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he would almost purr underneath his father's ministrations. almost. pride would lock the sound in his throat, to be swallowed down in one cutting block. he would only twist his body around to put his hands on his father's cock. to stroke it the way he would stroke his own on those feverish nights spent wanking while chanting, 'daddy, daddy, daddy,' as if it were some sort of prayer. some sort of prayer to be said over rosary beads.

he remembered his father creeping into his room late at night. a shadow stealing into the glow of the moonlight, his light hair shimmering like some sort of ethereal weave. stroking draco through the blankets. feeling that small penis painfully come to life. the moan flying out of draco's throat. had a silencing spell been cast? it had. narcissa slept and lucius was coming out to play.

in the day draco wore robes made out of materials that felt delicious on his skin. his flesh felt soft and yielding. it felt like it was waiting for his father's hands. as a child he would wank often. in closets or in his room. silencing spells were a must and he said his father's name until his flesh was raw underneath his hands.

lucius had found him like that a few times. he would patiently take his son's hands off himself and rearrange his robes and tell him that he needed to practice quidditch some more. he never spoke of the nights he spent tonguing draco's collarbones or holding the bones of his pelvis within his graceful hands. he never touched draco or helped him relieve the tension that made him masturbate until his skin was red and dry and bleeding.

it was not until lucius forced his way into his son's body that draco knew how a woman felt. like she was being torn from the inside out. he only whimpered and let his nails bite into his hands until they left crescent shaped wounds. he lay still and inert in the bed.

when draco went away to hogwarts he could not bear to see his father's form grow smaller and smaller on the platform of the station as the train pulled away. the tension built but he could never relieve it. he had kissed blaise zambini but blaise had only pulled away and imperiously said that he hated kissing.

when summer came he fell into the old routine with his father. his father plunging himself into his son's arse as draco arched his back and wept tears of relief. relief of what he didn't know. he never knew. he only knew that his hands would tingle and his mouth would turn into a sneer until lucius kissed him goodnight, tongue plunging into the young mouth.

at the dinner table draco would take the pats of butter and melt this with the heat of his mouth. he swallowed them down. lucius would watch with languorous eyes and his mother's mouth was tight and pinched. it would relax when lucius excused himself and she had draco to herself. but draco could not bear her soft scent and even softer body. when she hugged him she was a mixture of pillowy and hard. not all angles like his father. even his cock felt like it was all angles.

in fourth year blaise yielded to his kiss and the tension was relieved without his father. that scent they seemed to make between them faded and became a memory. he fucked instead of being fucked. swaggering around campus and keeping close to pansy parkinson because he needed to keep up appearances. but summer came and he was like a little boy again. at least his father thought so.

he said 'daddy' and he sucked his father's cock but the tension seemed to have fallen asleep. he no longer wanked in closets unless he was thinking of himself fucking some boy god's arse. lucius never noticed. he only crept into draco's room and his breathing was heavy.

he never noticed at all.