Calming the Seas
"Ah, there's the groom!" Lucius cheered. Narcissa looked up from her book to see her son in the drawing room doorway.
"Hello, darling," she cooed. Draco smiled as he leaned over her and kissed her cheek.
"Mother."
"How is the bride?" Lucius asked.
Draco dropped onto the chaise beside his mother. Sighed tiredly. "She insists on long walks in the forest. I believe I've developed a blister."
"Poor thing," Lucius teased.
Draco kicked his shoes off. Narcissa smiled. "I'll take a look at it later."
"Thanks, mum." When Narcissa returned to her book, Draco plucked it from her fingers.
"Oh, you!" She chuckled. "Don't be a prat."
"I need a favour, mother." He spoke seriously, even though he grinned as he held her book high above her head - well out of the petite witch's reach.
"This is no way to get it," she grouched. Then she dropped her hands in submission. "What do you want, awful child?"
He rested her book against his shoulder, still out of her easy reach. "I'd like you to take Story...shopping."
She blinked. The light in her eyes couldn't be denied. The witch loved shopping. "Shopping?"
"She needs things for the wedding. And Daphne is attempting to monopolise the planning. I think it's frustrating Story."
"I see."
"Well within your realm of expertise, love." Lucius winked at Cissa.
She nodded. "I imagine things will be...difficult for the girl without a mother to see her through this. If she wants, I'll happily accompany her."
"We spoke about it today, actually," Draco said. Narcissa was stretching across him for her book. He deliberately pulled it further away from her until Lucius took it. "She would very much like your company."
Narcissa tisked, clearly annoyed with the antics of the Malfoy men standing in the way of her literature. "It isn't so much to ask, you know. Me going shopping."
"Of course not," Draco acknowledged. "And you might finally meet your match. The Greengrass girls have at least one thousand pairs of shoes betwixt them."
"Hazard a guess how many pairs of knickers?" Lucius piped up.
"Lucius!" Narcissa admonished.
"I expect I shall find out soon enough."
"Draco!" She pursed her lips. Her husband smirked. "I shall owl Astoria in the morning. We'll set up a date. Probably best to take a weekend."
"It would mean a lot to her, mum." Draco sobered. "I think she wants to know you better. Or maybe impress you. Whatever pureblood girls do with their future mother-in-law's."
"She's probably just lonely for her real mother, Draco." Narcissa stood, surrendered to the knowledge she would have to retrieve her book by force. "It's difficult to lose a parent at her age."
"It was five years ago." Draco said. "Do you think it's too soon for her to be...getting married?" He leaned forward, messed with his fingernails in that way that spoke of nervousness.
"The family probably wants this bit of joy, darling," Narcissa answered. "The last few years have been dark for many of us." She was chasing her book as Lucius waved it just out of her reach. "And I think - dammit, Lucius! I think she's quite fond of you. Ah!" Lucius chuckled when she landed gracelessly in his lap. Folded her in his arms. "Though I can't imagine why," Cissa said, resisting laughter. "You're both absolutely impossible."
But she didn't seem terribly disapproving when Lucius' lips found hers, and Draco made a moue of distaste. It was always so terribly unsettling to see one's parents behaving like teenagers. With a sound of disdain, he left them in the drawing room, hearing Narcissa's book thud to the floor.
Narcissa stepped gingerly from the floo at the Court of Celts hotel. In the muted velvets and sumptuous marble lobby, she performed a brisk, thorough cleansing charm on her trim black suit. She had arrived at exactly eleven o'clock. Punctuality was pinnacle.
Fortunately, it seemed punctuality was pinnacle to her shopping partner, as well. A few steps away, the willowy, nervous form of Astoria Greengrass stood from its perch on a brocade chaise. "Mrs. Malfoy." The girl curtsied as if encountering royalty.
Very good. Narcissa returned her own demure bow. "Miss Greengrass. I trust your travel here was uneventful?"
"Of course." Astoria wore clothing far too mature for her age: a heavily pleated skirt, gathered jacket and ridiculously bowed blouse - all in an atrocious pastel green. "I thank you for taking this weekend with me, ma'am. It means ever so much to me."
"Not at all, dear." Narcissa abhorred pastels. The putrid parody of color was making her rather nauseous. She considered casting a discrete color charm, and had to hide the resulting smirk. "I thank you for arranging such fine accommodations for us."
The younger witch swelled a bit, cheeks colouring prettily. "I've always wanted to stay here. When I was a girl -" But here she seemed to check herself, as if becoming caught up in the moment's excitement had caused some small embarrassment.
Narcissa ignored the awkwardness, removed her soft kid gloves. "Shall we rest a moment and consider luncheon? I believe the elves have already delivered our luggage to our rooms."
"That sounds lovely. Oh!" Stepping hastily forward, she dropped her pastel umbrella, blushed furiously when she bent to retrieve it.
Quite suddenly, a depth of feeling for the girl swelled in Cissa's heart. Not exactly a maternal feeling, but one of abiding relation. I was this girl, she thought. She remembered thorny days at Hogwarts, trying desperately to be the witch Druella Black had wanted - groomed to perfection. Pristine.
But at least I had a mother. Narcissa attempted to visibly relax her own bearing in an attempt to settle Astoria's nerves.
The girl cleared a swanlike throat. "I arranged adjoining suites for us, if that's acceptable. I requested the finest view over Diagon. Apparently, we can see the Thames!"
"Extraordinary!" Narcissa took Astoria's arm and they mounted the curving gilt staircase. She hoped there was at least an ounce of excitement in her own voice, hoped that she could dispel whatever anxious aura surrounded her companion.
Their suites were indeed luxuriously trapped and indeed the Thames shimmered in the distance through an obviously charmed crystalline window. Cissa stepped out of her heels, content to let her stocking feet sink into thick carpeting. She sat on the end of her enormous bed and sighed, grateful for a moment away from Astoria. The girl's nervousness was contagious, and Narcissa's shoulders were stiff with tension.
They'd taken some time to 'freshen up,' which Narcissa suspected meant Astoria was leaning against her sink and telling herself to keep it together. She couldn't help a smile; the girl would learn in time. There was a strength in her that she hadn't yet tapped. Cissa remembered finding that strength within herself; how it had made her bold enough to not care, desperate enough to beg, and brave enough to lie - even to the Dark Lord.
Astoria Greengrass would do well enough, with time and some family nurturing. Except maybe for those pastels.
She was straightening her spider earrings when the knock sounded. Punctual again. One last flick at an invisible lint speck and she opened her door. "Well. Don't you look smart?" She asked.
Astoria had changed. A far more updated trim skirt and jacket in charcoal over a crisp white blouse. "I felt travel-weary," she explained sheepishly.
"Of course," Cissa agreed brightly. A vast improvement over your dead grandmother's sad pastels.
They dined at the hotel restaurant. Sat outside beneath a comfortable portico, watched the shoppers and travelers bustle past. Narcissa worried that the harder she tried to appear relaxed, the less relaxed she truly appeared. It seemed nothing she said put Astoria at ease. Cissa began to worry that this had been a dreadful mistake…
"Where do you suppose they're all going?"
"Hm?" Narcissa looked at the girl.
Astoria drank from her water goblet, set it aside hurriedly. "The people," she clarified. "Where do you suppose they're all going?"
"Well." Cissa folded her hands in her lap. "I imagine they all have...various destinations. We're shopping. Perhaps they are, as well. And...work? It's lunchtime. So many are probably -"
"I suppose I was asking rhetorically." The girl smiled shyly.
"Ah." A basket of warm bread appeared and Narcissa fiddled with the butter bowl.
"I don't wish us to be awkward."
"Nor do I." She set aside her buttered roll. Offered the basket to Astoria. The other witch took a roll, concern etching her pristine features. Narcissa stared openly. Truly absorbed her companion's otherness.
It was almost as if staring in a mirror some twenty odd years earlier. Astoria was dark haired and light skinned. Her chin was pointed to what some might consider a fault but a pureblood would consider a work of art. She had caramel brown eyes that seemed at first mundane, but then some trick of the light happened and they...morphed somehow. Took on a golden fleck that bespoke age beyond years, or perhaps just unanticipated experience. Or just perhaps some abiding mischief...
She had perfect posture. The kind that (Narcissa knew from experience) was taught with a heavy book, a hard head and no magical assistance. It looked almost painful, and probably was, especially now, when the witch and the witchlet squared off over a basket of fresh-baked bread.
Narcissa sighed. Took the high road. "Tell me about your brooch." She sipped her own iced water.
"Oh?" Blinking, remembering she was wearing a brooch, Astoria fluttered her fingers over the elaborate silver bird perched on her lapel. "Oh. It was my mother's." She smiled.
"What type of bird is it?"
"A kingfisher. A Halcyon."
"Halcyon?"
Astoria nodded. "Yes. The genus known as kingfishers are of the family Halcyonidae." She spread her hands gracefully when their food appeared before them. "My mother loved all birds, but this one was her favorite. Because of the myth."
Narcissa set to work on her veal. "Tell me about the myth."
"Well, basically the Greeks handed down a legend of a bird that nested on the sea, calmed it magically." She took in Narcissa's urging gaze and decided to expound. "The way my grandmother told it, the halcyon had traveled for weeks in a storm. Buffeted by heavy winds and hail, she longed to rest, and needed a safe place to lay her eggs. To deposit her treasure." Animated by conversation, Astoria's awkwardness seemed replaced by grace. Her hands talked as surely as her mouth did. Narcissa found it charming.
As her story continued, the girl seemed to lose herself. The afternoon sun lighted her doe eyes and cast shadows of her dancing fingers on the wall and cobblestones. "At long last, the halcyon used her magic. She couldn't go on any further, and saw no end of the storm in sight." Her hands spread, the thumbs forming a body of a bird. She fluttered her puppet, down, down to the bread basket. Narcissa felt hypnotised watching the balletic descent.
"Her strong beak uttered the song…" The hands spread, signaling a parting of clouds. "And suddenly, the seas calmed. The hail stopped. The wind died and the sun shone." The hands cupped, swayed again downward to rest on the table. "So the halcyon made her nest of gathered golden straw. Directly on the cerulean sea. She deposited her treasure, and the weeks of her incubation were calm and beautiful."
She shrugged as though her captivating tale was a mere trifle. "Explained the weeks of peace before their stormy season, anyway."
Narcissa blinked quickly, seeming to wake from the lull created by Astoria's theatrical narrative. She cleared her throat. "And explains the term 'Halcyon days.'"
"Exactly!" The young witch's relief couldn't have been more evident. She huffed a laugh. "I'm sorry I've been so terribly nervous."
"Unnecessary." Cissa poured them both wine. "Both your apology and your nervousness. I'm sorry if I've made you feel uncomfortable."
"No!" She practically lunged across the table. "No, please don't think that. It's just…" She shook her head. Drank her wine far too quickly.
"It's just…?"
"Well. You're her. You know."
"Who?" Cissa's fork paused before her face. A pea toppled from the tines, hit her plate with a plop.
Astoria poured more wine. "My mother in law. The Witch Who Lied. Narcissa Malfoy. Wait- " She framed invisible words with her hands. "The Narcissa Malfoy. It's intimidating! And there's only been my sister telling me I'm not good enough…"
The Narcissa Malfoy was blushing. Stymied. Watching but not hearing her companion who was still talking. The girl was growing more tipsy by the second. Cissa considered removing the wine, but they were making such progress. "Astoria."
"What?" Her cheeks were very pink and her diatribe halted quite suddenly.
Narcissa sat back. Leveled a business gaze at the girl. "I'm a Malfoy. Née Black. Neither of my lineages spark the finest of reputations. There is little to be intimidated by. I consider myself fortunate that a witch of such good graces as your own is willing to speak to my family, much less marry my son. If anything, I should be nervous. So. That being said, could it be more fear that you feel?"
"Not at all." Honesty laid bare on Astoria's face. "You've something about you. Makes you-"
"Unapproachable?" Narcissa finished.
"I wasn't going to say that."
"I'm a bitch." Cissa said.
"I certainly wasn't going to say that, either!" Astoria sighed. There may have been an accompanying waft of wine breath. "I simply want to be...close to the woman whose son I intend to marry."
"I see." Narcissa drank her own wine a bit more conservatively. "I believe I'm amenable to that." And the hundred secret questions threatened to spill. Do you love my son? Do you want to marry? Do you want this name? Would you grace an innocent child with the name of Malfoy?
But she didn't ask any of those questions. Instead, she pasted on a smile, leaned over the table, and said, "Do you have any pictures of your dress?"
Astoria grinned almost madly, and produced a few rolled parchments from her purse. They chattered over the pictures for the duration of their lunch, then set off for dressmaker #1.
At the shop of Dressmaker #4, they had to wait for the seamstress. Astoria's face held a drawn quality, and as they rested on a velvet settee, she leaned toward Narcissa. "You must find me dreadfully difficult to please."
"It's your wedding dress." Narcissa said. "It must be perfect. I assure you I understand. I feel no frustration."
"I appreciate your input." Astoria blushed. "I confess I would have no idea how to talk to these people. Your assistance has been invaluable."
"I'm pleased to have been of use."
"I really thought that last one was going to be the one."
Narcissa scowled. "Her materials were highly inferior. I don't for a moment believe that was real acromantula silk. And those phoenix feathers were dyed. Monstrous."
A brief silence fell. This shop, with its muted reds and golds and heavy tapestries about, offered a womblike ambiance. Enormous pillar candles flickered about, charmed so as not to overheat the patrons. Dusk descending outside lent a tired, comforting air.
They could hear the resident seamstress discussing business beneath a muffliato spell a few feet away. Witches were terribly guarded when it came to their wedding secrets. "I saw your wedding dress," Astoria admitted quietly. "Draco showed me." Narcissa regarded her with mild surprise. "It was exquisite."
"Thank you."
"Were those real diamonds?"
"Yes. It weighed more than I did. Dreadful thing."
A light snicker. "Well. I thought you were gorgeous in it." She blanched. "Not that you aren't gorgeous now! Because you are. Even now. Not that it's been so very long! Or that you're old! Because you're not! Old, that is. I mean, you're quite young, really. Younger than my mother. And just breathtaking. Oh, goddess…" Her head dropped into her hands, her humiliation complete.
Narcissa no longer reigned in her grin, but let it escape full force. "I'm truly flattered." Hesitantly, uncertainly, she rubbed the young witch's back. "You're rather pretty yourself, you know."
"Miss Greengrass?" They stood at attention when the seamstress appeared. "I'll see you now."
Astoria gave Narcissa a hopeful look, crossing her fingers before her face. "Call me when you're ready," Cissa said. She watched the girl and the ancient witch disappear behind several elaborate screens.
In an elaborate chifforobe was a display of several off-the-rack creations. Narcissa examined them critically. Much better. This needlewitch was worth her salts for certain. The materials - ranging from silk to satin to fine, opaque linens and tulle - were of fine quality. And her stitches were tight and clean. Lovely. In fact…
A bored-looking salesgirl leaned on the front counter. Quietly, Narcissa arranged for delivery of a few of the items to her hotel room, including a particularly intricate peacock-feathered hat. She was about to sit again when the seamstress appeared.
"Madame? The young miss desires your opinion."
"Thank you." Now she followed the elderly witch through a maze of screened partitions and sewing stations. A few charmed machines whirred softly as they passed. Unfinished masterpieces draped mannequins that shifted this way and that, offering angles and motion to potential dress shoppers.
At last, she was led to the largest partition. The seamstress produced an impossibly thin, needle-like wand and a door swung open. She ushered Narcissa inside, and the Malfoy witch gasped. "Oh, my!"
"Is it simply awful?" Astoria stood upon a miniature dais. She looked down at herself. "I must admit it's my favorite so far. In fact…" Emotion thickened her tone. "I rather love it."
Narcissa finally pulled her fingers from her lips. "It's perfect." There was naught but honesty. The dress was lovely. Simple and elegant. A smoky green satin affair reminiscent of chitons of olde. It gathered at each shoulder with clasps shaped like the triple moon, and seemed to fall against the willowy natural curves of the witchling's body. The bodice sparkled with a spread of star-like green apatite.
It wasn't the dress that took Narcissa's verbiage, but the fact she'd witnessed a girl becoming a woman within a few layers of fabric.
Astoria had stepped from the dais, examining herself in the charmed mirrors that moved to compliment her every turn. "Do you really think so?"
"I do." Narcissa approached. Had to touch the shimmery shift. It was sleek and silky - felt like new Spring leaves. Appropriate for a Spring wedding. "Simpler than the ones in your pictures."
"I know." She shrugged. "It just feels right. And the seamstress convinced me it is most flattering."
"She's right." Cissa dropped to one knee, fixed a slight curve of the hem. "This will need fixing. And perhaps let out just a touch." She stood again, couldn't resist cupping the maiden's cheek. "Astoria...your mother would be so proud."
The tears were not surprising, but the embrace was. "Oh, Mrs. Malfoy!"
"Ooph!" Narcissa reeled slightly before catching her balance. She returned the hug still uncertainly. "There, there. You'll wrinkle it!" But the witch felt supple beneath her fingers and strangely, Narcissa's digits wanted to caress.
"I don't care." The girl sobbed in her shoulder. "You've been so good - better than I could have hoped for!" She pulled back, eyes bright and moist. The dress made their color bold and exotic. "Mrs. Malfoy -"
A graceful throat-clearing interrupted them. "I presume the dress is satisfactory, then?"
Narcissa turned to the seamstress, as elegantly gathered as a ballgown. "I believe this one is the final selection, yes." She gestured for Astoria to dress herself, took the seamstress by the arm. They left discussing the last alterations to the frock. Cissa heard Astoria sniffle in the distance…
The young witch seemed distant for the rest of their evening. She could barely be interested in shoe shopping, so Narcissa knew there was something wrong. They chalked it up to hunger, and decided on the highly reputable wizarding restaurant atop their towering hotel. The Golden Goose's view was spectacular, and their intimate little table offered quiet relaxation.
Narcissa was rolling a snail in garlic butter when Astoria decided to speak again. "Mrs. Malfoy?"
"Narcissa."
"Hm?"
"Please, Astoria. Call me Narcissa. Mrs. Malfoy makes me feel positively archaic."
"I'm sorry."
"What is it?"
"What is what?"
Escargot required time for proper mastication, no matter how perfectly they were cooked. Narcissa, chewing, gestured somewhat impatiently.
"Oh!" Astoria nodded. "Right. I...I wanted to ask you something." She fiddled with a napkin ring.
"Go on."
"It isn't easy."
"I can tell."
"Did you love Mr. Malfoy? When you married him?"
So it was easier than it seemed, it seemed. Narcissa blinked a moment, surprised. Her snail went down decidedly under-masticated. She sought words in a haze of unspeakery. "I…That is to say…" A deep breath. "When Lucius and I were introduced...the expectations of pureblood families were far different than they are today. Less...liberal." Astoria was following every word from her mouth as though it was visible. "We were fortunate that we...cared for each other. And our families were very much in favour of the union."
Astoria's lips quirked. She was unsatisfied. "So...you were in love?"
Narcissa rested her fork beside her plate. Dabbed her mouth primly. "Astoria. I suspect my marriage is not foremost on your mind. Is there something you would like to tell me? Perhaps regarding yourself and my son?"
"No! No." The girl shook her head. "I mean, nothing...nothing negative, anyway."
"But there is something."
"I don't know how to speak my mind."
"It's simple." Narcissa spread her hands. "You simply let whatever is flitting through your mind fly out of your mouth. I shall demonstrate." As if taking sympathy, she leveled one of her own questions. "Do you love Draco?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation on Astoria's part. And she bobbed her head with conviction.
"And you want to marry?"
Here, she hesitated. Narcissa sighed.
"Astoria. Listen to me. There is no need to rush this marriage. If you wish to wait - to be certain - I cannot think of a better reason for postponement."
Astoria looked down at her fingers. "It's already several months hence. I don't want to -"
"Several months will pass very quickly, I assure you."
"I do love Draco."
"I believe you."
"And I know he will make an excellent husband."
"...I think the two of you will learn together." Narcissa was honest with the girl. "But I feel there's something you're not telling me. And I want you to feel comfortable telling me anything, Astoria."
She was quiet. Her prim lips worked as though trying hard to reveal...but her will worked just as hard to guard a secret. Finally, she simply whispered: "I'm sorry. I can't."
Narcissa sighed. "Well. If you change your mind, please...talk to me. I don't want to see you or my son unhappy." Suddenly, she was quite frustrated. She pulled her wand and tapped the golden goose statue upon their table, successfully paying for their meal before Astoria could protest. "I'm afraid I'm for bed," she explained tersely. "We've another long day ahead tomorrow and shoe shopping tends to be quite draining."
Astoria's eyes widened as they watched Narcissa gather her things. She seemed to realise she was somehow responsible for her companion's unanticipated fluster. "Of - of course. I'll see you in the morning, then?" She made no motion to leave herself.
"Yes. Do knock when you're ready to set off."
"Yes, Mrs. Malfoy."
This time, Narcissa let the formal address stand, briskly leaving the dining room. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what had upset her; something the girl had said, or something in her manner. It didn't bode well for the young witch to enter into her marriage coveting secrets, especially if those secrets threatened her own happiness. It frustrated Narcissa knowing that her confidences were being ignored, or worse yet, flatly refused.
She sighed heavily as she kicked off her heels and released her hair from its constricting clip. She dropped clothing in her wake as she shed it. (It may have surprised her own family, but Narcissa was somewhat slovenly when it came to her attire. So tedious it was. An elf would no doubt care for it.)
On the edge of an elaborate marble garden tub, she removed garters and stockings. She moved about the burgundy and gilt lavatory, wand lighting candles as the tub filled with hot water and dense milk-foam. After depositing her jewelry on the counter, she examined her body in one of several full length mirrors.
The candle glow muted many of what she saw as imperfections; troublesome thighs, buttocks seeming succumbing too soon to gravity, a belly a bit poochy. Still...not bad at all for 45. She gathered her hair atop her head loosely and secured it with a satin tie. Sank into bubbling bath with a moan of pure pleasure.
She flicked her wand, opening the curtains on the far window. The lights of muggle London glittered madly, defeated the very stars. But in the distance, she could see the small face of the full moon.
She twisted her wand in her fingers. Studied the swirling ebony instrument. She considered pleasuring herself, pragmatic even in the pursuit of libidinous gratification. Experimentally, she tensed her thighs. But the bath water made her lazy. She smiled slowly, thinking of sleek silken sheets. Oh, yes. A nice way to fall asleep.
Time to herself was a rare gift. It seemed at the manor there was always some small business to attend; some missive to write, an invitation to accept, Draco and of course Lucius. One or both of them seemed always in the periphery.
It will be good for Draco to be married. Out of the house and garnering his own experiences. His own man making his own family. As for Lucius…
Her lips pursed as she contemplated her husband. It wasn't that she didn't love him. She simply...hated him sometimes.
It had started with the Dark Lord's return. Narcissa resented Death Eater activities and all of Lucius' unsavory associates. She despised seeing the effects these people and their actions had on her son, hated that her husband would rather nurse his reputation to a madman than nurse his family.
And then things went terribly wrong on so many levels. Lucius' stay in Azkaban had only intensified her ill will, and she'd made no secret that he had much to atone for after their trials. But now his atonement had grown quite tiresome and she longed for his apathy again. Ironic. Once I counted the days until we made love, now I count the minutes while we do.
Her bed, her fingers and the comforting anonymity of dark grew more and more appealing. She removed the bath's plug with dexterous toes and summoned a plush towel from the cupboard near the toilet.
She was brushing her teeth hurriedly when a knock sounded at her door. Oh, you're joking. It could only be the girl. What could possibly be so important? She spat white mint froth into the porcelain sink. "Coming!" She cinched her silver dressing gown tightly, giving her bed a longing gaze as she passed it.
On the other side of her door, Astoria stood in a similar state, and a similar dressing gown. The two witches blinked at each others' attire, neither commenting. Finally, Astoria looked down the hallway, self-conscious.
Narcissa took pity. Opened her door wide enough for the girl to enter. "Is everything alright?"
"No." The younger witch made her way to Narcissa's wall of windows, placing one hand against the thick pane. Her other fingers played at the glossy brown hair falling wet and wavy over one shoulder. "I want to tell you something."
"Very well." Narcissa, resigned to a long, late evening conversation, took up the crystal decanter in the small sitting area. "Drink?"
"Please."
The furious green libation in the bottle was elven absinthe. Beautiful as polished emeralds and as powerful as one's worst enemy. Narcissa poured only a finger for each of them. She watched Astoria wince upon her first tiny sip, either from the sweetness or the strength. But she breathed an honest "Thank you."
The girl didn't seem apt to leave the view, and perhaps she needed it, so Narcissa curled her legs Yogi style on her bed. "What is on your mind, Story?" In the flickering lights of candle sconces, the willowy witch's features darkened. Narcissa hoped the shadows, and her own informality, would forge an intimacy of speaking between them.
"I want to tell you about last summer."
"Last summer?"
"My vacation. In Italy."
"Oh, yes." Narcissa nodded. "I believe you wrote Draco from Greece, as well?" She licked her lips, tasted bitter anise and sweet sugar.
"Mrs. Malfoy -"
"Narcissa."
"Narcissa." Finally, Astoria turned, faced Cissa squarely. The fierceness on her face gave pause. "I want you to know...I'm not a virgin."
Narcissa stared a moment before sighing heavily in relief. "Oh, good goddess. Astoria…" She gestured widely, smiled. "That is...That is to say...most young witches and wizards these days...they…" Why is this so difficult to discuss? "They are already...experienced upon their weddings. This doesn't make you any less -" But suddenly she paused, realisation and possibility tightening her gut. "Oh, dear. Astoria? Are you...in love with someone else? Someone you met -"
"No!" Astoria interrupted firmly. "Not that! Just…" She cast her gaze down. "Draco doesn't know. And he's told me that he's...saved himself."
Of course he has. I bloody well raised him properly. The thought came unbidden. It was no great surprise - these ungoverned teenaged witches, flitting about an island paradise in their skivvies… There was bound to be a loss of virginity somewhere. "You fear that Draco will think less of you if he knows you've already been with a wizard?" And honestly, Narcissa couldn't be certain what her son might think of that...
Astoria wandered toward the bed. Sat near Narcissa's knee. She sipped her drink as if harvesting courage from it. "It wasn't a wizard," she confessed quietly.
A heavy pause. Narcissa sipped from her own tumbler. "I see." She took a deep breath, prayed to be politic past her own internal cringe. When she spoke, it was with slow deliberation. "Astoria. I think...that after the war...there was a great deal of...muggle sympathy. And...I think that many witches saw some...attraction to the idea of… experiencing muggle men in that -"
"You think I fucked a muggle?!" Astoria blurted gracelessly, loudly. Then she laughed. True raucous laughter that Narcissa could only watch, stymied. "Oh gods above, this just became so much easier!" The girl breathed through her laugh-tears. She caught her breath before turning, drawing her own legs onto the bed. "Narcissa." She swirled the now-thin layer of absinthe in her glass. "I slept with...well...I suppose it is more appropriate to say I had an affair with...a witch."
"What?"
The last of the green fluid sluiced past Astoria's lips and she handed the empty glass to Narcissa. "I said...it was a witch."
"Oh." Narcissa, holding one empty tumbler and nursing the other, was even more stymied than before. "Oh my…" Oh my what? What to say? Her mind, currently loosed to roam by the imbibement, whirled possibilities, questions and (most disturbingly) scenarios through her reluctant consciousness. "Does that...does that even count?"
Astoria - who had sobered in the interim of Narcissa's feverish considerations - again burst into bubbling laughter. She leaned into Cissa's space and plucked the other tumbler, downed its dwindled contents herself, and handed it back. "I suppose it does if you bleed all over her acromantula silk skirt the first time." She wiped her face clumsily.
"Ah." Narcissa - now holding two empty tumblers - was frozen in surprise. "I see. Well. So. You worry that...Draco will...find out? That you...were intimate with a witch?"
Astoria shrugged, clearly emboldened by strong liquor. "Not exactly. I'm a witch. I know there are plenty of spells and potions that could easily make that secret forever safe."
"Then why…"
"I don't care if my future husband someday discovers that I had a summertime dalliance with a lovely witch who barely spoke a lick of English." At the word 'lick,' Narcissa went bright pink. "It's the other secret that frightens me." She leaned forward again.
Narcissa's eyes fell to the creamy swath of skin exposed by slipped open dressing gown and she barely felt Astoria pluck each empty tumbler from her cooled fingers. "What secret is that?" She whispered.
Astoria leaned even further past her, deposited their tumblers on a bedside table. Cissa smelled mint, vanilla and shea butter warm on a bared shoulder. Then fingers were cupping her jaw, turning her head just so. Astoria's eyes were bright, silver as twin stars. "The secret that I love my husband…" Anise breath hit her lips before lips did. "But I lust for his mother."
The kiss was a scalding, sweet, painful and gentle epiphany. Feminine lips were far different from masculine ones and while Narcissa had kissed and fumbled in her youth as all witches are apt, the kissings and fumblings had been with wizards. Pureblood, masculine, awkward, thin-lipped, pushy and clumsy wizards. As was proper.
Nothing like this. This overwhelming warmth and abundance of soft; soft fingers, soft lips, soft shoulders, soft satin that may well have been soft skin (and how was there so much skin so suddenly?) - anything but proper and everything...perfect.
When the soft lips slipped down the column of her neck, Narcissa arched it accordingly. When the soft fingers sought open the slivers of satin betwixt them, she cambered into the touch. Her own skin lit quick as a forest fire with gooseflesh and she couldn't even recall the last time she'd been so disomfitingly...wet. "Story," she whispered. No, stop. I meant to say stop…
"Narcissa." The witchling whispered back. Her fingers were exploring. Her slim body slid easily between Cissa's thighs. "Tell me to stop?" But even this request was murmured around a peaked mauve nipple.
"I can't." And Narcissa realised where all the flesh came from; that somehow, unbeknownst to herself, her own hands had been exploring. Undressing. And suddenly bare breasts pressed against her own and the peculiar contact was absolutely shocking. She wanted more, couldn't prevent bucking into the teasing fingers currently lodged between their similarly shaped abdomens. "Oh!"
They lurched together at the shared tickle, then froze in mutual wonder when Astoria's fingers found out the weakness leaking from the Malfoy witch. Narcissa bit her lip, clenched her eyes shut against the abandoned appreciation on her son's fiance's face.
It was evident the younger witch was experienced in this activity. Her fingers were certain and curious at once - instruments of torture. They were insistent in the cleft of Narcissa's cunt, stroking roughly in the seal-slick slit, knuckles bent; then gentle, barely brushing, barely tugging the swollen and protected clit. "You're so bloody wet," she breathed.
"Oh Merlin, please," Narcissa groaned. The knowledge was there, but having it pointed out verbally was surprisingly provocative.
"I have to taste you."
"Eep." It was not an attractive sound, but her throat was too closed up to make any other. Besides, the witchling - agile and quick - was already slithering down, down, and while both the promise and the making of the promise of the pleasure were intoxicating, the fully witched witch was well aware how quickly the progression.
Things seemed to be happening much too fast, or not at all fast enough. But her body and brain felt feverish, floating and out of her control. Her bent knees shook when the girl urged them further open. She whimpered and the sudden swirl of sinful siren tongue on her hot and eager core sent all sense dashing against the rocks of unreason. Her fingers filled with hair and she pulled as if she could reign in the magic unfolding. "Oh...fuck."
Astoria moaned at the rarely uttered oath from the older witch's bothered lips. Or perhaps it was the earthy, sweet essence she collected on her tongue like nectar from pinkening, dewy petals.
The hum vibrated strongly and Narcissa opened further, pressed her pussy more fully into Story's mouth. "That's so good," she whined. She felt helpless to the new and knifelike pleasure cutting up her abdomen. "I want…" Her head thrashed. She wanted too much, or couldn't express in this new language. "Mmmm." A frustrated groan.
Astoria took pity - and a grand fascination. "Shhh," she soothed her antsy lover. Kissed a curve of thigh. "Show me." She pulled a nest of feminine fingers from her hair, bit at them briefly (to a gasp of "Gods!") before placing them purposefully in impossibly wet witch furrow.
Instinct took over. Narcissa let her lust guide her touch. Unashamed, she flicked and stroked, pressed and rubbed as she was accustomed. But now her own fingers were chased by - caught up by - a devilish, eager mouth. The twine inside tightened, twisted. "Keep going," Astoria instructed tersely. "I want you to come round my fingers."
And she plunged one, two digits swiftly into Cissa's spasming heat. "Oh, sweet Circe!" Narcissa lunged at the penetration, curled like a spring-bow primed for firing its sure arrow.
"That's it, then. Good, Narcissa. Let go." Astoria coaxed and encouraged her thrashing lover. Her fingers fucked faster and she put her mouth back to diligent work alongside Narcissa's own increasingly fervent self-attentions.
So her only option was indeed to let go. To give in to the building pressure behind her eyelids and in her belly. The explosion was accompanied by an unencumbered groan. She curled toes painfully into duvet and soft girl-hip. "Ohohoh, Astoria! Shite…"
Satisfaction curled Story's lips: she was most pleased with her abilities to loose this tightly strung maven, to garner filth from her upper lips and flutter from the lower. "Gorgeous, Narcissa." One last gentling kiss to an abused clit and she licked her fingers like some lithe barbarian, settling up and atop her panting bedmate. "Simply gorgeous."
Narcissa turned her head away. There was an embarrassing sheen of sweat on her face and body. The girl was swirling fingers in the pool between her breasts and Cissa swatted at the hand. "Stop."
Astoria chuckled. "Sorry." She licked a nipple. Kissed, then nipped.
"I said stop!"
"I said sorry!"
"This was…"
"Incredible." Story sighed contentedly.
"Incredibly misguided." Narcissa had to struggle with wandering fingers, swatting and rearranging the other witch's naughtly hands. "Astoria!"
"What?"
It seemed there would be only one way to hold her attentions, so Narcissa bucked suddenly and flipped the fey deviant onto her back. "Listen to me," she said seriously, holding the girl's hands above her head.
Astoria slicked long legs slowly up Narcissa's thighs, curled a foot beneath her mussed dressing gown to toe-tickle firm buttocks. "You have my undivided attentions, madame."
"You're impossible!"
"Impossibly aroused right now," Story corrected. She giggled, pressed her own eager core to Narcissa's taut belly. "Kiss me."
"I'm - Mmmm!" Narcissa was silenced by zealous young lips.
"Fuck me, Mrs. Malfoy." The girl hissed boldly. "I know you want to. You're dying of curiosity." Narcissa searched the girl's face, didn't deny the accusation - couldn't, even if she'd wished. "Do it, then. Like I did you...unless you're afraid."
The Malfoy witch's eyes darkened, showed a hint of Black. "Afraid? Do you think you'll manipulate a Slytherin with that line?"
Astoria smiled. "I'm a Slytherin, too."
"Yes. But I'm a more experienced one." And not to be outdone, Narcissa took the plunge.
Astoria's body was firm and then. Her torso was long and her ribs protruded just slightly. Narcissa took her time exploring them, letting her fingers tickle until the girl squirmed, and even biting at the bone beneath pale skin. "Gah!" Story started at the unexpected action.
She bit her own lips, caressed Narcissa's sticky shoulders as she made her way down svelte form.
"Hmmmmmm." Story breathed happily when Cissa examined her shallow navel. A particularly sensitive bit of anatomy. "That's sweet…" Then teeth scraped protruding pelvic bone and the miss lurched. "Ah!"
Narcissa looked up from beneath long, dark lashes. The girl was grinning anticipation, stewing, and - playing confidence she didn't truly possess - Cissa ran a tingling touch from navel to nethers. "Yessss!" Story hissed. She whinged when curious fingers parted her folds but bent to watch intently Narcissa's exploration.
Narcissa knew her own cunt intimately enough. She'd never been so sheltered to be ashamed, and plenty of bitter lonely nights had led her to feel release was necessary to her very survival. Thus, she'd watched her own activities in the mirror near her big empty bed in her big empty manor more than once.
But Astoria was...different. No less pretty in its own alien floraconstruction, it was peachy, small and tight. The clitoris seemed to protrude just a bit more than her own, and Narcissa eagerly - experimentally - licked the nodule.
"Fuckinghellyeswitch! More!"
And on that first uttered obscenity, Narcissa felt her introduction to the power of providing pleasure. The rest was easy - in fact, most enjoyable. Remembering Astoria's own explorations earlier, Cissa sucked, swirled and flattened her tongue. She tickled sensitive slit with delicate, then rough fingers. But when she fucked the girl in earnest, Astoria reached for her pleadingly. "Kiss me," she gasped. "Kiss me while I come for you!"
Their bodies shifted, Astoria's legs bending to lean her into Narcissa and Narcissa's arm shifting to keep a rhythm between those shivering legs. They kissed passionately - mouths opened for breath and tongue. Cissa put her thumb into play over the hardened fold of skin and was rewarded by a keening down her throat.
"Narcissa! Yes! Ohhhhhh, sweetgoddessyes!"
Incredible. Cissa flexed her fingers, her palm in time with the girl's last long-lingering spasms. A slow smile spread across her sticky face as she watched Astoria's face contort with abandon. Is this how it feels to give that pleasure? Her fingers slowed before withdrawing.
The younger witch took a hitching breath and flung herself around Narcissa. "Amazing," she breathed, sighed into blonde-black hair. "Simply amazing."
Uncertainly, Narcissa held her gooey hand aloft for a moment before finally allowing it to settle on Astoria's back. Their bodies stuck together with a mixture of fluids the Malfoy witch hardly wanted to dwell on, and currently their skin cooled at an alarming rate.
Astoria gradually relaxed. Her breaths slowed and deepened until Cissa feared she was falling asleep. So she shifted, jarring the witchling awake. "Story."
"Yes?" Her eyes, still wide, were soft in the muted light. She stroked Narcissa's face.
"This was most...unwise of us."
"Why?"
Cissa sat up, began clumsily shoving bedclothes about until she could cover herself with more than her soiled dressing gown. "You are marrying my son, Miss Greengrass. It is beyond erroneous for us to become…"
"Lovers?"
"I was going to say involved." She looked over her shoulder at the still-lounging girl.
"Involved as lovers."
"Semantics, Miss Greengrass!" She snapped.
"Reality, Mrs. Malfoy!" Astoria sat up, pressed herself to Narcissa's back. "Did it not make you happy?"
"Of course I was happy, Astoria." She rested her chin on her knees. "Pleasure like that makes one weak. I was wrong to take advantage."
"I wouldn't say you took advantage." Story kissed her back, gentled her. "I was rather insistent."
"I should have been the mature one. I should have pushed you away immediately." Cissa sighed. "But I didn't."
"No you didn't."
She looked back at the girl. Couldn't resist her eyes… "What now, Story?"
Astoria shrugged. "I'd like to rest a bit. Cuddled here with you. Then maybe a bath. Then perhaps we could have another go, then sleep. Then breakfast. And I suppose another bath after that. Then we'll go dismal shoe shopping and maybe have another go before lunch? Or I suppose after, if we need our strength. Then we'll find hair fastenings and such and come back here for another go and then -"
"Astoria."
"Hm?"
"Do you think about anything other than sex?"
"Not really."
"I can tell." She slid from the bed. "Well come on. Let's bathe. I can't recall the last time I was this disgusting."
Astoria giggled, tiptoeing alongside Narcissa. "I suppose one does spread more fluids about with a witch than with a wizard."
"I noticed."
Their voices echoed in the marble bathroom, mingled with splashes and the squeaks of bodies adjusting in the garden tub. They faced each other, legs occasionally brushing, hands occasionally groping feet. "Can't we be this for each other, Narcissa?"
"Lovers?"
Astoria chuckled. "Semantics again." She bit Narcissa's big toe none too gently.
"Ouch! Dammit!" Cissa jerked her foot back. "Don't you think it's all rather...provincial? Carrying on with your mother-in-law? And how do you know I would approve of such scandalous activities from the wife of my son? Don't you think I want what's best for Draco?" Truthfully, surreality settled on Narcissa's shoulders like a golden fleece.
"I am what's best for Draco." Narcissa didn't argue. "I love him. I love that he wants to be a good man. A better man. I want to support him and help make him that. But I can't deny what I am inside, Narcissa. And I won't."
"And what does this make me, then?" She toyed with a tuft of soap foam.
Astoria smiled shyly. "The proud owner of a pretty young witch lover?"
Cissa's head rolled across the tub lip. She picked at a flannel hanging there. "Until you tire of me, I suppose."
Astoria stretched across the tub to be flush with Narcissa again. "More like until you decide I'm more trouble than I'm worth."
"Oh, I'm already well aware you're trouble." But she hummed contentment when the witchling settled between her thighs again. "I can't believe this is happening."
Astoria kissed her. "Quite. Let's not shop tomorrow. My feet hurt."
Cissa chuckled deeply. "Very well. What shall we do instead?"
Story turned. Wrapped arms around her companion's selkie form. "We'll stay in here and...calm the seas together."
Narcissa pressed a kiss to the part in Story's hair. Already, the dark clouds seemed to be lifting.
AN: To my own halcyon - as promised. Thanks out to the dragon for all the advice. This is definitely an experimental pairing for me, so thank you for reading, and do let me know what you think. Otherwise, there may be more Narstoria in my growing repertoire. Find a playlist for this piece on my profile! Part two coming soon.