Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, just this plot, and also, Rose and Darien Parkinson! Yaay me!
Anyway, this story is set between Order of the Phoenix and Half-Blood Prince, and I like to this it is entirely compatible! I got the idea from somewhere, I don't know, but I thought that it worked with the train scene from Prince between my two characters.
Rated M for a sex scene!
The First Time
Draco Malfoy had a problem.
In fact, he had many problems. His fifth year at Hogwarts had just ended, with which his father had been imprisoned for serving the Dark Lord. Because of that, his mother had fallen victim to moodiness, bouts of arbitrary crying, and certainly to an irreversible depression.
Another problem that he had was that he had just turned sixteen, a birthday that did not call for a superfluous party but a day that called for him to be out of his manor, escaping the woes and tears of his mother, fearing that her negative mood might affect him. It was not as if he was stoic, but Draco saw no sense in crying over his father's imprisonment; he knew soon enough that the Dark Lord would somehow free all of his true followers from Azkaban, so it was only a matter of time.
But the real, true problem that Draco had been faced with was that he, a certainly dashing, charming, and attractive young pureblood boy, had not had sex. Not once, not ever. He was still a virgin.
Upon reflection, it may have seemed like a juvenile and materialistic problem to have, but Draco Malfoy felt that it was important to be well educated when it came to sex. His problem was also enhanced by his upbringing, because his father had always told him that, at sixteen, it was only proper to start selecting a fine, pureblood woman to marry (and one that could fulfill every desire as well as household needs). Sixteen, his father had said, was a good age to become ubiquitous when it came to women, and if Draco was not following that family standard, well, there was clearly something wrong with him.
The problem of his virginity was a double edged sword that he was nervous to face: whomever he chose to have intercourse with would surely know he was incredibly inexperienced, and therefore, his reputation would be ruined. Therein lied his greatest fear, and he wasn't sure how to go about fixing it.
But there was a way, he knew there was always a way. He could secretly hire a magical mistress, but he would rather not do that, considering they must've been fouled by many other men, and Draco simply could not have that. Or, he could chose a girl that had been untouched, much like himself, and therefore she would not know of his inexperience and all would be well; however, he did not want to just go and lose his virginity without any pleasure involved, because sex was all about pleasure. A girl's first time would not involve pleasure, but would surely involve lots of careful movements and cautious prodding and would take far too long. No, what Draco needed was a girl who was trustworthy but experienced, someone close and loyal to him that would not jeer at him for his problem but sympathize and try to help.
There was only one answer to his problem, and he knew it: he would have to have sex with Pansy Parkinson.
Pansy was not diseased riddled, Draco knew. Pansy did not sleep around much, but preferred to do other things with (and to) the boys from Hogwarts. This fact sort of excited him, because then, if she agreed to help him, he could potentially be pleased more than he anticipated . . .
But how to go about asking her? He surely couldn't send her an owl and request this favor as if he was asking to borrow her quill. No, this required careful planning. He would have to go over her house one summer day, spending hours with her so that he could get over his anxiety and also gain her trust. But what would they talk about, what would they do?
It was a problem best left for another day.
"Mother, I'm going to Pansy's today," Draco informed Narcissa. They were sitting at the table while the house elves served them breakfast. Narcissa seemed not to hear her son, but rather, kept her eyes on the newspaper she was reading. "Mother?"
"They wrote an article about the prisoners in Azkaban," she said quietly, and Draco's stomach tightened with worry and irritation as his mother began to cry.
"Yes, well . . ." Draco trailed off uncertainly, wanting to escape the room all of a sudden. The food on his plate now seemed unappetizing, and his hunger was gone.
His mother's sadness propelled him out of the house just as much as his nervousness about this day. He was sick and tired of her gloom, but as he prepared himself for Pansy's, going over to her manor was just as worrisome.
Choosing to apparate rather than fly or Floo, he met Pansy on the edge of her grounds at the main gate. It was a nice day out, fluffy white clouds basking in the blue sky under the butter yellow sun. The air was not humid at all, with a perfect temperature to be outside, to be flying, to have outdoor distractions from the one thing on his mind.
Pansy approached him with a smile, wearing short purple robes and her hair plaited. Draco couldn't help but picture her with nothing on, as if preparing himself for later. It was a few moments before he realized she was talking to him.
"How are you?" he covered smoothly, and she seemed to forget all about his momentary oddness.
"Very well, actually. My parents had guests over last night, there's Firewhiskey all over the house," Pansy said with a sly smile.
"Always a very good thing," Draco replied, and then began walking, gesturing for her to stride alongside him. "Let's see that Firewhiskey then. Father always said '59 was his favorite year. . ."
Thankfully enough, the day went by without a hitch; although Draco anticipated awkward pauses and a loss of activities, Pansy seemed pleasantly stocked with ideas and things to do. They tasted the many kinds of Firewhiskey that had indeed been lying about the house. A bit light headed after their drinks, they decided to fly for a while over the Parkinson grounds, for there was a glistening lake was very attractive. Many other activities occupied their time, until it was dinner and they were called in.
Mr. Parkinson was absent for dinner, but his wife was not; much like Pansy, Rose Parkinson had light brown hair with a slight curl, the same tone of voice, the same laugh and cunning smile. Mr. Parkinson, if Draco remembered correctly, had the button nose and dark eyes, and was known to be a shrewd, clever man.
As they were served the main course, Mrs. Parkinson asked kindly, "How is your mother doing?"
Although Draco would've liked to say nothing, he forced himself to answer calmly, "Alright. Getting better every day, it seems."
"I would hope so. I imagine she goes out more now, perhaps just to distract her," Mrs. Parkinson wondered aloud.
If you mean sit around and mope, you're quite right. "Oh yes, she goes out every day. She's taken a liking to hats now."
"Hats? Well, Narcissa always did exhibit the best fashion sense . . . She must be devastated after the arrest?"
Irked, Draco tried his best to maintain his composure, wanting nothing more than to lash out. "She certainly isn't pleased," Draco said coldly.
"Oh yes, yes . . . I'm just glad my husband chose to listen to me; I predicted something like this would happen, so I persuaded him not to be directly involved," Mrs. Parkinson said smugly.
"My parents revel in their loyalty," Draco said through gritted teeth.
"Loyalty that has landed them in an unfortunate situation, however."
"Well, I'm finished," Pansy said loudly. "Draco?"
Relieved for this excuse, they escaped the curious questions of her mother and retreated to Pansy's room. "She's just after anything to be better than your mother, I think."
"Yes, well . . ." Draco muttered, dropping into a chair. "She certainly knows how to play nicely."
"Anyway," Pansy said flatly, clearly annoyed by his sarcasm, "I heard something interesting you would probably enjoy."
"Do tell," Draco said dryly, still wallowing over the table talk.
"Well, according to my father, one of the guests last night knew Viktor Krum's parents," Pansy began. "And was recollecting a particular story about Krum and a girl . . ."
Draco sat upright; "Is this about that Mudblood and Krum?"
Pansy smirked at Draco's sudden interest. "It was said by my father's friend that Krum had a girl that was visiting from out of country, and who stayed with them for a few days. And one night, Krum's father—"
"The Mudblood?" Draco asked, both scathingly and incredulously.
"Let me finish!" Pansy said, holding out a hand. "One night, his father was up very late, heard noises, and decided to investigate. So, naturally, these noises led to Krum's room and—"
"The Mudblood?" Draco repeated, his jaw hanging open.
"Found them together in bed," Pansy finished, releasing a derisive giggle. "Can you imagine? I always thought that Granger would be perpetually a dusty old virgin who lived with thousands of kneazles."
Mudblood Granger had sex before me? "How true is this story?" Draco asked suddenly, upset and slightly jealous at this new fact.
"Well I would think very accurate," Pansy said. "You don't seem too happy about this . . . you don't fancy that Mudblood, do you?" Pansy inquired, sneering.
"Merlin, no!" Draco yelped. He paused for a moment, trying to conjure an excuse that would satisfy her. "I would just think that Krum wouldn't want to dirty himself by sleeping with her!"
Pansy scrutinized him, sensing his lie. "Are you sure?"
"Pansy, please!" Draco cried. "How can you suggest that I fancy that sorry excuse for a human?"
"Then why are you so upset by this?" Pansy asked shrewdly.
"I'm not upset," Draco sniffed, crossing his arms indignantly. "Krum just made a poor decision, is all."
"So you're not . . . jealous?"
This question immediately set off a wailing alarm in his head. Jealous? Jealous of what? Could she know? How would she know? Could he use any excuse to throw her off? She had to know, why else would she ask if he was jealous? But who told her? Who did he tell?
Stop it, Draco told himself firmly.
"Why would I be jealous?" he asked in a voice that he hoped was menacing enough to stop Pansy from continuing her train of thought.
"Draco, look at me." He did so, and noticed at once that something was very different with Pansy all of a sudden, but he couldn't exactly pinpoint it. She was giving him the kind of look he hated, the look that his mother gave him when she knew he was lying to her.
"What?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice steady and innocent.
"You're jealous that Mudblood Granger had sex," Pansy said smugly; "Before you."
"Excuse me!" Draco said at once, now positively terrified that Pansy knew and desperate to appear offended as possible. "How dare you suggest that I—"
"Don't try and tell me you're not a virgin, Draco," Pansy interrupted, almost lazily. "If you had slept with anyone at Hogwarts, I would know. Believe me."
Draco gaped at the girl before him, trying to grasp the thousands of excuses he had previously come up with, but could get nothing.
"And furthermore, you would've boasted about it," Pansy added smartly. "I know you just as well as your mother; you can never help but brag about your winnings."
What was he to do? Should he own up to this truth, or jump away from it? Agree, or make up something that would be weak and pathetic, which would force him to stray from the days intentions? Instead of deciding, he shoved himself out of the chair and marched right for the door, unnerved and uncomfortable with the corner he found himself in.
Pansy suddenly ran up behind him and threw herself over the door. "Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, it's just—"
"I—am—not—a—virgin," Draco growled, and without thinking, he grabbed Pansy roughly by the shoulders and kissed her, shoving her up against the door.
He almost expected her to struggle and try to get away, but she responded just as intensely, holding him by the neck and pulling him closer, invading his mouth with her tongue. Now functioning completely on instinct and a furious, raging adrenaline, Draco grabbed her by the thighs and lifted her into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist and pressing up against her. His hands traveled far and wide of their own accord all of her body, drinking in the dips and curves, the rise of her breast and the slope of her belly, and the heat between her legs. Pansy followed suit, and when she pressed her hand up against his groin, he couldn't help but gasp slightly against her mouth.
"Wait," she breathed suddenly, heaving for breath. Draco released her, watching her hungrily as she retrieved her wand before proceeding to lock and silence her door.
Done with the wand, she threw it onto an adjacent chair. They were a few feet apart, staring at each other, ravishing each other with their eyes. They were unmoving, stone statues aflame with desire, blood coursing hurriedly through throbbing veins.
And then, Draco moved suddenly, quickly; he snatched Pansy around the waist, throwing her effortlessly over his shoulder, and swiftly went onto the bed. The girl was barely down on the mattress before Draco had jumped on her, hands taking in the voluptuous legs, the generous, firm butt, the swelling breasts; he had no idea that he was pulling off her clothes, or that she was tugging off his as well. All he knew was that he wanted more, he needed more, or else something within in was going to shrivel and die.
Pansy's lips broke away from his, and in that moment the unstoppable force of his body came to a halt; he realized after a few moments that he was sweaty, and panting, and that Pansy was beneath him suffering the same fate. His hand glided over smooth skin, unhindered by clothing, and he realized they were both naked. Her dark eyes were locked on his, encouraging him, urging him begging him—
It suddenly dawned on him what was going on in this precise moment. In this very instant, this very second, he was still a virgin, but in a matter of seconds that could all be changed very easily. He was positioned perfectly to slide into her (an action welcomed by her arching back, her thrusting hips) and he knew Pansy was in a position that she could not protest.
But this great weight, this great change, this new attribute that he was about to take on, was unexpectedly a daunting task, something he wasn't sure he could do, wasn't sure he could complete, wasn't sure he could perform—
"Draco," Pansy murmured, touching his face; her dark eyes, glistening with desire, brought him back to reality and out of his troubled reverie.
Collecting himself, he gave her a small smile, before making the move that would (finally) change everything. He pressed himself into her, trying to withhold his gasp of surprised pleasure while she released hers. Pausing only for a moment to relish this sweet feeling, he pushed himself a bit deeper into her before pulling back; the warm, smooth walls encasing him begged to be savored just by staying still, but Draco had a feeling that if he paused for any longer, she might suspect something strange of him. So, pulling out slowly, he repeated his actions, this time pressing his face into her neck, kissing, biting, anything to stop him from groaning out with pleasure as his movements became faster and more vigorous.
Her sounds became broken and guttural, fragments of what he suspected (and hoped) were mounting cries of pleasure. It would all end soon, he was well aware, for he could feel the rumbles from his core beginning to rise, swell, and escape; it was this reason that he stopped, suddenly, and held her very tightly, trying to hold himself back from spilling too early.
She began to question his actions, but he quieted her with a fierce kiss, and his adroit hands explored her body once more. Desperate to hold back his climax for just a little longer, he removed himself completely from within her, an action not ignored by Pansy, who begged him to fill her void.
"Please," she groaned quietly.
"Patience," Draco said hoarsely with a grin against her neck.
Feeling that he had everything under control, he released a jagged breath before he plunged back into her. Pansy cried out, and clutched him closer, wrapping her legs around the body that was rocking up against her. Squeezing tightly, pressing her hips as hard as she could into his, she was suddenly urging him to go faster, harder, deeper, holding onto him harder than she had all night.
As Draco complied, her cries became louder, higher, and unrestrained. She was so loud that he feared her parents might come knocking, but just as he decided he was going to cover her mouth to quiet her, her tense body seemed to deflate beneath him, sinking into the taunt mattress.
"Oh, my lord," Pansy whispered hoarsely, and then began to laugh, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened.
Draco, unsatisfied, continued with his movements, thrusting at his own pace, enjoying the smooth transition of her skin over his own. She did not protest, but rather, combed her fingers through his hair, touching his face and shoulders and releasing a groan of pleasure.
The movements continued, growing faster and more urgent like before, until he felt something deep within him begin to rise and swell, inching up through his body and crying to be released. Pushing forth, faster than ever, Draco could not help but shudder and collapse against Pansy as he came to his climax.
After a moment, Draco pulled out from her completely, rolling over to lie beside her. She reached towards him, snuggling up against his chest and shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her. There were a few seconds of silence, silence filled with satisfaction and lust, before she spoke.
"So?" she murmured against his skin as she kissed his chest.
"So what?" Draco replied, savoring her lips on his skin and trying to quell his excitement.
"How was your first time?"
Draco looked at her, and then he laughed.
A few weeks later, it was nearly August, and the days that had once been idyllic were now blistering with heat and an unrelenting sun. Narcissa Malfoy was still upset, although she had managed to control her strange outbursts, so that they were less frequent and certainly more private.
But Draco rarely saw his mother cry, and he was beginning to see less and less of her. Now that his problem had been solved, and his virginity had vanished, well, there was no sense in letting Pansy go to waste. He saw no issue with their nightly visits, their occasional meetings, or the afternoon delights that were beginning to happen so often.
Now that Draco Malfoy was no longer a virgin, he saw it proper that he become a real man by taking on his father's responsibilities. His mother did not know it, but one night he went with Theodore Nott and his father to a meeting with the Dark Lord. It was there he was given a daunting task, one that would require much skill and planning, and could result in deadly consequences.
But since shedding his inexperienced skin, Draco felt that he could do anything. Anything required from an adult, a true man, Draco could do it. He was not afraid. And who could be afraid when you had a beautiful girl to be with every night or at any given moment? Certainly not Draco Malfoy.
For now, Draco Malfoy was a man.
Author's Note: much shorter than my other one shots, I think, but I just had this raging, passionate idea I had to get out of my head. It actually took up all my time today, so none of my homework was completed. The things I do for you, JK Rowling!
Anyway, I hope you enjoyed =)
Please read and review!