Narcissa stepped first from the floo. Afternoon sunlight intruded through slats in the tall windows' storm shutters. Glittering dust swirled in the golden glow. The parlor smelled of mint, warm cobblestone and cooked seafood. She inhaled deeply as Draco stepped out behind her.

The city's sounds were muted, and when her son's arms wrapped round her from behind, the blood rushing to her ears drowned sound even more. "Mmmm." She turned her head for a kiss. "Welcome to New Orleans."

Draco turned her for a proper kiss. Caressed her face and neck. "It's a beautiful city," he murmured against her lips.

Cissa chuckled and pulled away. "Let's air things out a bit."

They opened windows, let in a soft breeze and more delicious odors. Draco's stomach growled. He stepped onto the balcony and leaned on a wrought iron railing. Below, a horse drawn carriage clopped heavily past, and on the street corner a man played a trombone. The bluesy sound wavered over voices, laughter and an occasional raucous shout. He smiled. I could like it here.

He looked to his mother when she appeared beside him. She smiled, as well, and her cheeks were pink. Her curls fluttered when she turned her face into the river breeze. Suddenly, the city was even more beautiful. "So. Where are we exactly?"

Narcissa opened her arms. "This is the Rue Dumain." She pointed. "Beneath us is Shoppe Magique - your source for all things witchy, or a fine bottle of wine."

"All things witchy?"

She smiled. "It's a rather touristy front, really. The owner is a lovely witch named Viviane Marr. I'll introduce you. She distributes the Malfoy wine, and caters to the magical population on the side."

Draco shook his head and peered back into the street. "Hiding in plain sight."

"Absolutely." She curled a hand round his sturdy arm. "It's so strange and...wonderful."

Draco sniffed. Salivated. "What in Merlin's name is that smell?"

"Which one?"

"Like...cake."

"Oh." Her eyes brightened. "Beignets."

"I must eat beignets, mother."

"Of course you must, darling." She pulled him into the apartment. "Let's freshen up. And change. Then I'll take you to dinner. And dessert." Draco followed her through the sizable rooms of the Malfoy apartment. It was more extensive than it appeared, and doubtful due to charm work.

The ceilings were high, moldings elaborate with friezes and fleurs-de-lis. The rooms were tastefully decorated, cool plaster walls covered with various papers from stripes to provincial Blue Willow. Dark stained hardwoods creaked occasionally, consoled by a number of thick aged rugs.

"This is the master bedroom." Narcissa swung open a set of heavily embossed oak doors. She drew and flicked her wand, flooded the room with light and air from the three tall storm windows. "And the en suite is through this hallway. Draco?"

She'd realised he wasn't following her and turned. He stood in the center of the room, staring over the enormous four-poster and out the windows. She approached him. "What are you looking at?"

He hugged her to his side. "Nothing. I was just thinking how nice it will be to make love to you with these windows opened wide." He looked down at her. "Do you agree?"

She seemed taken aback. Momentarily abashed. "Oh..."

"Oh, indeed." Draco left her wondering, headed for the en suite. "Well, I suppose I'll change then. For dinner. I do fancy a bite."

"Of course." Narcissa glanced at the waiting bed, blushing brightly. She chewed at her bottom lip before swinging around a bed post. She wore an almost girlish grin as she rushed back to the parlor to collect their shrunken bags.

It was the oddest feeling - wandering the streets of a muggle city, holding hands with her son-come-lover. There was a freedom in their anonymity; an idea that no matter how strange they were, how deviant or depraved, in this place - there was someone just a bit more so. They meandered into and out of various shoppes; muggle antiquities, books, mask-makers and haberdasheries.

Draco had his first experience with muggle monies at one such haberdashery, deciding he'd squinted against the sun long enough. Narcissa humored him. Besides, he looked dreadfully handsome in the grey fedora, and he made no mention of her disappearance into the neighboring lingerie shoppe for the duration of his hat fitting. She tucked a discretely shrunken parcel into her purse and met him beneath a Rue Bourbon lamp post.

She frowned to see him smoking a muggle clove cigarette. "Disgusting habit," she snapped. Draco shrugged, offered her the fag. She took a deep drag and accentuated the action with practiced smoke rings.

Grinning, he took the spicy cigarette back. "You're a marvel, witch. Let's find some food."

Nearly overwhelming, the noise, the crowds. It seemed that from every pub streamed music and people were dancing on the sidewalks or in the middle of the streets. Cabs blew their horns impatiently and bicycle rickshaws whizzed past. Occasionally, the crush became too crushing, and Draco pulled his tiny mother protectively into a half embrace, navigated them through the throngs.

For her part, Narcissa reveled in the contact. She'd never felt so appreciated as when Draco pushed open a door for her, pulled out a chair, fed her a bit of buttery crawfish or took her hand for a dance on a bustling zydeco dance floor.

They'd chosen to eat at a restaurant called Mulate's - more for the atmosphere than any posted menu. There was a band playing the most peculiar music Draco had ever heard; accordions and piano and washboard and lyrics sang in (sort of) French. But the food had been fantastic, new spices exploding on every bite and a bread pudding comparable to Aizan's that left him pleasantly full.

So they'd watched the muggles dance for a time. Quick studies, they soon had the modified two-step memorised, and Narcissa didn't require much in the way of convincing when Draco led her to the floor. She twirled beautifully, underneath his arm and back to his chest. Her teal skirt swirled to reveal shapely legs and a generous amount of thigh as they grew bolder. And when the music slowed, they simply grew closer.

From her son's shoulder, Narcissa saw muggle smiles directed their way. They've no idea, she thought. Who we are, what we've done. She pulled away from Draco just enough to place a kiss on his shoulder. He bent his head predictably and she kissed his cheek next. Then, his lips.

"I rather like showing you off before all these muggles, mum." He spoke directly in her ear, over the thrumming music.

"Do you?"

His hands skated over the small of her back and fanned above her arse. "I do."

A thrill raced up her spine at his touch alone. This virile, promising dragon of hers... She felt emboldened by the music, the beat, the press of her son's hardness into her belly. "Do you know what I like?"

His eyes sparkled. "I have an idea." The hands slid low enough to properly grope her bum. "I want something, mother." He whispered hotly.

She swallowed, heart racing, cunt tightening. Will I make it back to the apartments without having him inside me? "What do you want?" She rasped.

His teeth scraped her earlobe and she moaned. He smiled, murmured to her. "Beignets."

Their dance came to an abrupt halt when she stepped away from him. She was flushed and gaping. Muggles continued flouncing about them, unaware of any upset. "You - " She gestured between them. "I thought..."

Draco grabbed her hand, laughing. "Narcissa. Come." And he was tugging her through the crowd, out the door of the packed eatery and into almost equally packed streets. Night was falling in earnest.

"Where are we going?"

Her little frustration was charming. Intoxicating. Truthfully, he simply wanted to bask in the warmth of her desire for a while longer. Not to mention the smells and clinking ice and dewy glasses of these muggle beverages were making him mightily thirsty. "We're going to get a drink. It's New Orleans!"

It seemed every other doorway they passed was a bar. Draco lost count after a time, and it was Narcissa who finally made a decision as to where they took libations. "Oh, absinthe!" She pointed. "Father always enjoyed the green fairy. Let's have one, darling!"

"Lead on, mum."

The bar was called The Old Absinthe House. It was dark and, as expected, crowded. But the Malfoys were remarkably lucky to pass by a muggle couple vacating a tiny table beneath a wrought iron chandelier. Draco seated his mother. "I'll er...brave the bar, then."

Cissa nodded, scanned the crowd as her son weaved through it. So many red faces. So many smiles. And one could scarcely hear one's own thoughts over the din of laughter, music and rowdy conversation. She wondered if there was any person anywhere in this city who was not simply...happy. Or drunk. Her lips quirked adorably as she ruminated. Or a bit of both.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

At first she wasn't even certain the address was meant for her, but a warm touch on her bare arm brought her gaze up and into the deep brown eyes of a handsome muggle man. "Ah..." She blinked rapidly and the man smiled a disarming smile.

"Sorry," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Robert." She shook the hand numbly. "I just find it a shame a beautiful woman such as yourself is all alone in this city and obviously thirsty. So what do you say? How about that drink?"

A muggle! The nerve... What to say? And where the hell is Draco? She couldn't see past the broad shoulders of this intrusive muggle. "Well, I -"

"I assure you she's hardly alone." Draco slid easily into the empty seat facing his mother. "And no longer thirsty." He handed her a glass of bright green liquid and set a bottle between them. Finally, his eyes regarded the muggle encroacher dismissively. "So you may go."

Predictably, the muggle scampered. Narcissa raised a brow and smirked at her son. "Well done, darling. Quite bold, aren't they?"

"It's your dress."

"Hm?" She was sipping her drink. The bite of anise left a pleasant numbness across her tongue and she licked granules of undissolved sugar from her lips.

Draco leaned further across the table, swirling the undissolved sugar in his own absinthe. "The cut. Of your dress." He gestured. "Very flattering to your...form."

Narcissa placed a hand across her exposed chest. "I beg your pardon?"

Draco took a deep lug of his drink and laughed. "Your tits, Narcissa. They're lovely."

She blushed, cheeks scarlet in the bar's low light. "Don't be crude, son."

Draco laid the flat strainer across his mother's glass. Set a sugar cube upon it and poured bright green liquid from the bottle he'd purchased. "I think that secretly, mother..." He lit the saturated cube with a match. "You enjoy it when I'm crude."

Her eyes sparkled while he dripped water from a small porcelain pitcher, extinguishing the blue-green flame. Her first absinthe, perhaps consumed too quickly, was already putting a titillating tingle in back of her mind. "There's a time and a place for crudeness, I suppose."

"Oh?" Draco stirred her second drink and set about the ritual of preparing his own second absinthe. Suddenly, his mother's breasts filled his line of sight. He froze, slowly glanced up to see her leaning across the table.

Her own bright La Fée was a whirlpool beneath a twinkling blue gaze. "I might like your mouth filthy..." She sipped. Swallowed. "While you fuck me."

His cock hardened with surprising speed despite the drink he'd imbibed. "Fucking hell, mother."

"Yes, just like that, I think." She smiled secretly. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"How long have you wanted this? Us?" She stared into her drink. "I mean, was it simply a sudden decision that evening?"

She was slurring only slightly, but Draco knew she was far from drunk. So was he, but his inhibitions were just low enough for honesty. And he supposed the time for this conversation was nigh. "I think I wanted you...forever." He lit another clove cigarette. "But I always felt so damned disgusting. So sick. I denied it for the longest time." She was beautifully blurry...

"What changed?" She took the cigarette. Her fingers played at the sheer mist of sweat across her chest, appreciating her son's distraction.

Draco drank. He shrugged. "I just saw you that night." He took his turn with the fag. "You looked so helpless, mum. And I felt so helpless. It seemed the only salvation at the time." With a scowl, he drained his glass once more. He regarded her patiently, waiting for focus to congeal, considered something, then decided to proceed. "What about you, then? Why did you follow me to the dance? Why did you..." His hands - slightly bleary to his own eyes - flitted amorphously in the air.

Narcissa leaned her chin on her hand, expression hazy. Lackadaisical. Her lips barely moved when she spoke, but he hear her just the same. "Why did I let you pin me to a tree with your cock?"

He laughed freely, beyond blushing. "Merlin, I'm drinking with you more often, mum. But yes. Why? What changed for you? Because if I recall correctly..." And he paused as if recalling correctly. "...you put up a decent resistance that fateful night back home in Wiltshire."

She shook her head, nostalgia softening her expression. "You would have found my resistance quite lacking...if events had progressed differently."

"You mean if your husband hadn't -"

"Your father!"

" - walked in and had a nervous fit?"

"Can you blame him?" She suddenly sat straighter. Cheeks a bit pinker. "To walk in and see his wife and son about to..."

"Oh, surely your vocabulary isn't failing you now, mum? You were so very eloquent about what passed between us just last night."

"Draco." She took a deep breath. "I believe I've had enough to drink."

"You mean the honesty is becoming too pressing?"

She was standing, albeit a bit unsteadily. "I mean I'm ready for a bloody coffee." She dusted invisible detritus from her skirt. "And I thought you wanted beignets?"

"But we still have half a bottle of absinthe!" He held up the bottle as swaying, accusing proof.

"And aren't you a wizard?" She blinked at him, lips pursed sloppily.

"Oh." She arranged herself against the tiny table in such a manner that Draco was able to discretely shrink their libation. He tucked it into Narcissa's purse and stood on his own wobbly legs. This discussion was over, for now or ever, and that was fine with both of them. "So. Beignets?"

Cissa nodded, pushed further into Draco to avoid the bar's still increasing crowd. Whether it was the drink, the warmth, the crowd or the conversation, something had upset her. In the street, there was still no respite. People were everywhere. They pressed in from all sides.

Narcissa took a moment to get her bearings, jostled on a street corner. "This way," she finally announced. She took Draco's hand tightly, leading him through throngs and ducking down darkened side alleys. In shadow, she yielded to his occasional insistent embraces, allowed herself to be pressed to cool wall by her son's hot body.

In fact, she encouraged his prurient deportment. The absinthe had left her giddy, uninhibited and lax. She cast coy, teasing glances over her shoulder, challenged him to answer her invitation. They kissed openly, often cheered on by passing muggle strangers. Draco stroked her cheek in the dim lights of Pirates' Alley. "Do you suppose they would be so encouraging if they knew?"

She shook her head. "Fortunately, we don't need their encouragement." Pulled his head to her own and let him smell the devil drink on her breath, taste the sweet, sordid sugar on her lips. Promised him more than beignets... And when he was hiking her leg above his hip, growling his own more immediate promise, she squirmed beneath his arm and free - snickering. Draco groaned and pressed his forehead to the stone, prayed to the goddess for strength, resistance and stamina.

They hurried on past street performers and incessantly calling bar flies to the busy and fragrant Cafe du Monde. After a moment's muggle-watching, they'd learned the routine and sat to another tiny table beneath a dark green awning.

Draco wobbled the table a bit. "Do you suppose there are any sizable tables in this city?"

Narcissa chuckled. "Doubtful." She ordered au laits and beignets when a harried muggle girl in a paper hat appeared, brandishing a pad and pen. Across the street, an obviously drunken muggle man was loudly singing.

"Oooooooh, ooooooooh, witchy woman! She got the mooooooon in her eyeeeeeeee..."

Draco regarded the muggle with a mixture of baleful pity and slightly inebriated appreciation. When he glanced back to his mother, she winked at him. As if by magic, a plate dropped between them and steam rose from two cups. The waitress was gone as quickly as she'd arrived, and the Malfoys were served.

"Bloody messy business, this." Draco groused, raising a powdery, hot beignet to his lips. He held his other hand open beneath the pastry, well aware his mother was watching him with great fascination over the rim of her au lait. Awkwardly, he bit the beignet. Chewed slowly, staring back at his mother. "Holy hell," he breathed. "That's..."

Narcissa chuckled, amused by her son's insatiable sweet tooth. "I knew you would appreciate them." She took one of the hot doughnuts for herself. Draco watched powdered sugar snow delicately onto her sticky cleavage. His trousers tightened. Beignets were delicious, but he'd yet to learn the true flavor of his new and eager lover. That changes tonight. He sipped creamy, strong au lait, letting slow sobriety mingle with the last vestiges of absinthe haze. Quite soon, in fact.

Narcissa sighed, inadvertently blowing more powdered sugar to both breeze and bosom. She hardly cared. Her coffee was perfect and her son was licking pastry from fantastically talented fingers that promised bliss between her thighs later. Hopefully soon... A small, private smile when she thought of the shrunken parcel in her purse.

And across the street, the muggle sang on. "...She can rock you in the nighttime ... 'til your skin turns red... ooooooooooh, ooooooooh witchy woman... see how high she flies..."

AN: Thanks for reading, everyone. I'm loving writing this fic. Unapologetic smut is up next, just so you know. A little private dancing, too. Witchy Woman is quoted here without permission from The Eagles. Visit the playlist for this fic on my profile - it's a hoot. You know you wanna hear Candy Girl!