Someone Borrowed

Update 10/05/05: As per the new rules, I\'m adding a disclaimer here.
Disclaimer: Pursuant to copyright law, I acknowledge that I own none of the characters, concepts, or other related material in Harry Potter. I make no money from the writing of fan fiction based on the property of others.

A/N: I really hate it when a slash writer makes you read this big long setup before finally letting you have the good stuff you came for in an NC-17 story. That said, I know I do it all the time. So in this story, the first slashy, incestuous content is in the first three pages. It was kind of a challenge to myself, to see if I could avoid sticking to form.

*

Draco stared down his reflection in the trifold mirror. The tailor waited anxiously at his side.

“What do you think?” Draco asked, glancing at his father in the mirror. Lucius circled him, stroking his chin thoughtfully. He stopped behind his son and met the boy’s eyes in the glass. Draco leaned back slightly as Lucius’ hand found his waist and trailed downward.

“An excellent fit. You’ve surpassed yourself, van Camp.”

The tailor smiled.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll go get the young master some ties.” Van Camp slipped out and Draco turned to his father.

“I almost hate to let you wear this in front of anyone else,” Lucius said, sliding his hands up under the jacket.

“How many people has Mother invited?”

“Almost two hundred.”

“Hmm.” Draco sighed softly. He looked up at his father and smiled. “You know how I dread this day,” he said.

“I felt the same way. I think it happens to us all.” Lucius kissed his son gently. “It will all be over before you know it.”

“Do I have to do this?” Draco asked.

“Don’t make me answer that,” Lucius said, smiling. He stepped back as van Camp opened the door and bustled in.

“I brought you a black, a white, and some different colors, and your lordship can decide which one he likes best.” Draco turned back to the mirror and allowed the tailor to do his work.


Narcissa had not yet returned from the calligrapher’s; she had insisted on having handwritten invitations on fine Egyptian cotton paper, and wanted to oversee the whole process. She had traveled all the way to Paris and might be gone for a week or more. Draco and Lucius settled in the elder Malfoy’s office with glasses of firewhiskey, and Lucius lit a cigar.

“I suppose it is an excellent match,” Draco said, fingering the trim on a cushion.

“Your mother was terribly worried. She thought that no one would want to marry the son of a convicted felon.” Lucius smirked devilishly, and Draco mirrored it.

“Forgetting, of course, the Malfoy fortune,” he said.

“Precisely.” Lucius finished down his drink and put his hand on Draco’s thigh. “I don’t want you to look at this as some kind of tragedy in your life, Draco. It is simply part of who we are, where we stand. When I was your age my parents were likewise shopping for brides.”

“Marriage just seems so boring after everything.”

“You were raised in this house, but you grew up on a battlefield,” Lucius said, sliding his hand up his son’s leg. “Too soon, maybe.”

“I’m sure I’ll adjust to married life. Katerina seems lovely,” Draco said woodenly.

“She’s boring,” Lucius chuckled. “Just admit it. You’re not even married and you’re bored with her.”

“Maybe. I’ve only met her the once, you know.”

“Then bored with the idea,” Lucius suggested.

“I suppose.”

Lucius leaned in and kissed him, stroking him gently through his trousers. Draco smiled against his father’s lips, pulling Lucius down over him.

“I’m not bored with you,” he laughed, as Lucius nuzzled his way under his son’s collar.

“Good.” Lucius smiled mischievously. Draco squirmed under his father’s touch.

“That tickles,” he said, pushing Lucius back. His father leaned on the arm of the sofa, picked up the cigar, and took a couple of drags. There was a long moment where the two looked at each other. Then Draco growled and pounced on him.

“You know, I desperately wanted to rip that tuxedo off of you,” Lucius said, throwing Draco’s shirt to the floor.

“That could get kind of expensive.” Draco went to his knees and pushed his father’s pants to the floor.

Lucius laced his fingers through his son’s hair as Draco tugged his boxers out of the way.

“Oh, I am going to miss you when you leave,” Lucius sighed. Draco chuckled and bent over his father’s lap. He closed his hand around the base of Lucius’ erection and lapped at the head experimentally, making the older man groan. Lucius moved one hand to Draco’s shoulder and urged him closer, fingers tightening in the boy’s long hair.

Lucius had never dared let himself wonder where Draco had learned how to do this so well. The first time the boy had dropped to his knees Lucius had briefly entertained concerns, but it had been obvious right from the start that Draco was well educated in the art of fellatio. He sometimes regretted not having that period of learning and experimentation with his son. He also realized he could not be so greedy as to think Draco would not want to explore with others.

Draco gently swirled his tongue, delving into the furrow below the head with a delicate touch as he pressed gently with his thumb along the underside. He took a deep breath and relaxed his throat. Lucius was quite a bit larger than his other lovers had been, and even after all this time Draco sometimes had trouble taking him in. He moved in opposite rhythms, withdrawing the moist heat of his mouth even as he stroked firmly downward with his tongue. Lucius made a gasping sound and Draco smiled around his task.

Over the years Draco had learned exactly how to stimulate Lucius. He increased the pressure and speed of his strokes, twisting his hand as he pulled in counterpoint to his other movements. With his other hand, he reached under to gently caress, avoiding the strange ticklish spot on the left side. Lucius was quiet, but Draco had learned to interpret the few soft sounds. He could feel his muscles tightening, his legs arching on either side of Draco’s shoulders. The hand at the back of his head pulled more insistently, and Draco obediently sucked harder and faster.

Lucius groaned in his throat, and Draco took him in deep, stroking more slowly and firmly as his lover shuddered his climax. He pulled back and licked the last traces from his father’s flesh, swallowing without hesitation.

“Wow,” Lucius breathed, regaining his composure. Draco picked up his tumbler from the coffee table and finished his firewhiskey.

“Always happy to be of service.” Draco wiped the corner of his mouth with his sleeve and sat back on the couch.

“Ah, but what can I do for you?” Lucius asked, resting his hand on the inside of Draco’s thigh. Draco raised one delicate blond eyebrow.


“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Draco struggled with his bow tie ineffectually. “Who invented these blasted things anyway?” he asked, dropping the limp ends of the tie.

“Some masochist.” Lucius unfolded himself from the armchair where he’d been watching Draco dress.

“Obviously,” Draco muttered. Lucius tipped his son’s chin upward slightly and tied the tie for him, straightening it slightly before stepping back. The tuxedo had been in storage for nearly two months since the tailor had sent it to the mansion, and Draco found that the arms in the shirt were slightly too tight.

“I doubt anyone will notice, with the jacket on,” Lucius mused, tugging slightly at the stretched fabric. “I told you that you were spending too much time in the gym.”

Draco laughed.

“You weren’t complaining too much when I took my shirt off earlier.”

Lucius smirked.

“Draco, darling?” Narcissa called through the door.

“Yes?”

“Are you decent? Can I come in?”

Lucius snuck a quick kiss before going to the door. Draco shrugged on his jacket.

“Oh, dear, you look so handsome,” she gushed, running her hands over his lapels. Draco obediently tilted his head to let her fuss with his hair.

“I feel like a circus animal,” he said. Narcissa smiled and tweaked his nose.

“I’m going to go see how Katerina is doing,” she caroled, sweeping back out of the room. Draco sighed and sat down.

“What’s she on?” he asked.

“Oh, I slipped her a couple of those pills they gave me at St. Mungo’s for my shoulder.”

Draco looked at his father for a moment.

“You’re not joking.”

“She was making me crazy.” Lucius plucked some lint from the sleeve of his jacket. “Trust me, you’ll thank me later,” he said, checking his hair in the mirror.

“Just keep her out of the booze at the reception,” Draco said. “You remember how loopy you got on those things.”

“I won’t let your mother embarrass herself.”

There was a knock at the door. Draco stood and brushed his trousers smooth.

“Your lordships, they’re ready for you.”

“And now, if you will turn your attention to the center ring,” Lucius intoned.

“Shut up.” Draco tossed his father’s gloves at him; the elder Malfoy just caught them as they struck him in the chest.

“My, are we testy,” he said, slipping the gloves on. “Nervous?”

Draco took a deep breath.

“Actually, yes,” he admitted. Lucius opened the door and held it for him.


When he moved to the front of the church, Draco looked out over the assembled audience. Near the front, his aunt Bellatrix sat with her suspiciously blonde daughter, born during the second war. Draco had not asked Lucius about the child; he had not needed to. If the circumstances had been different, if he had not been sent to Germany for six months, the girl might have been his own. Bella smiled at him as they took their places, promising with her sharp eyes that if he found himself bored, she would be there.

Draco looked up as the doors opened. Katerina was a war orphan, her Death Eater parents among the great losses from Voldemort’s forces, and her uncle would walk with her down the aisle. The Zinovievs had been stalwart supporters of the Dark Lord; Narcissa’s worries about the Malfoys’ past were unfounded. Katerina was some five years younger than Draco, still a schoolgirl when her parents were killed.

She was a silly child, in Draco’s mind.

Her bridesmaids were girls from her school in the Urals, accompanied by Draco’s mates from Hogwarts. He unclenched his hands at his sides, thankful for the gloves that were soaking up his palm sweat. Why was he so nervous? He hadn’t felt this kind of fluttering in his stomach since his first raid, and then he’d had the black cloak to hide him from his peers. Here, he had a full audience. Lucius looked at him and smirked. He narrowed his eyes at his father and turned his attention back to the doors.

There was no great romantic moment when she walked out into the sanctuary, no sudden realization that he was in love with this stranger. No awe at her beauty. She did look quite refined, and almost old enough to be interesting, in her white dress and fancy upswept hairdo. Lucius touched his elbow.

“I’ll want all the juicy details in the morning,” he whispered, barely moving his lips. Draco nodded slightly, smiling in the direction of his new bride.

She was looking at her feet, probably trying not to trip over the ridiculous train Narcissa had helped her pick out. As she drew closer, Draco realized she was ashen and trembling. She’d also been crying recently. He stepped back as she and her uncle approached the altar.

Her voice wavered slightly as she repeated the old wizard’s words, and Draco realized he was vaguely insulted. Why would she be so upset to marry him? When the last words were spoken, he kissed her as he was supposed to, but their lips barely touched.


As everyone was milling about the carriages for the five-mile drive back to Malfoy Manor, Draco pulled Katerina into one of the church’s many antechambers.

“You look as though you’ve been forced to marry an ogre,” he said.

“Oh!” She covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry if you were offended, Lord Malfoy.”

“You are not a servant, Katerina,” he said, more sharply than he meant.

She said nothing.

“I’m not good at this,” Draco said, rubbing his forehead. “What can I do to make you stop looking like you’re about to cry?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“If you were my mother I would just buy you something,” he muttered.

She smiled a little.

“Well, that’s not what I was hoping for,” Draco said.

“Maybe I’ll let you buy me something while we’re on our honeymoon,” she said, touching his lapel.

Draco chuckled. He offered her his arm, which she took after only a moment’s hesitation.

“I must warn you of something,” he said.

“Oh?”

“During your traditional dance with my father, don’t be insulted if he propositions you.”

Katerina looked befuddled as they walked out into the crowd of guests getting into carriages.