He can't be expected to understand. Narcissa touched the ends of her hair to her lips, watching her son sulk against the stone railing. But he has to know it's wrong. I'm his mother. Her other fingers lingered delicately over the card - the two of cups.
"Still with me?"
"Hm?" She was shaken back to immediacy, tearing her eyes from her son's lanky brood to Marie's seductive stare. "I apologize. I was..."
"No apologies necessary...mum." Marie's suggestive tone and wink were unsettling. But her appraising gaze upon Draco was even moreso.
Narcissa bristled and pushed noisily away from the patio table. "Thank you kindly for the reading, Elle." She spoke brusquely, swiped at the front of her frock. "I believe I'll have a constitutional now."
"Now?" There was something always so knowing in the elder sister's voice - and bordering on mocking. It made Narcissa defensive.
"Yes. It's a lovely day." She looked to her son. "Draco? Would you accompany me?"
A flash of guilt when his surprise was evident. Embarrassment swept up her neck and into her face. "Accompany you?" He gestured to himself as if to say "Me?"
Narcissa colored further. He could have been a bit more insinuating... "Yes. Sometimes sons join their mothers on walks."
He blinked. His eyes were the color of the not-quite-storm-clouds meandering overhead. His arm bent toward her and she took hold of it. "Of course, mother." Marie was laughing softly as they left the porch, her cards shuffling in her hands and ice cracking in her mint julep.
By unspoken agreement, they ended up on the worn path to the pond. At the back of the property - what Maite called the 'north 40' - was a sizable marshy pond. There were ducks there and other swamp life, including a slow but ill-behaved alligator called Mr. Tom.
The Malfoys walked in companionable silence. If there was tension between them - and there absolutely was - Narcissa managed to cloak it by humming. Her fingers absently stroked Draco's arm through his linen shirt. The sleeves were rolled to beneath his elbow and occasionally, she felt his cool skin.
Draco's face seemed impassive, for most of their journey. But as the pond and its pussy willows came into view, a smile spread. "What the devil are you humming?" He asked.
She chuffed laughter. "Something Maite and Aizan sing sometimes." They approached the water's edge and like a boy, Draco took up a handful of stones to skip.
"It has words?" He asked, tossing his first stone.
Narcissa watched the flat rock skate across the stillness. "It does." She climbed onto a smooth boulder and sat, tucked her legs beneath her gracefully.
"Sing it."
"What?" Her eyes widened charmingly.
Draco grinned. "I said sing it. Sing the words."
She considered. Hadn't sung to him since he was a baby, really. Oh, well. What's to lose? She cleared her throat, ignored the heat edging its way into her cheeks. In lullaby range, she sang.
"Peaches in the summertime Apples in the fall If I can't get the girl I love I don't want none at all."
Draco watched her. She felt his eyes as though they were his fingers and turned her head away from the stare. A pussy willow bobbed against her hip and she took hold of it, plucking at the grey tufts as she sang.
"Shady grove, my little love Shady grove, I know Shady grove, my little love I'm bound for shady grove."
Still his stones skipped, making an occasional jazz rhythm to accompany her smooth tones. He was so quiet...
"When I was a little boy My mama told me If I never kissed a girl My lips would grow all mouldy."
She finally hazarded a glance at her son. He was smirking, head bobbing lazily as he selected another stone for skipping. A curl of overlong blonde hair fell over his right eye. He blew it away absently.
"When I was a little boy I wanted a whittlin' knife Now I am a great big boy I want a little wife."
Hands empty of stones at last, he brushed them clean on khaki trousers. Narcissa tensed only slightly when he leapt onto the boulder beside her and sat. Folded long arms over raised knees and stared out at the pond.
"Peaches in the summertime Apples in the fall If I can't get the girl I love I don't want none at all."
Her eyes closed. The crickets had joined her song with their own, and the ducks made their ways home to roost. Such was peace.
"Shady grove, my little love Shady grove, I know Shady grove, my little love I'm bound for shady grove."
She felt the denuded pussy willow plucked from her fingers and looked down. Draco's hands - a man's hands now - tossed the abused foliage into the drink. She didn't look up at his face. "Lovely song, mum."
She shrugged. "I think it's quite old. And they sing it differently every time." Crickets. Ducks. A loon. Cicadas. How could there be such silence with such noise?
"Mother."
She closed her eyes again, prayed for patience. Prepared her mantra. I can't do this now, son. Please. Can't we discuss this some other time? Or never? "Yes, Draco?"
"You've been to New Orleans?"
Her eyes snapped open. What? "Yes...with Marie and Maite a few times."
"Do you like it?"
She regarded him. He still stared at the water, not at her. "I do." She answered hesitantly, uncertainly. "I find it invigorating in its...strangeness."
"I want to go." He finally looked at her directly. And there was the spoiled determination she remembered from his youth; only now, the look was less petulant and more...sultry. When had his lips grown so full? A brief memory of that fullness suckling her tongue - "Come with me?"
She suddenly remembered to breathe. "What?"
"Come with me. To New Orleans." He stood, offered her his hand. "I'll need a tour guide."
He pulled her to her feet with ease. "If you like," she said. "Perhaps if Marie and Maite have business -"
"Just us."
"Well, I'm not truly certain..." She couldn't contain a tiny yelp of surprise when he lifted her from the boulder by her waist. When had he grown so strong? A brief memory of that strength pinning her back to her vanity's mirror, the hands harsh on her hips -
"I'm certain we'll be fine on our own." The firmness in his voice put stop to any argument she had. It did something else, too - stoked an ember in her abdomen.
"Oh," she murmured. She stood quite close to him, held her breath, waited for...what? He flicked at her shoulder. She looked down to see her peach colored scarf had come loose. Draco had sent it trailing down her back.
"I like the new look, mum," he told her. "But I miss your hair sometimes."
"Ah." And a part of her wanted more just then. Wanted something. Something nameless but no less wrong. Something she saw in the flirting eyes and shy smiles of various plantation worker-boys - the ones her son's age or sinfully younger. The promise of a long night of hard fucking, of sweat and wonder. Discovery. The awkward eagerness of first time. The hard body...and tender virginity...
Draco's fingers skimmed her jaw. He stepped away, left her hypnotised, muddled. "We should head back," he whispered. "Dinner soon."
She nodded, let him take her arm. As they walked the shady lane back to the house, Narcissa rested her head on her son's shoulder. She wondered - briefly, vaguely - if he still possessed that tenderness. Wondered if - as her son - he wouldn't always be so innocent.
A flash of his eyes that night, reflected in her vanity's mirror as he spun her, kissed her, owned her. Terrified her.
No. She squeezed his bicep. Probably not so innocent anymore. She couldn't decide if she was saddened...or thrilled.
They parted ways at the second floor landing - each to their prospective lavatories. Narcissa was eager to wash away the afternoon's thin layer of sweat. She selected a long violet cotton frock from her wardrobe, paused for a moment to close the storm shutters opened onto her balcony.
In the hallway, she heard water running in the loo across the way. Draco was obviously having a bath, too. Again, she compartmentalised; closed off the images of him - a pale, hot marble statue sluiced with wet - and padded barefoot to the larger lav at the end of the hall.
The 'master bath' (as Maite and Marie referred to it) was far larger than the guest bath. Elaborately decorated with fleur de lis tiles, it sported a balcony of its own. It was a guilty pleasure - bathing with those shutters opened. The morning or evening air cool on clean, warm skin. She smiled in anticipation.
But her smile faltered at the cracked lavatory door. There were sounds inside - the sloshing of water, drips and splashes, whispers echoing and (most telling) muffled giggling.
"I told you to stop biting, you naughty minx!" It was Marie's unmistakable drawl. Narcissa bit her lip, looking down the hall uncertainly before pressing herself to the wall outside the door.
"I can't resist, sissy!" Maite's tease. "I was gone for a week. Didn't you miss me?"
A breathy moan of pleasure. "Oh, Ev...fuck that feels good."
"I know."
Narcissa recognised the sound of kissing - of lips meeting, sweetly sucking. She gripped her frock across her belly, fingers kneading the fine linen. Her other hand pressed flat to the embossed wallcovering at her back.
Damn my curiosity... Slowly, she turned her head. The crack in the door was a sliver, but offered a superb view of the clawfoot tub...and the two witches inside it. Not to mention the full-length mirror in the background managed to capture any hidden angles.
Maite straddled Marie, holding the petite sister's head in elegant fingers to maneuver her for kissing. Marie's small hands were no less busy, massaging Maite's full breasts, tugging harshly on the excited nipples. "I did miss you, lovie," she murmured into Maite's messy brown locks, nuzzling her ear. "I missed your tits."
"Yeah?" Maite shifted, one arm dipping into the bathtub. "What else did you miss?" Marie jolted in response, arched and cried out. Her fingers gripped Maite's shoulders, knuckles white. "Did you miss my fingers, Elle?"
"Yes!" Marie's head rolled heavy across the tub's lip.
Maite attacked her prey's bared neck, growling and devouring Marie's sensitive skin. "They think you're so proper," she murmured. Marie cried out again, leg spattering water across the tile as it bent suddenly over the bath's edge. "If only they could feel how tight this cunt is for me." She grasped Marie's hair, forced the sister to check the mirror. "See what a slut you are right now?"
"Ev! Oh, gods!" Marie's arm wrapped tight round Maite's shoulders as she tensed and surged. She bit when she came, groaning through orgasm like an animal and leaving red crescents on Maite's collar bone.
Maite chuckled, nipped at Marie's jaw while they caught their breaths. "So beautiful when you come," she whispered.
"Mmm. Am I?" Marie rubbed at one of her bite marks. "It's been so long, Ev. I've forgotten what you look like when you come." Swiftly she turned the tables, shoving her sister backward into the water. Waves swept onto the tile. "Care to remind me?"
"Oh!" Maite grinned, slipping as she attempted to right herself. Her laughter turned to a gasp when Marie caught hold of her wrists.
"Up." Marie instructed succinctly. Maite's face sobered, a mask of seriousness not quite concealing blatant carnal expectation. "Like I like you, please."
"Yes, ma'am." Maite was quick to arrange herself against the tub's back, knees hooked over the rim, opening herself lewdly. She stroked down the inside of one thigh, yelping sharp when Marie smacked the wandering hand away.
"Don't touch!" Marie smiled at her sister's compliance, licked swollen lips as if anticipating a hot plate of Aizan's bread pudding. She moved closer to Maite, caressing her from her shoulders down. "Were you good in New Orleans, little sister?"
"Yes, ma'am." Maite whimpered. Narcissa knew it wasn't fear that made her voice quiver so.
"Hmmm." Marie suckled a pebbled nipple. When she bit it, Maite groaned. "I highly doubt that." Her fingers traced delicate designs on Maite's stomach and thighs. "No pretty city boys?" In the mirror, Cissa could see a finger penetrate Maite's swollen folds, pumping slowly.
"No, ma'am!"
"I don't believe you." A second finger joined the first.
"I promise!" Maite thrashed, gasping pleasure. Her fingers were death gripping the tub lip.
"Girls, then?" Marie managed an intimidating interrogation despite her own excited flush. "Am I gonna taste another pair of lips on your sweet pink pussy?"
"No, ma'am! I swear!"
"Oh, you swear, do you?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Marie's other hand disappeared suspiciously behind her sister and Maite's eyes widened. "Not yet, you don't." Then Marie's head dipped to taste Maite's lust and the younger sister's swearing began in earnest.
"Shit! Elle, goddamn! Oh, fuck!"
Narcissa released her bottom lip. It was tingling from blood loss. The sisters were loud, obviously beyond caring who knew of their salacious activities. And she would be a liar if she claimed those activities hadn't caused a tightness in her own cunt.
But she forced herself to turn away, to step forward. Back to my room. Her bed called to her; hidden away behind mosquito netting, her own fast fingers could bring her relief, release. Pleasure was promising.
But she'd barely made two steps when the guest bath door opened and her son stepped straight into her line of vision. Bare from the waist up, water dripping down the 'v' of his abdomen to a hidden intersection of bliss, he took her in quickly. "What the hell is all that noise?" He asked.
Narcissa shrugged, flustered. "I think...the other loo is in use." She blushed deep scarlet.
"Ah." His eyes travelled over her head to foot. "Well use this one. I'm done."
"Alright." He didn't move as she stepped past him into the lav. She felt his eyes on her the entire time, and when the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and breathed.
Her bath had been in turns frustrating and fulfilling. It was a relief to wash away the sweat, shame and stickiness associated with her voyeuristic turn. But the temptation to touch herself - to achieve that same orgasmic end - had been daunting, worsened by the lingering scents of patchouli and sandalwood from her son's bath.
Draco... She rested her neck on the tub's cool lip. The reason self gratification remained just out of reach. It seemed that ever since that evening (as she had come to call it) back home, that evening he'd...nearly had her...she'd been unable to pleasure herself without Draco's intrusion. It made her feel savage, angry. Disgusting.
The plantation house was a working one. It sported some fantastically beautiful worker boys. She watched them come and go all day, often catching her curious eyes with their own. Sometimes even smiling shyly. Offering her a promise if she wished for it.
And she did wish for it. Ached for it, in fact. As if her very age demanded the sacrifice of their young lust.
But she was a mother. And young they were. Too young. As young as her son or younger. So she turned away from their smiles and blinked away from their eyes. She thought of Marie and Maite...of the rumors about the sisters and their questionable dalliances with the help.
Narcissa's lips pursed. She scrubbed at her face with a worn white flannel. She was a decent woman. Would never stoop so low as to take advantage of the innocent in such a way. Wouldn't stand for Draco to be taken advantage of in such a way!
So she only had them in her fantasies. The beautiful boys. She took their promises in her imaginings. Felt their eager, curious hands on her flesh. Fantasy was wonderful that way, allowing her to fashion them as she saw fit - cocks long and slender and reaching, or thick and stony and stretching. And they fucked her as she saw fit - fast and hard behind the woodpile, or slowly and attentively in her moonlit bed.
But always at her moment of completion, when the coil wound too tightly to go unsprung, it was Draco who appeared above her. Or behind her - sweeping her hair aside and hissing in her ear like the snake he was. Snapping her mind back to reality. She threw him away from herself, the fantasy dissolving in a plume of black smoke and the balls of her hands pressed hard into her eyes as she cursed herself for crying.
Weak witch. She used her toes to pull the tub's plug and dressed impatiently, wrapped her head in cerulean silk. She compartmentalised; thoughts of her son for later, thoughts of food for now. Her stomach growled and her toes patted cadence as she rushed downstairs to the dining room.
The place settings were out, but no diners had arrived. She heard the sounds of Aizan's unique trill echoing from the kitchen and went to investigate. As she approached the swinging doors, she heard her son's voice as well...and music.
She walks so fast She looks so sweet She makes my heart actually skip a beat.
She froze in the doorway, peeking around the jamb and holding her fingers over a growing smile. Aizan's nephews - Felix and Caspar - were laughingly teaching Draco a complicated dance maneuver. Aizan was moving along with them, smooth and languid as she prepared dinner, occasionally chuckling at the boys' antics.
My girl's the best and that's no lie She tells me that I'm her only guy. That might be true but my girl's a joy She don't play around She's right to the point.
Felix, the eldest of the two nephews, held Draco's hands between them, encouraging him to step forward and backward. Meanwhile Caspar, smiling brightly, was demonstrating a spirited lean-back. But Draco - for all his good natured intentions - seemed to have difficulty coordinating the two movements at once. His eyes, however, creased with humor and sparkled. And it had been so very long since she'd seen him look so genuinely happy...
My girl's like candy A candy treat She knocks me right off of my feet.
They abandoned the step. Felix waved his hands dismissively and moved on to a spin. This Draco mastered surprisingly quickly, and soon Aizan was hooting appreciation as the trio whirled in tandem and synchronised their shoulder shrugs. Caspar sang along, his voice matching the fluid nature of his dancing.
Oh Candy Your love's so sweet Oh Candy My special treat.
Slowly, Cissa's smile fell. It wasn't that her joy abated - not in the least. It was simply the fact that she noticed for the first time her son's changes. His maturity. His simple and elegant beauty. Draco had inherited the best of his parents' features, in her opinion. Her grace coupled with Lucius' confidence made him a formidable dancer, even in this strange muggle fashion.
Candy girl You are my world I need your love each and ev'ry day. Candy girl.
When the song ended and a radio personality began gabbing, Aizan shooed her nephews from the kitchen. "Go on, now," she scolded. "I got work to do."
The teens left still laughing, escorted to the back door by Draco. Caspar taught the young wizard to high five. "You gonna come to the circle tonight?" He asked. Aizan tisked.
"Circle?" Draco looked between Caspar and Aizan curiously.
"Yeah!" Caspar grinned, nudged his brother. "You got moves alright for a foreign wizard. You should come dance wit us!"
"Maybe you learn somethin," Felix added, his Haitian-Louisiana drawl making the statement into a challenge.
"Y'all gon get dis boy in trouble," Aizan tutted. "Get on home now fore your mama comes up to the house to fuss ya."
"Bye, Auntie!" Caspar stressed. Then, more quietly to Draco, "Ten o'clock tonight. By the dock on the river."
Draco nodded, glanced at Aizan. "I'll come," he whispered.
But Aizan heard. "What would your mama think if she knew you was gettin' off to voodoo shenanigans?"
Draco leaned against the kitchen island and waggled his brows at the cook. "Who's to say she'll find out?" He plucked a cherry from the pitcher of sweet southern tea sunning there.
Aizan sighed. "Well she sho as hell ain't gon find out from me. Now go on to the dining room. This fried chicken ain't gon eat itself." Narcissa stepped into the hall and skittered toward the dining room, chewing her lip the whole way.
They ate in comfortable silence. Draco watched Maite and Marie with slightly narrowed eyes, obviously suspicious of their flushed and satisfied faces. Narcissa avoided the sisters' gazes all together, quite knowledgeable about their flushed and satisfied faces. It didn't help that she occasionally felt their feet meet beneath the table. They tittered like larks and Narcissa rolled her eyes at their antics.
Only once did she catch Draco's stare. Over their respective highball glasses their eyes locked briefly. In the glinting silver coins she saw determination...and an unsettling rebelliousness that spoke of mutiny. She sipped her mint julep and looked away, fanning her suddenly moist breast.
AN: The song Shady Grove is indeed old. I was unable to pin down an original artist, and found various versions when I sought its lyrics. Suffice it to say, I remember my great grandmother singing it when I was a child. If anyone has any further information on the song, I would be delighted to include it next chapter. Candy Girl, however, is not so old. It is by New Edition and was released in 1983.