Birthright

“Love is a weakness,” Lucius muttered darkly.

“And passion means suffering,” Draco answered. His voice was matter-of-fact. “You allowed yourself to become vulnerable, Father. There’s no shame in it unless you neglect to realize it. You must shore up your defenses to overcome the breach.” Draco tugged at one of his gloves and considered his next statement.

“I will not abandon you. Cannot abandon you, without abandoning my birthright. Besides which, we have always been vulnerable when it comes to one another.” Draco chuckled to himself softly. “You cannot deny the soft spot you have for your only son, and I will not lie about the years of hero-worship.”

They continued in silence, and in fact did not speak until they arrived back at Lignum Hall. Draco hung their overcoats in the entry closet and turned to his father expectantly. When Lucius said nothing, Draco smiled. “Thank you for dinner, Father.”

“You’re welcome, of course.”

Draco raised his hand to touch the fine creases beside his Lucius’ eye, trailing down to the matching line beneath the fringe of eyelashes and farther to the deep demarcation by his mouth. Lucius grabbed his hand almost roughly. “Please don’t remind me, Draco,” he murmured. His brow furrowed. “I’m quite aware that I am no longer young.”

“You are a Malfoy, Father. We only get better with age, like fine wines. Rich and dark.”

“You will slay in the committees with words like that.” Lucius cocked his head. “Rich and dark. I like that.”

Draco took hold of Lucius’ collar, careful not to rumple the silk. He dragged his father down gently. Lucius’ lips parted easily to Draco’s undemanding touch. Draco pulled back so his lips brushed against Lucius’ as he spoke. “I love you.” He kissed him again, eyes fluttering closed. Lucius’ fingers closed around his gently, thumbs stroking the backs of Draco’s hands.

Draco awoke early in the morning to find he had kicked the sheets off himself. He shivered and tugged the corner back over his body; Lucius hummed in his sleep and turned to nestle into the curve of Draco’s back. His hand draped possessively over Draco’s hip. “My dragon,” he murmured. Draco sighed and turned his head to look at Lucius. Moonlight filtered in through the bedroom window, glinting off Lucius’ hair and casting his face in shadow. His father was the first man he’d ever slept with. The girls would sometimes tolerate spooning in the privacy of the Prefect’s room, bue boe boys disdained anything approaching cuddling and snuck off to their own rooms to wash up and sleep. Draco lay back against the pillow. His father’s hand lay close to his stomach; he lifted it in his and let his fingers trail idly up Lucius’ forearm. The Dark Mark gave off a constant, gentle glow. Draco touched it with a kind of morbid curiosity.

They arrived at the train station with plenty of time to spare. Draco had a servant take his trunk to the baggage car, and he and Lucius walked up to the passenger cars. Lucius put his hands on Draco’s shoulders and looked him over thoroughly. “Make me proud,” he said.

“I will.” Lucius offered his hand and Draco clasped it firmly; they embraced and Lucius patted him on the back.

“I’ll see you soon,” he promised softly.

“I look forward to it,” Draco breathed. “Goodbye, Father.” Lucius brushed his usual quick, paternal kiss to Draco’s lips and turned away, robes sweeping along as he walked away from the platform. Draco climbed aboard his train car and found his seat. He stared at the floor and felt a sudden emptiness take hold of him.

Draco could feel himself slipping back into his Hogwarts state of mind. As other Slytherins joined him in the compartment, this feeling was cemented. All human compassion fled him. His tender moments with Lucius seemed to evaporate and all that remained was resentment toward Narcissa and toward school. A sneer of contempt twisted his lips; none of the Slytherin students in the compartment with him even noticed. Draco’s usual demeanor was contemptuous.

School was school, and Draco slogged through the next few weeks painfully. One night in the Slytherin common room he was poring over a book of Charms and gradually depleting an entire case of butterbeer. He looked up as someone came to stand in front of the table. It was one of the fifth-years; not a bad little treat, he recalled. “So, Malfoy,” the boy drawled, “Why don’t you give it a break and take a little breather?”

This incident was unremarkable to the other students, but by the third occasion there was talk. Finally Dunne and a few of his other casual bedmates cornered him in hallway outside the Prefects’ quarters. “What’s the deal, Draco?” a girl asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Draco murmured nonchalantly. She snorted.

“This forced celibacy. What, did you become a priest while you were home?”

Draco swallowed. “Well, actually…I’m seeing someone,” he said, forcing his usual arrogance into his voice. “Exclusively.”

Someone laughed. “So Malfoy’s got a girlfriend! That’s what all this is about.”

“Something like that,” Draco mumbled. “Now if you don’t mind.”

A few more weeks passed and Draco began to wonder if maybe he didn’t regret his offhand promise to Lucius. The Slytherins would pair off at night and he’d be left alone to return to his cold, empty bed. It was very frustrating. One morning Draco watched two sixth-years fuck in the showers, to the jeers and shouts of encouragement of the other boys. Watching the young blond pant and writhe, Draco felt a shudder and left quickly. He masturbated fiercely in the privacy of one of the cubicles and went to class feeling exhausted and more anxious than before.

But in eight days was the first Slytherin Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. Draco crossed off each day on the calendar with a rising sense of anticipation. The day came and Draco kitted out with the rest of the team. Draco forced himself to focus and they won the game against Hufflepuff by a wide margin. He searched the stands but did not see his father. Had he been called away on Council business? Draco felt his heart sink, even as the victorious team lifted him to their shors. rs. He almost cracked his hen thn the entry to the locker rooms.

And there waited Lucius. He offered his son a paternal handshake; Draco returned his grip firmly and palmed the piece of Malfoy stationery. “An excellent match, all of you,” Lucius announced to the locker room. The team glowed with pride. Lord Malfoy was their greatest benefactor, and had kitted them out with fine brooms and new robes. He patted his son on the shoulder and left the locker room.

Draco unfolded the paper and smiled.

When he arrived at his room, he closed the door and put a Disinterest spell on the knob. That done, he turned. Lucius was there in an instant, dragging him into a fierce kiss. They grappled for a moment, clutching at each other and kissing with the pent-up hunger of six weeks apart. When Draco finally broke away for breath, he looked up at Lucius and smiled.

“I missed you, Father.”

“Lucius,” the older Malfoy insisted before devouring his son’s mouth once more. When they parted once more Draco smirked.

“Lucius,” he said obediently, purring the name deeply as his fingers deftly undid Lucius’ belt and delved their way downward to the other man’s cock.

When they encountered them in the hallway later, the other Slytherins took pause. Usually when not one but both of the Malfoys were smiling, it meant something very bad was going to happen.

The school year did its usual trick, at once dragging on as if forever and seeming to flit by far too quickly. Slytherin House won the Quidditch Cup due to a timely save by the Keeper in the final game, allowing Draco time to capture the Snitch with enough lead points to win the match. It had been a close season for them, and with every loss the team had become demoralized. Draco’s cheeriness after even the most devastating defeat brought the team out of its funk each time; none of them knew his pleased smirk and energetic manner were the result of an afternoon spent exploring the pleasures of the flesh with his father.

Draco arrived home from school, happily drunk on Hogsmeade’s finest and looking forward to a well-deserved nap and subsequent hangover. He eschewed unpacking his trunk and crawled into bed, eyes closing almost before he hit the pillow. When he awoke the house was still quiet, and it was well into the afternoon. He had definitely achieved the hangover; he ned ned and fumbled amongst his toiletries kor oor one of the little glass vials he knew to be there. As the potion slowly took effect, he stretched and made a face. His mouth tasted and felt like it was full of glue.

Draco ambled out into the hall; the house was silent save the creaking of old wood settling. Somewhere in the back corridors the servants were certainly at work, but Draco seldom saw them. As a child he had been friends with several of the house servants, but when Narcissa found out they were dismisseinceince then he had avoided fraternizing with the help.

Descending the back staircase, Draco wandered in and out of the various rooms on the first floor, finally arriving in the kitchens. A house elf approached him, cowering. “What does the young master desire?” the elf asked, kneading her hands together anxiously.

“Make me something to eat,” Draco said, sitting down at the small butcher-block table in the kitchen. A servant darted past, and then another set a glass of claret before him. It took only a few minutes before a plate was placed on the table.

Draco ate quickly and stood, leaving his dishes to be attended by the staff. He caught a passing maid by the arm and she hastily made her curtsey. “Is Lord Malfoy home?” he asked.

“Why yes, young Master,” she said, ducking quickly away when he released her. Draco’s brow furrowed. Lucius was being abnormally quiet; usually when he was home one could detect the sound of classical music filtering out from the study. Draco made his way up the grand staircase and pushed against one of the closed doors. It groaned softly in protest but opened to his touch. He closed it behind him, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dimness. The curtains were drawn.

Lucius was at his desk, fast asleep on a stack of papers. Draco chuckled. From the circles beneath the elder Malfoy’s eyes, he’d been pulling another of his week-long working binges. His hair splayed across the desk and Draco could hear his heavy, even breaths and see the stirring of the broad chest. The quill still hung limply from Lucius’ fingers, its ink long dried. His reading glasses were askew, one earpiece pressed against his forearm. Draco walked softly to the desk and leaned down beside his father, ghosting his hand over the silken fall of golden hair and pressing a kiss to Lucius’ temple. Lucius stirred slightly but didn’t wake, shifting his cheek on his arm and making a soft noise. Draco felt a tug at his heartstrings and stroked the white-blond hair lovingly.

“Hello, Father,” he murmured, letting his hand trail down Lucius’ back and up again, carding softly through the soft mane. “It’s good to see you.” He eased the quill out of his father’s fingers and put it back in its case. Draco slid the paper out from under his father’s right hand and looked it over. Some bill before the House, he surmised, slipping it back onto the desk. He tatetated to go through his father’s papers, but he glanced them over quickly.

Under a new bill lay a letter. It was dated ten days previous, and the return address read Narcissa Black. Draco gently tugged it out from under the other sheets and glanced at his father uncertainly. Lucius rubbed his cheek against his sleeve like a cat and sighed in his sleep, his now-empty hand curling, childlike. Draco unfolded the note, which had been unsealed.

She was notifying Lucius that she had received the necessary papers to complete their divorce. Draco touched a single trail of smeared ink. A tear? He looked at his father and swallowed. Lucius had said nothing of this in his last letter. Draco folded it as he’d found it and slipped it back under the pile of papers. Draco had received several owls from Narcissa; he hadn’t opened any of the letters. He put his hand on his father’s back firmly. “Father,” he said loudly.

Lucius awoke with a start. “Oh, Draco. You’re home.” He smiled, taking off his glasses and setting them down on the desk. Lucius rubbed his eyes and raised his head for the anticipated kiss; Draco provided it easily. “What time is it?”

“Around five.” Lucius blinked.

“My,” he breathed, looking around. He patted his waistcoat as though searching for something, his gaze absent. “I must have been more tired than I thought.” Lucius stood and gathered together a few papers, including the letter. He glanced quickly at Draco and walked calmly to the fireplace, tossing them onto the flames. Draco watched the Black family seal melt and run off the note before the parchment crisped.

Draco smiled as Lucius looked back at him. “I admit, I slept most of the afternoon away myself. If you’re ever at the Three Brooms, watch out for the Black Forest Firewhiskey.” Lucius chuckled softly.

“I have missed you, Dragon,” he murmured, touching Draco’s chin. He frowned briefly, and then laughed. “You’ve grown again.”

Draco stood now slightly taller than his father. He’d let his hair grow since the winter holiday, and it was well on its way toward his waist. Draco had also bulked out considerably, more quickly in the months since he’d seen Lucius than before. He was no longer the tall, spindly youth he’d been. In fact, he looked now more like Lucius’ twin than his son. His last few months at school had been somewhat torturous because much of the school had tried to coax him into bed—even the Ravenclaw girls were after him, and they usually disdained such matters.

Lucius felt as if he were looking at an old photograph. Draco waited patiently as his father looked at him. “Well well,” Lucius murmured, stroking Draco’s throat with his thumb. “My little dragon has certainly grown up.”

His son smiled and leaned in to kiss him; their lips slid open easily and Draco tasted intimately of his father’s mouth. Lucius’ fingers wound their way firmly into Draco’s hair and his lips scissored hungrily against Draco’s. He sighed deeply through his nose and his eyes fluttered closed. Draco broke the kiss only to press several shorter, gentler touches to his father’s mouth. “Love you so much,” he murmured, kissing Lucius’ chin and throat and pulling him close. They held each other tightly for a moment.

Lucius pushed his son back against the edge of the desk to kiss him again, humming hieasueasure against the boy’s soft, willing lips. Draco sat, pulling his father between his spread legs and plundering his mouth. Draco could feel the tension in his father’s limbs and sense the hunger in his kiss. It excited him almost unbearably. “I really don’t think we should do this on the desk.” For a long moment his father didn’t answer, being too busy tracing the fine geography of Draco’s mouth as if he were trying to memorize it.

“I should hate to ruin all my paperwork,” Lucius murmured finally, pressing his body closer against Draco’s. “Perhaps we should repair to the bedroom.” He tugged Draco back to his feet, hands stroking expertly down his son’s heavily muscled thigh.

“A marvelous idea,” Draco breathed, laving gently at Lucius’ ear. The flesh was soft and tender under his lips and teeth, and he found satisfaction in the shudder that wracked Lucius’ frame.

Some time later there came a halt in their progress. Lucius lay back in the pillows and looked up at Draco; Draco faltered under the heated gaze. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head.

Lucius smiled and trailed his fingertips over Draco’s collarbone, stopping at his shoulder. “What are you afraid of, my dragon?”

“Nothing,” Draco insisted, kissing his father’s wrist. He had gotten Lucius all but undressed, and all that remained between the elder Malfoy’s hot hardness and the open air was a single layer of thin silk. Some of Draco’s school uniform had made its way to the floor, but his shirt still clung insistently to his arms and his tie trailed down his bare chest. His trousers and tight underclothes felt almost painfully close under the circumstances.

“Don’t lie to me, boy,” Lucius hissed, leaning up to look Draco in the eye. Fearing a return of his father’s unpredictable anger, Draco met his gaze evenly and Lucius lay back. “That’s better.” Draco wriggled out of his shirt and tossed it aside; Lucius drew his tie slowly from around his neck and dropped it onto the floor.

“It’s just…” Draco began. Lucius shushed him, tracing his lips with a rough thumb.

“Let’s not forget I’ve been doing this since well before you were born,” Lucius said, his tone musing. Draco laughed softly.

“How can I deserve this?” he asked, tracing the powerful lines of Lucius’ leg.

“You can’t.” Lucius smiled wickedly, showing white, straight teeth. He slipped out of his undergarment effortlessly and kicked it off the bed. Draco made to take off his trousers; Lucius shook his head. His son’s brow furrowed slightly, in confusion or something very close kin to that emotion. Lucius rolled his eyes. “Leave them on,” he clarified. Draco cocked one eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never done it with your clothes on,” Lucius said, one side of his mouth twisting into that deliciously evil smirk. Draco shook his head. “Well then, this will be a learning experience.” He leaned over the edge of the bed, muscles rippling delightfully, and returned with the small glass jar Draco had stashed there before leaving for school. “I know you’ve done this before, Draco.”

“Not for quite some time,” his son murmured, accepting the jar. “I suppose we’ve tried everything else, haven’t we.” Lucius chuckled and kissed him, nudging his mouth open gently and delving his tongue into the waiting depths.

“Why does this intimidate you so?” Lucius asked, stroking Draco’s bare chest with just the tips of his fingers, moving in tiny circles.

Draco caught his hands in his and kissed them slowly, reverently. “Because you and I are not equals, Lucius.”

Two pairs of icy blue eyes met and locked. Lucius smiled. “Then I’m not asking you to fuck me, Draco. I’m ordering you to.”

Draco chuckled against his father’s lips as they kissed again. “Yes sir,” he murmured, pushing Lucius onto his back once more and nuzzling the slenderoatroat.

Lucius obediently rolled onto his stomach when Draco nudged his side. Draco had never spent much time inspecting Lucius’ back, and he made it his playground. Then drew Lucius backward until his father’s weight rested on knees and elbows.

“Oh my,” Draco breathed, stroking the hard curve of Lucius’ ass. Lucius let his head fall into the pillow as Draco slicked his fingers and traced the tight opening. The older Malfoy sighed deeply as his son pushed through, stretg ang and preparing with the ease of much practice. “I’m not going to ask how many of the Slytherin boys have let you do this to them,” Lucius muttered.

“Most of them,” Draco answered with a smile, bending to drop a kiss to his father’s hip. He added another finger and Lucius made a strangled noise. Draco knew the other man well enough by now to know it wasn’t in pain, and he pushed deeper.

“In fact, I’ve probably initiated most of my year. Those who missed out were sorely displeased.” Lucius chuckled at the subtle entendre and then hissed as Draco changed the motion of his fingers.

“Gods, Draco,” Lucius breathed, arching back against the torturous and pleasurable touch.

“You’re so tight,” Draco noted softly.

Lucius looked back at him. “You would be too, after twenty years,” he said, hips arching of their own volition. Draco pressed him back down gently.

Draco rose to his knees. Lucius let his forehead press back into the pillow and Draco could see his whole body suddenly go very lax; the muscles around his fingers lost much of their resistance. He would have to ask how Lucius did that. He’d murmured no spell, that was for certain; the only sounds coming from Lucius’ mouth were the soft noises of panting. Draco offered no warning before he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, thrusting neatly in past the tight ring. Lucius inhaled sharply, fists gathering in the sheets.

His son froze, suddenly terrified. Draco looked at Lucius, whose face was only partly hidden behind the thick sheaf of blond hair. His eyes were all but closed and his lips slightly parted. Those luscious pink lips moved only slightly as Lucius spoke.

“I’m not a piece of heirloom crystal, Draco. And God knows you’ve broken enough of those anyway.”

Draco laughed breathlessly and thrust slowly, angling for that carefully hidden spot. “More,” Lucius commanded, and his son obeyed. Draco uncurled his fingers from Lucius’ hip and caressed his father’s flank briefly before moving to his erection. Lucius shifted his weight to one arm and wrapped his hand around Draco’s, correcting him and encouraging him.

“Lucius, you feel so good,” Draco said, letting his head fall back on his shoulders.

Lucius groaned softly, thrusting back against his lover’s hips. “I told you this would be a good idea,” he laughed. Draco murmured agreement and increased his pace, fingers pulling at Lucius’ heated hardness. His father’s hand tightened around his and he obeyed, putting more pressure on the silken steel beneath his hand. Lucius sat back against his thighs, letting his head fall onto Draco’s shoulder. “Ah, fuck,” he gasped.

“I am,” Draco said with a smile, biting down gently on Lucius’ exposed throat.

Draco felt his control slipping and his thrusts became wilder; Lucius likewise clampis fis fingers around Draco’s with almost bruising intensity and his breaths were coming in desperate gasps. Lucius could almost feel Draco’s teeth grit together as he neared his climax. The younger Malfoy bit back a cry as he came, hand pumping Lucius’ member firmly and dragging his father with him. Lucius was laughing as he climaxed, leaning his head on Draco’s shoulder and arching against his hand. They both fell forward slightly, flushed and panting with their exertions. Draco pushed Lucius back onto hands and knees and withdrew his softened member from his father’s body.

Lucius gasped sharply, almost indignantly, as Draco’s mouth found his opening, lapping insistently at the pearly cum that escaped. “Where did you learn that?” he asked, voice shocked, as Draco pushed him onto his side and slithered up to lie next to him.

“I’ve told you before that my education was not neglected at Hogwarts,” Draco murmured, kissing at his father’s throat. Lucius touched his son’s lips with his thumb. He was very hesitant, but he pulled Draco into a kiss nonetheless. The younger Malfoy’s mouth tasted of bitter cum and a hint of something dark and spicy. They shared the taste back and forth in a long, heated kiss before falling, gasping, to the sheets.

“Thank you, Lucius,” Draco murmured.

“I’d say the pleasure was all mine, but I doubt that’s the case,” Lucius chuckled, tracing his son’s strong chin with his fingers.

“I was concerned there for a moment. I would never seek to hurt you.”

“That’s what they all say,” Lucius said, nestling his head against Draco’s chest. They lay there for several minutes. Finally, Draco stirred. “Going somewhere?” Lucius asked curiously.

“I’d love to lie here all evening, but I’ve got some unpacking to do,” he said apologetically. Lucius nodded and let him untangle himself. “I’ll see you later tonight,” Draco murmured, brushing a kiss to his father’s lips and standing. He tugged his trousers back up and zipped the fly, which had left a group of neat lines on the inside of one of Lucius’ thighs. Draco gathered his clothing from the floor and made his exit, leaving Lucius in bed alone.

The elder Malfoy trailed his fingers over the empty pillow. “Good to have you home, son,” he muttered, looking at the door Draco had closed behind himself.