Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/549033.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Harry_Potter_-_J._K._Rowling
  Relationship:
      Draco_Malfoy/Lucius_Malfoy
  Character:
      Draco_Malfoy, Lucius_Malfoy
  Additional Tags:
      Parent/Child_Incest, One_Shot
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-29 Words: 1025
****** Not My Son ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Draco is desperately searching for his father on the battle field.
Notes
     I've decided to move all my old fic from Livejournal to here. Some of
     this stuff is very old, so yeah...
See the end of the work for more notes
Draco supposed that he should cared about the explosions of spells around him,
about the people screaming and dying, about the fights for life and death,
about the fact that somewhere Potter was fighting the Dark Lord, about if
Potter was losing or winning. But he didn't care.
Draco cared about one thing.
“Father!?” he called out, narrowly dodging a jet of green light which flew past
his side. He could feel it brush past him and smell the of burned fabric as it
ripped open the side of his robes. The curse hit something or someone behind
him, but Draco didn't turn to look.
Every cell in his body were pounding with adrenaline and he was running again
even though his lungs were burning.
All around him was a messy blur of people, spells and shouting, but Draco made
his way through the masses, desperately calling out for his father. It was the
only thing that kept him from fleeing the scene, the thought that somewhere,
looking for him, was Lucius.
And Lucius was unharmed, Draco told himself over and over again as if the mere
fact that he spoke it aloud would make it true. He didn't dare to even consider
the possibility that he might be wrong, that Lucius wasn't unharmed, that
something terrible had happened to him.
Someone pushed past Draco and knocked him in the ribs. With a groan of pain,
Draco fell to the ground, the wind completely knocked out of him. Curling up in
the trampled grass, Draco tried to hide from view while snapping for breath and
trying to will himself to get up again.
It was impossible to separate the voices shouting and crying around him, but
Draco attempted even so. Perhaps if he could hear his father's voice calling
out for him, Draco would be able to find him. It already felt like he had spent
hours searching the battle field for any sign of his father, and so far without
any luck.
Then he heard it; it was distant, very faint, but it was there. Someone was
calling his name. It was too faint to hear who it was, but there could be no
doubt. Someone was calling his name.
Draco got up and looked around, half-expecting to see his father running
towards him with wide open arms, smiling.
But there was nothing to see but blurs of robes, faces and wands, and Draco was
almost about to give up hope, sure that what he had heard was merely his mind
playing tricks on him, when he heard it again. His name. Someone was most
definitely calling out his name.
Draco began to run, zigzagging in and out between duelling people, not caring
who they were or what they were fighting for, while calling out for his father
again.
“Oi!”
A rough hand closed around Draco's should and yanked him to the ground.
“You're Lucius' brat, aren't you?”
Draco looked up, panting, at the man who was talking to him. It was a Death
Eater, not anyone Draco recognised, but he was without a doubt a Death Eater.
He was bleeding from the left side of his head and his crooked teeth were
showing as his face split in a malicious grin.
“This is all your father's fault,” the man barked, his smirk now disappearing
to give way to a hateful grimace. “If he had managed to keep hold of the Potter
boy, we wouldn't be in this mess!”
“Fuck you!” Draco spat and tried to get back on his feet, but the Death Eater
merely placed a sharp kick to the side of his face and he fell back in the dirt
with a whimper.
“I wonder how he would like to see his only son torn into tiny bits,” the man
leered as he grabbed hold of the neck of Draco's robes and lifted him off the
ground. “Let's try and see, shall we?”
Draco wasn't sure what happened, but suddenly he heard another man's voice
growl, “Not my son, you filthy maggot!” and the Death Eater let go of him with
a howl of pain.
Rolling around on the grass, Draco wiped the blood off his face and looked up.
The Death Eater was lying, limp and lifeless, on the ground, his throat split
wide open like a second mouth, grinning at him, and over his body someone else
stood, clutching a long, thin silver knife which Draco vaguely remembered
seeing on display as a family heirloom in the sitting room of Malfoy Manor.
“F-Father,” Draco whimpered, tears of relief streaming down his dirty cheeks,
but before he could get up, strong and warm arms were closed around him. He was
lifted off the ground and into a tight, trembling embrace.
It was as if the last two years didn't exist, all the horrors and turmoil that
Draco had been through were swept away by the roar of blood rushing through his
body. Nothing existed but this: his father's warm and loving arms and the set
of quivering lips pressed against the side of Draco's face.
For a long time neither of them spoke. How could they, when all that mattered
was that they had found each other, alive and in one piece.
Around them, the battle raged on, but no one paid any attention to the
whimpering boy and the worn-out man holding him.
“I love you,” was finally whispered into Draco's hair, and he didn't need to
look at his father's face to know that he was crying. “My sweet child, I love
you so much.”
Draco tried to speak, but no words came over his lips, and instead he simply
tightened his grip around his father's body and kissed every inch of him he
could reach while sobs ripped their way out of him.
Nothing could hurt him now, he was safe in his father's arms and it felt like
Draco's heart might explode within his chest. Nothing could hurt him now.
A few moments later, another set of familiar arms closed around Draco and he
had never thought he would be this happy to see his mother.
End Notes
     Disclaimer: I own none of this.
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