Inell's Fanfiction Archive

He was youthful and beautiful. Thick black hair, brilliant green eyes, full red lips, his face thin and angular. His body was caught at the stage between becoming a man and still being a boy. Taller than he had been the previous summer, long legs, lanky and a bit clumsy. Not yet used to being a man, still possessing the boy’s mind and heart.


It was his youth that caught his attention. He coveted youth and beauty, attracted to bright young dazzling things. His son was beautiful, blond hair and pretty face, and he had insured that Draco would remain that way always, never growing old. After that success, he had turned his attention to another. It had been so easy. Merely a few words seeking redemption and those fools had trusted him, never guessing his agenda. He could care less about Voldemort, Dumbledore, or any of the bloody War. He coveted beauty and for that he would do anything.


His plan had worked remarkably well. Looking at the beautiful boy lying in his bed, he felt a sense of pride and awe. The dementors had tried to steal these memories from him during his brief incarceration but he had resisted, stronger than they ever imagined. He wrapped himself in those memories of his youth, recalling another beautiful boy whom he had saved from ever growing old. Regulus, the name alone causing him to harden and tremble.


And now, Draco and Harry. Forever young, never aging, never growing up. They were forever his pretty boys, never to be lost, never taken away from him. Moving against the dark beauty in his bed, Lucius penetrated him easily, the flesh resistant but tearing to ease his journey. It felt like home, being inside this beautiful boy, not yet a man. He moved slowly, savoring the warmth that was still present, knowing it would soon fade. When he enjoyed Draco, it was cool, rigid, his son lacking the warmth and vitality that had led to his obsession but still so beautiful, so lovely. With a soft cry, he came, his blond hair falling around his face as he leaned forward.


Looking into the glassy green eyes of the boy he coveted, he smiled, a hint of madness in his eyes as he brushed his lips against the full, pouty lips of the young wizard that now belonged to him. The lips were all ready cold, but he did not mind. There were spells that would warm his flesh, spells used on the body of his son for the last few months since his release from Azkaban. If he were alive, Lucius knew that Harry would thank him, would be indebted to him for this gift. After all, little boys never wanted to grow up.


The end