Comfort

Comfort

Lucius Malfoy rustled his way through the Daily Prophet, sneering at the numerous articles that denied the Dark Lord's return and smirking at the ones that questioned the sanity of the Boy Who Lived. It was very quiet in the large dining room, and he was thankful for it. After all the recent activity with the Death Eaters, he could use some peace and quiet. Since Narcissa was off visiting her mother, it was much more peaceful than usual, and he had the bed all to himself, which was a luxury he thoroughly enjoyed.

At the padding of feet, he glanced up to see Draco approaching, hair uncharacteristically mussed. At fourteen (going on fifteen) the boy was looking more and more like a Malfoy all the time, though he had a slight frame that Lucius suspected he'd inherited from Narcissa's mother's family. "Good morning, father." The boy yawned and eased into a chair, grabbing some toast.

"Good morning," Lucius drawled, returning to his perusal of the paper. He'd barely finished one article when Draco quietly excused himself and padded back upstairs. Lucius watched him go, frowning to himself. He'd noticed that Draco had been rather more quiet and reserved than usual after returning from school for the summer. He really didn't know why; he thought Draco would be excited, after hearing about the return of the Dark Lord. And the boy always got jumpy when he spotted any sort of large rodent, like a rabbit or a raccoon. It was as if the sight of a small, furry animal frightened him.

However, despite his son's strange new behavior, Lucius was feeling very content. Things seemed to be turning out his way, which was a relief, after the past four years. With Harry Potter and that bumbling old fool, Dumbledore, discredited and the Ministry in the palm of his hands, it would be easy to ride in the Dark Lord's wake. Speaking of which, there would be a meeting that night; he'd have to keep that in mind.

In the meantime, though, he was planning to simply relax all day. After he finished breakfast, he incinerated the Daily Prophet and made his way to his study. Seating himself in his favorite armchair, he summoned a book and poured himself some brandy. It was easy to get comfortable and, absorbed in the book, he barely noticed it when a house elf popped in to inform him that it was time for lunch.

He joined Draco in the dining room and they ate together in silence. Once the meal was over, they parted ways. Dinner was eaten in much the same manner. Afterwards, though, instead of retiring to his study, Lucius was forced to heed the burning call of his master. To say that it was an enjoyable night would be extremely generous.

Upon his return, he wanted nothing more than to drop into bed and fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. He managed, with great effort, to pull his pajamas on, extinguish the lights, and crawl under the covers. He was ready for the dreamless sleep part of his fantasy when, to his great displeasure, the door creaked open and Draco popped his head into the room. "Father? Are you awake?" Somehow pushing himself up, Lucius glared wearily at his son.

"Of course not," he answered snidely. Draco directed a steady gaze at him for a few long moments before shuffling into the room and shutting the door, cutting off the dim light from the hallway.

"I had a nightmare." Lucius waited for more details to be given. "I was a ferret, and a cyclops stepped on me." It didn't seem like something that would unnerve a fourteen-year-old boy so easily, but Lucius was too tired to argue.

"I see," was all he said. He felt like gravity was doubled, his muscles were barely working, and his son was bothering him with Freudian nightmares. Wonderful.

"Could I sleep with you, for tonight?" Lucius let out a heavy sigh and turned down the sheets.

"Very well," he agreed, simply because Draco became rather difficult to deal with if he wasn't given what he wanted. "Just don't hog the sheets, and try not to fidget too much." He hoped that Draco was a much better sleeping companion than Narcissa.

Biting his lip, Draco practically scampered up to the bed and crawled under the covers. With a quiet sigh, he pulled the sheets up to his chin and slid so close to Lucius that the boy was practically on top of him. Lucius bit back a frustrated groan and instead rolled over, falling asleep straight away, despite the circumstances.

The next day, things were as they had been the entire summer, and nothing was out of place. However, that night, Draco came into Lucius' bedroom again and woke him up, asking to sleep with him. This time, Lucius didn't bother to listen to the dream, and simply moved over to make room for him. At least Draco seemed happier than he'd been since his return from Hogwarts.

Draco came to Lucius for the next three nights in a row, waking him up in the middle of the night and agitating the hell out of him, but he never turned the boy away. He reasoned to himself that he was simply too tired to deal with opposition, but there was also the fact that Draco was his son. He couldn't turn away his son, after all.

On the sixth night, Lucius was woken up and yielded to Draco's request to share the bed. Later in the night, though, Lucius woke up a second time, groggy and unsure of why his sleep had been interrupted. He was vaguely aware of something warm rubbing against him, something that felt like another body.

Quite suddenly, all remnants of sleep were sharply thrust away as he realized what was happening. He could hear Draco's panting and soft whimpers as a hand clutched tightly to his side. He tried to calm himself by thinking that Draco was probably still asleep, and all boys his age had those sorts of dreams. But he didn't sound asleep.

Slowly, Lucius slid his eyes open and glanced down; Draco was gripping him tightly with one hand, face buried against his side. His other hand was inside his pajama bottoms, stroking as he thrust up against Lucius. With a violent shudder, he softly cried out, "Daddy!" and lay still, gasping.

Trying to ignore the faint nausea pulsing in his stomach and the dampness pressed to his side, Lucius swallowed deeply and rolled over. Draco was soon fast asleep again, but Lucius had no such luck. He lay awake the rest of the night, replaying the scene over and over in his head.

In the morning he took his breakfast in his study, where he spent his day. He tried to read or write a letter, or do anything at all, but it was in vain. He couldn't even think straight. He couldn't understand why Draco would do such a thing. He knew that he would have to deal with such a serious problem, he just... Didn't know how. Eventually, he simply dozed off on the sofa. When dinner came around, the silence between them was tense and they both ate quickly.

That night, Lucius lay awake again, staring blankly at the ceiling. He tried not to think at all, because everything seemed to lead back to Draco, and what had happened the night before; he simply waited. As he had for the past week, Draco nudged the door open and shuffled into the room, calling out to Lucius. He sat up in bed and eyed Draco warily, watching the boy stare at his feet and ask to share the bed.

For the first time in the nights that Draco had requested solace, Lucius looked closely at him. He indeed looked deeply troubled by something, but Lucius really couldn't understand what. He looked as if he were in need of comforting. Draco seemed uneasy, the hopeful expression on his face faltering at his hesitancy. Finally, he sighed and lay back down, lifting the sheets. "Alright. Come on." Grinning, Draco climbed into bed and, with a small sound of contentment, settled down. Lucius watched him fall asleep.