Anyway, same old same old. Yes, it's a cest fic. Yes, Draco's underage (in his finest form, I believe) and no, I don't own these lovely lads...Though if I did *drools*...And there is no money making going on here. As always, JKR is god.
Draco tells me he's going out to practice. I am perplexed. To practice what? He does not answer. I like to be well informed and kept abreast of my son's activities and hobbies, and if there is a time where I have to do my own quiet investigations, so be it. He is, after all, my son.
I allow him about fifteen minutes and I then proceed to the sprawling gardens of Malfoy Manor. I step lightly over the lawns and note the flowerbeds. I've not much of a green thumb, but it matters not, for nearly all of the flowers and plants are poisonous; Belladonna, Aconitum, Solomon's Seal, Oleander...Narcissus. Though whilst the last is not poisonous, I consider it deadly. As deadly as the cold woman who bears a similar moniker, anyway.
I hear the murmured voice of my heir on the breeze and I follow it through a small copse of trees. It's a sound that is unmistakable to my ears. A very fine sound which I have always been rather fond of.
I spot him sitting with his wand in hand between two ancient Weeping Willows. As a child I too sat in that very spot. A momentary wave of nostalgia washes over me, but I don't allow myself to be carried by it. What has passed has passed. One must stick to the task at hand.
I arrange myself quietly so that I and my robes are hidden in shadow, but I can still see Draco. He is sat in profile resting his back and flaxen head against the trunk of one of the large trees. He has with him a box - something I'd neglected to notice earlier. I begin to wonder what it contains when he opens it and removes a grey rat.
I'm puzzled. What would my young Prince want with a rodent?
I push a lock of my platinum hair out of my face and tuck my hands into my robes. I wait in faith that all will be revealed.
The rat is of a medium size and it appears to be dead. I'm not sure where he'd find a rat here at the Manor. Possibly in the basements? I do not know.
I watch, interested, as Draco lifts his wand and speaks a few quiet words. Ah, the rat is not dead, just stunned. The spell awakens the creature and it springs to life. It seems afraid, tense, but it does not attempt to escape. Perhaps, under the gaze of a dragon, it senses that staying put is for the best.
Nasty, dirty things, rodents. Like house-elves. Rather insignificant. What my son would want with one is beyond me.
As Draco sits, amused by the rat, I review him. A good boy. A child a father can be proud of. Respects all the right people and disregards those who don't matter. He's growing to be quite the elegant young man. High cheekbones with a face that feature only the second set of grey eyes I've ever seen.
My son leans forward and picks the animal up by its long tail, raising it into the air for inspection. He smiles, though not warmly. I'm nothing short of intrigued and this strange smile enthralls me. Draco's pink lips quirk up at the corners and he drops the rat onto the grass before him. The second the thing lands, he lifts his wand and speaks a word the majority of the wizarding world never could.
"Crucio".
I barely hear the rodent's pained squeaks above the pounding in my ears. The Cruciatus Curse. An Unforgivable. He truly is a boy to be proud of. At the second the seldom spoken word registered, my hand leapt to my chest. The slate cold muscle that resided there seemed to spring to life as if for the first time. My palms began to sweat and my mouth went dry.
The smile on my dear son's lips was now obvious to me. Not a grin of enjoyment. Not one of happiness. It was not a smile of good will or warmth. It was the grin of a predator; a snake. He was hungry for something to nourish him in a way that simple foods could not. A feeling all too familiar to me.
I quietly rush my hands from my robes and steady myself against a tree. I maintain my hiding place and my soft volume, but not without struggle. My legs feel like jelly and I feel as if the sun is beating down solely on me. I want to go to my son, my little dragon, but I know I shouldn't. I have to wait.
The rat stays stone still, almost as if it can avoid detection by not moving. Poor, misguided animal. Draco casts the Cruciatus Curse again and again. Four, five, six times. I can barely percieve it, but there is a slight sheen on his forehead and his cheeks have grown ruddy.
I'm studying his face so closely that I almost miss him raising his wand again. I expect another "Crucio", but I am gifted with something else. Something more powerful. From his lips spills another Unforgivable, a favourite of mine.
"Imperio".
I'm impressed. Not so much that he cast it, but more surprised that it worked. "Stay", he breathes quietly. The rat does. Draco reaches to the box again and removes two large spiders. I almost expect my son's eyes to widen as they did when he was a child and he spotted a spider - he used to be afraid of the arachnids - but not today. He casts the hefty curse once each for the creatures and I see his eyes gleam. People say that grey is dull and expressionless, but if they could only experience this. They'd see the truth.
He positions the spiders so they stand one on each side of the rat and he pauses a moment. I wonder what thoughts run through my prince's mind. Does he feel for the creatures at all? Does he regret it? Is he revelling in the sense of power? Does it all affect him as it does me?
The last question is a valid one as I reach a hand through my robes. My fingers grasp through the fabric of my trousers and are met with my rather obvious arousal. A heady sensation pulses through my body and, as quietly as I can, I lower the zipper and reach to free my erection from its trappings. I take it in my hand and begin to stroke it idly.
Draco smiles that sinister smile again and commands the spiders to attack the grey rat. They do exactly as they're told and they do it viciously. The spikers strike over and over and the rodent squeals in agony but does not deign to move; the mammal's command has been given and it won't move at all unless instructed.
The attack is one of pure ferocity and the screams of pain, although from a rat, are genuine and thrilling.
The scene seems to be affecting my beautiful son in a similar way. He leans back against the tree, wand in one hand, and undoes the button fly on his straining jeans. Of all the muggle clothing, those are the ones I can barely stand. But who am I to deny my son?
A sizeable erection springs from the opening in the denim and Draco begins to pump himself, blissfully unaware that he has a near silent audience. My heavy strokes grow to be in time with my heir's and that only arouses me more. I don't pause to think about my actions, about whether they are morally bankrupt, I just do what my body and mind are screaming at me to do.
Draco doesn't even halt his ministrations to tell the rat to move or to command the spiders to chase it.
In order to seek out some semblance of stability, my left arm is wrapped partway around the thick tree trunk whilst my right hand is hurriedly pulling and stroking at my weeping cock. I'm not sure how much longer I can go on. The mixture of the violence and brutality, seeing Draco in a position of extreme power (if only over small animals) and seeing him hand-fuck himself over the whole scene is getting to me in ways I wasn't sure were possible.
My boy begins to reach his climax. His hips begin to thrust and press forward of their own volition. His delicate pale skin is flushed a delectable pink. He's a rather vocal young thing, mewling and moaning. He speaks words I can't fully understand from this distance, but I'm almost positive I hear him gasp, "Father, please".
At this discovery, my jaw clenches shut and I can feel my orgasm rising, the heat spreading from the pool in the pits of my stomach. My toes curl inside my dragon hide boots and I'm momentarily afraid of toppling over.
It appears that Draco reaches the same place and, as his body arches in the throes of his powerful orgasm, he shakily lifts his wand to the macabre scenario playingout before him and shouts the final curse.
"Avada Kedavra".
Upon the bright green flash, his cock spurts its pearly strings all over his tight fist and the grass, narrowly missing the three newly dead animals. My own seed tears its way up my shaft and spatters over the rough skin of the tree I'm still clutching myself to.
Draco reclines on the cool green grass, beads of glassy sweat rolling down his temple, and I long to join him. But I refrain. I couldn't be more proud of my son. More attracted. But I can't. There is a right time for moments such as those and unfortunately this is not it. I whisper, "scourgify" to hastily clean up myself and my surroundings before beating a noisless and hasty retreat back to the Manor.
Perhaps I will call my darling boy to my study after dinner. Yes, there are indeed some things we need to talk about.