something with magical properties.  However, a woman was a woman and he needed to show the wizarding world (and himself) that his son was no poof.  At the very least, let the boy be bi-sexual.

Stepping back from Parkinson, he waved his hand towards the stairs.  “After you.”

She blinked at him and her pout turned into a concerned frown.  “Are you feeling well, Draco?”

Looking down at her, he cocked his head to one side, unsure how he was supposed to respond.  It was quite obvious she wanted his son’s affections and now that she had them, she... what, didn’t think they were sincere?  “I’m perfectly fine, now do you want to spend time together or not?”

She rolled her eyes and went over to Bulstrode, casting him a backward glance.  “It appears he’s in one of his moods again, Mili.  Let’s go elsewhere for entertainment.”  Just as they were slipping out of the portrait, he saw the other girl slip her hand into Parkinson’s in a way that was entirely too friendly.

Zabini looked at him askance and shrugged, “Haven’t gotten any, yet, have you?  What, Potter holding out, Snape refusing to cooperate?  If you would just take my advice and find yourself a nice Slytherin, or a Hufflepuff even - they’ll put out for anything...”

Lucius stalked forward and grabbed Zabini by the collar, not an easy feat seeing as Draco was a good deal shorter than the other boy.  “Upstairs, now.  We have to talk.”

____________________

Draco had spent several hours in the library looking over his translation of the potion that he had used, because, while he may have already figured out its cryptic affects, he couldn’t tell how long it was going to last and he needed to know that.  So far, his mother had come in twice, whispering dirty words in his ear and touching him in places he did not want his mother touching.  The only saving grace to any of this was that at least she thought he was his father, but he wasn’t sure how long he could hold up under the assault before he snapped and just told her everything, which really wouldn’t be good, because he fancied living through this little trauma and Narcissa Malfoy could be a worthy adversary when she got upset.  Like the time he was three and he’d broken her favorite China Tea Pot.  If his father hadn’t physically restrained her, she would have belted him until he couldn’t walk and even that wouldn’t have been enough.  Or the time he'd accidentally set two of the house elves free.   She’d gone off on him and if he hadn’t managed to lock himself in a bathroom with a spurt of wild magic, she probably would have finished him off.  Everyone always thought Lucius Malfoy was the strict one, but when it came right down to it, Draco would rather face his father knowing he was shagging Potter than his mother knowing he had used a potion to switch bodies with her husband and he wasn’t sure how long it would last or, if he were entirely honest with himself, whether it was even reversible at all.

Luckily, there had been an entire page devoted to the effects of the potion that he had missed in his haste.  However, so far, it had yielded nothing but warnings on its use and short narratives of wizards who had thought it was a good idea until they’d done it.  He wrote down another word that he didn’t recognize.  In context, it looked like a verb, but it wasn’t one he’d ever seen before.  He looked at his translation text and was in the process of trying to decipher it when the door opened.

“My dear, Lucius, what have you been up to in here all day?”  It was Aunt Bella.   Purposefully, he continued to stare at the page, though it was dreadfully out of focus.  If anyone was going to notice that something was wrong, it was his Aunt Bella, she was clever in the same way that his mother was fashionable. 

She wrapped an arm around him and her nails dragged over his chest lightly.  He’d never seen her so much as touch his father.  “Um... I’m doing research on potions that may be useful to... our Lord.”

Bella walked around, pushing him back slightly and sat on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  The cheeks of her arse pressed against his crotch and he felt a stir of interest in his trousers.  Oh, dear gods, please not now.

She tapped the book with her wand, apparently oblivious to the problem she was causing and Draco watched in fascination as the text translated itself, rearranging the words from Latin to English. While she read, he quickly he scanned the page until he came across the line that he’d been looking for, just at the bottom.  Ten to twelve hours.  He was stuck like this for ten to twelve hours?!

Bella sighed,  “Well, that’s interesting.  But how is a body swapping potion going to help the Dark Lord?

She half turned around and the friction of her moving over his cock sent shivers through him.  The pleasurable kind of shivers, which were not the sort of shivers that Draco wanted at the moment, not with his aunt, or any woman for that matter, sitting on him.  “I can’t think straight with you sitting there.”

With a wicked grin, Bella turned the rest of the way around and moved her leg so that she was straddling his lap, looking down at him with one eye brow raised.  “Is that better, my dear brother-in-law?”

He just managed to choke out,  “Not really,” before she rocked her hips, grinding her... her thing into his cock, which was getting hard!  He pushed the chair back and stood up suddenly, dumping Bella on the ground.  “I...” but he couldn’t get any further, because the way she had fallen had caused her skirt to slide up her thigh and the sight of her creamy, pale leg and the barest glimpse of silky white underwear was making his stomach tingle in the way he had only ever associated with boys.

She huffed and stood.  “Well, if you aren’t in the mood at the moment, all you had to do was say so.  Unless,” his aunt’s face took on a wicked grin, “you want it rough.”

Draco managed to find his voice the moment her fingers began to unfasten her top.  “I have to go to kitchens now.”

He turned and raced out of the room, ignoring the undignified way his robes caught around his legs as he practically took the steps two at a time until he’d made it past the dungeon entrance and into the relative sanctity of the house elf infested kitchen.  As he looked around at the elves, who stared back at him in disbelief and fear, he realized that this just wouldn’t do.  He’d told Aunt Bella he was headed this way.  He’d have to find somewhere else to hide.

“Tibby!”

A short little elf came scurrying forward, its head bowed.  “Yes, Master Malfoy?”

“I need somewhere to hide.”

“M... Master?”

“I need somewhere to go where my mo... Narcissa won’t look.”

After a moment of looking around the kitchen and wringing its hand, the house elf looked back up at him with round eyes, “Mistress is never going in the laundry room, Master.”

“Perfect.”  He started to turn around and realized that he had no idea where the laundry room was.  “Tibby, take me to the laundry room.”

Another flight of stairs and several halls later and they were standing in a large room filled with dirty and clean linens.  Tibby looked up at him nervously, but he had already sat down on the floor next to the door, sighing in relief.  Neither his mother, nor his Aunt Bella would ever, ever come anywhere near dirty laundry, even if they knew he was there.

Putting his head in his hands, he assessed the situation.  This was a disaster.  If they could get this sorted out, he’d do whatever his father wanted.  Well, almost anything.  Potter was the best shag he’d ever had and he wasn’t letting that go, but he could shag Harry Potter and work for the Dark Lord too, right?

He looked at his watch balefully.  It was already six o’clock, which meant he only had an hour before he was supposed to be in his parents' bedroom with his mother.  If he didn’t show, she’d start looking for him.  If he did show... he shuddered at the implication.  “Tibby!”

The little elf jumped a little.   “Yes, Master?”

“What do I usually drink?”

The elf looked around the room nervously.  “Red wine, Master?”

“Yes, of course, bring me a bottle of red wine.”

The elf disappeared, presumably to get the wine and Draco dropped his head back against the wall.  He had to think of something, he just had to, and if he didn’t...  He grabbed the wine the moment it appeared by his side, already uncorked, and ignored the little glass sitting next to it in favor of gulping the liquor straight from the bottle.  Failure wasn’t as option.

_________________________

“Wait, let me get this straight.  You’re Lucius Malfoy in Draco’s body, and you suspect that he’s at home in your body?”  Lucius nodded to Zabini, who wouldn’t stop smiling.  “You’re having me on, aren’t you?”  Lucius shook his head, glaring and Zabini’s smile faltered.  “Why?”

“I’ve no idea.  Perhaps because my son is a raving lunatic, or maybe we were cursed as a punishment for his deviant behavior, or better yet, this could all be an elaborate trap set by those muggle loving fools.”  Zabini raised an eyebrow, but Lucius continued to rant, standing up to better make his point (and because he was used to being taller than most people).  “Although, quite frankly, I’m leaning towards my son having done this at the moment.   Are you aware that he’s letting Severus Snape sexually assault him?”

Zabini’s face colored and Lucius narrowed his eyes.  “You are, aren’t you?  If you’re aware and he hasn’t told the proper authorities... by gods, it’s consensual, isn’t it?  He wants that man to... touch him, doesn’t he?”

“Well, to be fair, Dra... um... Mr. Malfoy, it’s not just Professor Snape.”  Lucius whipped his head around furiously and Zabini cringed, “Okay, fine, I believe you.  Draco’s never been able to affect the same kind of glare that you do.  So, you're Draco’s father and you know about Snape.”  After a moment, Zabini shifted uncomfortable.  “What else do you know about?”

“Enough.”

Zabini’s eyes widened, “Oh, now, it was only one time and I was really curious is all.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

Oh, dear Merlin, his son wasn't only gay, he was a slut.  Apparently his shock must have registered on his face, because Zabini looked down, refusing to look up again.  “Is there anyone in this school that my fifteen-year-old son hasn’t shagged?!”

Zabini looked up sheepishly, “The girls are rather safe, actually,” but then looked down again at Lucius’ incredulous face.

“I can not believe this.  My son is a poof and he’s shagging half the school.  Please tell me he has at least shown enough discretion not to have gone after mudbloods.”

“Not openly.  I think he’s afraid that you’d turn him over to the Dark Lord.”

Lucius sat down on a bed and put his head in his hands.  “I went wrong somewhere, didn’t I?  I was too strict, or not strict enough.  I didn’t emphasize the right things.”

Blaise stood up and went to the door, intending to walk out and leave the man to his moment of grief, when a thought struck him.  He remembered being in this same position with Draco just before break.  The blonde sitting on the bed, talking to his knees while Blaise had listened.  ‘I just want him to see things the way I do, Blaise.  I can’t keep going home and pretending to be the perfect son, anymore.  I don’t want to follow in his footsteps, I don’t want to be forced to marry some woman and I want... but, I can’t tell him that.  I can’t risk his disappointment.  I just wish there was a way that I could show him.’

“Draco doesn’t want to follow the Dark Lord.”  Lucius looked up sharply, aware of a sharp pain in his gut at the mention of his lord and Blaise sighed, turning around and pressing his back to the door.   “That’s what all this is about.   He didn’t know how to tell you, so he’s showing you.  He doesn’t want to marry Pansy, he’s gay, and he’s shacking up with Potter.  Probably will be for some time.”

Lucius dropped his hands between his knees.  “Why?   What did I do wrong?”

Blaise smirked, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Mr. Malfoy.  Draco’s his own person and he won’t give that up, not even for you.”

“Not that, I can understand him not wanting to join my lord - if only the man were as charismatic or even as sane as he was back then, then perhaps... but now even I’m beginning to think I’m on the losing side of a battle and I don’t want that for Draco if he's not willing - but why does he have to be gay?”

Now Blaise stepped forward.  “It’s not a choice, sir.  If you don’t mind me saying so, why did you chose to be attracted to women?”

Lucius scowled, “That is an absurd question.”

“And so is yours.”  With a hesitant smile, Blaise began to unbutton his shirt.

Lucius sat up straight, “What are you doing?”

“Not to offend you or your family, Mr. Malfoy, but Draco’s chicken shite.”  The shirt dropped to the floor and Lucius watched it go with a sinking feeling in his stomach.  Wait, that wasn’t sinking at all, that was arousal.  He looked up at Zabini, Blaise, he believed, and stared at the dark boy, taking him in.  He was sharply angled, with jutting hip bones peaking out from the top of his trousers, his skin was smooth, his eyes were long and slanted, his cheekbones prominent, just like his mother’s and his chest... even without breasts, there was something appealing about the smooth skin and dark nipples.  They made him want to touch them, to touch him.

Lucius could feel the erection in trousers growing stiffer as Blaise began to unbuckle his belt.   “As I was saying, Draco is chicken shite, but we all have our flaws.  I, for one, am forever curious.  Do you want to know what about?”  He undid the front buttons and pulled them apart, revealing the tops of his white underwear, which Lucius had decided wasn’t all that bad a thing.  Blaise stopped and he looked up, caught off guard by the searching eyes.  “Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to know what I’m curious about?”

“If I am, does that mean you’ll take more clothes off?”

Blaise raised one elegant eyebrow and smirked, “Maybe.”

“Then no.”

With a fetching pout, Blaise pushed his trousers to the floor, stepped out of them and walked over to Lucius.  “That’s not what this says.”  Without preamble, he put his hand on Lucius’ cock and in response, Lucius nearly jumped off the bed.   What was it with men in this school groping each other?  Didn’t they understand the intricacies of seduction?  It was supposed to be smooth and subtle, not hard and direct.  You weren’t supposed to just go around grabbing each other by the genitals whenever you wanted a quick shag.

Blaise didn’t seem to see the issue in this, though, and moved his hand up to Lucius’ hip before sitting down firmly on his lap.  Just great.  He was in his son’s body being towered over by a mere boy who seemed perfectly content to sit on him more than half naked.  Why was that such a turn on?  “You see, Mr. Malfoy, I’ve heard a lot of people argue that sexual preference is hereditary, that it’s something you just are, not something you chose to be.  However, I’ve heard an equal number of people claim that it’s all in the head.  You’re in the unique position to help me with my dilemma and, if it goes the way I hope, I’ll be helping your son out as well.”

“What do you mean?”  He didn’t do what his body was telling him to, which was to reach up and kiss Blaise on the mouth and to grind up against the body perched on top of his, but neither did he push the boy away.

“Draco is as gay as they come.  A perpetual bottom-boy who loves to be fucked, sucked, licked, anything that doesn’t involve the opposite sex.  You, on the other hand, are a renowned ladies man, straight as they come, married for many years.   If Draco’s being gay is all in his mind, then nothing about me should excite you.”  Lucius started to argue that it didn’t, but Blaise pushed down with his hips and Lucius felt the boy’s hard cock pressing into his thigh.  It was enough to drive him mad.  “Apparently, as of so far, you’re very excited, despite what you may have to say to the contrary.”

“Is that,” Lucius bit back a moan as Blaise scooted forward so that they were cock to cock, “is that what you’re curious about?”

“Oh, no, Mr. Malfoy, you misunderstand me.”  Blaise pushed him down and began to undo Lucius' shirt.  “You see, that was only how I intend to help a friend.  He needs you to understand that this isn’t his choice, I’m showing you that, but you see, Draco’s a bottom and I’m a bottom - well, most of the time, anyway - and when we fooled around, I topped and I’ve never been able to convince Draco to return the favor.  I’m hoping you won’t have any such reservations.”

Lucius felt something snap inside him and he grabbed Blaise by the shoulder’s, flipping him around onto his back and straddled the boy’s hips.   His body wanted this, badly, which meant Blaise was right. Straight bred Lucius Malfoy was that way because he was made that way, not because he wanted to be and Draco Malfoy was as bendy as cooked pasta because, for some inexplicable reason, he was made that way.  So, he wouldn’t kill his son, probably wouldn’t even disinherit him, as long as he could keep his affairs with Harry Potter a secret until after the war, but that meant he owed Blaise a favor and he already knew what Blaise wanted in return.  After all, who was he to deny such a helpful boy.

_______________________

Draco was drunk.  Very drunk.  At Hogsmeade, he’d one time managed to convince Madame Rosmerta to give him firewhiskey.  He’d thought he’d been drunk then, but no, back then he had been tipsy.  This was drunk.   This was he-couldn’t-see-straight drunk, as apposed to vision-a-little-blurry drunk.  He tipped the wine bottle upside down and a little drop fell on his tongue.  Damnit, he was out of liquor.

Setting the bottle down, he looked around the room, at the crisp clean linens around him.  There was no running away from this, Narcissa Malfoy could find a bowtruckle in stack of twigs and she could certainly find him anywhere he went, which meant there were only two options left to him.  He could go up there, lay down on the bed, and let her do whatever she wanted, hoping that his father would later grant him the mercy of a memory charm, or he could tell her and risk getting his arse cursed for the next few hours until the potion wore off.  He still wasn’t sure which option he preferred, but either way he wasn’t going into it sober.

A familiar pop and he found himself facing a distraught house elf.   The little thing looked at him from behind its bent ears and rocked itself back and forth.  The more it moved, the dizzier he got and if it didn’t stop soon, he was going to be sick.  “What do you want?”

The elf groaned and pulled on the end of its pillow case nervously.   “Master Malfoy, Mistress is sending Tibby to get you.  You is needing to go upstairs now.”

Draco looked at Tibby and then looked at the empty bottle of wine in front of him.  Slowly, he stood up on wobbly legs, feeling like a man going to his execution, but then, in a way he was. Taking a few steps, he finally managed to get his feet under him and walk - well, it was more of a wavering amble that a walk, really, but considering the state he was in, he was surprised he’d managed that much.

Tibby squeaked loudly as Draco nearly tumbled backwards down the stairs.   The little elf ran past him, desperately.  “Master, sir, you is needing to be careful.  Tibby should get your sobering potion...”

“No!”  A sobering potion would help get him up the stairs and to his parent’s bedroom without fatality, but it would also mean that he had to face whatever lay behind that door entirely sober.  Blaise was right, he was a coward.  Glaring at the house elf, he straightened himself and took the last few, unsteady steps of the stairs case and breathed a sigh of relief.  Only three more flights to go.

Fifteen minutes and several falls later (all of which, he refused to acknowledge) found Draco standing in front of his parents’ bedroom door.  Brilliant, just brilliant.  He still had no idea what he was going to do.  If he was lucky he would be struck by some fatal illness and die on the spot.  Very cautiously, he turned the knob and took a deep breath.   He could do this, besides, it wasn’t like she was going to be naked or anything.  Knowing his mother she was probably dressed in some frilly little nighty, which was bad, but not as bad as naked would be.

Pushing the door open, he stepped inside and froze.  If it wasn’t for the fact that he was still standing, he could have sworn he’d been hit with petrificus.  In the middle of the bed his mother lay on her back, her long blond hair fanned out over the voluptuous quilts.  Her nightgown was hardly frilly, but that was only because there wasn’t much to it.  It was nothing more than a pale-blue, silk slip that slit up the sides to reveal ever inch of her creamy thighs and hips.  Oh, dear gods, there was no way she was wearing anything under that and why did his father’s penis have to get excited about that little revelation?

Of course, the state of his mother was nothing compared to that of his Aunt Bella.  She, too, was wearing silk lingerie, but where his mother had chosen something long, Bella’s was short, cropping just above the cheeks of her arse and it was a lovely shade of lavender that set her pale skin and dark hair to contrast in ways that Draco had never wanted to associate with his aunt.

Bella leaned over his mother and her sweeping black hair fell on top of the blond strands on the bed, clashing and melding at the same time.  This was wrong.  So, very, very wrong.  The short nightgown slipped over the curve of her arse and fell to the small of her back as she worked one of her knees between his mother’s thighs and then slipped a hand down there, rubbing lewdly over the blue nightgown.  His mother reached one of her elegant hands up and ran her fingers through Bella’s hair, pulling it to the side.  Draco watched, both repulsed and oddly turned on as his mother kissed her sister, pushing her tongue into the other woman’s mouth and massaging the black head of hair while Bella gently kneaded her hand between his mother’s thighs.

After several moments, his mother broke the kiss, looking over at him.  Bella turned as well, smiling slyly.  “Well, look whose finally in the mood.”

His mother laughed softly, “Now, now, Bella, be nice to my poor husband.  He’s been hard at work for our lord all day.”

Bella’s smile turned into a wicked grin and she lifted her hand to her nose, breathing in deeply.   “Lucius, don’t you want to come and play with my sister?  She’s in rare form tonight.”

The warring emotions in Draco’s mind and body finally became too much and the alcohol churned in his stomach, giving him just that much warning before it came barreling up his throat and onto the carpet at his feet.  Staring at the dark mess on the floor, he had just enough time to reflect that his father was going to be pissed that he’d ruined the carpet, before black dots swam in front of his face and he pitched forward, unconscious before he hit the floor.

___________________

Lucius stood next to the bed as he dressed, watching Blaise stretch his lithe form across the pillows.  The boy was absolutely beautiful.  “You should put clothes on.”

Blaise smiled languorously, “And what will happen if I don’t, Mr. Malfoy?”

“I’ll banish them to the common room and yell for everyone to come upstairs.”

The smile dropped, but Blaise reached over the edge of the bed and pulled his trousers up, dragging them over his legs.  No boy should have legs like that.  He buttoned them and then stretched back out, letting them hang around his hip bones while he watched Lucius do up his shirt.  “You know, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but for a straight man, you really do know how fuck someone in the arse.”

Lucius reached down and grabbed the boy’s shirt, throwing it at his face.  “I will have you know, that despite common misconception, women are equipped with an arse as well.”

Blaise pulled the shirt off his face and draped it over his chest, staring at Lucius in open lust.  “Oh, trust me, darling, that is no longer a misconception.  I’ve had plenty of women that way, though they don’t generally enjoy it as much as the boys.”

“So my son isn’t the only pervert in this school.”

“Not by far.”  Blaise sat up, putting his arms in the sleeves, but refusing to button up.  “Things have changed since you went to school, Mr. Malfoy, children grow up faster.”

Lucius scowled, “Or at least they think they do.”  He looked at Blaise again and saw the thin chest rise and fall in a heavy sigh as the dark eyes raked over his clothed body.  “You know, the way you are looking at me just now could almost convince me that you’re in love with my son.”

Blaise looked up, eyebrows raised.  “Hardly.  Draco’s attractive, admittedly, but he’s not very domineering.”

“I’m to take it that’s what you enjoy, being dominated?”

“Not with whips and handcuffs... well, not usually, but I like a man who’s stern and not afraid to tell me what to do and make me do if I back talk him.”  Blaise stood up and Lucius was once again put off by the other boy’s height.  In bed, it had been easy enough to forget that Draco’s body was the shorter of the two.  Now, with Blaise looking down at him, it wasn’t so easy.  “Even like this, you radiate confidence.  I don’t doubt that you would throw me over your knee and spank me if I did something you didn’t approve of.  Before, when it was Draco in there, the idea wasn’t nearly as appealing.”

Lucius frowned at the confession.  It wasn’t as if the boy was saying he was in love with Lucius, he was just admitting to finding him attractive, but Blaise was a child of only fifteen and Lucius Malfoy had a reputation to uphold, no matter how tempting the offer might seem at the moment.  Besides, he was sure that once he was back in his own body his penis would set him straight again.

“Yes, well, be that as it may, I need to Obliviate you and be on my way.”

Blaise stepped back, “Obliviate me?!”

Lucius smirked, feeling like he finally had the upper hand in things.  “Of course.  If you’ll recall I did say some rather unflattering things about the Dark Lord.  I can’t very well have you going back and blabbing that, now can I?”

Blaise sat on the bed, his pout back.  “Can’t you do it later?”

Lucius felt his smirk falter.  Why did the child have to be so damned pretty?  “I’ve no idea how long this little spell is going to last, so I’d best get it done before it’s too late.” Stepping forward, he put a hand under Blaise’s chin and forced him to look up, satisfied that he was finally looming over him for a change.  “Don’t worry, I’ll only take what I have to.  Now let’s get this over with, I have detention to attend.”

With that he raised his wand.  For a second, he saw Blaise’s eyes widen and his mouth open, but then the spell was done and Blaise was sitting on the bed, blinking in confusion.  He looked around the room, disoriented.  “Wha... Draco?”

Lucius smirked, though he found it a hard expression to affect.   For some odd reason, he wanted to frown.   “I was just saying I have detention.   I’ll be back later.”

Blaise shook his head and laid down on the bed, mumbling something that sounded like ‘lucky bastard,’ as Lucius walked out the door.  Whatever could Blaise possibly be referring to?  Was detention some sort of game to them?  Didn’t they know it went on their permanent record?  It seemed odd to him that so much had changed since he’d been in school.  However, as much as many things had changed, many more had stayed the same.  The girls still sat in one corner of the common room, while the boys tended to sit in another.  The older years dominated the sofa and chairs by the fire, while the younger years sat out of range and it tight clusters for protection against bullies and teasing.

He pushed past the entrance portrait and tried to imagine what Severus would make him do.  Worse yet, he couldn’t tell him of his situation, because Potter would be there.  Surely Draco and the boy must have gotten into some sort of fight to earn simultaneous detentions.  Perhaps it had been a ruse of sorts, seeing as Severus obviously knew of their affair, maybe he was helping them to keep it secret.  At least with a professor like Severus on their side, they stood half a chance of actually keeping it quite.

His hopes, however, were dashed the moment he walked in the room.   Potter was pressed back against a desk, his lips practically being devoured by the Potions master.  Severus had one hand on the back of the boy’s head, gripping his hair tightly in an effort to restrain the eager teen, his other hand was on Potter’s wrist.   If it weren’t for the fact that Potter’s free hand was desperately holding onto Severus’ robes and his mouth was issuing forth the most lewd noises Lucius had ever heard coming from a fifteen-year-old, he would have thought the boy was being attacked.

Dear god, please tell him that this was not what he suddenly feared it was.

The two broke apart, Potter grinning with slightly swollen lips.  Severus glaring, but with a kind of intensity that belayed anything sinister.  “You, Mr. Potter, have been a very naughty boy.”

“Perhaps you should put me over your lap and spank me, Professor Snape.”

Lucius couldn’t hold back the indignant squeak that forced its way out of his throat.  That was entirely inappropriate!  Especially since the idea of Potter bieng put over anyone’s lap and spanked sent delightful shivers up his spine.  Good god, he’d had sex less than an hour ago and his body was entertaining a go-again?

Potter looked over and instead of his smile slipping, it widened.  He slithered out from between Severus and the desk and walked over to Lucius.  “There you are, love, I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

Lucius managed to back up from Potter just before the other boy could wrap his arms around him.  “What are you on about?”  And why had his stomach clenched pleasantly when Potter had directed the word ‘love’ at him?

Severus crossed his arms over his chest and turned around to lean on the desk.  “I did tell you he was in one of his moods, but then he generally is when he’s just come from home.”

Potter shrugged and managed to get behind Lucius, though he made no move to touch him.  “He seemed perfectly fine on train.”

“I’m sure you did a fine job of assessing his mood between snogging him and trying to get into his trousers.”

Potter chuckled behind him, but before Lucius could turn around he felt those arms slip around his waist, locking him in place against Potter’s chest.   Why did it have to feel so bloody good?   “Seems to me that someone’s jealous.   Does it bother you that I get to touch this first?”

One of the hands stole lower, slipping past the waist band of his trousers and settling against his pubic hair.  Snape shifted just slightly and Lucius noticed the bulge in the older man’s robes.   He also noticed that his own penis seemed to take this, as well as the hand just above it, as positive reinforcement and he was half-hard before he could even blink.  Perfect, just perfect.   Well, he wasn’t going to just stand here and be fondled by Potter in front of Severus, no matter how much his penis may want it.

He pulled the hand out of his trousers and turned around, backing away as he wagged a finger threatening between Potter and Severus.  “I have no idea what the two of you... No, I do have an idea.  Severus, this is simply unforgivable.  I watched over you all these years and this is how you repay me?  By sodomizing my son behind my back?”

Potter frowned, “What are you on about?  You have a son?”  He looked at Severus, “You’ve been having sex with someone else?”

Severus had gone a shade paler, but managed to cover it up with a sneer.  “Nonesense, Potter, I can hardly keep up with the two of you.  Besides, were Mr. Malfoy here to have a son, he would be less than a toddler.  I may like them young, but that is a bit ridiculous.  No, apparently our wayward Draco must have had a much more stressful holiday than either of us imagined.”

Potter’s look of confusion melted into one of sympathy and he stepped forward, “Draco, what’s wrong?”

Lucius stepped back, still holding his finger out and wondering if perhaps he should take his wand out.  “Stay the bloody hell away from me, Potter!”

Better yet, he’d leave.  Yes, he’d go back to his dorm and he’d send a note to son asking when this nightmare was going to be over.  However, when he turned around, there was a chair behind him.  The last thing he saw as he tripped was the edge of the desk rushing up to meet his head.  Great.  Just perfect.  Then everything went black.

_______________________

“Malfoy?”

Draco, who had been sitting in the library minding his own business, looking up to find Harry Potter sitting in the chair across from him.  He looked around, but didn’t see any of Potter’s sidekicks anywhere.  Finally, he looked back at Potter incredulously.  “What do you want?”

Potter put his arms on the table (elbows first, how rude) and leaned forward.  “Do you find me attractive?”

He had fallen asleep in the library and this was one of those wet fantasies he’d kept having for the past few months.  That was the only rational explanation.  Either that, or it was a prank.  He looked around again, but other than Madame Pince sitting at her desk, engrossed in some book, there was no one there.  Potter was still staring at him intently, scrutinizing him with wide eyes that said nothing of the treachery that was surely afoot.  “Do I... do I what?”

Rolling his eyes, Potter stood up and held his arms out to his side, as if offering himself up for viewing.  “Do you find me attractive?  It’s a very simply question, Malfoy, one which I’m sure even you can answer.”

Draco couldn’t help looking, at least a little.  Potter was attractive, in a very dorky sort of way.  His clothes were always either too baggy or too small, his glasses were something out of the middle ages, and his hair was always a mess.  There really shouldn’t have been anything attractive about the Gryffindor seeker, but, inexplicably, there was.  Not that Draco was going to admit it.  “Potter, we hardly have civilized conversations with each other, let alone ask one other rather personal questions.”

Potter dropped his arms, tilting his head in confusion,  “Is that a yes?”

“It most certainly is not!”

“Shhh...”  He looked over sharply at Madame Pince, who was holding her finger to her mouth and sternly glaring at them.

Lowering his voice, he leaned forward over his books and Potter sat back down, leaning forward as well.  “Why do you want to know?”

“Because,” Potter seemed to wrestle with some inner demon for several seconds before answering, “Snape says you do.”  Draco stopped breathing.  “He says that you stare at me all the time and that when you do, you’re practically drooling all over yourself.  He also says that if I were to... offer myself to you, that maybe you’d... well, reconsider joining Voldemort.”

Draco flinched at the name, “Don’t say that name, Potter.”

“Whatever, look, would it work?  If I offered myself to you, would you not take the Dark Mark this summer?”

How the bloody hell did Potter know he was supposed to take the Dark Mark in the coming summer?  He hadn’t told anyone that.  Not that it mattered, of course, he’d caught Potter in a lie, because Snape was a Death Eater and there was no way that loyal Severus Snape would try and turn Draco Malfoy away from the cause.   “You’re lying.”

Potter sat back a little, “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.  Snape is a...”  Oh, bugger, he wasn’t supposed to be telling people that.

“A what?  Death Eater?”

Draco dove forward and covered Potter’s mouth, looking anxiously at Madame Pince, who had looked up at the commotion.  He smiled as innocently as he could manage, which probably only succeeded in making her more suspicious, before dropping his hand from Potter’s face and sitting back down slowly.  When she finally looked away again, he turned back sharply to Potter.  “How do you know that?”

“I’ve known for ages, but that’s not the point...”

“Yes it is.  You said that Snape told you to do this to keep me from joining the Dark Lord.  Why would he do that if he’s a Death Eater?”

Potter sat back a little, “Because he isn’t.  I mean... well, he is, but he isn’t.  You know?”

“No.”  Draco felt the muscle behind his eye twitch.

“Look, forget about Snape...”

“Professor Snape,” Draco interrupted.

“Fine, forget about Professor Snape.  Do you find me attractive?”

He looked around again, but there really wasn’t anyone.  Maybe there was an eavesdropping spell somewhere or one of those extendable ears the Weasley twins were always using.  Well, Draco Malfoy wasn’t the butt of anyone’s joke, he’d just have to call Potter’s bluff.  “Yes.”

Potter sat back in his chair and stared openly.  “Really?”

“Yes.”

For a moment, Draco thought Potter might have gone into shock, but then he bit his lip and asked,  “How attractive?”

Where was the trap?  They were supposed to come out of the rafters the moment he admitted that.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, am I just one-night-stand attractive, or are we talking forsake-the-Dark-Lord attractive?”

This was insane, he was not having this conversation with Potter.    Standing up, he began to shove his books in his bag and Potter stood up as well, looking more confused than Draco felt.  Great, just great.  He’s the one who comes over and starts asking random questions about how attractive he is and now he has the gall to be confused?  “Where are you going?”

Draco picked up his bag, “To my dorm, where things make sense.”  Mostly, anyway.

Turning around, he marched out, surprised when Potter didn’t follow him.  That was a good thing, though, because he wasn’t going to his dorm, he was going to a see a certain professor and prove once and for all that this was a prank and nothing else.  Yes, he would ask Professor Snape and Professor Snape would tell him that he had said no such thing and then he would admonish Draco for ever having put any stock into anything Potter had to say... no matter how drop dead sexy he looked when he was saying it.  Damn, had he just thought that?

Maybe he was going insane and this was all a hallucination.  Draco stopped in front of the Professor Snape’s office door and knocked, opening it quietly.  “Professor?”

Professor Snape was sitting at his desk, quill in hand and a bottle of red ink to his right.  Draco noted that the bottle was already over half empty.  He must have been grading the Gryffindor’s homework assignments.  Professor Snape looked up, “What is it, Draco?”

He stepped into the doorway anxiously.  “Sir, I just had the oddest conversation with Potter.”

Waving his hand to indicate that Draco should come in, he set his quill aside and put the cap on his ink bottle.  “I’m to assume he’s made yet another slanderous comment about your father?”

Draco shut the door behind him, but didn’t approach his Professor’s desk just yet.  He knew full well that Snape was going to be furious when he heard the kinds of lies that Potter was spreading about him and he didn’t want to be in the way of that anger.  “Not exactly.  Sir, he told me that you told him to have sex with me so that I wouldn’t,” he lowered his voice conspiratorially, “take the Dark Mark this summer.”

Snape’s complacent expression quickly turned into a glare.  “That impudent little brat.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Draco stepped forward and slightly away from the door, just in case Snape rushed it in his anger.  “I know.  It’s absolutely ridiculous.  I mean, you’d never...”

But Snape interrupted him as if he hadn’t been talking.  “I said to be discrete.  Perhaps I should have made him look it up in the dictionary before sending him off on his own.”

A wave of Snape’s arm and the door locked behind Draco, who suddenly felt very stupid for having stepped away from it, or indeed, having closed it in the first place.  “Sir?”

“So.”  Draco stood very still as Snape leaned back in his chair and put his templed fingers in front of his face, “What exactly did Potter say to you?”

“Um, nothing?”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Malfoy.”

It had been worth a shot.  “He said that he knew you were a Death Eater, but you weren’t and that you told him that if he offered himself to me I’d take him over our Lord.”

Snape didn’t speak for quite some time and Draco considered the odds of success if he rushed the door and tried to cast Alohamora before Snape could stop him.   He probably wouldn’t even be able to get his wand out, let alone make it to the door before Snape brought him down.  Finally, Snape set his hands in his lap.  “I am going to tell you something, Mr. Malfoy, that will be in the strictest confidence between you and myself.  Can I trust that you are aware of the definition of discretion?”

Draco nodded slowly.

“Good.  I am a spy for Albus Dumbledore and have been since the first war.  Why and how is none of your concern, but I have always been very fond of you and the idea of you kowtowing to the Dark Lord is... less that appealing to me.  However, I would never dare to assume that you would give up so much without asking for something in return.  I have, as of this last year, secured the services of young Mr. Potter.”

Draco’s brows knitted in confusion.  “Secured the services of?”

Snape smiled, which was a very scary thing, because it wasn’t really so much a pleasant smile as a devious one.  “Yes.  You see, I made the mistake sometime last year of telling Mr. Potter than he had performed his detention adequately.  It turns out that the boy is absolutely starved for approval and even my ill gotten half-compliments are enough to turn his head.  It was very easy to convince him to try other things in the hopes of receiving more words of praise.   Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I... I think so, sir.  You and Potter are... seeing each other?”

“Nothing so crass.  Potter is hardly so special a boy that he would warrant seeing to, he is, however, useful, not to mention eager.  Potter and me have an arrangement that is mutually beneficial.  I am inviting you to join, at a price, of course.”

Draco thought on this for a moment.  It didn’t really sound like Potter saw this the same way Snape did.   In fact, Draco could almost guarantee that he didn’t, because Potter was a Gryffindor and to his knowledge Gryffindors weren’t the sort to trade sex for favors, but that didn’t make the offer any less appealing.  Potter was attractive, very attractive actually, and he was powerful, even if he didn’t know it.  Maybe there was something to this offer, but to turn his back on the Dark Lord would mean asking for a price to be put on his head, especially when word got out that it was because of Harry Potter.

“Sir, not to say that you haven’t thought this over, but I fail to see how I will be any safer laying my hand in with Potter openly than I would be at our Lord’s feet.”

“Who said anything about openly?”  Snape leaned forward.  “Whatever you boys do, you will do behind locked doors.  When in public, you will remain no more and no less friendly than you were before.  The Dark Lord will not be pleased with you, that is true.  You will undoubtedly have to go into hiding, but he is not likely to put as much effort into hunting a coward as he would a traitor.”

There he had it.  Of course, there were the details.  His father would disinherit him, but if he played Potter right then money wouldn’t really be a problem.   Besides, when it came down to it, he hadn’t wanted to become a Death Eater in the first place.  They idea of bowing to someone had never really appealed to him.  Still... “I still fail to see why Potter would go along with this.  He hardly likes me.”

Snape’s smug expression didn’t slip.  “Potter has a bit of a hero complex, Mr. Malfoy.  I suggested that you could be spared Voldemort’s wrath should you be given a reason.  When he didn’t understand that, I further explained about you predilection towards the same gender.   When he further failed to grasp my meaning, I presented him with the information that you found him attractive.  When he insisted on remaining naive to the idea, I told him in small words.  Words that I am sure he used on you.  For Potter, it isn’t about who he is saving, but that he is saving someone.  I believe he got that foolish notion from listening to the Headmaster all these years.”

Draco bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.  Yes, it could work, but he still needed to think about it, it was still a very big decision to make.  Snape, however, did not appear to need an answer right then.  Picking up his quill, he reopened his ink bottle and pulled the parchment he had been grading towards himself again.

“Should you decide that the arrangement is agreeable, come here to serve detention tonight with Mr. Potter.  Otherwise, I trust that you will keep this knowledge to yourself.”  In other words, he would be Obliviated.  Draco wasn’t stupid enough as to think that Snape would send him to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with even a fraction of the information he had just been given.  If he chose not to go along with this, Snape would erase him memory of it and that would be that, but as he walked down through the dungeon to his dorm room, he began to think that perhaps that wasn’t going to be necessary.

_________________

Of course, he hadn’t meant to actually let himself care.  He was supposed to be using Potter for his protection, but the damned Gryffindor was practically contagious - once you got him, you simple couldn’t get rid of him, no matter how hard you tried, and he had tried.  He’d ignored Potter for a week after he realized that he liked him, but Potter hadn’t given up.  He had said some rather hurtful things about his own promiscuity, but that had only seemed to turn Potter on.  He had even tried outright saying that he was done with him, but Potter had proven him wrong that same night (and then again the night after, just for confirmation).  Perhaps Blaise was right, it was as simple as Draco was a coward, always doing what he had to in order to save himself, and Potter was a hero, always looking for someone to save.

So, having realized that he was thoroughly addicted and as per his deal with Professor Snape, Draco had decided to tell his father that he wasn’t joining Voldemort and that he was gay.  Though, he’d thought to drop the bombshell about Potter later and he had never intended to tell his father anything about Snape.

“Lucius.  Lucius darling?”

Draco dragged open his eyes to find himself looking at his mother.  It took him a moment to remember where he was and, more importantly, who he was.  With a groan, he sat up and looked at her hesitantly.  She was still wearing that ridiculous night dress, but at least Aunt Bella was no longer bending over her.  His head didn’t hurt as badly as he thought it should have, considering how drunk he had been before he passed out.  He would have thought his father could hold his alcohol better then that.

She raised a well-shaped, blonde eyebrow, “Are you awake?”

Dragging his eyes around the room, Draco confirmed that he was in his parents’ bed.  “I am now.”   He shifted slightly under the covers and stopped suddenly.  He was naked.  Very, very naked.  Stay calm.  Breathe.  Just breathe.  He’d probably just soiled his clothes when he’d fallen.  No big deal.  “Would you mind handing me a robe?”

“Lucius, what has gotten into you today?  First you’re going on about how much you’re looking forward to celebrating Bella’s birthday tonight, then suddenly you’re avoiding Bella and myself like we were Muggles and then you get entirely smashed and show up without taking so much as a sobering potion.”  Draco bit the inside of his lip.  She was right, actually, he could have done a much better job of pretending to be his father.  “Does this have anything to do with the Dark Lord’s request”

He looked up at her, startled.  Please say his parents weren’t having nasty adult orgies with that thing. “What!?”

“Don’t give me that, you always try and pretend to be some ice king, but I know how fond you are of her and how much you enjoy her addition to our bed.   We have to remember, however, that her loyalties lie with his lordship and if he requires her services at his side, we have no place questioning it.”

With a sigh of relief, he settled back against the pillow.  So, Aunt Bella was leaving.  That was good, because if he had to go back to Hogwarts knowing that the three of them were here, having sex all over the house, he’d never be able to sleep properly.   That was funny, his toes were tingling and his head felt kind of light.

“It’s nothing to do with that, mum... I mean...”  Narcissa was staring at him in shock and Draco swallowed thickly.   Oh gods, what was he supposed to say?  “Cissy?”  She narrowed her eyes.  “Darling?”   She scooted back.  “Please tell me he doesn’t call you Pet?”

The tingling was spreading now and Draco suddenly realized what was happening.  It was the potion wearing off.  His mother’s face was turning shades of red and pink.  She put a hand half over her mouth and looked at him in shock,  “Draco?”

And then everything started to fade, turning grey and melting into itself.  He felt vaguely nauseous again, but just as it became overwhelming, the world started to right itself and he found himself staring up into large, concerned green eyes.  “Draco?  Love, are you okay?”

Oh, thank gods.  He grabbed the back of Harry’s head and pulled him into a long, luxurious kiss, ignoring the surprised grunt.  Harry melted against him almost instantly, sweeping his tongue inside of Draco’s mouth.  This was what he wanted, Harry’s lips on his, Harry’s hair between his fingers, Harry deep voice rumbling from his flat chest, Harry’s already half-hard cock pressing against his hip.  He moaned happily when his cock responded appropriately to the stimulus.

Finally, he let go and Harry pulled away.  “What’s gotten into you?  One minute you’re all over me, then you’re acting like you don’t want anything to do with me and now suddenly, you’re all over me again.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Well... no, not really, it’s just...”

“Then shut up.”

He pulled the other boy back down and Harry did indeed shut up, but then he hardly had a choice with Draco’s tongue in his mouth, did he?

__________________________

Lucius felt himself coming around slowly and knew instantly that he was still in his son’s body.  The strong smell of masculine boy was close and it was making his body react.

“Severus, he’s not awake yet.  How hard do you think he hit his head?  Do you think it’s permanent?  Do you...”

“Potter, if you do not calm down and stop pacing, I will shove a sleeping drought down your throat.”

“But...”

“Sleeping.   Drought.”

There was a pause and then a hefty sigh, “Fine, I’m going to go get some pumpkin juice.”

The door to the infirmary slammed shut and Lucius cracked open one eye.   Severus was standing against the wall, staring at him openly.  “I know very well that you are awake, Lucius, you can stop pretending.”

Lucius felt his sneer turn into a smile.  “Ah, Severus, you always did know me so well.”

“Apparently, I did not know you well enough.  I’ll assume you have questions.”

“What, about you buggering my son?  No, I think we’ve covered that.”

Severus smirked, “Perhaps, but you know very well that’s not what I meant.”

With a sigh, Lucius sat half up, frowning at the childhood memories this uncomfortable little bed brought back.  “Yes, well, I have no intentions of discussing anything with you.”

“I can’t let you leave with what you suspect, Lucius.  I will not risk this school in that manner.”

“You can hardly stop me, Severus.  This is a potion at work and when it wears off I will return home and there is nothing that you can do about it.”

“I am a Potion’s Master, my dear friend, and allow me to assure you that I can keep you here for as long as necessary.” 

It was the precariously raised eyebrow that made Lucius realize that Severus was telling the truth.  When he was lying, the man was a stone.  Might as well have it out then.  Sitting fully up, Lucius arranged the quilts around his body and leveled his gaze at Severus.  “Fine.  You are a betrayer to the Dark Lord’s cause.”

Severus pulled up a chair and sat, his back straight and his arms crossed over his chest determinedly.  “What makes you believe that?”

“You don’t wish my son to take the Mark.”

Dropping his arms to his knees, Severus leaned forward.  “You may not recall, Lucius, but you once made me promise that I would look after your son as if he were my own.”

Lucius scoffed, “I suddenly find myself inexplicably relieved that you never had children.”

Severus ignored the sarcastic remark.  “Over the years I have become fond of Draco and I would rather not see him put in harm’s way.”

“What makes you think he is any less safe with that Potter-child than at the Dark Lord’s side?”

“Think, Lucius, for once in your life use that muscle between your ears for something other than womanizing.”

Lucius opened his mouth to retort, but then stopped.  Severus was right.  Draco was safer the farther away from the Dark Lord he was.  He’d be in no more danger staying with Potter than he would be otherwise and, besides, if Lucius were entirely honest with himself, he didn’t really think that his side would win the war.  Hoped, yes, but in reality, there was a prophecy to consider, one which they only knew half of, one which had inspired Albus Dumbledore to take Harry Potter into his confidence.  Doddering old fool that he was, Dumbledore was not an idiot and he would not have rested the safety of the wizarding world on such a young boy if he didn’t have good cause to believe the child would win.  Great.  Just perfect.  Why couldn’t he ever chose the winning side?

It had been this way since grade school.  They’d placed bets at Quidditch matches and he’d always lost.   Well, he’d won a few things, but only the ones his money could buy or the ones he had followed Severus in.  Bloody hell, what was he supposed to do now?  Of course, that was it, wasn’t it, the reason that Severus was staring at him so intently?  The man never let these sorts of things happened by coincidence, they were always part of a larger plan and Severus was always prepared to the point absurdity.

“Damn.”

It Severus’ turn to smirk and smirk he did, in that almighty I’m-right-and-you-know-it sort of way.  “Yes, ‘damn’ indeed.  It always did amaze me that someone of your breeding could be cursed with such abysmal luck, but then I suppose that does prove that luck has nothing to do with genetics.”

Lucius resisted the urge to childishly throw his pillow at Severus.   “Out with it.  If you’ve gone through all the trouble to get me here, I’ve no doubt you have an offer to make me.”

“Now, Lucius, you shouldn’t go around accusing people of things when you can’t prove it.”

“The hell I can’t prove it.”  Severus raised his eyebrow again and Lucius slumped against the wall dejected.  “Fine, I’ll play along.”  He took a deep breath and forced his voice into a tight whine.  “Oh, Severus, my dearest, oldest friend, now that I’ve suddenly seen the error of my choices, whatever shall I do?”

Severus’ lip twitch irritably.  “If you don’t stop that I’ll throw you outside Hogwarts naked with ‘Death Eater’ branded on your arse.”  Lucius waited until Severus gave in.  “You never were any fun, Lucius, but I’ll make you a deal.  Your son is infatuated with Potter, he wouldn’t leave now, not even if Voldemort himself found out about their liaisons.  I’ll protect Draco if you help me.”

“Help you how?”

Severus shrugged, “A bit of information here and there.  Where the key attacks are planned, how many Death Eaters will be in attendance, and when the time comes, you’ll follow my lead.”

It really wasn’t so much to ask.  Of course, it could get him killed and that alone should have been enough to convince him that the plan was ridiculous...

“I will also speak on your behalf when the war is over.  I’ll personally see to it that you don’t return to Azkaban for an extended period of time.”

Lucius fought back a shudder at the memory of that wretched place.  “Extended?”

“You’ll only be there as long as it takes for me to get word to the proper people that you are on our side.  I’d say less than a day, if that.”

Before he could fully make up his mind, the door to the infirmary swung open and Potter strode in, carrying two small cups with steam rising from them.    “Severus, I brought you tea, I wasn’t sure what kind you’d like, but the house elves said you... Draco!”

Potter set the cups down on the nearest table, ignoring Severus in favor of swooping over his lover and eagerly planting a kiss on his lips.  “How are you feeling?”

Lucius felt a strange stirring in his legs.  Pulling away from Potter, he pointed a finger at Severus in warning, “We will talk about this later.”

Severus’ lip twitched as he stood and put his hand on Potter’s head.  “Of course, and at length, I’ve no doubt.  However, right now, Draco, you need sleep.”

Potter turned to look at Severus, confused, “Talk about what?”

Severus glared, “Mind your own business, brat.”

“Maybe you should mind it for me, seeing as your always sticking your abnormally large nose into other people’s business.”

There was something in the way that Potter said that that made Lucius think that it was some kind of an inside insult that he just didn’t get, especially when Severus glared at the brat with renewed force.  “I believe that I shall be taking my leave of you.”

He was contemplating throwing a rude gesture at the man’s back, but he suddenly felt very dizzy and the tingling spread to his arms.  The room was turning dark and in the back of his mind, he thought he saw a very horrified Narcissa standing over him.  He closed his eyes against the disorienting double vision and when he opened them, he found himself in bed, staring at his horrified wife.

She was standing next to the bed, her eyes wide and a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth.  He looked down at the familiar blue negligee and was relieved when that certain part of him sprang to life at the sight of his wife’s bare thighs and the thought of what lay between them.   He thanked all the gods, even a few that he wasn’t sure were real, that he was back in his home, in his bed, staring at his wife, and that he had his own body back.  He swallowed and his smile wavered.  Why did his mouth taste like vomit and alcohol?

“Draco?”

He looked at her face, pale and slightly green, her beautiful eyes wide in shock and appall.  Well, at least he wasn’t going to have to explain anything to her.  “No, Pet , not Draco.”

She lowered her hands, but her eyes remained narrowed in suspicion.   “But you said...”

“Our son has been playing with potions.”  Lucius pushed himself up and Narcissa slowly sat on the edge of the bed.  He would have to tell her something, but perhaps it was to best to keep some of it to himself.  “Apparently, he wished to tell me that he is gay and he thought this was the best way to do so.”

She relaxed visible, her shoulder slumping relief.  “Is that all?  Here I was teriffied that he was harboring some secret fantasy about having sex with his mother.”

“Is that all?!  Cissy, I have just been through hell.  I almost slept with Potter.”

Narcissa raised an elegant eyebrow and sat on the edge of the bed next to her husband.  “Potter?  Well, our son certainly has good taste.  Not the best breeding, mind you, but the boy is famous and with a little help...”  She stopped when she noticed Lucius staring at her in bewilderment.

Lucius crossed his arms over his chest.  “How can you possibly be so calm about this?”

She scooted closer, brushing her hip against his thigh, “Oh, Lucius, darling, a mother always knows these things.  Besides, I found a magazine under his bed during summer holidays.”

Of all the nerve.  She found something like that in his son’s bedroom and she hadn’t told him?  As if sensing what he was thinking, she smiled and pet his leg.   “Don’t be upset, Lucius, it was up to him to tell you.  However, I do believe that you may wish to have a talk with him sometime soon about appropriate ways of outing yourself.”

“Did something happen?”

Narcissa’s usually pale face went pink and Lucius felt his stomach drop.  “No, no, but almost.  Let’s just say that you’ll have to explain to Bella why you got drunk on her birthday.”

He groaned and fought the urge to hide under the covers like a petulant child.  Having a Black family woman mad at you was like begging for death.  Thank Merlin she would only be there for another week before returning to the Dark Lord’s services.  Of course, on the downside, that meant they would be losing a well-loved bed mate, but they could always find a replacement...

Unbidden, the image of a certain young Slytherin boy came to his mind - dark skin, high cheeks bones, slanted eyes, delicate hands and feminine build, despite his height - and Lucius felt a disturbing stir in his loins.

“Narcissa love?”  She smiled at him coyly, her fingers splayed just below his stiffening cock.  “I was wondering how you felt about Blaise Zabini.”

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