Lucius had always prided himself on being able to get any woman into his bed even before Narcissa had died. There was, however, one problem with the latest woman had caught his interest. Astoria Malfoy was the cream of the pureblood society, and the wife of his son Draco. He knew he shouldn't fancy his daughter-in-law but he couldn't help himself. He wanted to know everything about her body, the way it writhed under him whilst they fucked, and the way she looked when she came undone.
He often stared at her, picking up little bits of information about her that you should only know if you had studied her intently. She chewed her lips slightly when she was concentrating hard, sighed when she didn't manage to find something, and the look of triumph when she completed something important.
It's no good fantasising about something that will never happen.
The little voice in his head was annoyingly right. Astoria was so happy and in love with Draco that she would never turn to another man. Not that she could turn to another man anyway. She and Draco had taken the traditional wizarding vows when they married; love, fidelity, and family. Astoria was his son's wife and they only way he would taste her wares was when Draco died. This time he would concede and be content to look but not touch.