The Intruder

Narcissa padded softly from the kitchen to the sunroom. She carried two cups of tea and hummed an old Celtic tune.

The sunroom was aptly named, bathed in a warm golden glow and offering a magnificent view of her rose garden. Narcissa looked up as she crossed the threshold, eager to see if her white princess was blooming. Instead, she saw her dead sister at the breakfast table. "Bella," she gasped.

The teacups crashed to the floor, splashing her slippers and ankles with scalding English Breakfast.

"Mother?" Draco was behind her.

"Oh!" She cried, reaching for him.

"Hey!" Draco pulled her into a comforting embrace, rubbed her back. "What happened?"

Clutching her son, she peered back into the sunroom. It was empty. "I…I dropped the tea."

Draco laughed. "Is that why you look like you saw a ghost?" She shook her head vigorously, chuckling at herself. Draco waved his wand and vanished the mess. On one knee, he caressed his mother's porcelain ankle. "Did you get burned?"

"No, no. I'm fine, son."

"Sit. I'll make our tea."

"No!" She grabbed his arm. "I mean, I'll come with you!" As they headed to the kitchen, Narcissa cast a lingering gaze back to the empty chair…

Tea heard the clinking of cups in china saucers and parchment shuffling as Draco sorted the post. He tisked. "Father's written."

"Hm?" She was staring into space.

He blinked at her. "I said father's written. Mother, are you alright?"

"Oh. I'm fine. I'll read it later."

Draco tossed the parchment to the table. "More of the same, anyway. He misses you, begs your forgiveness as usual, finds France abysmal."

Narcissa scowled. "It's a banishment, not a vacation. What does he expect?"

Draco smirked. "I think he expected his loving family to join him."

She scoffed. "Drink your tea."

Lucius Malfoy was one year into a five-year banishment from Britain's magical community. He'd taken up with his French relatives – an unsavory bunch that Draco remembered less than fondly. Served him right, in his son's opinion.

Draco watched his mother's satin dressing gown slip from her pale shoulder. His trousers tightened. "Mum?"

"Hm?"

"Let's go upstairs."

Her face contorted charmingly as she processed his implication. "Draco! It's barely after nine!"

He stood and raised both brows. "Right. We'll get an early start." She wouldn't say no. He extended a hand. Pink and pretty, she took it.

If what they did was wrong, they were perfectly willing to accept being damned. The boy who'd grown up never knowing his mother joyfully discovered her in the most intimate sense. They'd been lovers for a several weeks, having flirted like Hogwarts 6th years for the first months of their new insular existence. Eventually terror of their attraction had given way to the excitement of the forbidden, and one stormy night, they'd simply hit the sheets. He was eighteen and in his prime; she was old enough to know better, but enamored enough to disregard common sense. They'd quickly become orgasm addicts.

It was after noon before Draco slipped out of his mother, and nearly one before he slipped into the shower. "You should join me!" He called.

"Hmph." Narcissa rolled onto her stomach and waved him away. She hadn't quite reached the shower-sharing stage.

Draco grinned. A wand-wave produced a firm spray of hot water in the spacious stone stall. There was no door to speak of, but the stall was large enough to preclude any enclosure. Thick mist built and billowed behind him as he lathered head to toe with mint soap.

He was vigorously scrubbing his scalp when feminine fingers wrapped around his cock. Instantly erect, he lurched at the unexpected caress. "Whoa! I thought you were knackered." Lips sucked at his shoulder. "Shite, mum…" He dipped his head under the spray again. "Let me rinse."

The hand on his erection stroked. "Mmmm." He wiped his eyes, and had to abruptly brace an arm against the wall when the pressure increased. "Oh, fuck Narcissa! That's sweet." She pressed against his back, free hand scraping nails gently down his side. Her breasts felt swollen and plump straddling his spine. When he started turning toward her, the nails dug into his hip. "Ouch!" He chuckled. "Settle down, witch. I just want a kiss."

The nails gouged his hip, slashed his skin. "Fucking hell, mum!" He spun to face her.

But she was gone. That quickly, she'd drawn blood and gone. "Shite." Draco muttered as he checked the bright, bleeding scratches.

He marched purposefully into their bedroom, naked and clutching his wand. "I hope you plan to heal this."

She propped up on her elbows, blew mussed bangs from her eyes. Draco was regarding her quizzically. "Heal what?"

He stared at her, then moved to sit beside her. Curiously, he touched her hair. Her wand lay on the floor in a soup of hastily discarded dressing gown. "How are you dry so quickly?"

"What?"

His forehead creased. "Mother. Were you or were you not just in the shower with me?"

She sighed. "Draco, I told you I will join you eventually. I just –"

"I mean now!" He insisted almost in a panic.

"No!" She responded. She noticed his hip. "What the devil happened to you?"

He jumped from the bed before she could examine the wound. His hand rubbed impatiently in his still wet hair. "Have the wards been disturbed?"

"No, Draco." She sat up, pulled the duvet over her bare chest. She was worried. "What's wrong? What happened to your –"

"Someone was in the shower with me just now." He pointed to the bathroom, mouth a tight line.

Narcissa gazed in that direction. "Darling," she said slowly. "There is no one else here."

He gestured to his hip. "I didn't do this to myself!"

Hesitant, she slipped from the bed, wrapped the duvet around herself and approached her son. "Stop pacing." She gathered her wand and knelt at his hip. Before her healing charm, though, she held her fingers up to the scratches, measuring them. "Perhaps I did it earlier. By accident. When we were – "

"I would notice!" He snapped. "You never…anyway." He let out a shuddering breath as she began murmuring healing charms. "Look, I know it sounds insane. But there was a witch in the shower with me." He met her eyes. "I know because she was…" He made a rather lewd gesture. "She was wanking me off!"

"Draco!"

"Oh, please, mum! That's why I thought it was you!"

"But I would never – "

"No, believe me. I know you would never."

She huffed, then shivered despite herself. "You think there's…someone in the house with us."

He sighed tiredly. "You think I'm crazy. But I told you last night that I think –"

"You think we're being haunted by Bella's ghost." Narcissa stood. Her son was nearly a head taller than her. He nodded. "Draco. That was a peacock last night."

"I know that!" He shouted in frustration. "I saw it. I let it out. But I swear…"

She softened. "You swear what?"

"I swear for a moment it felt like…like something else." He winced when she rubbed her hand over his freshly healed hip. "It felt like something very dark. Or very heavy."

"Son." Her fingers on his face were wonderfully gentle, not at all like the touch he'd felt in his shower. "I…I thought I saw something today, too."

Draco took the hand from his face and kissed its palm. "What do you mean?"

Halting and embarrassed, she told him about the tea. "I know it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Probably brought on by what you said last night."

"And if it wasn't, mother?" He asked the question quietly, as if he didn't really want to ask it. "What if you really saw her there? What if she was really in the shower with me?"

Narcissa shook her head violently. "No," she snapped. "No. It isn't possible. We're simply…tired." She turned away from him.

"The scratches?" He was incredulous.

"I did it! Earlier! By accident. It probably didn't sting until the water hit it."

"And the witch's hand I felt on my tadger?"

"Your imagination," she hissed. "And don't call it that!"

He growled. "You are being impossible, mother! And where are you going?"

"I'm having a bath," she answered briskly. "And there shall be no more talk of this."

"You can't be serious!"

She turned in the lavatory door. "I'm perfectly serious. And Draco?"

He flopped onto the bed, defeated. "What?"

She paused, looked down at a shyly scuffing foot. "Do you wish I was more like that? In bed, I mean." She blushed furiously. "You know – scratching and such. Getting into the shower with you. All that?" Her eyes, when they rose again, were amazingly childlike.

Draco chuffed. "Mother. This is hardly about –"

"Do you, though?"

He shook his head. "No, mum. I don't wish you were any different than you are." He tried to smile at her. "I like that I can see the cracks in your ice every now and then. Gives me hope I can melt it someday."

Her mouth quirked oddly and she nodded. "I see, then. Well." She walked into the bath chamber.

On the bed, Draco's forced smile fell. He looked skeptically at the open door of the lavatory. His mother may not have been convinced, but he knew it… A chill crept down his spine and his grip on his wand hilt tightened.

There was an intruder in Malfoy Manor. And this time, it wasn't a peacock.