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It’s the creaking and groaning that draws him out of a deep sleep at first. Since the war, he hasn’t been great at sleeping more than a couple of hours a night, usually aided by dreamless sleep potion and copious amounts of fire whiskey to keep the nightmares at bay. Malfoy Manor is an ancient dwelling in many respects so creaking and groaning are part and parcel within it’s walls. Yet something about this sound makes him sit up in bed.
At first, he tries to fall back asleep, fluffing his pillows and pulling his sheets over his body. His shirt has long been discarded on the floor and he’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat as the nightmares which follow him everywhere sweep through his unconscious mind. The Manor is usually silent, his mother long gone after divorcing Lucius, and leaving her only son behind. He’s heard she’s happy now, dating a French man barely a couple of years older than he is.
Lucius on the other hand doesn’t seem affected by the change anymore than he ever is affected by anything. At most, Draco has seen him with a tumbler of liquor in his study, staring at the fire pensively. He’s gained weight since returning home skeletal from Azkaban and looks more like the imposing father figure Draco remembers in his youth.
And yet for all the silence in their preternaturally silent home, he hears what sounds like a feminine moan. Usually, he wouldn’t even bother to get out of bed for anything other than an actual fire sweeping through the halls, but the moan gives him pause. His curiosity gets the best of him and he grabs his wand from his bedside table and pads downstairs in the direction of the creaks and groans.
Quietly he walks towards Lucius’ study, seeing clearly through the darkened hall the glow of candlelight underneath the door. At first, he doesn’t realize that the door is open just a sliver, but like a moth drawn to a frame, he puts his eye right at level with the frame and has to stop himself from gasping.
He can see his father, draped over an antique chaise, fully clothed, with a naked young woman sitting on his lap. At first all he can see is her slender back and what looks like a mass of curly hair. Lucius has her face tilted away, and shell-shocked Draco freezes in place to watch.
Deftly, the girl is maneuvered across his father’s lap, and he kneads her full arse carefully. Draco can only hear murmurs, but he surmises that they’re agreeing to something, and Lucius raises his hand up. He watches transfixed as the girl receives 3 slaps across each cheek in quick succession, with a pause in between for her arse to be kneaded. He can even see from his position at the door that her center is glistening, the brown curls almost the same colour and texture as the ones on her head. Her arse is bright red, and Draco is panting, imagining himself in that chair, delivering those blows. He can see the backed bow of the girl in Lucius’ lap, and something stirs in his stomach. The girl looks familiar, her whiskey coloured corkscrew curls bring to mind another girl that he is hopelessly infatuated with.
The idea of the girl in Lucius’ lap being Hermione Granger is preposterous of course. Draco cannot think up of one plausible scenario in which she comes to the Manor voluntarily let alone one where she lets his father debauch her so. And yet, as the girl turns her head slightly his whole body seizes in shock. The girl in the chair, spread open across his father’s lap is none other than the golden girl herself. He has to stuff his fist in his mouth to stop himself from making noise, lest he draw any attention to himself. He wishes, fervently that he could be closer, inside the room, and more than anything in that moment, he hates his father with all his heart and yet, he also can’t stop watching, his hand moving almost of its own volition over his cock.
His father turns Hermione over in his lap, and as Draco watches with bated breath, they share a passionate kiss. In Lucius’ eyes there is an unusual amount of tenderness, the kind that Draco hasn’t seen in some time. Hermione stands, and from his angle, he can see that she’s beautiful, her tiny frame highlighted by the fireplace almost as if she is glowing. Two full breasts with rose-coloured hard nipples just as Draco has imagined time and time again, night after night in the Slytherin dorms sit atop her chest. Her belly is not flat but has a healthy little pouch just above her glistening curls. He can see her shapely legs, and pert bottom as she turns and places her feet apart, bending over at the waist over the writing desk.
Draco is sweating and panting, and his mind is screaming at him to look away but for some reason he can’t tear his eyes from the scene in front of him. Lucius appears as unruffled as always, he hasn’t even taken off one stitch of clothing the entire time. Meanwhile, Hermione is completely naked and glistening with sweat, bent over the desk and facing the sliver in the door at an angle where Draco is standing. He can see her puffy pink pussy clenching around nothing, and he would sacrifice his entire fortune to be the one shoving his heavy cock inside her little hole and making her scream.
In the time it takes him to take his next breath, Lucius has stepped behind Hermione, unbuckled his belt and is thrusting in without mercy. He stops for just a moment to put his hand on her back firmly pushing her onto the surface of the desk and wrapping her hair around his fist. He takes her hard and fast, the desk moving across with every thrust forward, and Hermione moaning brokenly. After what seems like an eternity of thrusting, Draco watches as Hermione throws her head back and screams, her whole body undulating in pleasure as Lucius groans behind her filling her up. He knows his time spying is up and with a quick hand movement, cleans himself up and makes for the hallway to his rooms quickly.
One thing was for sure, now that he’d seen her beautiful body, he would stop at nothing to make her his, his father and everyone else be damned.