Title: His Youngest Son

Author: ronspigwidgeon

Warnings: language, possibly? The second half will have mpreg.

Beta: Please feel free, I've been looking for one for months without any takers.

Summary: Prompt #13: Lucius is out to get revenge on Arthur Weasley, and decides to target his youngest son.

A/N: It took a little over a year to post because... well, it took me about 9 months to finish, and then I've spent the last three trying (unsuccessfully) to find a beta for it. Apparently anyone who is interested in betaing is not interested in working with Lucius/Ron. Odd, I would have jumped at the chance had it been anyone else's story. As it is, I've read this and re-read it so many times it's nearly unhealthy. Which is why there are probably still mistakes (never be your own editor if you have any choice in the matter).

Lucius Malfoy was furious, so furious that he had had to crucio three of his elves into insanity before he was stable enough to leave the house without spontaneously destroying everything around him. As it was, the attendant checking his wand eyed him nervously and hesitated to return it to him. He snatched it from the pimpled boy's hand and stormed to the lifts, bypassing all those in line without concern for the glares he received. Within five minutes Arthur Weasley's closet office was a whirlwind of papers and scattered muggle objects.

Arthur stared wide-eyed at the wizard standing at his office door, completely oblivious as to the reason for all the destruction. "What can I do for you, Lucius?"

Lucius's voice was frozen in fury, as was his glare. "You may tell your brat of a grandchild to stay away from my grandson."

"What has Michael done?"

"He has corrupted my heir and possibly destroyed our family line."

Arthur looked alarmed. "What? How could that be possible? Is Abraxas all right? Michael would never do anything to hurt him, I don't think. I was under the impression that they were friends."

"The boy is physically fine, but as for his mental state…" Lucius's hand tightened around a piece of parchment he had clenched in his hand.

"His mental state?! My God, what is this all about?"

Lucius stiffly stalked to the desk and slammed the letter he had been mangling onto the desk, bypassing a shocked-looking Ron as though the young man were not even there, though Ron had to move his foot in order for Lucius not to trip. "The sorting occurred last night, as I am certain you are aware. An occurrence happened there that has not happened to a Malfoy since the Founding of the school." There was a tense pause as Arthur looked down at the letter and Ron craned his neck get a peek at it himself. "My grandson has been sorted into Gryffindor."

There was a long silence, neither Weasley knowing exactly what to say, and then Ron burst into peals of laughter. Arthur looked nervously at his son, recognizing the look on Lucius's face as an extremely dangerous one. Ron continued to laugh until a glare from Lucius silenced him. "I am glad to know that the disinheritance of my only grandchild amuses you, Mr. Weasley. I'm sure he will be greatly comforted with the knowledge that his grave misfortune has given another pleasure."

"Disinheritance? What do you mean?" Ron asked, looking up at him in confusion.

"There has never been a Malfoy outside of Slytherin. He cannot be our heir if he is not a Slytherin. As I still possess control of the family, I have been forced to make the grave decision. The boy will be provided for, of course, but he will no longer bare the name of Malfoy. Our line shall end with Draco."

"Why? That seems a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"It is the way of our family. I will not make an exception simply because your family has chosen to corrupt mine." Lucius paused before continuing to vent his anger to take a long look at the youngest Weasley son, and suddenly he knew how he would seek revenge on the family and save his own blood line in one action. He turned a sneer on Arthur. "You will inform your grandson that he is to avoid mine from this moment on or there will be consequences." With these words and a final glance at Ronald, he turned and swept from the office to begin plotting.

Michael sent a tearful letter home two mornings after Lucius Malfoy's outburst, claiming that Abraxas was no longer speaking to him, or any of the other Gryffindors for that matter, and that he didn't know what he'd done wrong. Ron didn't know what Fleur sent as a reply, but she and Bill looked worried for the rest of the week. On Friday Ron received his own letter from his nephew asking advice about what to do to convince Abraxas to be his friend again, and the plea nearly broke his heart.

In the mean time, he crossed paths with Lucius twice at the Ministry and both times had been… uncomfortable. When Ron first joined the Ministry, it had not been unusual to see the eldest Malfoy there every day. He played advisor to the Aurors, giving them inside information about former Deatheaters: their personal and familial connections, where they were most likely to be if the Aurors had looked in all the spots they knew to look in, etc. As the number of Deatheaters at large dwindled, he was found at the Ministry less and less, until it was unusual to see him there more than once every few months.

And so Ron was naturally surprised to find the older man standing next to him in the queue for the lift three days after the Incident, greeting him cordially and asking after his health. That he was standing too close as they spoke didn't occur to Ron until he felt a warm had on the small of his back, ushering him into the lift. Lucius Malfoy invaded others' personal space, yes, to intimidate them, but he never touched, and especially never in such an intimate manner as the hand felt to Ron. And yet there was no ignoring the heat spreading out across his skin through his robes or the light press of Lucius's shoulder against his as they waited for their floors in the crowded lift. The older man got out first and left him with a farewell and an electrifying brush of fingertips across his palm that Ron might have imagined.

The morning before Michael's letter arrived, he found himself once more in the lift queue with Lucius at his side. This time, he echoed his surprise and Lucius just smiled slyly and re-directed the conversation to a rude article the Prophet had written about Harry that morning. Ron was successfully distracted, incensed as he still was over what had been said. He was, however, acutely aware of the blond's fingers subtly stroking the back of his wrist before moving to usher him into the lift.

The letter motivated a very guilty Ron into action, and that evening he found himself on the front step of Malfoy Manor, planning to beg Draco for reconsideration of his son's plight.

A house elf answered the door and blinked up at him with large, grey eyes. "What is Mimbly doing for sir?"

"I want to speak to Malfoy, is he in?"

"Yes, Master is reading in his study. Mimbly will take sir to him." The elf turned and led Ron through the house without another word, winding down corridors and up stairs until they reached an ancient-looking, finely-carved wooden door. The elf knocked and a confirmation from behind the door led the elf to push it open and usher Ron inside. Expecting to find Draco, he was frozen in surprise to be instead faced with Lucius, lounging on a loveseat, dressed only in pyjama trousers. Ron was instantly hit with a wave of arousal at the sight of Lucius' toned, tanned upper body, blond hair falling over one shoulder as his eyes scanned the book in his hand. Whatever their personalities were, there was no denying that careful breeding had produced absolutely beautiful specimens of the wizarding race.

Lucius looked up at Ron's entrance and a slow, seductive smile spread across his lips, unnerving Ron. Lucius had never looked at him that way before, as though he were prey to be hunted, taken, and made a meal of. "Mr. Weasley, what a pleasant, unexpected surprise. What brings you to my home?"

"I… er… wanted to speak with Draco about Abraxas." He bit his lip and looked at his shoes, nervous as he always was around the volatile wizard.

Lucius raised an eyebrow and set the book down on an end table. "What interest could you possibly have with my grandson?"

"Abraxas is like my nephew; I'm very concerned about him. Is Draco home?"

"He and his wife are vacationing at our villa in Morocco. What is your concern?"

Ron glared. "What's my concern? You're disinheriting him! He's done nothing to deserve it. I can't just stand by and watch you hurt him, you bastard."

"Hurt him? Do you think he is the only concerned party? My family's bloodline is at stake. I cannot allow an heir to disgrace my family in such a manner as to be sorted into Gryffindor. This is your family's fault. Had you discouraged the connection, Abraxas would have spent his time with his Parkinson cousins and would have followed in mine and Draco's footsteps."

"There's nothing wrong with being a Gryffindor. You would rather your bloodline die out than have a perfectly acceptable heir who just happens to not share all your personality traits?"

Lucius ignored the comment, standing instead and moving towards a small bar built into a back wall of the study. "Might I interest you in a drink, Mr. Weasley?"

Ron was thrown enough by the abrupt subject change to agree, and Lucius directed him to the sofa as he prepared a glass of whiskey for both of them. Ron sat hesitantly, eyes darting around the room like a trapped animal. Lucius joined him a moment later, handing off a glass of amber liquid and nonchalantly draping his arm across the back of the sofa. Ron looked nervously down at his drink, self-conscious of being next to a half-naked Lucius Malfoy.

"Now, perhaps we might discuss your concerns. You are concerned about the welfare of my grandson. Let me assure you that, though he may not officially carry the family name or line, he will by no means be abandoned. You need not worry that he will be thrown out on the street."

"Then, why disinherit him? I don't understand why this is such a problem. I thought your bloodline was more important than House rivalry."

Lucius took a sip of his drink and let his fingers play with the hair at the nape of Ron's neck, seemingly oblivious of the tensing of Ron's body. "My bloodline is not in as dire a situation as I had originally thought."

Ron's voice was small and surprised as he asked, "Is Pansy pregnant?"

Lucius's eyes swept over him in a look part-desire, part-amusement. "If she is, it will be a girl. Part of the magical contract between my son and my daughter-in-law dictates that Pansy will give birth to one son and one son only."

"Then, how is the bloodline not in danger if Draco can't have more sons and you aren't married?"

"I'm not married, no." A silence followed, not tense, but not entirely relaxed. Ron was beginning to relax into the massaging movement of his host's warm fingers. The press of naked skin against his neck was comforting, almost arousing, and he was having a difficult time of not reacting.

"You'll remarry, then?"

"Is there something wrong with your drink? You've not touched it."

Ron absently shook his head and downed the drink. "Do you really want Michael and Abraxas to stop being friends?"

The blond looked into his drink before standing, taking Ron's glass, and moving to pour him another. "Would it upset you if I did?"

Ron was momentarily stunned into silence. Had Lucius Malfoy just asked him about his feelings? Ron hadn't thought the man even knew what feelings were. "I… They are best mates. I would have been upset if someone had forbidden me from being friends with Harry when we were first years."

Lucius returned to the sofa, handing his guest his refill. "I suppose the damage has already been done; it would not cause more damage for them to continue interactions."

"Thank you." Ron sipped at his drink, thinking in the back of his mind that perhaps he should stop before he became drunk. He felt slim fingers combing through his hair once more and quickly finished off his whiskey out of nervousness. This time, Lucius did not stand to refresh his drink, but instead summoned the whiskey bottle. The third glass brought on a tingling buzz that clouded his judgment. He barely noticed when Lucius's hand began massaging his thigh, except for the tingling warmth it caused. He kissed back with only mild surprise when Lucius's lips touched his. When Lucius began peeling back layers of his clothing, he responded enthusiastically, fumbling to tear his trainers and socks off. He arched into every touch, moaned at every flick of tongue against his heated skin, called out when Lucius entered him.

He awoke the next morning with a massive headache only to find himself in a posh, unfamiliar bedroom, naked, and alone. The bed next to him was empty, but still warm, and a bottle of hangover potion and a note sat on the pillow. The note was an invitation from Lucius to dinner for that night.

He stared at it for a long moment; head still fuzzy from sleep and unsure of what to do. He knew what Lucius Malfoy was, what he had done. He knew how against his principles it would be to start a relationship, be it purely sexual or otherwise, with such a man. And yet, he could still smell Lucius's cologne, feel a ghost of his fingertips against his skin. The longer he lay in bed, the more he knew that there was no way he could avoid this man. And so he stood, dressed, and apparated home, note still tucked into his pocket.

Lucius was dressed impeccably, waiting at the entrance to the restaurant for him when he arrived. Ron's heart was beating, his hands sweating from nervousness. He was unsure as the man, who was supposed to be his enemy, bowed to him, kissed him lightly on the lips, and ushered him inside. Soon they were seated at a table and looking at menus. Ron was hesitant to order because he knew that he would have to think of something to say once he had and his mind was completely blank. He needn't have worried, however, because Lucius began on the neutral topic of Quidditch and artfully avoided any derogatory remarks towards Ron's beloved Cannons.

All in all, it was a pleasant evening and Ron was completely at a loss as to what to think of Lucius's not only civility, but congeniality. As they were exiting the restaurant, Lucius slid an arm around Ron's waist and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. "Might I interest you in an after-supper drink at my home?"

The redhead searched his eyes for a long moment, heart pounding nearly out of his chest. If he agreed, he would be consciously agreeing to a sexual encounter, because sex would be the only inevitable conclusion of a visit to the Manor, and he would not have the alcohol to blame his actions this time. He wavered on the edge of a decision until the sultry look the blond was giving his lips became too much for him to ignore and he agreed.

By the time Christmas was nearing and the boys were returning home from their first term at Hogwarts, Lucius and Ron's relationship (though Ron was reluctant to call it so, after four months of near constant companionship he could no longer avoid the reality of the situation) had progressed into an all-out affair. They spent nearly every night together and Ron had all but moved into the Manor. His family was at a loss as to what to do about the situation, uncomfortable with the man Ron was with, but unwilling to say anything against him in fear that they might hurt Abraxas or Michael. Harry and Hermione were both as confused about the situation as his family, but showed it in very different ways. Hermione kept her distance, ignoring Ron's firecalls and owls.

Harry stuck around, but started a loud shouting match on the way back from a pub one night when Ron told him he wouldn't be going back to his own flat. Both drunk to the point of belligerence, the fight quickly moved to punches, and both required medical attention before they were finished. The next day Harry showed up at his flat with lunch and an apology. They didn't fight after that, but they also didn't speak of Lucius.

Because there was tension between his family and his lover, Christmas was a challenge for Ron. Lucius had seduced him into agreeing to spend Christmas Eve with him, but it was a long-standing Weasley family tradition that the entire family spent Christmas Eve at the Burrow so that presents could be opened Christmas morning. Knowing better than to start the shouting match asking if Lucius could come would cause, Ron compromised by agreeing to floo to his childhood home early Christmas morning.

Christmas at the Manor was much different than at the Burrow. A lively dinner followed by carols was a far stretch from the quiet dinner and after-dinner drinks shared between Lucius, Ron, Draco, Pansy, and Abraxas. Abraxas was ushered off to bed early, and with him Draco and Pansy.

With the others gone to bed, Lucius and Ron retired as well, though they did not go to sleep once in bed. Instead, Lucius pinned his young lover to the bed and starred down at him for longer than the redhead was comfortable with. Just as Ron was about to squirm, Lucius spoke. "I have been avoiding your questions for some time now. I think it time I answered you."

"What questions?" Ron asked in confusion.

"You asked what I intend to do about an heir."

"Yeah?"

"I intend to remarry, and soon. That is, if you will agree to it."

Ron's eyes grew large. "You're going to marry someone? And you want me to agree to it? What do you think I am, some sort of kept man?! Fuck you!" He squirmed in indignation, but Lucius held him in place, smirking, and kissed him lightly.

"There is no one else. I intend to marry you." His confession was met with silence. Ron appeared frozen in place, staring up at him as though he were an acromantula. He swallowed loudly and opened his mouth as though to speak, but was unable to form any words. Lucius raised an eyebrow and settled more comfortably between his legs. "I have stunned you into silence, I see. If the idea is so unappealing to you, perhaps I should withdraw the request."

"I… er, I don't know what to say."

"'Yes' would be an appropriate response. 'I would love to' would also suffice."

"But… why would you want to marry me?"

Lucius steeled himself. He hated saying such trite words, but he knew that Ronald would not agree otherwise, he was too much the sentimental Gryffindor. "Because I love you and I care for you and I want you here with me all the time."

"I am here all the time. I haven't slept in my own bed for months."

"Yes, but you could decide to leave at any moment and there would be nothing stopping you. I want to assure myself that you are mine, always."

"But I thought you would remarry to have a son. How will you have one if you marry me?"

"I was under the impression that you desired children. With the proper potions, I see no reason why we may not have them together."

"And Draco's not going to be angry that you're marrying someone his age? Or that he has siblings younger than his own son? I can already tell he doesn't like our relationship."

"He will tolerate it; he understands that an heir is necessary, and I do not intend to marry anyone but you."

"What if I say no?"

"Then, we shall have to remain as we are until you change your mind. I do not intend to give up."

Ron bit his lip and looked out the gap in the canopy around the bed. "Can I think about it?"

"Of course, take all the time you need." He leaned down and began to trail kisses down his lover's throat, lips and tongue hot against his skin. Ron moaned and arched up into the kisses, hand lifting to dig into Lucius's hair. Thoughts of the proposal were put aside for the time being.

Ronald was asleep on the other side of the bed, mumbling in his sleep, and Lucius smirked to himself. His plan was falling into place nicely. Soon his heir would be on the way, Weasley would lose his youngest son to his enemy, and all would be right with his world again. Quietly, he slid from the bed and padded out of the room. A house elf was waiting just outside with his dressing gown and slippers and helped him with both. Dismissing the elf without even as little as a glance, he made his way down to the study; he had a marriage contract to draft. Ronald may not have agreed yet, but it would only be a matter of a few days to convince him. He was convinced that the betrothal would be settled before the New Year.

He paused at the kitchen door, hearing humming. House elves did not hum, at least Malfoy house elves did not. Upon investigation, he was faced with the tiny figure of his grandson, legs swinging under his chair, large bowl of ice cream in front of him. He raised an eyebrow and studied his grandson. Abraxas was smaller than Draco had been, but not by much; and, of course, Draco only hummed when house elves were being punished. Otherwise, it was as though he had gone back twenty years and was looking at his own son.

"Up late, are we?"

Abraxas nearly jumped from his chair and stared up at him with large, wary eyes. No subtlety, just like a Gryffindor. He had to resist the urge to growl; he was to marry a Gryffindor after all.

"Good evening, Grandfather. I couldn't sleep."

"And so you have decided to gorge yourself with sweets that shall ruin your diet and assure you never sleep?"

The boy immediately looked shamed. "I'm sorry, Grandfather. I'll practice extra hard tomorrow."

"Tomorrow there will be no practice, it would be improper to play Quidditch on Christmas." Abraxas looked up at him with watery eyes and began to push the bowl away. It was the trembling lip, and not the eyes, that had always got Draco whatever he wanted, and he sighed to see that the tactic had been inherited. "As it is Christmas, I suppose it would not be wrong to indulge for the night, as long as I may join you."

His grandson grinned and nodded enthusiastically and Lucius joined him, thoughts of his marriage contract moved to the back of his thoughts for the night. He didn't return to bed until much later, after tucking Abraxas in and listening to him read until he fell asleep for good.