Scarred For Life

Title: Scarred For Life

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: They belong to JKR and some publishers.

A/N: Okay some people are going to find this perverted. Some other people are like me and are going to realise that this is just fluff and should be taken that way. So please don’t bitch to me about how you were offended by this, reviews like that only make me realise how prudish some people can be, especially ones who click on NC-17 material. Oh and just as a side note, I was slightly drunk when I wrote this so it could go either way.

I think I was six when it happened. In fact, I’m sure I was four because that Christmas I got that broom from Mum and Dad I’d been begging them for, for months – okay weeks, but considering I usually got everything I wanted from them as soon as I asked, it was a comparatively long time.

So it was Christmas Eve when I was six, and I had woken up in the middle of the night for reasons I don’t remember 12 years on. Maybe I was thirsty, maybe I heard a noise, or maybe I was just being difficult, as my family tells me I continually am. Look, I don’t really remember the specifics, and if you want to hear them get someone else to tell you the bloody story. But if you want to just shut up and listen to me, then here’s what I remember. Here’s what scarred me for life.

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Agravain Malfoy walked down the dark wooden steps of his house, grabbing on to the banister as he went. He was still too small to reach it properly, so his arms were stretched above his head, his fingers grasping the rail for support. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he turned to his left and walked down the dark hallway for a few steps, watching his toes, before he heard a noise. Nervously, Grey looked up. The end of the hallway was bathed in the light coming from the living room entrance, and so he assumed his mum and dad were still awake, sitting by the fireplace.

He began to tiptoe carefully towards the entrance, listening for the sounds of his parent’s voices as he got closer. Grey strained his ears, but found he could hear nothing except the crackling of the fire and the padding of his bear feet on the wooden floor, even when he reached the open doors.

In the back of his mind he knew something was amiss, and cautiously he looked around the door frame, into the main living room. He saw his Dad sitting on the sofa watching something with a smirk on his face. Grey was told constantly by Grandmother, and with less enthusiasm, Uncle Ron, that he had the exact same smirk as his dad; in fact in most physical ways they were exactly alike. But occasionally Nana Molly would sit him on her lap and say he was just like his Mummy, and for some reason that made him feel better. Not that he didn’t worship his father, but he’d rather be a little bit more approachable.

His dad was currently slouched on the antique 18^th century sofa with his legs apart, his arms resting across the back. His smirk was unwavering, but the look in his eyes went from amused, to happy, to a glazed over sleepy look Grey had never seen on his father before.

Daring to move around the corner and into the entrance a little bit more, the blond haired boy came out of the shadows and immediately caught a glimpse of his mother standing in front of his father, smiling at him cheekily. The fireplace roaring behind her, gave his mother an almost ethereal glow, and to Grey she looked more like an angel in that moment than he’d ever seen her before or since. She was wearing the same short, red dress that she had worn to the Christmas party they had thrown at their house tonight, but now her jewellery was lying on the end table next to the sofa and she didn’t have make-up on her face anymore.

Grey always thought his mum was like two different people. When she was dressed up and around other people she was graceful and elegant, making everyone feel welcome with her warmth and beauty. But when she was alone with dad and him, she was loud and boisterous and fun. Right now she looked different than he’d ever seen her; she looked excited and flustered but still poised and lucid. She was staring back at dad, biting her lip and reaching up to take her hair out of its clasp letting it tumble around her shoulders. Silently, Grey wondered what was going on.

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Draco watched Ginny as she teased him with her eyes. He knew what she was up to, but he was still curious to see exactly what she would do. During the party tonight, he and his wife had engaged in a covert flirting match, teasing each other to within an inch of their sanity. She won by default; the use of that red dress should be considered cheating. A technicality she was currently remedying by beginning to remove the garment.

He gave his best impression of nonchalance, as Ginny slid one spaghetti strap down a creamy shoulder, glancing at him impishly as she did so. She moved immediately to work the other strap down, and then wiggled her body to make it easier to tug the form fitting slip to the floor. Draco groaned under his breath as he realised she had been completely naked under her clothes all night. Biting his lip, he watched his wife as she stalked toward him in nothing but stiletto sandals, and straddled his lap.

Slouching down further in the seat, Draco made himself more comfortable under Ginny, while still refraining from touching her. He had wanted to all night; wanted to touch those lips that she had licked when he looked in her direction, wanted to fondle those hips that she had wiggled enticingly at him, and most of all wanted to brush his mouth over those breasts that she had pressed temptingly against him when they danced. He settled for running his fingers over the cool, gold edges on the back of the settee and letting his eyes wander over her delicious curves.

Ginny smiled, leaned forward and began to undo Draco’s top shirt button, but he caught her hands before she could get it through the hole. Bringing her fingers to his lips, he kissed them lightly before bringing them down to rest on the hardening bulge in his trousers. Needing no further encouragement Ginny began to rub him firmly, vaguely wondering what he was up to, that required him to be fully clothed while she was naked. She figured it was probably just another Malfoy power trip, and frankly, she was getting off on it. Deciding to cause a shift in power, she pulled away from him slightly and moved her head down to his crotch. He hissed harshly as she grabbed his zipper between her teeth, and pulled it down slowly, rubbing her nose against his cock, as she did so.

A jolt of intense pleasure shot through Draco’s body, and with the grace and speed of a jungle cat, he flipped Ginny onto her back on the couch, and manoeuvred himself on all fours, so he could stalk his way up her long, lithe body. Ginny immediately began purring, and a deep animalistic need overcame Draco to take her fast, hard and dirty.

Grabbing her long legs at her calves, Draco folded Ginny’s legs so her knees were up against her shoulders and entered her in one hard thrust. Rapidly, he began pounding into her, while still fully clothed - even his belt was still fastened - despite the fact he was starting to sweat. It seemed to get his wife hot though, as she began moaning loudly and arching up to him strongly. Determined to show his dominance, however, Draco flipped her over onto her front where, despite her surprise, she immediately raised up on her knees and braced herself against the armrest with both hands, still panting loudly.

Draco smirked blissfully, still unable to believe how fantastic his wife was. Not just in bed, but as that was the point of the current exercise he focused on her abilities in that area. She always pleased him. Knew his body, his mind, what he wanted, all without asking - which was great for him because he wasn’t one of the great communicators of all time. She was purely instinctive. She was never self-conscious, and she usually never bothered with all the fancy trappings, like annoying lacy underwear that got in the way, or perfumes that got irritated his sinuses and took away from the sexy smells that were her. She was kinky and soft, down and dirty and tender, wicked and sweet. She was just pure, fantastic sex. And he loved everything about her.

Ginny could feel her husband smirking behind her, and irritated beyond belief that he wasn’t getting on with the job, she began moving her bum enticingly, knowing it would work like a charm to distract him from his thought process, and get him inside of her. She was, as always, right; he squeezed her arse, before gripping her hips and slamming into her roughly. Ginny had to grab on tighter to the arm rest to stop her face from smacking into it. But it was all in a night’s fun wasn’t it? She laughed to herself, as her hair tumbled in front of her.

Draco moved his grip to the armrest, next to Ginny’s hands. Using the leverage he began to pound into her with a force and speed he knew she could handle, and loved, despite it making her sore in the morning. His hair fell into his eyes, but he ignored the irritation as he could feel the familiar tingling sensation travelling down his spine. Ginny was close, but not close enough, and Draco tried to concentrate on anything except the feel of her tight sheath squeezing him rhythmically, in an effort to contain himself. She didn’t make it any easier, when she began grinding her shapely bum into his cock roughly, and moaning loudly the things she wanted him to do to her. Draco exhaled heavily, focusing on the bright, flickering candles levitating around the Christmas tree, while mentally begging himself not to burst.

Thankfully he soon felt Ginny start to come, gasping and wiggling fitfully against him, and gladly he let himself go. Soon he was thrusting erratically into her with deep, long strokes, and after one final plunge he came in long, hard spurts, resting his forehead on her shoulder as he did so.

Breathing heavily, they both collapsed and rested for a few minutes, before Draco flipped Ginny back over gently, and proceeded to kiss her for the first time that evening. Ginny giggled lightly as their tongues tangled in a messy, wet mashing of mouths. While she stroked Draco’s hair away from his face gently, he trailed a hand down her body, lightly massaging her breasts in his palms and rubbing her tummy soothingly.

Draco pulled away, now able to see his wife’s flushed face clearly without his hair in his eyes, and smiled gently at her. She looked up at him through sleepy eyes and gave him that look.

The ‘I love you’ look.

His favourite.

It meant everything to him, even more than the ‘you’re so sexy’ look, or the ‘bedroom, now!’ look. He returned it with his own ‘I love you, and you’re such a great shag’ look.

She just smiled and wrapped her arms around him, protecting him from the world while making her his.

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Oh, it's not like I saw all that much, since the couch blocked most of my vision, but I saw enough to know damn well what they were doing as soon as I got older. I mean okay, in the darkest recesses of my mind where NO ONE is allowed to enter, I guess that moment made me realise how much my parents do love each other. I understand them both a lot more for it, especially since my childhood was spent wondering why they never told me, or each other how they felt, except when they were bickering like children. I always remember that moment and know that just because they don’t express the feelings they have for each other verbally, doesn’t mean they don’t have other ways of letting the other know they are still infatuated, passionate, insane about the other.

How introspective am I?

Now don’t get me wrong, I have no trouble with the girls in the leg over department, if you know what I mean, (I am my fathers son, after all.) But to this day, I still can’t manage to get the little wizard up anytime during Christmas day. Or Christmas Eve. Or boxing day, the bastards. I’m scarred for life, never able to get a good shag around the Christmas holidays, and for that I’ll resent my parents forever.

Although I must say, during my fathers sex talk right before I left for Hogwarts, I don’t think I’ve ever listened to him more intently. First of all, my dad’s Draco Malfoy, so it wasn’t your usual ‘If you find a girl you love and respect enough, then this goes in that hole’ y’know? He taught me technique, pick up moves and proper etiquette afterwards, and I trusted it because I’d seen him in action. When I was 14, I put it what he taught me into practice, and it turned out the bugger was right.

Look, bottom line, my parents are great, despite their unconscious ruining of Christmas for me. And I don’t think I’d understand them as much as I do, if I hadn’t seen them express the affection the have for one another. It’s a comforting feeling knowing you’re parents are in love - preferably with each other. Not that I’m saying it was pleasant and a joy to watch because yuck. But it was a growth experience, and in the end isn’t that what Christmas is about?

Okay no, it isn’t, but shut up, no one asked you did they?

Merry Christmas, everyone! I hoped you enjoyed my little present.