Loosely based off of 'The Walking Dead'. Co-written with the most wonderful and deviant Mrs. Milfoy.
Day One: I Love Lucy
"Once again, ladies and gentlemen, we do urge you to take caution if you venture out into the muggle world. Also, please be mindful of any muggle-borns or muggle friends and family you may have."
Narcissa turned off the wireless. "Enough of that."
"You're not interested in what's happening?" Draco asked, looking up from his breakfast.
"Absolutely not. It's their problem." Narcissa said. "I for one haven't any muggle relations of any sort."
Lucius chuckled, turning a page of The Daily Prophet loudly.
"Something funny, Lucius?"
Lucius folded the paper and set it on the table. "It's amusing really," he said.
"What is?"
"We spend years trying to rid this world of muggles. Spending time in Azkaban. Risking our we hold dear...and now they are doing it to themselves!" He smirked.
Draco frowned. "What if it reaches the wizarding world?"
"Don't be daft, Draco," Lucius chided. "One would think you are some sort of worrying Gryffindor or lumpy Hufflepuff with that sort of question."
Draco pushed back his chair and threw his napkin on the table. "Excuse me," he muttered, leaving the breakfast room.
"Must you insult him?" Narcissa asked, finishing her tea.
Lucius leaned back in his chair. "It was hardly an insult, Cissa."
Narcissa pursed her lips and stood from the table. "Of course not," she said dryly. She started to walk past him and felt him grab her arm. He pulled her onto his lap.
"My darling," he whispered "I think we should celebrate when I get home this evening. Hmmm?" He said, pressing her into his groin. His hand wandered up her midsection until he reached her breasts.
Narcissa pulled herself off of him, trying to hide the look of disgust from her face.
"That yellow, lacy thing would be nice!" He shouted after her as she quickly left the room.
A few hours later Lucius was shaking hands with the elderly wizard across the table from him. "I do believe you will be quite pleased with our final proposal tomorrow, Mr. Romero."
The old wizard nodded. "I'm sure I will be, Mr. Malfoy. Please do give your lovely wife my best, won't you?" He said as he hobbled out of the room.
Lucius grabbed his walking stick and sauntered out of the conference room after him. My best. He smirked, waiting for the next lift. She'll be getting more than my best tonight. I wonder if I can convince her to let me....
"Mr. Malfoy!"
Lucius turned around to see his delightfully young female assistant running towards him. Her skirt was too short. Her shirt was far too tight. The way she poured his coffee always gave him a lovely view. Perfectly qualified. He adored her assistance.
"Yes, Mary?"
"Mr. Malfoy, I-" she swayed a bit. Her face was flushed. Perhaps a bit too flushed.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Mary? Are you alright?" She looked worse than she normally did after a session on her knees under his desk.
Mary swayed again, falling forward into Lucius' arms. The books she had been holding landed loudly on the floor. He tried to push her up but her feet slipped out of her heels and she fell deeper into his arms.
He felt a sharp pain in his left arm. The Dark Lord! he panicked. Don't be stupid, he thought and dropped Mary to the floor with a loud thud. He pulled back his sleeve and looked at the blood that streaked his arm. The bint bloody bit me! "Stupid bitch," he muttered as he rolled his sleeve back down. Mary moaned as Lucius stepped over her and headed for the stairs.
Lucius apparated out of the Ministry and into Diagon Alley, sneering at those who dared look at him. He passed a jewellery shop and stopped to look in the window. He stared at the gaudy diamond choker displayed in the window. Perhaps after lunch. I always enjoy fucking Narcissa while she's tied up in diamonds.
He turned from the shop and continued until he reached Knockturn Alley. Casting a habitual glance over his shoulder he walked down the stairs. Turning into one of the narrow passageways he spotted one of his favourite prostitutes and instructed her to be ready for him next Monday as he walked into the Pentacle Club.
"Draco, please. I can't listen to those infernal announcements any longer." Narcissa aimed her wand at the wireless, switched it off impatiently.
"Mum! I was listening to that! There've been reports of possible infection among magical people!"
"Nonsense." She sniffed. "It's hysteria. Magical healers overreacting. They're so damned obsessed with all things muggle. Like...a bunch of Weasleys."
"Do you honestly think this, whatever this is, won't affect us?" asked Draco.
Narcissa sighed. "Honestly? I do believe it's their problem. What was that article the other day?" she asked. "Something about muggle versus magical medicine? It takes them days to heal cuts, months to mend bones. For Merlin's sake they sew skin together! They just...aren't as medically advanced as we are." She turned another page in the latest copy of Style Witch. "Although I will say, Draco, I don't think it's a bad thing that you are interested in what's going on."
"So you don't think I'm some worrying, lumpy prat because I'm reading up on all this?"
"Oh, I think you're a prat," Narcissa said with a smirk. "But no, I see nothing wrong with your taking an interest in something and learning." Draco gave her a half-smile as she stood from the satee. "Now, if you'll excuse me, your father should be arriving shortly and I need to...be ready."
She barely heard his quiet 'I love you, mum' as she left the sitting room. She hurried up one of the manor's lesser used staircases, the feeling of dread growing with every step she took. She walked into her wardrobe, pausing for a moment in front of a set of drawers. Why do I subject myself to this? She pulled open one of the mahogany drawers and dug around until she found it. An ugly, yellow negligee complete with little black bows. It had been a gift from Lucius on their fifteenth wedding anniversary.
Narcissa let out an audible sigh. "I could have used another elf; but, no. No, I had to receive a negligee from the discount reject bin at Pared Mart," she muttered. She let her clothes fall into a heap on the floor.
For a moment, she stood naked before the wardrobe mirror, turning this way and that in the dusk's natural light. Her fingers skimmed skin - pale and trim. Not bloody bad at all. She wondered if Lucius even noticed. If he saw her when he fucked her. Doubtful. Her lip curled, and she cracked her own neck with a brisk tilt. Her shell hardened.
There were preparations to make. Embarrassing ones. But necessary...at least for me. In the well-appointed lavatory, she pinched at her cheeks before the vanity mirror, bringing up a bit more color. With a sigh, she opened the wicker door of the little potions cabinet and reached all the way to the back. Practiced fingers found immediately the ornate glass bottle. The charmed mermaid on the vial's cap winked at her.
"Bugger off," she muttered to the coy decor. She leaned against the edge of the sizable clawfoot, cocked a thigh to spread wide. Looking at the ceiling, she tilted a generous dollop of magical lubricant onto her two fingers. A scowl as she inserted said fingers into otherwise dry womanhood morphed to a slight smile.
The jelly melted in her heat, and a pleasant tingle erupted. She bit her bottom lip. At least there's this. She wondered when Lucius would arrive. If he stopped at the club, there might just be time...
Deciding to chance it, she slipped now slick fingers from slit to clit. Circled the precious organ with a teasing touch. She allowed her muscles to slack and closed her eyes, let her mind drift. The hands stroking her thighs were no longer her own, but masculine; thick, long fingers, neatly groomed nails.
"Mmmm," she moaned quietly as the hands stroked closer and closer to her tingling need, pulling back when they seemed near enough to satisfy. Then fingertips, rougher than her own, were stroking her feathered folds.
"Yesss," she whispered. Beneath gaudy yellow lace, the fantasy fingers dipped to sample warming wetness. She felt herself open up, felt pleasure fold in her abdomen and prepare to unfurl. Her invisible lover pressed close to her, his heavy body pressing to hers.
She could imagine her own slender fingers on his skin, stroking over taut muscle, the planes and dips of abdominal muscles. It left her wanting more. A second finger joined her first as she imagined finally opening her eyes; the thin trail of hair trickling down his chest, a shallow navel she could kiss, thin, boyish lips that would pleasure her soon enough, and the seductive silver eyes of... "Draco!?"
The name past her lips and before she could even begin to process her imagination's ultimate betrayal -
"Narcissa!" Her husband's voice echoed from their chambers.
Dammit! Flustered, frustrated and more than a little disturbed, she bolted upright. The delicate vial of lubricant tumbled into the porcelain tub and cracked loudly. "Shite!" She cursed through clenched teeth.
"Darling?" He was near the door of the lav.
She stood before the sink again, steadying her breathing and attempting a casual air. "Yes, husband?" She quickly washed her fingers, used the water to touch her loose hair into place. When Lucius entered, she turned toward him with a placid look that said nothing was amiss.
Lucius on the other hand, looked very much amiss. She blinked at him. Rather disheveled and pink, though possibly from drink. Wonderful, she thought. This will take forever. "Are you alright, Lucius?"
He waved off her concern. "Fine," he huffed. Tried a cocky smirk. "You look rather delicious."
She gave a tiny twirl. "I aim to please."
"Hm." He pulled her into his arms. She remembered a time when the embrace would have meant something. "And you always succeed."
Do I? She wondered as he led her to their bed, shedding his somewhat rumpled attire on the way. And when I don't succeed...which whore does?
There wasn't much seduction involved in Lucius' seductions. She was on her back, he was on her front, and his mouth tasted like firewhiskey and cigar. His hands were particularly clumsy tonight, too rough on her sensitive nipples. And she heard a delicate black strap snap on the negligee he'd requested. Good. Hideous scrap of ugly. I won't miss it.
The fingers traveled quickly, as she'd expected, and she turned her head when he whispered in her ear. "Gods, you're wet for me, witch."
"Mmhm." She winced. Thanks to my Mystic Mermaid Magical Glide. I should really write the Soul Freak Company a thank you letter. The tacky lace was pushed aside and her tacky husband pushed inside. One. Two. Three thrusts. She squeezed her eyes shut. I give him six or seven thrusts tonight. If the goddess is kind - less than that.
And it seemed the goddess favored her. Lucius slowed his rut, and came to a stop, breathed steadily into her neck. "Husband?" She opened her eyes. Something was wrong. Silence. "Lucius?" She felt him soften suddenly. "Are you well, darling?"
He was not. His body gave a small jerking motion. There was a worrisome hiccup. "Lucius." A minor panic set in and she pushed at his shoulders. He was so damned heavy. "Lucius!"
His reply was a cough - and then a sudden stream of hot, slimy vomit poured onto her face, neck and chest.
"Oh, gods! Lucius!" She scrambled beneath him, slithered and struggled free. She fell over the bed's edge and staggered to her feet. She knew she made quite a sight, ruffled and covered in sick, torn lingerie revealing an abused breast.
Lucius vomited again, retching on all fours like a dog. Narcissa flew to her wardrobe for her dressing gown. "Cissa..." He gasped. Reached for her.
Hesitantly, shaking, she took his sticky hand. "Come, husband," she managed. "To the - to the lav." She steadied him, rushed him across their chambers. When his bare feet hit the tile, he bent double and puked again. The pinkish fluid splattered loudly, splashed her feet and legs.
"Ah!" Gracelessly, she dropped him. Watched with a hand over her own mouth as he dragged himself through his own filth to the toilet. He hugged the seat, pressed his cheek to the cool surface.
Narcissa swallowed her own acid bile. Her fingers barely patted his sweaty back. "There, there..." She backed away. "Probably something you ate, love. Just...just get it all out." Another pitiful retch. He moaned. "I'll - I'll be back to check on you soon, Lucius."
She fled unashamedly, pausing only to retrieve her wand from the bedside table. Her untied dressing gown flapped about her legs as she rushed from their chambers and into the dim corridor beyond. There was a guest room down the way - one of many with an en suite lavatory - and all she could focus on was a bath. The smell of sick warming on her body was cloying, a gauche of rot and walking death.
She raised her wand to the locked latch of the nearest guest room, prepared to hiss her spell when:
"Mum?"
Oh gods, no. Her body tensed and froze. She took a deep breath. Control. Tried to smile. Turned stiffly to her son. "Draco."
He stood framed in the low light of his adopted reading room, staring quizzically at her. She watched quizzical turn to concern. "Hell, mum. Are you alright?" He made to approach her, but she threw her arm up between them, a definite 'stay away' implied.
"I'm fine, son. Just..." She nodded. "Your father's sick and I -"
"No argument there," Draco interrupted. He came to her despite her protest. His nose wrinkled. "Mother." He tilted her chin up to face him, gestured to her barely dressed form. "Is that -"
"Draco. Please." She wasn't certain how much more she could tolerate. Between her husband's vomit and her son's smothering concern, she felt herself withering. "I need to wash up. Badly." Her voice trembled and humiliation loomed. She managed to pull her dressing gown over bared breast. "I assure you I'm fine. Please. Let me..."
"Go on." Draco finally understood. He backed away. "But if you need me..."
Tears welled. Such a good son. Then the memory of her earlier abbreviated fantasy punched her in the sternum. She lurched away. "Thank you, son." She slammed the door, leaned against the wood and felt her own nausea threaten. The room's true-black darkness was cool comfort.
Even in the loo, she lit no sconces.