Draco loved his father. He loved his father in such a way it should be illegal...and probably was. Ever since he could recognize his feelings for what they were, he'd mused over the broad shouldered, powerful blonde man. And who wouldn't like him? Who couldn't? He carried himself with a grace you could practically taste. Just watching him would make you mouth water. At least it made Draco's. He walked into every establishment like he owned, and in turn was treated like so. Draco had seen this particular trait work in all cases. Occasionally he would ask his father to take him into Diagon Alley for just this purpose.
And he was powerful. He knew people in every position, he could sneak out of any situation. A worthy Slytherin. He had them wrapped around his finger like the snake he was.
And his family he treated like royalty. From a very young age Draco had been enforced to treat his elders with respect, to obey his parents. In turn he was treated with moderate kindness. At least what he could expect from such an eternal being.
His long blonde hair had such a breathtaking effect that Draco had to remind himself not to stare, even though he always did at a turned back. Draco wanted to be like him in all aspects, but whenever his hair grew out, Lucius would cut it down. Sometimes it was worth the heartache to feel his father's magic brush against him- particularly in a non cruel way; but any way was better than none. The first round of the Cruciatus Curse hurt with a fiery passion on Draco's end. As his nerves screamed out in pain, his heart screamed out in a kind of twisted ecstasy.
Occasionally Draco would be cast a wayward smile of approval, or nod of encouragement. Lucius didn't often show his true feelings, but when he did- and when it was in a good way- Draco could always morph the scenario into an entirely different and entirely passionate and satisfying one, and imagine his father smiling at him from a joke he'd told, or a dirty suggestion that they could act out.
Usually it was enough to bring Draco to climax, thinking that his father would approve of him in more ways than one. Maybe his father would approve of his lean frame and pale complexion, after all, some things were just like father like son.
Maybe his father would one day catch his eye and confess his love. His fourteen years worth of love...fifteen...sixteen. Draco would plunge his fingers into himself and scream out his father's name. Maybe one day his father would hear him and come to his damsel's rescue. His father would walk in on a naked and spent Draco- his son- and would immediately become hard. Then the two could tango all night.
It was the reason Draco decided to be a Death Eater. Aside from the fact he wanted to follow the older man's footsteps, and please his father desperately, it was the closest they ever were. His loyalty, his devotion, lay not with the Dark Lord, but with his father. It pained him to see his father suffer the wrath of his Lord, or worse, of Potter. But why was Lucius so scared of the Dark Lord? It wasn't as if he couldn't take him. Wasn't as if he didn't have enough support from the Death Eaters, Wizengamot, and of course, his son. Lucius could do anything, could he not, because Draco loved him so? And that alone should empower him to do all that he could. That alone should make everything okay. That alone should be the reason worth living at all. And they could be together, could they not?