Meant To Be

Title: Meant To Be
Author: Anath de Malfoy
Pairing: Lucius/Draco
Summary: Written for the HPChan Fiction Challenge.
NUMBER THE NINTY-SECOND: Little Draco has always slept in Lucius\' bed. This tradition has always continued when he returns home for holidays and summer after his first year at Hogwarts. However, when he returns home for the summer after his second year, he is shocked to find that all of his things have been relocated a wing away from his beloved father and Lucius\' door is locked to him at night. Twelve-year-old Draco is stunned and hurt by this strange turn of events. He t des desperately to convince Lucius to tell him why he must sleep alone now. Lucius is unable to tell his son that he has sent him to the far side of the house because of unnatural desires that have begun to plague him since Draco started school. Tell me, does Draco find out that Lucius lusts for him on his own or does Lucius break down and confess under the strain of trying to banish his only son? Will Draco run from the knowledge or let curiosity carry him back to his father\'s bed?
Key points: incest, beautiful blond Malfoys, devotion.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: M/M slash, chanslash, incest; references to BDSM, femmeslash, prostitution, OCs and bestiality. Probably AU.
Possible Spoilers: Books 1-5
Disclaimer: These characters and their associated profits belong to J.K. Rowling. They come and see me when they want to have a good time though...

[Lucius\V]
V]

If he were any other child, I would have taken him by now. But he is my flesh and blood, my only offspring, my son and heir. Destined to wed and carry on the Malfoy line, not to satisfy my libertine desires.

Aside from the one act of marital love, when I seeded Draco within the womb of my usually delectably Sapphic wife Narcissa, I prefer to gratify my lusts with males of all descriptions. Trysts with old friends such as Severus Snape and Walden Macnair are common, as are visits to the male whores of Knockturn Alley. There are no taboos when I am aroused, no sexual undertas tos too perverse for my curiosity. I have taken to my bed boys so young as to have no hair between their thighs, and gone on clandestine expeditions to the mountains of Europe to meet and rut with the fearsome giants of legend, banished all these years from the wizarding world. I have bled beneath the searing, serpentine bullwhip of Macnair, and almost swooned at the delight of being mounted by a rather fine male Hippogriff at Walden\'s behest, its claws charmed to prevent my skin\'s laceration, my opening almost ruptured by its pounding, equine cock. Macnair\'s lips on my sweat-drenched flesh after the beast had flooded me with seed; his tender hands and wand performing healing charms as I shivered ecstatically against him... these are amongst my fondest memories. Such a depraved, exquisite life I lead, with nothing forbidden except for that sweet evil within my mind, that most hidden of my passions.

I desire my Draco. My beloved son.

Until last year, when Draco started his education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, my feelings for him were affectionate, though hidden behind reserve aroprropriety befitting such aristocrats as we Malfoys when in the public eye. The normal, innocent expressions of love between father and son, which even extended to Draco sharing my bed at nights (Narcissa having her own private suite of rooms half the house away, inch tch to entertain her lady-loves). When I was not otherwise occupied with my male paramours, Draco would snuggle beneath a sumptuous velvet quilt with me in my massive four-poster bed, safe in the gentleness and strength of my embrace. My lips would tenderly caress the top of his blond head, and he would drowsily whisper his love for me as his eyelids fluttered shut against his pale cheeks. Some nights I would even dare to plant a kiss upon those softly pouting lips before he drifted off to sleep, resting against my chest and lulled by my steady heartbeat.

But last year, when Draco came home for the holidays and lay beside me at night, everything was different.

I became acutely aware of the delicate scent of his body, how silken his hair was under my caresses. How alive his warm skin made me feel, and how his breath would quicken and his eyes glitter with excitement as I held him against me or accidentally brushed my fingertips against his crotch or buttocks. I would lie awake, blushing and mortified, as my erection swelled and pressed against his sleeping form. If he were any other boy, I would have woken him and seduced him then and there - but he is my own son. My desires for Draco are unnatural, and I knew from the start that I could never risk losing his love by revealing them to him.

One week before Draco was due to come home this summer after completing his second year at Hogwarts, I decided with a heavy heart that letting him continue to bed down with me at nights was far too risky. For the sake of my sanity and my son\'s purity, I had to distance myself from him physically, as I was unable to sever the burning strings of passion that bound him to my heart and soul. Blinking back the tears that I was struggling not to shed, I ordered the house elves to move Draco\'s possessions to rooms a wing away. I provided a magnificent new bed for him to sleep in, hung with draperies of green and silver brocade (in honour of Slytherin, the Hogs Hos House that Draco a had had both been Sorted into). I bought sumptuous new furnishings for Draco\'s chambers, and so many new toys that it almost seemed like Christmas when I laid the multitudes of packages at the foot of my child\'s brand new four-poster. Hoping that my son would delight in all this splendour, and that my joy in his pleasure would help to dispel the aching deep inside me, the grief clenched like a fist within my breast.

Meeting him as he steps onto the platform the the Hogwarts express, I cannot hold back a smile of pride. He has grown so much; at twelve, he seems almost a young man, so dignified and poised and beautiful. I was always \"Daddy\" to him before he went away to school; now he calls me \"Father\", his voice mature and steady as he holds his head high and looks down his nose in disdain at the students who are Mudbloods. I look forward to spending time alone with him (Narcissa having gone to exotic Rio de Janeiro for several weeks with her equally exotic current lover, Adelina).

Back at Malfoy Manor, when we sit down together at the grand oak dining table for dinner, I still cannot take my eyes from this glorious boy. So handsome in the jet-black satin dress robes I have purchased for him to wear especially for tonight, his hair so perfectly and neatly slicked back, his features almost androgynously lovely, his graceful hands so competently handling the silverware as he brings each succulent morsel of food to his lips... all this perfection so bedazzles me that I almost forget to eat myself whilst I watch my son. I pour champagne into his crystal flute - his first ever taste - and we smile lovingly at each other as we clink glasses, drinking to the honourable nameMalfMalfoy. A most enchanting evening indeed.

So difficult, then, for me to bid Draco to retire to his new rooms for the night, to see the shock and dismay in his eyes as I leave for my own suite and lock the door. As I enter my bedchamber, the two boy-whores I have requested for the evening (paying in advance a very large sum of Galleons for enjoying their favours in the comfort of my own home) arrive via the Floo network. Twelve-year-old twins dressed as little Victorian girls in gowns of white lace with blue silk sashes, their blond hair (golden rather than silver-blond like my own and Draco\'s) curled into ringlets, their eyes downcast in a wanton parody of innocence. I spend a frantic, heated night of lechery with them, pounding into the tight ass of the one who straddles my hardness while sucking ravenously at the cock, balls and entrance of the other. Luscious pleasure indeed, but it is still Draco\'s face I see in my guilt-clouded mind when I come...

The next day at breakfast, my son\'s eyes are puffy and swollen with weeping, his movements listless. I try to amuse and please him the best I can, with more presents, Quidditch practice on our brooms, a visit to Hogsmeade... but nothing seems to shift his dismal mood. \"Draco,\" I finally exclaim in exasperation when we return to the Manor from our shopping expedition, \"what is the problem? I thought you were enjoying the summer holidays. We\'re doing all the things you love... do you miss your friends from school? Is that what\'s troubling you? If so, I can easily ask Vincent and Gregory\'s families if they can stay here at the Manor tonight...\"
\"No, I don\'t want Crabbe and Goyle,\" Draco chokes as he struggles to hold back furious tears. \"It\'s you I wan Fat Father, why won\'t you let me sleep in your bed anymore? Have I done something wrong? If I have, I\'m - I\'m sorry.\" His hands clench into fists, and I realise how hard it must be for him to say that, as I myself dislike apologising for anything.
\"It\'s not your fault, Draco,\" I reply, trying to keep my voice from trembling. \"It\'s just that - you\'re growing up now. You\'ll be a man before you know it. You\'re far too old to be sleeping in your father\'s bed.\"
\"But Uncle Severus and Uncle Walden sleep in your bed when they stay over here,\" Draco argues (he always addresses Narcissa\'s friends and mine as \"aunt\" and \"uncle\" - even Professor Snape outside of school).
\"That\'s different, Draco,\" I say sternly, attempting to keep all traces of weakness from my tone, hurting with guilt but unable to utter the real reason why I have bani my my child from my bedchamber.
\"How is it different?\" Draco shrieks suddenly, glaring defiantly at me in a way that he has never dared to before. I am so shocked that I neither reprimand nor punish him as he continues wildly, \"You love them more than me, don\'t you?\"
\"No - I just love them in a different way,\" I try to explain, suddenly feeling helpless in the face of my son\'s outrage. I, the powerful, feared and respected Lucius Malfoy, feeling vulnerable and lost for words before a mere boy of twelve! \"I still love you though, Draco. I love you very much, in fact. I...\"
\"No, you don\'t! You hate me!\" Draco screams, and flees to his bedroom, loudly slamming the door and frightening several magical portraits as he does so.

No amount of knocking, cajoling, pleading or demanding from me can coax my sobbing, despondent son to open the door. I feel heartsick and on the verge of crying myself as I go back to my own chambers. With trembling hands I draw back a dark velvet curtain from an enshrined portrait that hangs on the furthest wall from my bed. The painting is of my father, Draco Salazar Malfoy, for whom my son is named.

He is the image ofas Ias I stand before him now, cascades of white-blond hair, clad in the finest of silk and velvet robes, holding a painted representation of a cane topped with a silver serpent\'s head - my own cane is an exact twin of my father\'s, presented to me on my seventeenth birthday as an acknowledgement of my newly attained manhood and my status as a noble Malfoy (I will be giving Draco such a cane when he turns seventeen). My father\'s painted grey eyes stare down at me in sorrow, and I notice, to my horror, that his face is wet with tears.

\"Lucius,\" my father says reproachfully, \"Your son loves you, as you loved me once. You came so willingly to my bed and to my arms, opened to me with such tenderness and trust when I made love to you... why do you then spurn little Draco? Do you fear dying young, as I did, leaving him to grieve?\"
\"Yes,\" I whisper, the tears I had repressed so long at last flowing in hot streams down my cheeks. \"I missed you so, Papa - I miss you still. I don\'t want Draco to have to feel such anguish. I want him to be happy. To find a wife, have sons and daughters and carry on the name of Malfoy. And if he wants male lovers, to find ones his own age, so it wouldn\'t be such a scandal if they were f out out.\"
\"But we were never found out, Lucius,\" my father says gently, regarding me with love and sadness. \"There\'s little possibility of being discovered. And even if you two were found out, or if you were to die before your time and leave Draco alone, that\'s the way life is. It\'s up to fate, not to us, to decide the course of our lives. As a Malfoy and a Slytherin, you know that forbidden fruit is sweetest. All love comes with risk attached... why deny yourself the joy of what you could have with your son, because of something that might happen, or alternatively may never come to pass?\"

\"Grandfather\'s right,\" a small voice beside me says softly.

I have been so absorbed in the emotions flowing over me that I neglected to close the door, and did not hear my son leave his room and pad with soundless footsteps to my side. He reaches for me, and this time I do not deny him, taking him into my arms and kissing him deeply, wrapping my tongue around his.

\"I loou, ou, Father,\" Draco whispers as he pulls his lips away finally, traces of tears damp upon his sweet, still childish face. \"I\'ll do whatever it takes to keep your love. If you want me as a lover, I\'ll let you take me. It\'s what I want, too. I want to be yours forever. Don\'t send me away. I couldn\'t bear it, I\'d die...\" He begins to shed his robes as swiftly as his shaking hands will allow, until his flawless body is completely bared. \"Please, Father, I\'m yours. Forever...\"

I ravage the naked beauty of my son with my eyes; he is so like myself at his age, stripped with cock erect and awaiting his father\'s touch as I once awaited the gentle caressing hands of my own father. Unable to control myself any longer, I disrobe and embrace him, kissing him all over as I lift him onto the bed and whisper fiercely, possessively, \"If you\'re serious about this, Draco, you\'d better call me Lucius when we make love...\"
\"Oh yes, Lucius!\" my son screams as I begin to stroke him everywhere. Pale perfect flesh, mirroring mine, glorious light blond hair reflecting the moon-tinted sheen of my own tresses. I suck his nipples, biting them gently, moving slowly downwards to take his hardness in my mouth as he cries my name. Licking its whole length, pleasuring it with lips, tongue and throat till he is on the verge of orgasm. To ease the pressure on his youthful body, I turn him to lick his opening instead, feeling him writhe in ecstatic, forbidden joy against me as my tongue-tip parts the clenched folds of delicate pink flesh. I relish the sweet, clean, salty tang of his young skin. My child. My wanton little lover.

Draco begins to gasp in lust, crying aloud, \"Please, Lucius! I can\'t wait any more - I want you in me!\" Hearing these words, I am possessed by such a need to take him that my cock begins to throb and leak. Snatching a jar of oil, I spill most of it on my body and the sheets as my hands tremble with need. But I manage to tenderly lubricate Draco\'s entrance, caressing him with my fingers as I had previously done with my tongue. I lie on my back and sit him astride me, and he impales himself upon me with such passion that I almost swoon. He never takes his eyes from my face as he rides me, whispering my name, calling me his one and only love.

So tight, so deliciously hot and perfect he is as he clenches around me. Our mutual love makes this act of lust sweeter than any other for me, something holy, deeper than a marriage bond. As the waves of climax overtake us both, my burning seed filling him as his spills over me, watched over by the approving eyes of my father\'s portrait I know for certain that I was foolish to resist this. Pure beyond all else, the union of Malfoys, father and son, was written in the heavens - a precious, sacred rite, something that was meant to be.

~ Fin.