Redemption, for softly_sweetly
After a surprise hiatus, the comm is back with the last few fics of the fest. Remember to read and review and above all, enjoy the fic!
Title: Redemption Author: *unknown* Recipient:softly_sweetly Pairing: Lucius/Draco Rating: NC-17 Word Count: 3755 words Summary: In the darkest of days, in the most lonely of nights, Draco Malfoy would seek for that which only one man could provide… Redemption. A/N: Thanks to all who endured with me through this fic and helped to improve it with your encouraging words, beta-reading and constant support. DH Spoilers: None.
The war had long ended and many lives had been lost. That his life had been spared meant very little to Draco Malfoy. He’d lost more than anyone to the Dark Lord, certainly more than Potter and his happy-go-lucky friends with their perfect families, hero-worshipping sycophants, and idyllic post-war lives. They had lost loved ones, but what was that compared to their freedom? He'd surrendered his freedom, even his heritage to survive. Now, standing at the gates of Azkaban, he would regain a measure of happiness, no matter what he had to give up.
The Death Eaters scattered at the Dark Lord's fall and Draco had been protected, hidden by his mother and former professor. It had been old magic, the potions master had said. The same magic that protected the Potter boy and kept him hidden from the Dark Lord was cast on Malfoy to ensure his survival during the Ministry raids. More than one of his fellow students had seen him flee with the Death Eaters at Dumbledore's death and his sentence would have been even more severe than his father's. Where his father would be forced to endure the Dementors’ presence, Draco would have been kissed without a trial. So much for a Wizarding democracy!
He'd hidden away for four years, protected by the blood oath between his mother and Severus Snape. He was forced to endure a life in Spinner's End until his twenty-first birthday. Reduced to the life of a pauper. In the process of surviving that life, he learned much about himself and what he was willing to do to carry on. He existed, but didn’t allow himself a chance to live.
Many Muggle faces had darkened his doorway. Each meant to emphasize his hatred of the Muggle race. Yet every one reminded him of the face he could not forget. The face that in the coldest of nights and the darkest of days would soothe, comfort and provide him with the solace he needed to get through another day.
Malfoy Manor was just as Draco had remembered it from happier days. The heavy film of dust covering the antique furniture had kept the portrait inhabitants sneezing for weeks. The filth had been removed with such precision that he was certain the small fortune he'd spent on the cleaning service had been well spent.
His eyes fell upon the portrait over the fireplace; the Malfoy family at its prime. Young and regal, the trio sat stoically in the gilded frame. Draco looked upon his younger self then down into the small mirror on the fireplace mantle. He could barely see a ghost of the young boy in the portrait.
The fireplace roaring to life brought Draco out of his stupor. Perched on his father's favorite chair, he waited.
"Everything is in order," the voice amidst the flames hissed. "Release orders have been owled to the Manor and should arrive shortly." The fire extinguished and, a rather stern owl shortly appeared with release papers for one, Lucius Malfoy. Gathering his cloak and taking a long look at the portrait above the fireplace, Draco Malfoy Disapparated.
"Lucius Malfoy," the hag behind the large metal door drawled. She pointed her wand at the bars separating Draco from the dark corridor inside the Wizarding prison. The runes indicating Lucius Malfoy's prisoner identification glimmered in the air before melting into the door handle as it turned and disengaged the series of magical locks holding it closed. The putrid stench of death blew against him in a gust of wind that chilled the tow-haired man to the bone.
"Release parchment," the hag hissed between hacking coughs holding her hand out for the release decree bearing the Minister of Magic's wax seal. Studying the decree carefully, the hag handed it back and waved him forward nodding slowly. He would have to thank Zabini personally for the magnificent forgery.
It had been several days since Lucius Malfoy was led into Malfoy Manor. His demeanor had yet to change. He continued to stare blankly as every attempt Draco made to bring him out of his catatonia failed. Despite being assured that his father had not been Kissed, Draco worried that he’d lost his father forever. Each passing day, the shell of a man sat, his void gaze focused on nothing.
Draco entered Lucius' bedroom with a silver tray bearing several of his father's favorite breakfast foods. The tea tray floating behind, Draco walked to his father’s side and set the trays down on the bedside table.
"Good morning, father," Draco, said, opening the heavy draperies covering the floor-to-ceiling windows in the grand bedroom. "The blackberries are fresh and I sent away for the French crepes you enjoy so much." He leaned toward the older man, searching the clouded eyes for some sign of recognition that the blackberries were out of season, or that the temperature in the room had risen when the curtains were opened. But Lucius Malfoy said nothing… did nothing. Draco groaned in frustration, dropping unceremoniously onto the bed, his hair hiding his face.
"Father," he sighed. "Say something, please." The silence was deafening, even the air held denseness that felt more like entering a mausoleum than a bedroom.
Covering the blackberries in heavy cream, Draco lifted the spoon to Lucius' lips and took his father through their daily routine. Lucius enjoyed being fed, Draco believed. It was the only action he did voluntarily.
Other tasks took Draco hours to make Lucius understand. His toiletry habits were abysmal. After relieving himself, Lucius frequently needed Draco to cast scourgifying charms on his backside. Draco almost wondered if feeding his father less would help.
"It appears Mother's estate has been settled. I suppose we should take a trip to the vaults as soon as you are feeling up to it," Draco said as he continued the rhythmic dipping of the spoon into the berry-laden cream.
Once finished, Draco banished the trays to the kitchen and gently wiped Lucius' lips with the linen napkin from his lap. Setting that aside, Draco led his father to the en suite to begin the morning grooming ritual. Slowly unbuttoning the black silk pajamas, Draco spoke of the latest in Ministry news mentioning names that would hopefully stir Lucius' attention.
Exposing his father's chest, Draco shuddered at the pallid flesh marred by the horrific Azkaban runes. He summoned the sandalwood pomade and slowly began to massage it into Lucius’ alabaster skin.
The scent stirred memories in Draco of happier times. Of days spent at his father's side during his shopping sprees for school supplies. Of paternal pride beaming while conducting business in Knockturn Alley. It was his father's scent alone. One the elder Malfoy wore beneath every layer of fine linen, silk, leather or lace.
Draco kneaded the flesh with care, his fingers tracing the protruding collarbones up to the long, white neck. He lost himself in the flood of memories. With each caress of the soft face, the strong chin, the hollowed cheekbones, Draco fought the compelling need to sit on his father's lap seeking reassurance.
Setting the small tin down, Draco reached for the brush and released the long silver mane from its leather-thong. The heavy hair, despite its mistreatment in Azkaban, had kept its sheen. Looking into the mirror, his head above his father's, Draco was startled to find how alike they now appeared.
"We should take a stroll through the gardens," Draco spoke in a low voice, the sound of the bristle brush raking through the coarse hair served as a metronome to the one-sided conversation. "The peacocks enjoy the summer sun, it seems."
As days turned to weeks, Draco's patience grew thin. The shell of a man occupying the sitting room, the bedroom, the garden bench, the drawing room, the dining room table was not his father. It was a hollow carcass whose sandalwood stench invaded Draco's daydreams and nightmares. He had almost given up when one morning, as he ran a damp washcloth over Lucius' chest, he felt the low rumble of a muted moan.
"Father?" Draco asked, searching the grey eyes for a sign of understanding. He rubbed his father's pectorals once more and was rewarded with another small moan. Draco felt his vision blur just before the tears slipped down his face. Without thinking, he straddled the man and hugged him fiercely. "Come back to me father, please." Draco whispered against the skin of his throat.
Burying his face in his father's neck, Draco’s tears quickly dampened the silver hair. Bringing the strands to his face, Draco inhaled deeply.
"What good is it to survive," he asked through wracking sobs, "if you're not to survive with me? Father, please. It's Draco. Your Draco."
He threaded his fingers through the long mane tugging it back sharply. Needing to feel something more than a soft moan from the man he'd been nursing and deprived of for months. "I know you're in there," he hissed, pulling on the hair once more. "Come on old man," Draco said rubbing his cheek against his father's. Another groan came and Draco's heart leapt in his throat. He nuzzled the man's neck, ran his lips across a pulse-point and felt his father's hands seize the back of his robes.
"Draco," Lucius breathed and Draco nearly sobbed at the sound of his name uttered as a prayer from the man he believed lost to him. Long fingers found their way up Draco's spine, pulling Draco against the warm, bare chest. Draco kissed the skin in gratitude.
Another moan followed and Draco's head shot up to meet his father's gaze. The hunger in that metallic stare was so fierce, Draco gasped in surprise.
"Father it's me, Draco. Your son," he cried, struggling to disengage himself from the deathlike grip Lucius had on his robes. Draco wanted to be relieved that his father had returned, but was afraid he'd not recognized him. "I'm not Mum," he whispered.
Long fingers reached up to tuck a silver strand hanging in Draco's face behind his ear before whispering his name once more.
"Please father," Draco pleaded, sliding off Lucius' lap. Draco was fighting between the need to remain close and the confusion of hearing his name moaned by a parent. This wasn’t normal. Especially when the sound was spiked with sexual need.
He fled the room and collapsed onto the bed, panting. Quivering, he draped an arm over his eyes. Was that really his father in the other room? Perhaps sexual hunger, like appetite was instinctive. Maybe it had only been a knee-jerk reaction. The thought made his heart ache and his head throb.
What did it mean that he enjoyed feeling his father's body react to his own in such an intimate way? What perversity was it that he yearned for his father's touch? Even as he wrestled with these thoughts, he wanted to feel the warm alabaster skin pressed against his own. He had to bury his face in the pillows above him. Draco moaned as the scent of sandalwood rose from the pillow. In his haste to flee from his father, he had run straight to his father's bed.
Sighing, Draco removed the pillow from his face and set it down beside him. "Yes, father," he said, sitting up and drawing his knees to his chest.
"Draco? Is that you?" Draco winced at the pleading tone in Lucius' voice.
"Do I repulse you so?" Lucius asked softly.
"No father, I…" Draco sat transfixed as Lucius glided over to the bed, his fingers tracing the runes tattooed on his chest. His head dipped to look at the intricate patterns leaving his hair to curtain over the pained face. Draco wanted to stand, to walk over to his father and reassure him that he was still every witch and wizard's fantasy. Wanted to tell him that despite his stint in prison, he remained attractive, desirable. But could a son really say those things to his father? Should he?
As Draco struggled with indecision, his bottom lip worried between his teeth, his father continued to approach the bed. Lucius’ long hair swayed over his bare torso, the black silk pajama bottoms hanging precariously low on his slender hips. Draco could see hip-bones protruding out of that pale skin, the dusting of silver locks disappearing into the glimmering black pants and he whimpered, his desire still warring with his mind.
“You have never looked at me with such revulsion before,” Lucius whispered, looking at Draco through half-lidded eyes, slightly downcast and veiled by a fine silver mane. He stalked toward the bed with such grace that Draco had trouble remembering that this man had just quite recently been in a catatonic state.
Draco swallowed audibly, watching Lucius climb into the bed, crawling on hands and knees toward him. Draco felt small, drawing his legs up tight against his body, clutching his forearms so fiercely that he knew he would bruise. He continued to watch his father’s approach. When Lucius’ face was eye-level with Draco’s, the elder Malfoy sat back on his knees resting his hands on his thighs.
“Why are you afraid of your father, Draco?”
“Because you… you ARE my father and this… this is not the way I…”
“The way you imagined?” Lucius asked calmly, his hair obscuring half of his passive face. “I’ve imagined this for many years,” he confided.
Draco gaped at his father’s admission. Had his father really just admitted to wanting to… to do…
“What… exactly did you imagine?” Draco asked, eyes narrowing as he uncurled himself a bit.
“This,” Lucius replied leaning forward and brushing his lips against Draco’s. “Is this not why you’ve crept into my bed?”
“I… I haven’t crept,” Draco stammered, his eyes darting around the room nervously.
Lucius’ dejected look as he retreated made Draco’s heart ache. What would it cost to merely kiss him? In the grand scheme of things, it really was no more than Draco had done in the en suite in hopes of drawing his father back to reality. For the first time in his life, Draco threw caution to the wind. Reaching out, he cupped his father’s cheek, drawing him back.
Lucius leaned against his son’s open palm, eyes closed, with a contented smile on his lips. “I have missed you, Draco.”
“Have you?” Draco asked caressing Lucius’ jaw line with his fingertips, shifting to kneel in front of his father. “I have missed you as well, father.”
The men were equally matched in height, Draco noticed with some shock. He leaned in, cupping Lucius’ face in his hands. Sighing, he dipped his head slightly to meet his father’s gaze before pressing their lips together. The soft lips parted as fingertips danced across cheekbones, and threaded through the twin silver heads. Lucius darted his tongue out to taste Draco’s bottom lip. His hand trailed down his son’s back to press their hips together. Draco’s moan was lost in Lucius’ mouth as he deepened the kiss and slowly pushed Draco back against the pillows.
Draped across his son, Lucius lifted his torso enough to look into Draco’s eyes and trail a finger along the soft lips. “Father,” Draco whimpered, his breath catching on that single word as he felt Lucius’ erection press against his own.
“Such a pretty sound when it comes from these lips,” Lucius crooned, running his finger down Draco’s neck to the spot where the button-down shirt gaped open. “May I?” he asked, not even pausing for an answer before slipping each button through the buttonholes with his thumb.
Draco’s silent nod was rewarded with another kiss, a slow and languid one that left Draco feeling light-headed. His father’s lips trailed down his chin to his neck and lower with each bit of exposed flesh. Arching his back, Draco fisted the sheets as his father’s hair trailed lower, his destination quite clear.
Lucius licked his way down Draco’s chest, stopping to lap at a pert nipple, before deftly undoing Draco’s belt. Sliding it out of the belt loops, he mouthed Draco’s crotch through the fine linen, hissing when Draco’s cock twitched with the force of his groan.
“Fuck,” Draco moaned arching his back once more.
“Tut, tut, Draco,” Lucius teased. “Such language!”
Lucius dipped his head and nuzzled Draco’s sac through the fabric, smiling as Draco grunted.
“Lift up,” Lucius whispered, sliding back to his knees as he pulled Draco’s trousers off. Pants followed quickly, and Draco was left bare. Draco attempted to cross his legs and cover himself but he wasn’t fast enough. Lucius’ tongue was there, hot and wet and lapping at the tip of his cock with such slow strokes that Draco felt his eyes roll back before his head hit the pillow again.
Lucius swirled his tongue around before sliding the foreskin back to suck on the exposed head. Draco squirmed with each torturous lick and nip along his sensitive skin. When Lucius slid his lips down the throbbing shaft, Draco bucked, burying himself to the hilt inside his father’s mouth.
Lucius released him a loud pop, his eyes upturned as he licked the slit like a cat lapping rich cream. “Such an amiable boy,” Lucius said, “asking of your father in such a polite manner. Merits a reward, does it not?”
Draco nodded slowly, his gaze fixed on his father’s swollen lips. Lips upturned into a lascivious smirk that disappeared as he dipped his head once more giving his heavy sac a long, languid lick. Draco whimpered, worrying his lip between his teeth as his father spread his legs wider apart before lifting them up. Lucius’ hands traveled down Draco’s thighs to push them back, splaying him wide. Draco felt exposed; his arse spread open before his father, his cock spit-slicked and twitching against his belly.
“Pull them back,” Lucius commanded, guiding Draco’s hands down the back of his own thighs. “Lovely,” he whispered, rubbing across the puckered hole with his middle finger. Draco felt the caress shoot up his spine like electric fire as his body clenched instinctively. He panted, lifting his head to watch his father.
“It’s rather tight,” Lucius spoke, his voice melodic, as if he were mentioning the latest Ministry raid instead of fingering his son’s arse. “Must remedy that.”
Draco was bent nearly double as his father expertly licked, nibbled and plunged his tongue into his hole, large hands spreading him wider for each delicious stab. Draco’s body was on fire. His cock bobbed and twitched against his navel, leaving a slick trail in its wake. He groaned when his father licked his way up his sac to the weeping slit of his cock, before driving two fingers inside him.
“Such pretty sounds you make, my Draco,” Lucius crooned, kissing the shaft, his fingers sliding back and forth. Climbing up Draco’s body, Lucius summoned the salve from the en suite and handed it to his son as he straddled the boy’s chest. Draco gulped as his father’s long cock stood proudly before him.
The scent of sandalwood invaded his senses as he slathered the gelatinous mixture along the veined prick, reveling in the way Lucius caught his lip between his teeth as Draco slowly masturbated his father’s cock mere inches from his face.
“Enough,” Lucius panted after several moments, sliding completely off the bed, turning Draco over as he did. “Hands on the bed,” he commanded, kissing his way down Draco’s spine. “Beautiful, beautiful Draco.”
Draco felt his father’s prick at his entrance. The cold lubricant smeared between his cheeks as his father pushed past the tight ring, whispering his name like a benediction, sliding deeper. With each shallow thrust of his hips, Draco felt more of that long, thin cock ease inside him. His father was taking great care not to hurt him.
Looking over his shoulder, Draco pushed back as Lucius thrust forward. His moan lodged in his throat as his father’s cock was fully seated inside him. Wide-eyed and gasping for breath, Draco tried to remember how to breathe as he waited for Lucius to move.
“Did I hurt you?” Lucius asked softly, lines of worry marring his milky complexion.
“No, no just… burns… Move… move Father, please,” Draco pleaded, pushing back against Lucius.
Draping his body along Draco’s, Lucius kissed the back of Draco’s neck as he pumped in and out of his son’s body. Draco met each undulating thrust, turning his face to kiss his father’s cheek in gratitude.
“Yes,” he panted, pushing back. Draco needed to feel him deeper, wanting to be fucked harder, faster. Their tongues met in mid-air as Lucius’ thrusts grew erratic and his grip on Draco’s hips tightened. Their moans mingled, as their bodies slapped together in syncopated rhythm. With a muffled groan, Draco felt his father’s cock pulse before filling him completely.
Sweaty, his body still shuddering from aftershocks, Lucius lay atop Draco, kissing and mouthing the sticky skin. Draco’s cock ached to be touched and his testicles were drawn up so tight, he could barely move. Moaning, he reached down to stroke himself to completion thinking his father had passed out and whimpered as his hand was stilled. He felt his father’s softened prick slip from his body before being whirled around as Lucius dropped to his knees before him.
Running a finger between Draco’s legs, Lucius sucked Draco’s cock in to the hilt. Moaning around his son’s cock, he plunged his middle finger inside the cum-filled hole. Doubling over while threading his fingers in Lucius’ hair, Draco keened as Lucius sucked hard around the base. Draco pumped his hips, clinging to his father’s face as he fucked that perfect mouth with wild abandon, his body thrumming with need. When his father slipped a second finger inside him, Draco shouted, throwing his head back as he came.
It felt as if the world stopped moving as Lucius continued to milk Draco’s cock of every drop, lovingly licking and kissing the shaft as Draco’s legs gave out and he collapsed onto the bed.
Draco distractedly kissed his father, quaking to taste himself for the first time in another man’s mouth. There were hazy moments in the night when he felt a caress across his cheek, a soft kiss to his temple, long arms wrapped around him, a warm body pressed against his back. There, in his father’s bed, in the soft caresses of the night, Draco found what he didn’t know he was looking for… Redemption.