[For 50 Elements] Objects of Study
Title: Objects of Study Pairing/Characters: Lucius Malfoy/Draco Malfoy Theme Set and #: Fire Theme/Prompt 21 - Home Fandom: Harry Potter Rating: PG Warnings: incestuous thoughts, chan Word Count: 906 Disclaimer: JKR owns all. I just have my twisted imagination Summary: No spoilers. Draco loves being at home, but not for the usual reasons.
Draco sat In the living room of Malfoy Manor, his back propped up against the arm of the soft couch, his knees drawn up with sock-covered feet resting on the cushions. The book he read rested on his thighs lightly as he turned the pages. He was glad of summer vacation, which allowed him to return to his comfortable home. There was something to be said for sleeping in his own bed rather than that of the school dorms.
His mother was away, as she often was during the summer months, visiting relatives and friends. Draco mused idly that perhaps he should miss her more, especially since he didn’t see much of her in his time away at Hogwarts, but he couldn’t say that he did. Draco’s lips quirked up into a lopsided smirk. To him, his mother being away meant more time for him with his father without added distraction.
As if conjured by the mere thought of him, Malfoy senior appeared at the door, entering the room with long purposeful strides that called Draco’s attention to his form, tall and powerful. Draco had recently taken to watching the elder Malfoy whenever he could, seemingly unable to prevent himself from doing so. Was that so wrong when his father was so pleasing to look at? Lucius nodded at Draco, his son’s name spilling from his lips before taking a seat in the leather chair by the fire, book in hand. After he’d settled himself, the blonde raised an eyebrow as he gazed at his son.
“Draco?” Lucius drawled. Draco would never get tired of hearing the way that his father said his name. Or the vision of his lips moving to enunciate the word, wrapping around it like something precious. ”What have I said about feet on the furniture?” he admonished.
Draco blinked, woken from his reverie when he realized he’d just been given instruction. “Sorry, Father,” he answered, looking chastened as he swung his legs over the end of the couch, sitting up properly. Lucius nodded in approval before opening his book to where a silken ribbon held his place, long fingers plucking the fabric from between the pages.
Peeking over the top of his own book, Draco noted how intently his father’s grey eyes scanned the pages. Draco wondered idly what it was that had the man so engrossed, but at this distance he couldn’t make out the title. The book in his hands largely forgotten, Draco watched the expressions on his father’s face as he read, the way his brow furrowed slightly in concentration, lips slightly parted. When Lucius glanced up in his son’s direction after a few moments, Draco quickly looked back at his own book, staring at the page. If asked, the teen wouldn’t have been able to tell one word or phrase that his eyes stared at unseeingly, his concentration undone by the weight of his father’s gaze on his form.
After a moment, Lucius raised an eyebrow before dropping his eyes and continuing to read. Draco sighed softly, unheard by his father sitting a distance away. He’d never had problems concentrating before when they sat like this in the past. But ever since this summer, Draco found himself increasingly distracted whenever in his father’s presence, watching the man’s movements as he was doing now. Draco noted the way that the light from the fire caught in Lucius’ platinum blonde hair and shone on his milky skin. He watched as his father moistened his index finger, a pink tongue darting out to wet the tip, lowered to turn the page. His father somehow made the most mundane things seem elegant, to Draco anyway. He wondered idly whether or not when he was his father’s age he would have such poise.
Draco clutched his book harder as he watched the other blonde repeat the motion. His breath seemed to catch as he saw his father draw his lower lip into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth for a moment before setting it free. Draco fancied that he could see it glistening in the firelight from the moisture his tongue had spread onto it. Draco shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable from the heat that seemed to build in his gut. He tried to clamp down on his vivid imagination before it got out of hand, pushing thoughts of what those lips and tongue could do to him out of his mind.
Draco knew of course that these strange feelings of his were hardly normal. He was mildly disturbed by the fact that this didn’t bother him as much as it should. Besides, they were just thoughts. It’s not as though his father would ever consider… would he? Draco frowned, thinking it best not to continue with that line of thought. Best to leave it as a sick fantasy where it belongs. His father would likely never… even if he was lonely. Glancing up, Draco met the grey eyes staring back at him, his father watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. Something about the intensity of the gaze, something he couldn’t quite place made heat rise to Draco’s face. The boy broke off his stare to turn back to trying and failing to read the book in front of him. His father looked at him for a long moment before doing the same.