"Anything." Draco spoke involuntarily. He knew what some people believed about Lucius in terms of fatherhood, but Draco couldn't deny he felt treasured while growing up. Where he never felt he earned Lucius' approval, he never doubted the man's affection. The latter just felt tenuous, like it could be snatched at any moment if Draco displeased in some way. Still, there were Quidditch matches, presents, bets, and other father/son moments. Sometimes Draco focused too much on the end rather than the rest of his childhood. Yes, Lucius held expectations, but Draco knew he was lucky compared to some of his mates. He may have feared Lucius' firm words and disappointment, but he was never frightened by his hand. And now? Well, after learning about the end of the war, Draco almost believed Lucius wouldn't blast him off any trees. He supposed that theory would be tested once Lucius met some of Draco's newer friends.
He cleared his throat. "I know that was out of turn, Father. I only meant..." He stopped himself. "I think we're rushing things. There is time, yeah? I mean yes?"