Like Father, Like Son

Like Father, Like Son

Lucius tugged at the lacy bit of pink ribbon. If the stylish catalogue illustration was anything to go by, this ought to follow the curve of the upper thigh right down to where the stocking reached up. One could infer that the plasticky thingy attached to the ending was meant to clasp onto the lacy fabric of the assorted fishnet down below… Only, there was a good two-inch gap between the two garments. This was all very perplexing.

He had turned his bottom towards the full-length mirror to admire the back side of the arrangement when the owl tapped against the windowpane. He abandoned his staring (ravishing though the picture was) and walked to the window, only to see the bird turn tail and head to the neighbouring bedroom. Bugger, Lucius thought, another one of those letters addressed to a generic "Malfoy". These tended to head straight for the head of the family, no matter whom they were actually meant for. He mentally went through all the pending correspondence he didn't want Narcissa to open – Voldemort, no, the Potter kid had taken care of things on that front, the lingerie catalogue, no, he'd already received all three due parcels, Draco, perhaps? Asking for a bit of manly advice from his old man?

Well, his mother was wise enough to pretend she hadn't read whatever embarrassing virile problem this was all about.

He checked that the connecting door between his boudoir and his wife's was ajar – meaning, this passageway will be wide open for you to plunder it later in the evening, sweetheart, but not right now, I'm busy prettying myself up – and resumed his position in front of the mirror.

The thing was, if one was to tug up one's stockings tightly, thus highlighting the still firm muscles underneath, one gained another inch towards the garter strings. The connection between the two remained, however, sadly impossible. Or, to relate the situation with more accuracy, it was possible to clasp the tiny plastic jaws onto the lace on either front or back, but that only served to widen the gap on the other side of his person. This, however, caused some unwanted friction of fabric against naked skin around the crotch area, a situation that clearly wasn't to be borne, not with a grand seduction plan scheduled for the very evening.

These gut-wrenching personal problems always call for imaginative solutions, and Lucius was nothing if not imaginative. A flick of his wand (the other one, oh dirty-minded reader!) brought him four identical pieces of brand-new black ribbon, the kind he meant to use on his hair. Another bout of skilful wand-waving brought him four tiny identical bows, each of them easily attached right between garter and stocking with the aid of a simple sticking charm, et voilà!

He pranced around in front of the mirror to admire the result. The little touch of black did heighten the contrast between the faded pink and his own unblemished pale complexion. The elaborate corset tightened his waist and set off his twin red nipples out, like garnets on a stylish engagement ring.

It was getting harder and harder to bedazzle his wife with his manly charms, but he'd be damned if he let himself go. And the result he'd attained so far was nothing to be frowned at…

He released his hair from its tight braid and swung his head around two times, reaching for his hairbrush. He was only a couple of swift strokes away from the perfect "wind-blown, ready to be thrown on wife's bed and fucked repeatedly" look-

Narcissa interrupted his last-minute preparations by entering into his room, unannounced.

Lucius started and hastily reached for his dressing gown. What the devil had possessed her, not waiting for him to open the connecting door- bad news? Was it the owl? How bad – Draco?

His emotions must've made their way to his face, for Narcissa smiled reassuringly. "It's nothing bad, dear, but I thought you ought to read it for yourself-"

The missive was, as he'd predicted, from their son, and read thusly:

Dear Mum and Dad,

Sorry for not having answered Dad's owl earlier this week – work's a nightmare these days. The chocolates were much appreciated, but I really can survive on my own for a week, you know!

This is just to ask whether I could bring someone to dinner this Sunday.

I hope you're both well.

See you on Sunday,


They looked at each other. "I told you he didn't need us to find someone," Narcissa said. "It took him time, but I'm sure it was a positive experience for him. You were rather green when I got you, that way his wife will be spared the training part… Will you answer that owl, dear? He sounds a little nervous, perhaps a few words from his father…"

Lucius was reluctant to relaunch the argument they'd had since Draco had reached puberty. Old Abraxas had led all the negotiations with Walpurga prior to their own marriage, hadn't he? It had all ended for the best, hadn't it? Why depart from sound traditions? He had been talking with his good friend Oliver Greengrass for a while now, and only needed Narcissa's approval to present Draco with a very suitable, very wealthy, very powerful bride of his own. But no, the witch kept saying Draco needed to make his own choices… Ha! Well, all that couldn't be helped now. When his son had his heart set upon something, be it a new broom, a place in the Quidditch team, a flat of his own in London or even an unworthy someone to bring to dinner at the Manor, Lucius never could find it in his heart to deny him.

"Of course I'll answer him," he answered meekly, clutching the neckline of his gaping dressing gown for modesty.

"You know, it could wait until tomorrow," she said. "It would do the boy a world of good to be kept waiting every now and then." She reached for the dressing gown and wrenched half of it down, revealing the very skimpy corset strap. "Well, well, well, what is the occasion?"

Lucius moved his shoulders in a much-practised gesture designed to provoke the silken gown into falling as if of its own volition down his arms and back, revealing the satin undergarments. "Our anniversary, darling… have you forgotten?" he asked in his most seductive tone.

"What anniversary," she replied, inching one of her eyebrows up.

Lucius knew he was treading on thin ground. He took one small step aside towards the bed – now if she only could be persuaded to throw herself at him, they'd land neatly on top of the coverlet… "Our twenty-eight years, seven months, two weeks and one day anniversary," he answered smoothly, "how could you forget?"

"It slipped my mind," she said with fake embarrassment. "Are you counting from the day we were married or from…?"

"Or from, of course!" he replied with passion, reaching for her waist. She didn't disappoint him and pushed him hard, onto the bed, following him closely and landing squarely on top of him.

I should hate to intrude further on the couple's intimacy; let it only be said that, scarcely two hours after the conversation I have just reported, the four black bows had left their station of duty and been flung to, respectively, the dresser, the left foot bedpost, the chandelier, and the last one was, for reasons best known to the main protagonists, lodged in the interstice between two of Narcissa's toes.

They sighed in unison, their limbs still tangled up into each other, heartbeats slowing back down to normal.

"This was good," Narcissa concluded. "But demanding. Warn me beforehand for the next anniversary so I can prepare for it!"

"How about in three days from now?"

She lifted herself on her elbows, thereby tangling herself up even more into Lucius's mane.

"Isn't that a bit soon? Most people wait a whole year, you know."

"Let's make it four days, then," he replied magnanimously. "And we could have a short interlude at some point in-between, to rehearse for it-"

She chuckled, and buried her face into his shoulder, savouring the afterglow, but her husband couldn't bring himself to share the abandon.

"I wish we knew who she is," he said. "The someone, I mean. Is it even a witch? It could be a wizard. Or a Muggle!"

His dramatic shiver unsettled his wife.

"We don't know that! And Muggles can make good spouses and parents too, look at my sister... Nymphadora was magically powerful, you'd never have guessed she wasn't a real Black…"

"Well, imagine it's a wizard, then. How will Draco get an heir?"

"I still can have children, you know, we'd only need to make another baby…"

This time Lucius sat straight up on the bed in nameless terror, pushing Narcissa to the side and paying no attention to his own pulled hair. Narcissa's first – and, as far as he was concerned, only – pregnancy had consisted in her alternately barfing and trying to hex his testicles off. He'd been torn between trying to be a good husband and holding her hair back while she paid her dues to the great bathroom god and trying to remain a good husband, as opposed to a good eunuch, by keeping his reproductive organs intact. The atmosphere at home had been so oppressive he'd found relief in the Dark Lord's company, who, it had to be said on his behalf, never bothered to castrate the people he didn't like before offing them. And nowadays there wasn't even a Dark Lord to run off to!

"Never!" he uttered with the firm resolve of a man who'd survived several evenings in a corset and still could find it in himself to lace up over and over again. "You promised me! Now promise me again!"

Narcissa sighed. "It's you that wants Draco to have an heir… You haven't met the someone anyway, I'm sure it's a nice witch, now come back here and go to sleep. Or else I'll make you wear that lingerie of yours beneath your robes on Sunday. Actually, I may ask you to do that anyway…"

Lucius was anything but content with the turn the conversation had taken. Baby talk still scared the living daylights out of him, all those years after the ordeal. Yet her tone was edged with just enough steel to make him obey. He settled down and took her back into his arms, trying to still his anxious imagination.

He didn't sleep well at all that night.

The day he introduced Asteria to his parents was one Draco would remember to his dying day with conflicting emotions.

They'd flooed straight inside. There were times where one ought to impress one's fiancée and times when shortcuts were the way to go. She'd be at liberty to admire the grounds later.

Then there had been his father's near-fainting spell, which his mother assured him was relief – something to do with Lucius' having opened marriage talks with Asteria's father, or some such rot – but which was, you have to agree, rather unsettling for all the parties involved.

Dinner had stretched out interminably, course after course after course of polite and meaningless conversation.

His mother and Asteria had then left them alone for "some polite manly conversation" and his father had fallen on him like a ton of bricks. He looked nervous and unhappy, wasn't he happy with her? She was everything he ever could have wished for him, of course, but his happiness was at stake, was he quite sure? He could arrange someone else if he wanted, the family was well-connected and the Malfoy name still carried some weight with unmarried witches…?

It had taken all of Draco's willpower not to twitch on his seat (that made the Device feel even more excruciating) as he answered that no, on the contrary, he'd never been happier, that he was indeed so looking forward to living with her, that, why, yes, they might start a family, not that it had yet been discussed, but he didn't why not…

Those words at least seemed to calm his father down and they waited in companionable silence for the womenfolk to come back to the room, armed with matching grins.

"Asteria has asked for your hand in marriage, Draco," Narcissa announced. "Now of course I didn't give her a positive answer, you and your father must be consulted…"

"Yes, yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" he cried out, as his father walked to his future bride with a wide grin to shake her hand again and welcome her to the family in a more official fashion.

But that was not all – they had to partake in celebratory champagne, and wait for the Elves to prepare their party specials, and then stay for tea as Lucius unearthed old family photo albums – "I'm sure I'll find something to entertain your lovely fiancée," he'd said with an evil grin, and Narcissa insisted on talking to him in private. He had to endure a whole other lecture on contraceptive charms and how important it was to keep one's wife happy on all fronts for the sake of a harmonious family life. Just as he thought he'd die of the cumulated embarrassment of having his own mother discuss his future sex life and pain from the unrelenting Device, Asteria interrupted, bless her! And said it was high time they headed for home.

It was evening by the time she had tied him to the bedposts at long last. She took her time unlocking the magically fastened Device, liberating his captive cock, and then daintily seized the tiny silver sound, inching it out from its own confines with agonising slowness as Draco clenched his fists, straining against his restraints in an effort to remain still and silent.

"Did you enjoy yourself today, sweetheart? I know I did… What about putting you in the Device for all family functions? Wouldn't that make them all so much more entertaining?"

Draco let out a strangled moan. He'd been beyond conscious thought for a while now, and he could but wait for her to impale herself onto him, caging him between two exquisite thighs, bringing him straight to heaven…

In the many long years they were to share, he never could decide which liked best, the long, painful anticipation or the final release. What he did know was that he couldn't dream of doing without the twin sensations.

Someday, he'd be old and grey too, but he'd be damned if he didn't find a way to keep seducing her over and over again.