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For the third time, Lucius realised that he had read several paragraphs of the article in the Daily Prophet without taking in a single word. It was always this way, the first day that Draco was home from school. He would not be able to concentrate properly until he had the answer to the question that was always on his mind when his son returned. It got easier to relax however, as the years passed and the answer was always the same. He could feel Draco's eyes on him as he sipped his coffee, waiting for his son to finish his breakfast.As soon as he heard the distinctive sound of cutlery being set down, he allowed his eyes to scan to the end of the article without caring what the journalist's conclusion actually was. There were far more important questions that needed answering right now. He looked up to meet Draco's eyes and was rewarded with a radiant smile that spoke volumes to him, drawing the beginnings of an answering smile from him against his will.He had his answer, nothing significant had changed between them, despite all the influences that Draco was subject to at boarding-school every term he spent under Albus Dumbledore's guidance as headmaster. He had always done his best to undermine the old man as an authority figure in his son's eyes, praising Severus in his stead, despite his half-blood status. The Potions Master had spent his formative years in Slytherin House and respected the Old Ways to a level which Dumbledore never could. Having to compete against Mudbloods was changing his son in ways he did not like. Yet, as long as that smile still greeted him, he knew that the damage was minimal."Join me in my study, Draco." It was not a question. It could never be a question when it must be a command. But the alacrity with which Draco obeyed was the measure he used to know what his son wanted to hear. The young man was a pure-blood, the most important pure-blood in Lucius' world as his own heir."Yes, Father." There was barely contained eagerness in that tone that hinted at what he could expect, and yet he must never push for what he wanted, not in a matter as delicate as this. He would never have gone this road at all if his son had not made his own proclivities so clear. He had no intention of repeating the mistakes his own father had made with him. And yet, it ran in the Malfoy line, as much as a tendency to wanton zealotry ran in the Black's.He nodded curtly to Narcissa as he rose to leave. She had known what she was marrying into as well as he had - that is, they had both known the whispered rumours that blood-loyals circulated amongst themselves. It was a delicate matter for the Blacks to remain pure without going too far and becoming deformed by inbreeding.It had been a mixed blessing to see such signature Malfoy traits re-emerge in his own heir, as after his own experiences, he had entertained the idea of breeding that out for good. Yet Draco had awakened the dormant traits in himself which he had believed non-existent. This, in turn, had improved his father's opinion of him, even if Abraxas had blundered in assuming that blood-traits alone defined a father-son relationship.Yet what had seemed unnatural to him when presumed, had emerged so naturally in Draco that it had been awakened in him also, however late. Over the years he had become reconciled to the obvious benefits of such a dynamic which he had not personally enjoyed as a child. It had been a slightly awkward conversation to raise with his own father, but the insights he had gleaned had reassured him.Every term he worried if being at Hogwarts had ruined Draco's innocence in such matters. He had painstakingly written down everything his heir would need to know about such things when dealing with his own heir. It was much too early to have 'the talk', unless Dumbledore and his Mudbloods had forced his hand. These papers were storing in the family vault against his untimely demise, for he entrusted to goblins alone what he could never allow blood-traitors to discover. The thought of Draco marrying a Mudblood made his own blood turn to ice. Muggles had such foul views of practices they did not understand and did not wish to, that it tainted their very blood.Yet, watching his son enter his study, he had no doubt that anyone who looked upon such a vision could never mistake his heir for anything but a pure-blood, with all the rights and responsibilities that went with that. Whilst it was true - regardless of what their public position must be seen as politically - that his ancestors had sought dalliances with Muggle royalty to avoid the dangers of inbreeding, such ideas were dangerous experiments even with high-born Muggles. Royalty were generally above the common-blood taints that infected the masses, but breeding was everything, in purity of blood and of mind.It was his son's enduring purity of mind that concerned him now. "Come here, Draco. I believe that it's time that you greeted your father properly." This was the test, always the same one, every term. What was Draco's definition of the proper way to greet his father in private? If there was even a hint of reluctance or uncertainty, it would be time to have 'the talk' and the innocent years would be over for good.Yet there was no hesitation as Draco strode confidently across the room and rounded the desk. No trace of humiliation in his manner as he knelt before his seated father. The small smile on his face reached his eyes as he met his father's gaze, and Pan danced wantonly behind those blue-grey eyes as he reached towards his father's crotch to begin unbinding him. Nothing but the innocent purity of one raised gently in utter security to the Old Ways. No half-blood could ever hope to equal this, and Lucius felt the last of his qualms melting away.It always amazed him how eager Draco was to greet him this way. How clean it all felt to present himself as ultimately vulnerable in his authority, compared to the forceful methods he had to employ against blood-traitors in Muggle-loving political circles. The shared understanding in the gaze of his own flesh-and-blood was as soothing as it was invigorating as Draco awakened him anew to the Source. He wondered if Draco understood yet what he was doing, or whether it was still merely immature desire to preserve his freedom to indulge his desire for carnal pleasure. Hogwarts did not teach wandlore, as it was too much of a culture shock for Mudbloods to-His thoughts short-circuited as his son began to perform the child's version of the intimate kin-kiss, and soon he could not hold in a grunt of approval at the skill level it was performed with. His son had been so eager to learn how to do this. Far more eager than he had been to teach it, and yet, how could he deny his heir such secrets when he knew his own magical development had been stunted by missing out in his formative years? Draco was so much stronger than he had ever been at the same age, for Lucius had turned only to his peers and not felt comfortable enough with his own father to do this. Narcissa helped to strengthen him in later life, but not nearly as much as his son- oh Pan his son!His breathing darkened and grew heavy as the magic welled up in him, suckled up in attraction to the purity of the call Draco was innocently broadcasting. Only in the presence of such innocence would the Horned God himself become free with his gifts of dark magic. Innocence so easily muddied by consorting with Muggles. But the skill with which Draco was invoking carnal pleasure in him told him that no taint had crept in. No doubt as to the purity of his actions. That innocence appeased the Old One, suffusing them both with the potency of magic freely gifted to strengthen the worthy and faithful. Such acts nourished and refined their blood evermore, generation upon generation, yet not forsaking the father for the son, in the truest interpretation of the Old Ways.Draco's attention to his physical needs had given him the strength to rekindle ties with his own father, ensuring the minimum required for an unbroken line of magical sacrifice, despite early mistakes. And always he came home hungry for more of the power he could milk from his own heritage-The verbal imagery coupled with the physical sensations was undoing him to his core. He reached out to tangle his fingers in his son's hair, feeling the engorgment of the power flow as Draco in turn associated the sensation with innocent affection and carnal pleasure, moaning like an animal in heat. The chord that struck with the Old One sent shivers through his body, wakening him to greater depths of pleasure in Draco's ministrations. He needed to hold back until the God gifted him with Source-potence, or he would short-change his heir by feeding him only the seed which had given him life.Draco was capable of earning far more than such base gifts, and so Lucius held out as long as he could, distracting himself with logical thought even as Draco's skill threatened to undo him completely. Truly wandless magic was the dream of all pure-blood wizards. Graduating to Sorcery was something that could only be achieved through joint worship of father feeding son. It was intolerable that such pitiful creatures as House Elves were born with the capacity that humans struggled to rediscover. Abraxas had explained all of this in 'the talk', however belatedly. It was impossible for a mother-daughter relationship to equal the male capacity for such carnal love for their own heir, and so men alone must overcome the barriers to such an abstractly magical act of feeding one's own, before such purity could breed true. Women must wait their turn, having been born with the ability to suckle their own-His control slipped and his hips bucked as he fought not to choke or pain his son by thrusting too deep or too roughly, but Draco was skilled in these dark arts and moaned in mirrored arousal - swallowing him greedily, begging to be fed as the vibrations of sound directly stimulated his own father in the most intimate way possible.The inherited desire to feed his own kicked in full-force, and with the God's blessings ensured, he abandoned his last vestiges of control. The pleasures of the physical quickly overwhelmed him as his own need for release overtook his love for his son. Their flesh became - oh so briefly - magically as-one, and dark magic spilt along with carnal-seed down the throat of his son and heir.The afterglow of its passage filled his own body, soaking into his flesh and strengthening him in return-reward for this feat. How his personal family-line had stumbled upon this arrangement with the Old One was something Abraxas had curtly informed him a Malfoy heir may learn only after his father's demise, as was traditional. Lucius suspected that this was a test of familial loyalty - a self-terminating clause built into the blood-line that an impure heir could trigger by seeking to bring about the demise of his own father, in unbridled hunger for knowledge of dark secrets."What will you teach me this year, father?" That hungry look on his own son's face - his own craving for stimulation - was one he had to cultivate carefully. Impurity must always be pruned before it could take root, yet Draco had always displayed a inborn talent for knowing what was best for both of them. He was his mother's son in this, and Lucius was honoured to have won her hand. The Blacks tended to throw up at least one good bride and heir per generation, even if their own family's arrangement with the Old One meant they had to sire extra children each time, some of which would then be culled from the family tree. A reputation for mental instability and rumours of inbreeding was the price they paid for their own path to greatest purity. Such a shame young Regulus had died so young..."What do you want to learn, Draco?" Narcissa had already been pregnant with their son when her young cousin died. She had taken it so hard that Lucius had been moved to confide in her more than his father would have considered wise. Yet she had been remarkably calmed by it all, leading him to wonder just what she had learnt from her own mother before she married. Not that she ever told him - he had been the one to break with tradition by hinting at the benefits their child might gain, if he proved to swing the way Malfoys traditionally did. Whatever she knew, it was obvious that there was some hidden compatibility between the separate arrangements that reassured her. She had been much more supportive after that, and never sought to interfere with his side of nurturing their son as her direct role in preparing him to face life's challenges diminished. Never asked awkward questions about what they spent their time together doing, or flinched if he tripped over a double entendré. He was so lucky to have such a supportive family..."Fuck me," Draco startled him out of his thoughts. It was a good thing that dark magic still lingered heavily in the blood of his swollen member, for his son's appetites appeared to have taken a quantum leap from older childhood to young adulthood. The renewed kin-kiss had a completely different tone to its call now, awakening new desires in him that he had never felt before for his own son-This awakening in him felt very different from his memories of needy lust for his peers, whispering to him of new heights of dark magic yet to be explored together-With a soft moan, Lucius reached into the drawer of his desk, fumbling for a small vial of oil he kept there against the occasional dalliance with visiting peers. It was now his task to smooth the way for his heir in the ways of more adult interactions in the traditions of the Old Ways. He would have to buy more oil. He didn't have nearly enough to keep up with his son's burgeoning appetites for the whole summer-And Draco was always so intense about learning anything new-