Disclaimer: HP is not mine!
Harry leaned back into his chair, and stared at the woman before him - a trick he learned from the late Professor Dumbledore.
A potent trick, and combined with his reputation, most others would have spilled their guts already.
Lady Narcissa Malfoy, however, was far from the common rabble. There she sat, across from him, sitting straight despite the trembling in her limbs, and looking radiant despite her paleness and the crowsfeet around her eyes.
"Did my ears decieve me?"
Where other, scared women, would have shook their heads, this Lady looked him straight in the eyes, and replied softly but curtly, "No."
Harry licked his lips and leaned forward on his chair, "You want me to protect you and your son?"
At the mention of Draco, a sliver of emotion broke through. Harry might not have grown up with parents, but he had seen enough on Mrs. Weasley's face to recognize heartbreak.
He was not heartless, at least Harry believed himself to be a reasonable individual. But the thought of protecting the widow Malfoy and her spawn, the bane of his childhood, was asking a bit too much.
"After all the Malfoys have done to me and mine?"
She trembled under his sharp gaze, but remained strong. A flicker of respect made itself known. Was this how fiercely a mother would guard their children? Was this how Lily Potter looked before her demise?
"Yes." She bit her lips, "I understand there has been many... quarrels-"
He barked out a laugh, startling her. "Quarrels, is not what I would use to describe the depth of your husband and son's actions."
Harry rose to his feet, he may not have been tall, but Narcissa Malfoy was a very petite woman.
"My husband is dead, Lord Potter." She said with the very first visible strain, "What quarrel you have left with him no longer exist. Draco is but a boy when you two first met, and a very impressionable child. It is all his father's fault."
The image of a dark alley, surrounded by busy aurors. The stench of decay and blood. A filled body bag. Letters of blood on the filthy brick wall: Bigoted fag.
Lucius Malfoy, formerly the most powerful man in Brittain, gutted like a pig by an unknown assailant. Even the aurors were not terribly concerned with finding the culprit, deeming it an action well-deserved.
That was two days ago, and this woman appeared before him just after the funeral.
"With the murderer still on the loose, I fear Draco and myself would be a target next."
Harry looked back to her, and noticed she had re-composed herself. A shame, since she was not chewing on the delectable pink lips-
He blinked. Lady Malfoy was a terribly attractive woman physically, but she was still twice his own age, not to mention Draco's mother. The very idea should have sent him running.
"And I wonder, why are you here instead of the Auror's office?"
Her grey eyes blazed with the fury of a storm. "Have you seen how they treat my husband's body? They think he deserved it! They do not care!"
His eyes narrowed, "And what makes you think I do?"
She bit her lips. Yes, it was a wonderful sight. "I... Noticed how you have been... Ah," She licked her lips, "Looking at me."
Harry bit his tongue to supress the blush creeping up his neck. "While you are," His eyes roamed her physique, "Indeed, very attractive, that still does not answer my question."
When she rose to her feet, Harry had thought she would leave. His disappointment was banished when she pulled on the pin; that held her platinum locks in a bun; and let her hair cascade down, a veritable waterfall silvery silk. Two uppermost button of her blouse was undone, showing hints of what was hidden underneath as she leaned over the table.
The once proud and severe woman was gone, replaced by a woman who only appeared in Harry's wildest dreams.
Had there not been a table between them, Harry would have reached over and seized her thin waist, then pushed her against the wall as he took her.
The weekly poker games helped with his expression. Harry arched an eyebrow, outwardly unperturbed, but inwardly hooting like an uncouth barbarian.
But ultimately, it was not the table that held him back. There was desperation in her eyes, and it was the ugliest sight he had ever seen.
His boiling blood cooled rapidly, "You would trade your body for your safety?"
"And Draco's."
Harry sighed, rubbing his temple, "Go home, Mrs. Malfoy. I cannot help you."
She undid another button, leaned even further, her voice low and sultry, "Not even for this?"
He smiled tightly. "You are a smart woman, and have likely deduced correctly. So let me throw you a bone," Her eyes flashed angrily at his insinuation of her helplesness, "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy, I often wonder how something like dear Draco could crawl out from between those perfect legs of yours. Believe me, it took every bit of my willpower to not ravish you right now."
She flinched back, and Harry smiled bitterly. "But see, I like my women fierce. I like them writhing in throes of passion, forgetting everything as they screamed my name in ecstasy, and not thigking of anything else but me."
He circled the table, approaching her. Narcissa took a step back, and again, until her back hit the bookshelf of his study. Harry took the opportunity to trap her with his body, pressing her generous breasts against his chest, and felt her frantically pounding heart as he pinned her wrists above her head.
"Your intention is noble, Lady Malfoy." He murmured against her ear, "But you reek of too much desperation to turn me on."
Something brushed agaibst his crotch. He realized it was her leg. "That is not what your body told me." She said, eyes gleaming defiantly.
He smiled, "I did mention you are very attractive, and yes, I admit to having a crush on you when we first met." Harry leaned over her mouth, her pink lips parted, and their breaths miggled. "So, I will do all I can for you and Draco."
Harry pulled away from her, and instantly regretting his decision. She would not begrudge him one small kiss, surely; but it was too late. He turned his back on her, crossing the room to his liquor cabinet.
"You will?"
"I will try my best, yes, but I promise nothing." He poured two glass, and when he turned back, she had buttoned up her blouse and in the process of bunning her hair.
"And what would you ask in return?" Her voice had turned cold, and Harry regretted not taking advantage of the desperate woman.
"Nothing," He fell into his chair, massaging his temple. "Regardless of past sins, no one deserved it."
She clutched the firewhiskey with both hands. Her confusion was easy to guess.
"No one has ever done this for you? Offer help without asking for payment?"
She nodded slowly, sipping the firewhiskey and grimacing as it travelled down her throat.
"When you are done, my elf will show you the way out." He told her quietly, then left his study and the stunned, gorgeous woman behind, cursing himself all the way.
A/N
So, I had some time, and guess what came out?
I initially planned this as a sort of forbidden romance thingy, with Harry taking advantage of a desperate woman. But as I wrote it, Harry came out more naturally, methinks.
I also had a second scene written out, but Narcissa turned waaaaaaaay too OOC for my liking.
So, for now, this is it, while I wait for my brilliant but LAZY muse to awaken. (Yes, I am looking at you, little one.)
Once again, if you read this piece to this point, THANK YOU!
And for all you people who favorited and followed me, you guys kept me writing despite my workload.
Cheers mateys!