Title: Draco Malfoy smokes like a Chimney
Author: vegetasbubble / nightmareintoxicated
Summary: Draco Malfoy smokes. Set Post DH.
Rating: PG / M for sexual refrences.
Authors Notes: I’ve been wanting to write a Draco centric fic about smoking for a while. Here you all go and comments would be loved!
Word Count: 1617
Draco Malfoy, thirty one year old board member of Hogwarts School, started smoking secretly when he was fifteen.
He had snuck into his father’s study with his best friend Blaise and stolen two cigars from his father’s gold encrusted box containing the cigars he had importuned from Spain.
Draco and Blaise had run out to one of the small sheds that lined the back of the Malfoy estate, locked the door behind them once they were in and lit up the cigars in an instant.
Blaise had coughed and spluttered, abusing Draco about why he had wanted to try them. Draco had coughed himself, the smoke and tobacco making his throat dry and itch.
It was like this that Lucius Malfoy found his son and his best friend ten minutes later.
After that, Draco made sure that whenever he had a smoke, it would be privately and by himself.
But Draco never smoked heavily until he was thirty, the year that his wife got pregnant with his son.
The moment that she had come into his study, where he had been busy reading the ten year reunion pamphlet from his old school from two years ago, with that huge grin on her face, her pale blonde hair pulled back tight against her head and her make-up thick enough to cover up her already growing wrinkles she shouted, “Drackey, honey, we’re gonna have a baby!”
Now let it be known that Draco Malfoy loved kids. When he was younger and still at Hogwarts he used to love looking after the young kids next door to his home. His father used to despise him for it, but Draco didn’t care.
And Draco knew that the whole reason he married this woman, his wife, was to father a child, a Malfoy heir. And obviously all those nights fantasying about all the girls at Hogwarts he had had in his bed while he was making “love” to his wife had worked.
She was pregnant.
As she left his study, Draco paled.
What if the child was nothing like him, and more like her? What if the child was a spoilt girl, instead of a worthy son? He had promised his mother long ago that he would name his son “Scorpius” after his great-great grandfather, and if he had a little girl, she would be named after his mother.
But as thoughts of names, diaper changes and the sex of the baby entered his head, the overwhelming need of tobacco took over and quietly, Draco opened his table drawer and pulled out his father’s old cigar box. Inside, which was supposed to be filled with twenty five cigars, was now only filled with one.
Draco’s final cigar.
Pulling it out of the box, he held it in both hands, his index and middle fingers of both hands holding the thick tube. Groaning slightly, he placed it at the corner of his mouth, fumbled for a match in his desk and lit the cigar, moaning in euphoria as the tobacco filled his being.
He and Blaise had learnt properly how to smoke when they were twenty one, on Draco’s twenty- first birthday. Slytherin’s from their grade all arrived with dates, presents and alcohol. Terry Nott gave Draco a box with five cigars in it, all wrapped up with a small gold band. Looking at Blaise, the two pulled one each from the box, and made their way into Draco’s room, away from the party.
For fifteen minutes, the two tried their hardest not to throw up when they smoked the cigars. When they could finally place, light and smoke them, the two returned to their friends, with no one the wiser as to where they had been.
But now, as Draco puffed on his cigar, he smiled. The last time he had seen Blaise, at his wedding five months, he had told Draco that he had quit smoking, “Bad for the wife, baby and all…you know,” Blaise had said, before he asked Draco to be the godfather of his child.
Draco had instantly said “Of course,” before having a celebratory cigar. His wife had scowled him for it saying it could cause “impotence” and Draco showed her he was not impotent that night, over and over again.
Three months later, as he and Blaise stood in the hallway outside the master bedroom in the Zabini household as Lucinda Zabini, wife of Blaise, pushed and pushed for the new Zabini heir to enter the world, Draco shared with Blaise his new collection of cigars.
“For old time’s sake,” Draco said when Blaise politely declined. Picking up the cigar, Blaise starred at it for a very long time, before shrugging and mumbling something along the lines of “what she won’t know-” and lighting it up and taking a long puff.
Five cigars later, the doors to the bedroom opened and Draco’s wife appeared with a rather large grin on her face. Her own hand resting upon her growing belly, she smiled at Blaise, “Would you like to see your daughter?” Obviously she had no problem with Blaise and Draco smoking outside the bedroom, because she inclined her head towards the bedroom, Blaise pulling the cigar out of his mouth, butting it out in the nearest pot plant the two had used for an ashtray before heading inside and seeing his wife and baby girl.
Valikyre, Draco’s wife, smiled and held her hand out towards her husband. There’s was more a friendship than a marriage. Draco was glad that she knew this. He would never love her, but he would protect her and their child for his entire life. Taking her hand in his, the two entered the bedroom where Blaise was sitting next to an exhausted Lucinda, her black hair all sweaty from the labor, who was holding and cooing at the small bundle in her arms.
Blaise smiled, his hand reaching out to touch Lucinda’s head gently. Draco was happy for his friend to have found love with his wife. Walking over towards them, he kissed his best friend’s
wife’s cheek gently, before looking down at the baby girl.
“What are you going to name her?” Draco asked, as Valikyre came and stood next to him.
“Well, Draco, if it’s alright with you…we’d like to name her…” Blaise smiled, “Aphrodite Narcissa Zabini. That is, if it’s alright with you.”
Draco knew that his mother would be dancing in heaven right about now. She loved Blaise like a son and would have loved to see him today, with a wife and a baby. Smiling gently, Draco lent down and whispered, “Welcome to the world, Aphrodite Narcissa.”
As the godfather to little “Aphro” as Draco horribly nicknamed his god-daughter (not realizing that he was naming her after a Muggle hair style), he took to having her around whenever he could. When Blaise went to work and Lucinda needed some time for rest, Draco was there first to look after the small girl.
It was on one of these days that Draco and Aphrodite were playing downstairs in the main foyer of the Manor that he heard Valikyre come down the stairs with a scream, “Draco!”
Looking up startled, he saw his wife was obviously in labor, her arm wrapped around her stomach protectively and water running down her legs. He owled Blaise and Lucinda, before calling for a medi-witch. Five minutes later, Draco and Blaise were once again, waiting outside the bed chambers of a pregnant woman giving birth. With little Aphrodite on his lap, bobbing and clapping her hands, Blaise smiled before seeing his best friend pacing around.
Grinning devilishly, he pulled a cigar box out of his pocket and offered one to his friend. Draco just smirked, took five and sat down, lighting one by one as they calmed his nerves. Six painstaking hours later, Lucinda came out of the room asking Draco to come in. Without revealing the sex of his child, she walked over to Blaise and smiled, patting Aphrodite’s head.
Jumping to his feet, Draco piss-bolted into the bedroom, and smiled when he saw his wife sitting up in the bed, her blonde hair plastered to her face in sweat, their child sucking heavily at her breast. “Come meet you son, Draco.”
Smiling grandly like he had just won the Quidditch World Cup (which was on his list of things to do before he died), Draco ran to the bed and peered down at the child.
He had no reason to be worried. His son looked just like him, white-blonde hair, pointed nose and high cheek bones. He was going to be a lady killer in fifteen years.
“I would like to name him, Scorpius Draco Malfoy,” she whispered, “Do you think?”
“A splendid name,” Draco said, wondering if he had ever told his wife he wanted to name his son Scorpius.
Removing the baby from her breast, Valikyre smiled up at Draco, “Hold your son, husband.”
Blaise walked in at that time to find Draco holding his son in his arms, his little hands wrapping around Draco’s hand.
“Blaise, come meet your Godson.”
Smiling, Blaise walked over to the pair, Lucinda following his wake carrying a drowsy Aphrodite. As Blaise looked down at the baby boy in Draco’s arms, he looked at his own child as the little girl yawned before falling off to sleep.
“Think we should have them betrothed?” Blaise asked, thinking it would be another way to keep their families closer together.
“Only if they fall in love with each other,” Draco replied, handing his son back to his wife. Turning to his best friend, Draco grinned. “Come on mate, come have a smoke with me.”