Birthright

They avoided each other the rest of the afternoon and evening. When Draco came down to dinner Lucius had already eaten, leaving a note on the table reminding him of the trail ride they had scheduled for the next afternoon. The house seemed abominably empty, what with Narcissa and her entourage of maidservants gone. Draco wondered idly if this new man would be able to afford her upkeep—the Malfoy seat brought with it great wealth and a steady annual income, something even the most renowned families couldn’t necessarily promise. He went back to his room and spent an hour or so poring over one of his textbooks; one of his instructors had asked for a paper after break.

Draco was up with the dawn and set out his more casual riding attire, which was a good deal warmer than the hunt silks. A trail ride would be slower and less strenuous, and therefore cooler. Draco slicked his hair back into a tight ponytail at the back of his head and went down to the dining room for breakfast. The kitchen staff had already laid out coffee and pastry, and he sat down to some of each. He’d already made several of the crullers disappear when he heard footsteps behind him.

“You shouldn’t sit with your back to the door.”

He turned. Lucius was still in his silk pajamas and unshaven; his hair hung in loose waves, released from its restrictive braid. Breathtaking, Draco thought. And then realized he was in fact holding his breath. “Yes sir.”

Lucius took his seat at the head of the table and looked at Draco. “I trust you saw my note.”

“Yes sir.” Dracok aok a sip of coffee. “Rough night, Father?” he asked softly.

Lucius touched his chin, covered with dark blond stubble. “I just got up about five minutes ago, if that’s what you mean. And yes, I had some trouble sleeping.” He gritted his teeth and poured himself a cup of coffee. “I found myself out on the study sofa.”

“You could always move into one of the smaller bedrooms,” Draco offered. His voice was gentler than he knew he could be.

His father took a slug of coffee and set the cup down so hard Draco feared it would chip. “I will return to my own bedroom and get through a night if it kills me. I am a Malfoy, damn it.” There was that attitude; Draco was happy to see his father finally back in his arrogant mode. The earlier vulnerable side had frightened Draco. Soon enough the pendulum would arrive back at the middle and stop, and life would be close to normal. “I took the liberty of asking for Dis for you.”

Dis, the fastest gelding in the stable, and one of the most volatile. “And who are you riding?”

“Mercury.” Lucius watched Draco over the lip of his cup as he drank some more coffee.

“Planning on doing some racing?”

Lucius chuckled darkly. “Whatever gave you that idea?” Draco ignored the sarcasm and picked up another pastry. “We’ll have a late lunch at the lodge after our ride.”

“Yes sir.” Draco finished his coffee and poured another cup. “Um…Father?”

“Yes, my dragon?” Lucius asked, leaning back in his chair and propping his feet in Narcissa’s empty seat.

“I must apologize for my harsh woand and inappropriate language yesterday afternoon. I allowed myself to react in anger. A man who loses his temper has failed to obtain his first triumph in discipline.”

Lucius nodded cordially; his son had voiced the apology with sufficient elegance. “And I must apologize for my behavior as well. I have not been myself of late.” They looked at each other in silence for a long moment.

“Then there is the other matter,” Lucius murmured.

“Can we please not discuss it?” Draco asked, looking away.

“As you wish. But we will talk of this.” Lucius stared at Draco until he received eye contact, and then dropped his hard look. Draco almost sighed in relief; his father was definitely back to something the younger Malfoy could handle. Draco finished his second cup of coffee.

“What time should I be ready?” he asked.

“You have two hours.” Draco nodded and rose to his feet. “You may go.” Draco bowed his head formally and left the dining room. Lucius watched him go and sighed, picking up a pastry and biting deeply into it.

Their mounts pawed at the earth, snorting and impatient. Lucius cast a countdown, and when the spell produced a loud crack the horses took off. Each animal’s strides ate up the ground, and they stayed neck-and-neck until the last dozen yards. Draco’s mount stumbled, and Mercury pulled ahead. As Dis recovered, he saw that he was being beaten and launched himself forward at top speed, crossing the designated line with his nose at Mercury’s shoulder.

The riders pulled their mounts to a walk. “That was refreshing!” Lucius called. Draco caught up to him and let his mount walk off the exertion.

“I’m glad,” he said.

“We should dismount and give them a break. They really moved for us.”

Draco nodded and slid off his horse neatly. He held Mercury’s nose for Lucius, who seemed almost to flow to the ground. “Thank you.” Lucius took the reins and Draco tried not to notice as their hands brushed.

They walked the horses until they were cool, and then looped the reins over posts. The lodge was at the other end of the club’s property, and they were about halfway there. Lucius sat down under a tree and sighed, opening his pocket flask and taking a drink. He offered it toco, co, who took a sip and handed it back.

“You’re dipping into the good stuff,” Draco accused. Lucius capped it and put it away.

“And?”

Draco had no response. Lucius settled back against the bark. “Are you ready for our discussion now, dragon?” he asked softly.

“I don’t believe so, sir. But we should have it nonetheless.” He rested his arms on his knees and waited for Lucius to speak.

“You dared tell me, last night on the landing, what I do and do not want.” Lucius cocked his head. His expression was nonjudgmental, and it almost frightened Draco more that he could not read what his father was thinking.

“However, I will choose to ignore your impertinence; you have already offered me sufficient apology. Besides which, I am more curious to know what you meant by it. If I understand you correctly, you did want us to continue.” Lucius took another sip from his flask and tucked it into his vest.

“I’m afraid so, Father. I’ve been harboring some rather inappropriate thoughts in regard to your person.” Draco sighed. “I had hoped they would subside as a youthful crush, as have several other infatuations. But they have not.”

Lucius nodded, his face taking on a musing appearance. “What is inappropriate about these thoughts? ask asked.

“Please don’t make me say it.”

“Draco.” That one word was warning enough.

“I have been experiencing sexual desire for you, Father. And as your son I should not be lusting after you like a horny schoolboy.”

Lucius chuckled. “But Draco, you are a horny schoolboy,” he said, smiling. “I suppose I should be flattered that you consider me desirable, especially as I am old enough to be your father.”

Draco couldn’t help but smile shyly at this remark. Lucius stood and offered Draco his hand. When he pulled him up they were standing quite close. “I have a little secret to tell you, my beautiful dragon,” Lucius murmured. Draco looked at his eyes, so brilliantly and chillingly blue. Lucius leaned close, until they were almost touching. “I have been harboring inappropriate thoughts about you for some time.”

“And what, if I might inquire,” Draco asked softly, his gaze sliding down from his father’s eyes to the exquisite coral mouth, “is the content of these thoughts?”

“This,” Lucius murmured, ghosting his hand along Draco’s cheek and leaning in to kiss him. Their mouths scissored together, lips opening easily. The touches were more gentle than before. Draco turned his head to gain better access and delved deeper; Lucius did not protest.

“That is inappropriate indeed,” Draco said as they parted. He caressed his father’s chin with one hand, running his thumb over the full, slightly kiss-swollen lips and replacing it with his once more. Lucius cradled Draco’s head in his hands, gently massaging his temples with his thumbs. He hummed his pleasure.

“We’re going to be late for our lunch reservation,” Lucius warned, stroking Draco’s ear with the tip of his finger. Draco shuddered against the touch.

“Just a little longer,” he breathed.

“I can deny my dragon nothing.” Lucius caught the back of Draco’s head in his hand, the other sliding to his son’s slender waist and pulling him close. Draco could feel his father’s chest pressed tight against him, could feel the heavy breaths that stirred the broad ribcage. Then he forgot those things as that mouth found his again. Lucius’ tongue glided against his, enticing it forward. His father’s mouth tasted like the firewhiskey he carried in the flask. Draco could smell Lucius’ exertion from the race, clinging to him. It was a light musk, redolent of maleness and expensive cologne. Finally, through unvoiced agreement, their lips parted. Lucius held Draco for a moment longer, looking down at him. “My god, you are so beautiful,” he said, trailing his hand down Draco’s throat and chest. He stopped at his son’s waist, and brushed a quick kiss to his forehead, suddenly embarrassed. He turned away quickly. “We should go.”

As they sat down to lunch, Draco found himself unable to meet his father’s eye. It wasn’t a feeling of shame, really. More of shyness, he supposed. Lucius smiled at him and picked up his fork. “Are you going to eat?” he asked gently. Draco blushed a little and dug in. They ate in silence for several minutes, until Draco spoke.

“Are you at Lignum for the rest of the holiday, or are they dragging you back into session?”

Lucius chewed for a moment and swallowed before answering. “I am all yours.” Draco wasn’t entirely sure how to take that; Lucius’ expression offered no clues. “In fact, I will be taking you to the train station personally.”

“Oh, sir, that’s not necessary.”

“Pish tosh, Draco. I’ve missed enough of your departures. This is the last time I’ll get to see you off to school.” He smirked. “Besides, for some time I’ve been wanting desperately to take the out the car.”

Draco couldn’t help but laugh. One of Lucius’ secret passions was for Muggle automobiles, and he had acquired an old Rolls several years before. It had been something of a shock for Draco to come down to the carriage house and find his father in shirtsleeves under the old car, with his hair under a ratty old handkerchief in Slytherin colors and his hands well covered in grease. He’d patiently explained the nature of the internal combustion engine to his inquisitive son. Draco couldn’t fathom why anyone would rely on such a thing for transportation at the time. Even at eighteen he couldn’t quite understand why Lucius was so enamored with Muggle vehicles. Of course, arriving at the train station in the Rolls Royce was more desirable than coming into the restrooms of Platform 4 via Floo Powder, to which Draco had resorted twice when his father couldn’t get away from work and his mother didn’t feel like seeing him off.

And there was little short of flying that compared with taking the roof down and cruising at the car’s top speed, significantly increased from its original potential by the judicious use of magic. Lucius had once shouted, over the roar of the wind and the engine, that there were only two reasons he felt that Muggles should be kept around, and this was one of them. Draco had never been able to elicit the other from his father, though he suspected it had something to do with his secret candy habit.

“That will be enjoyable.”

“To say the least.” Lucius picked up his wineglass and tested the nose of the cabernet within delicately. Draco loved to watch him taste wine; he had a connoisseur’s air about him. Apparently it met his approval, because he took a sip and set it back down before picking up his fork once more. “You really must try this, Draco. It’s fabulous.”

Ignoring propriety, Draco speared a medallion of meat from his father’s plate and popped it into his mouth. “Mm,” he agreed, chewing at it. Lucius watched him through lazy, hooded eyes. “How rude,” he murmured, his lip quirking in a deliciously evil smirk.

“So sorry,” Draco said, with the barest edge of sarcasm. “It’s the blasted Slytherin table at school that’s done it to me.

“I can imagine eating with the likes of young Mister Crabbe would be a terrible influence on a well-mannered fellow such as yourself,” Lucius said, that same odd smile twisting his lip. Draco wanted desperately to kiss him, but instead took a sip from his water glass.

“Oh, yes. It’s quite like eating at the zoo.”

Lucius chuckled and twisted the stem of his wineglass with the tips of his thumb and forefinger. “You know, both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have required classes in table etiquette.”

Draco made a face. “Part of why Hogwarts is home to so many damned mudbloods,” he growled. Lucius nodded.

“It has gradually slipped beneath our social class. It was on its way out when I was there, sadly.” Lucius leaned his chin on the backs of his hands, clasping his fingers loosely. “Have you given much thought to your future, dragon?”

“Some.” Draco finished his food and wiped his mouth neatly with his napkin. “I had thought to apply for a position at Ellwood for next fall.”

Lucius leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “What would you study?” he asked, looking at his son with unabashed curiosity. Ellwood was a smaller wizarding university in England, with a low-key but very respected reputation. Fewer and fewer students were seeking further education every year. Draco had long insisted he would not be attending university at all; rather, he had wanted to go straight into the real world and find some sort of work for himself. In recent months that desire had changed.

“I’m not entirely certain, but I was sort of oscillating between Political Science and Law.” Draco raised his eyes to his father’s, searching for approval. Lucius hummed and nodded.

“So you want to go into government, I’m assuming.”

“Yes sir. I…had hoped you would let me tag along on your visits to the House of Lords this summer.”

Lucius chuckled. “My dear boy, now that you are eighteen I could very well let you vote in my stead. But if you would like to ‘tag along’ and watch how the whole thing works, I would be very happy to have you on as an aide.” He sipped his wine elegantly and set it back down on the table. “You would have to work for it, though.”

“I expected no differently, sir.”

“Good lad.” Lucius sat up. “Now, what’s say we get out of here?”