Pure

Warning for underage sex and incest. This story will depict Draco Malfoy having sex with both Lucius and Narcissa, as well as Marcus Flint, starting from when Draco is 11. If this offends you, please stop reading now.

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to JK Rowling and various corporations. I'm just borrowing some Malfoys.

Title: Pure
Author: Gertrude Flint
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: The erotic education of Draco Malfoy, pure-blood.
Pairings: LM/DM, NM/DM, LM/NM, MF/DM
Warnings: Incest, chan.


Chapter One: First Kisses


They pass through the barrier early, with over half an hour to spare before the train departs, but the platform is already crowded.

Mother looks around and wrinkles her nose at all the commoners. "Thank goodness we don't have to wait out here." She leads the way along the platform, wand drawn, to where a plaque with a snake-crest hangs on a wall. "Alohomora! "

The wall slides open and the three of them enter a spacious, richly-furnished waiting room. Father has already sent Draco's trunk and owl-cage floating in the direction of the train, so now there seems nothing left to do but wait -- and kiss.

They will kiss him goodbye, won't they? It's tradition, after all, and Draco half-expects it to happen at any moment, but he doesn't know for certain (how, when, Mother first or Father?) and the suspense makes him fidgety. He's been thinking about this forever. To distract himself, he gazes around the waiting room; half a dozen students are there, all older, all wearing Slytherin colors -- giving Draco a pang of envy. His school robes made him feel so grown-up when he put them on this morning, in that room which has been sealed, but now he thinks them plain and dull.

Mother smooths her gloves and rests one hand lightly on Father's arm. "Doesn't our boy look impatient for something, dearest?" Her smile is cool and catlike, almost mischievous.

Draco glances up hopefully -- and Father seems about to reply -- when the door in the wall slides open again to admit a portly wizard in plum-colored robes, followed by a well-dressed witch and a girl of Draco's age. The girl's robes are also unmarked, just like his.

"Ah, Malfoy!" says the wizard.

"Parkinson." Father gives him a nod of acknowledgment. "And Cecilia -- good day to you." The witch smiles and flutters her eyelashes as Father takes her hand.

The girl, dark-haired and snub-nosed like her mother, stares at Draco curiously. He looks away, embarrassed, and catches the eye of a tall boy across the room. The boy grins, revealing a row of large teeth, and winks at Draco. He seems familiar, somehow, but now Draco feels even more awkward. He turns back to his parents, only to see the girl holding out a hand to him.

"Hello..." She speaks slowly, as if fearing to make a mistake. "My name's Pansy."

"I'm Draco." He takes her hand, gives it a hesitant squeeze, and drops it hastily.

Their tongue-tied silence is interrupted by Mrs. Parkinson. "Well, Pansy -- time for first kisses! That is, if you can take your eyes off young Master Malfoy, dear..."

Pansy turns bright red and almost leaps away from Draco. First kisses -- oh, so she's pure-born too, he realizes; her family follows the old traditions as well. And that means... that means he'll be expected to take this girl some day: not next summer, but the summer after, probably, in their first season of Visiting. They'll be naked together, and his cock will slide into the hole between her legs (how?) and their parents will watch them... or maybe Father will have the girl first... He can't quite imagine it. He feels his face burning.

"First kisses, indeed." Father's voice is deep, almost a purr, and it makes the goosebumps rise all along Draco's arms.

"Draco," says Mother, "come here." She is removing her gloves.

It's happening, he thinks as he steps forward into her embrace. At last, at last, at last --

Mother's lips are delicate, gentle on his, and her scent is familiar. Without thought or decision he finds his arms slipping around her waist and his mouth parting. She makes a soft, approving sound as she caresses his tongue with her own, and her long fingers stroke his face, tracing small circles and making him shiver. He's thought about first kisses for so long, but he's never considered whether to close his eyes or not; now he keeps them open, and all he can see is pale pink and gold, and she tastes of the coffee they drank for breakfast, and -- it's a kiss, a real kiss, his first kiss, and he's so happy that the whole world seems to shine as brightly as her hair.

Then it ends. Mother steps back, smiling. Draco takes a deep breath, then another. From the corner of his eye he can see Pansy Parkinson engulfed in her large father's arms.

For a moment, Draco feels very grown-up indeed, sure of everything, quite ready to go Visiting right now and do all the fine pure-blood things he'll have to do now he's a man. Then Father says his name, and touches him, pulls him forward -- and he feels very small again...

...because Father is kissing him, and it's nothing like anything he's ever imagined.

His arms are around Father's neck, his feet are rising from the floor; Father's hands feel like iron, one cradling the back of Draco's skull, the other gripping his arse, pressing him close. The kiss is ruthless, dangerous, filled with a barely-restrained hunger that overwhelms Draco instantly and completely, so all he can do is open his lips and surrender to a strength far beyond his own. He hears himself whimper; he feels Father's body hard against his; he can't breathe, can't think, can't do anything but allow his mouth to be ravaged and plead silently for this kiss never to stop, because months will pass before Father kisses him again, and how will he ever bear it?

Then it ends. Draco finds himself on the ground again, dazed and gasping. Mother laughs softly. Father looks down at him and nods, once. Not disapprovingly.

And then it's time to catch the train to Hogwarts.

* * * * * *

Draco sits and stares out of the train window, still smarting with humiliation. That stupid Potter -- no, he won't think about it. He can't think about it without cringing.

The only other person in the compartment is Pansy, curled up with a book on the opposite seat. Draco has sent Goyle and Crabbe to buy more food, and they haven't come back yet; well, he can already see they're not very bright, but Father has an arrangement with their parents, who owe him favors. Not bright, and certainly not from the very best part of society (they'll never go Visiting), but the pair will serve their purpose.

Draco yawns. Stupid Potter, stupid, stupid Potter... No, he'll think about Father instead, and the first kisses. How many days until Christmas? When he goes back to the Manor for the holidays, he'll start sharing his parents' bed at last, and there will be more of those kisses, and... other things. The thought makes him shiver even now.

Draco looks up at a knock on the compartment door. It opens, and he sees that boy with the teeth -- the boy from the waiting room.

"Hello, Malfoy," he says, holding out his hand. "Name's Marcus Flint. Sixth year."

At least someone wants to shake his hand. Draco feels better already. He's quite pleased when Flint sits down next to him, and they spend a few happy minutes talking about Quidditch. Flint is on the Slytherin team; he seems to enjoy Draco's obvious envy.

Then Flint gives him a sly look. "I saw your first kisses," he says. "Couldn't look away, actually. I rather like -- well, I like your father a lot, Malfoy."

All at once, Draco remembers where he's seen Flint before: he's been Visiting at the Manor.

Children are supposed to keep out of sight on Visiting nights, until they've been opened and trained by their parents for their first season -- but Draco sometimes hides and watches Mother and Father escorting Visitors up the grand staircase for their evenings of pleasure. The couples -- some with sons and daughters, some without -- always look so elegant and wear such beautiful robes. Flint is the boy he saw trailing after one couple a few months ago, the boy who stared around the Manor as if trying to take it all in at once. The boy who'd happened to look directly at the nook where Draco was hiding, and waved at him. Draco had run away, wondering if the boy would tell Father. Apparently, he didn't tell.

"Yeah, Mr. Malfoy's amazing!" says Flint now, his eyes shining. "I'll never forget the first time he had me -- it was my first season, and I thought I was really tough, and so did my father -- he bet Mr. Malfoy twenty Galleons that he couldn't make me scream. Well, your father got me on my back and tied my hands to the bedpost, and he pushed my knees up really high and got my legs over his shoulders -- and then he started fucking me, really slow. It was incredible! His cock's really long, and thick as well, you know -- " Flint grins at Draco. "Or you don't know yet, but you will -- lucky you! Anyway, Mr. Malfoy kept at it for ages, just like that, slow and deep, hitting the good spot every time, till I thought I'd go mad! I was begging him to fuck me hard and fast, really begging and crying, my wrists were killing me, I kept pulling on the rope, trying to get loose so I could touch my cock, 'cause he never touched it. God, I was going out of my mind! Then finally he looks down at me in that superior way of his and says to hang on, he'll give me what I need -- and then he slams into me hard and I scream my head off and come all over the place! And he still didn't touch my cock. He's amazing!" Flint laughs. "My father caned me for losing the twenty Galleons, of course -- but it was worth it. Mr. Malfoy's so cool. I really look forward to Visits when it's him!"

Pansy is listening, her eyes round as saucers, and Flint's story has made Draco himself feel oddly warm and restless. He can't remember shifting along the seat, but now he notices that his knee is pressed against Flint's.

"And your mother's really nice too. She's gorgeous, everyone says so. Well, they both are -- it's the blond hair and all that, I guess -- and yours is just the same." Flint reaches out and brushes one finger along Draco's hair, a touch light as a feather. "You're like both of them, a bit, but mostly like Mr. Malfoy." He lowers his hand slowly, still looking straight into Draco's eyes. "Your first kisses -- I watched -- that was amazing."

The door opens again: Goyle and Crabbe lumber into the compartment, laden with Pumpkin Pasties and packages of chocolate, their mouths full.

Flint stands up and stretches, revealing well-muscled arms. "Well, I'll be off. Bye, Malfoy -- see you in Slytherin!" With another wink, he's gone.

Draco sits back and stares out of the window again, counting the days until Christmas, all the way to Hogsmeade.


* * * * * *

A/N: Thanks Seva for reviewing the Prologue! I hope you like this chapter.

* * * * * *