Author: Scribe
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Eventually Lucius/Draco, Lucius/Other, Draco/Other, Others possible
Rating: NC17
Summary: A surprised, but not exactly displeased, Lucius Malfoy realizes that his son has designs on him.
Archive: WWOMB, and any list it is sent to. Otherwise contact me.
Feedback: poet77665@catlover.com
Status: WIP
Sequel/Series: Not at present
Disclaimer: I did not create the characters here, I don't own them. I derive no profit from this effort. I mean nothing but respect for the creators, owners, and the actors and actresses who portray them.
Websites: http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/scribescribbles and http://www.angelfire.com/grrl/foxluver
Warnings: Father/son incest, but not of the violent, non-consensual sort. If this offends you, please do not read. I have a lot of other fic out there, and some of it is bound to be your cup of tea.
Spoilers: The author has not read The Order of the Phoenix, and does not expect to get a chance to any time in the near future, so just pretend it never happened, okay? If you can suspend disbelief enough to enjoy the books in the first place, you should be able to do that.
Notes: I've seen any number of stories where Draco's fouled up personality is explained by a history of child abuse and incest at the hands of a monstrous Lucius. I started wondering 'what if it wasn't Lucius who was the aggressor?', and the first line hit me. Karrol means 'manly', Bernadine is 'feminine', and Jali is 'soulful'.
A Wise Father
By Scribe
It is a wise father that knows his own child. ATTRIBUTION: The Merchant of
Venice. Act ii. Sc. 2.
Lucius Malfoy wasn't quite sure when he first became aware that his son intended to seduce him.
Draco had always been precocious--he'd begun asking Narcissa questions about sex ("Not where babies come from, mind you," she'd later told an amused Lucius) while he was still in short pants. His father was of the opinion that Draco had gone to her instead of him for the sole reason that he knew that cool, refined Narcissa found the subject distasteful in the extreme.
He'd been directed to Lucius. The slender boy had almost been swallowed by the armchair in the study at Malfoy Manor, his neat, pale hair gleaming against the dark, rich leather. Lucius had studied him, noting the features that marked him as a Malfoy, and his son--the almost translucent skin, the silvery gray eyes, the sharp, patrician features, and (perhaps most importantly) the air of self-confident superiority. His attitude seemed to say that he already knew the facts of life, along with many of the more interesting sidelights, and had only asked his parents about them as a polite formality. He was ten.
"Well, Draco," Lucius had murmured, "it seems you're going to be an early bloomer. Just as well, I suppose, since you'll be off to Hogwarts next year." His lips had twitched. "I suppose it will be safer to have you armed with knowledge before you begin living in close confines with all those hormone crazed adolescents. Otherwise you might get the sort of education they hadn't considered when they founded the place."
Lucius had gone to one of the shelves that lined the walls, drawing one long, slender finger along the spines of the books. If he had been wearing white gloves, there would have been no smudge to mar the tip--the Malfoy house elves were well trained. They knew the penalty for allowing even the thinnest skim of dust to settle on Lucius' books, or Narcissa's extensive collection of tiny, fragile objects d'art. He paused, saying, "Have you ever seen a naked woman, Draco?"
"Do house elves count?"
Lucius looked over his shoulder sharply. "Good God, boy, you HAVEN'T!"
Draco shrugged. "I only looked. I was curious."
Lucius grunted. "Well, don't do it again. The very idea makes me shudder. I believe that the physical equipment is much the same, though on a smaller scale. Still, better safe than sorry." He drew one large, slim book from the shelves, and went to sit on a small sofa. "Come here." Draco settled himself beside his father, his legs dangling a good two inches above the floor when he put his back against the back cushion. Lucius opened the book, carefully turning a thin, shielding page of onionskin to reveal an ornate title page. "Love: Emotional, Spiritual, and Sexual. A Guide for Young Wizards and Witches, by Karrol Moon, Jali Skypath, and Bernadine Breedwell." He couldn't repress a smirk. "Well, it sounds as if they tried to get authors well versed in all aspects. I don't think we need to bother about the spiritual or emotional drivel right now." He leafed through the book. "I'd really rather they hadn't appended the word 'love' to the sexual bit. The two concepts AREN'T dependent on each other." He peered down at Draco. "That's your first lesson, lad."
Draco nodded solemnly, and reached out to touch a very detailed, brightly colored illustration. "What's this?"
"It's called a clitoris. You won't have to worry about that for awhile."
*****
A year later, Lucius was seeing Draco off on the Hogwarts Express. They both ignored the handful of house elves who were straining to get Draco's well-laden trunk up into the baggage compartment. Lucius watched the bustling activity, idly swinging his ebony, silver-headed cane. His upper lip curled as he noted the gaggle of redheads (of assorted ages) that was saying rather soppy farewells to a plump woman. He gestured toward them. "Know who those are, Draco?"
Draco turned pale gray eyes, so like Lucius' own, on the little group. "Red hair, freckles, poorly dressed, second-hand luggage, and far too many of them. I'd say Weasleys."
Lucius nodded approval. "Pure bloods, but that's about all you can say for 'em. That's the youngest male whelp, Ron. He'll end up in Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, I should imagine. One of those EARNEST lots--he doesn't look bright enough to be a Ravenclaw, and he DEFINITELY isn't Slytherin material." He tapped his cane down on the platform, folding his hands on top. "Do you remember what we discussed?"
Draco nodded. "Hufflepuffs are a waste of time, Gryffindors are too blinded by what they call ethics to be of any use. An occasional Ravenclaw might be worth cultivating, since they tend to land in the Ministry, but I ought to concentrate on making friends in Slytherin, among my own kind."
"Indeed--because you WILL be sorted there, Draco." He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I have absolutely no doubt." Lucius smiled. As usual it was chilly, but might be said to contain a hint of affection. "Blood will tell, and you're your father's son."
He cleared his throat. "Obey the rules, at least as far as is convenient. If it isn't convenient--don't get caught. I DO have a certain amount of pull to protect you, but don't abuse it, boy. Avoid the petty waste of influence, and save it for when it may be truly needed. Owl regularly. You know that your mother is near prostrate at your leaving the nest." His tone was dry. Narcissa had been drooping melodramatically (and gracefully) for the last few weeks. Today she had declared herself too traumatized by Draco's desertion to actually see her only child off at the train. She was currently ensconced in her private bedroom with a cold cloth on her forehead, a sherry in her hand, and female house elves to rub her feet and listen to her bemoan her lonely state. Lucius sometimes wondered about Narcissa and the female house elves, but always turned away from the thought, quite sure that he didn't want to know.
"I'll make you proud, Father."
Lucius' did not smile. "I expect you to, Son."
end part 1