Pairing: L. Malfoy/D. Malfoy
Warnings: Incest, chan, character death, sadness
Summary: Draco and his father had a very special relationship. Draco remembers his past and his father.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to JK Rowling, no copyright infringement is intended. I play with them in my head and for fun; not earning money from sharing it with fanfic readers. No real people were harmed in the writing of this story.
All is Right With the World
Once, Draco had been afraid of thunderstorms. As a little boy, every time there was thunder and lightning during the dark hours of the night, he would get out of his warm bed. Silently hurrying through corridors, he would jump slightly at a particularly loud rumbling outside. He would always feel small then, insignificant. His name and his toys couldn't comfort him then, the wrath of the skies was too close.
Upon reaching the door to his parents' bedroom, he would stop for a moment to catch his breath, then push the door open and sneak inside. It would give him a sense of security just to see his parents sleep peacefully while the storm raged outside. There was confidence in this; they didn't harbour any fears of the sky or the earth swallowing them up.
The spooked boy would then, very carefully, crawl into his father's bed, pressing his small and thin body close to the warm and powerful body of Lucius. It always calmed him down, feeling the slow and regular breathing of the man he admired so; a father that could do nothing wrong, that was the most important person in Draco's life. Often Lucius would wrap an arm around him and hold him closer, warming his chilled body with his own.
In the morning, nothing would be said about it. Draco's mother would simply give him a hug and make sure that he got his favourite things for breakfast. Lucius would smile at him while getting dressed, a smile that held warmth and love, and Draco would feel that all was right with the world again. That is, until the next thunderstorm, when he would crawl into his father's bed again, seeking warmth, strength and safety.
Draco reached puberty, and there were times when it felt even better than before to lie pressed against the muscular body of his father. Tiny movement of his hips gave an extra dimension to the experience as he rubbed slightly against Lucius' leg. It brought a strange, but so very nice heat up inside the boy. The caressing hands that wandered slowly over his back, pressing him closer at times, gave Draco the permission to continue. He would probably have had a hard time stopping his body from seeking these sensations anyway, but it made the situation feel natural to him. His movements grew bolder, the pleasure greater, and as time passed, Draco began to long for the next thunderstorm so he could be with his father again.
One time, while the booming noise of the storm clouds was still far off, Draco got a moment of insecurity, of hesitation. He wasn't really afraid of thunder anymore. Could he still justify his visits to his father's bed? No longer did he think of it as seeking his parents' bedroom, no it was Lucius who held his focus now. He finally decided that it didn't matter, it was the way it was supposed to be, it was right, and he began his trek through the dark hallways. He hadn't taken many steps before he almost bumped into someone going the other direction.
When Draco failed to show up as usual, Lucius whispered to his sleepy wife that he would go and check on Draco, to see if he was all right. Here he was then, in the corridor outside Draco's room, holding the boy close.
After a few words, Lucius expressing his concern for his son, the two entered the boy's bedroom. Here was a turning point. For the first time it was Lucius who lay in Draco's bed, the first of many. Other than that, there was little difference from all the previous times they had lain naked together. Perhaps the breathing was heavier on both sides, the sighs more audible, now that they were finally alone and didn't have to be careful not to wake Narcissa.
During the early morning hours, Draco woke up by feeling his father's lips on his forehead, then his cheek, kissing him softly. He watched Lucius walk toward the door, a smile shared between them before the door closed behind him. The storms had stopped being the reason, and turned into the excuse.
When Draco was in school thunderstorms made him cranky. What was the purpose of them when he had to lie in his bed all alone, no one caressing or kissing him, and no one to touch and kiss in turn? The other boys didn't interest him, they had nothing that he wanted. They were skinny or fat, and under-developed. So during the holidays, and every other time when he was home, the touches grew more heated and intimate, fuelled by the long periods of being away. Slow caresses turned more demanding and the chaste kisses became exploring ones, more suited for lovers.
Draco found pleasure and passion in his father's arms, and Lucius was more than willing to teach him the secrets of carnal pleasure. Draco's favourite moments were those spent in the dark, the silence of the night only broken by their moans as hands stroked hard flesh and their tongues explored each other's mouths. Draco learned how to please his father in every way, and he loved exploring the man's body with his hands and his mouth, kissing and licking and sucking.
He found that Lucius enjoyed when he had the tip of his cock in his mouth, licking and sucking at it while moving his hand over the shaft. He also found that he quite liked the taste of his father's come, even preferred it like that, hot and directly on his tongue.
Of course, Draco lost his virginity to his father. No, he did not lose it... he was given a gift. On his fifteenth birthday, spent at the Malfoy Manor, Lucius gave him a special birthday present.
There was no thunderstorm that night, but Lucius came to his room anyway. As always, Draco was happy to see him, happy to hold him, feel him, kiss him... It was a new experience, to actually feel his father's fingers inside him. So far, Lucius had only been teasing him, pressing them slightly against his entrance, caressing and playing with him. This time, the fingers entered him deeply, stretched him up slowly to prepare him for what would come next. But nothing really could have prepared him for that sensation. To be so completely filled, to be so utterly in someone's power; it was a revelation to Draco. The pleasure was intense after that initial burning, and that was a pain that he'd gladly experience over and over, just to feel his father's cock in his arse again.
Thunderstorms weren't necessary anymore, they had moved beyond the need for excuses. They spent time together whenever they wanted to, but Draco always knew that whenever there was one, there was sure to be sex as well.
Time passed. There was war. There were heavy losses on both sides, and in the end it looked like no one had really won after all. Voldemort was dead, and so were Dumbledore and Potter. And Draco? Draco lived, but he had lost his father. Lucius died trying to protect his son from the uncaring overuse of the death curse that Potter had become so enamoured of during the last years of his life.
Draco inherited the estate. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of his father and for a while he hated. He hated life, he hated Harry Potter, and he hated his father for leaving him. It passed though. Life went on. Harry Potter was beyond his vengeful reach, being dead already. Lucius Malfoy lived on, in the memory and heart of his son, and even though Draco made changes to the dˇcor of what was now his mansion, he left Lucius' study untouched, along with his own childhood bedroom where they had shared so many passionate moments.
Whenever there was rumbling in the sky, the jagged forks of lightning flashing across the sky, Draco would go to either of these rooms, leaving his wife behind. He would lie down in his old bed, the sheets cold against his naked skin, and he would hug the pillow close. Eventually, sleep would claim him, dreams of times past, triggered by the familiarity of the sounds of nature raging outside and the surroundings, would come to him. And in his dreams, all was right with the world again.
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