The apartment was cool and grey. Slivers of light found their way in through a few broken slats in the closed shutters. But the windows were wide open, allowing the thin breeze to come and go quietly, ruffling tulle curtains with its shenanigans. The tall gleaming grandfather clock tocked lazily, keeping no time at all, really.
The peace stirred at the sound of shoes in stairwell. It jarred awake violently when the door crashed into the wall, spilling muted light into the dark and ushering in two people who seemed as one.
An impatient foot kicked the door closed roughly. An equally impatient wand warded it, then clattered to the floor. A heel was kicked off and a feminine hand steadied the accompanying body against a thick plaster mantel. "Oh, Draco!"
Her mouth, finally free of his lips, was able to breathe, gasp and moan. His hands demanded her naked and she heard something rip in the rush. "Sorry," he muttered on her clavicle, then bit.
"Ah!" She thrust into his quickening embrace, but his balance was awry.
"Woah!" He managed to steady her for the two seconds it took their bodies to reel across Persian rug and collapse on chaise lounge. "Ooph!" She landed atop him, arms akimbo and legs straddling his own.
Her foot struck something. "Ow!" A witch's laugh accompanied the tumbling of a side table and the crash of its tenant - a rather antiquated vase. "Oh, dear!"
"Yes, dear." His hand sleeked up sticky thigh beneath rumpled skirt. Her mouth was a tempting delectable mess of sugar and coffee and his own spice. He squeezed her perfect plump rump roughly.
"Mmmm!" She protested into his kisses and managed to wrench free, looked down on the abandoned wizard. "Draco!"
"Narcissa!" He chased her mouth again, chuckled when she slanted a hand across his lips.
"Stop! Stop." She huffed. "I need the loo!"
He groaned. Collapsed into the lounge. "I told you to use the loo before we left -"
"It was filthy!" She stood, straightening her torn frock. She blew fringe from her eyes. "I'll only be a moment, darling. Truly." She kicked off her other heel and used bare toes to lift her purse from the floor. "Why don't you...turn down the bed?" She called as she left the room, smiled when she heard him scramble from the lounge.
"Turn-down service." He grumbled as he retrieved his wand from beneath the coffee table. "Of course." He shed clothes as he went, dropped his oxford carelessly in the bedroom doorway. Tossed his leather belt nonchalantly and flinched when he heard another crash in return.
"What was that?" He heard her call from the lav.
"Nothing!" He flicked his wand and the storm shutters blew wide. "Better." Another flick and the bed's thick and dusty duvet flipped downward. Decorative pillows spilled to the floor. He slapped his wand to a bedside table and was unfastening his trousers when something stopped him. He cocked his head.
Music.
Certainly not uncommon in this city. But this music was...soft. Subtle. A thumping sound and a soft guitar. A short step up and he was on the balcony to investigate.
The lamps were all lit. A few scattered shops were still open and here and there other inhabited apartments' windows glowed. Rue Dumain lacked the bustle of Rue Bourbon, but was nonetheless alive this night.
There, across the street and beneath a balcony a little muggle trio was making sensual sounds and attracting a small crowd. A man not much older than Draco thumbed the strings on an upright bass, while another circled plucking an acoustic guitar. The third soft-shoed on hard cobble, snapping dapper fingers. They cut a sharp sight in their matching suits and Draco smirked at their fashion sense.
Then the dancer became singer. He had a rich, mellow voice. Smooth and effortless. The song was an invitation to dance.
I've tried so hard my dear to show
That you're my every dream
Yet you're afraid each thing I do
Is just some evil scheme
Draco leaned on the balcony railing, head nodding in agreement and in time. Muggles can be quite wise in their music, he mused. Though I'm still not certain about that candy girl song. He rubbed absently the dips and planes of his bare belly, wondering and watching.
A high whistle tore him from his reverie and he blinked at two muggle women wandering past. They were young, dark-haired and scarcely dressed. "Hello, handsome!" The shorter one in red called to him. Draco straightened and made the universal gesture of 'me?' The muggles laughed. "Yes, you!" The tall one in green continued. "We got some laundry back home needs doin' if you wanna bring that washboard!"
Draco looked around, face awash in confusion. He didn't see a washboard anywhere, but when he turned to inform the muggles they were already moving on - laughing even louder - tucked into each other as if the night would tear them apart... Strange muggle women and their cleaning habits... And where exactly was his woman?
A memory from your lonesome past
Keeps us so far apart
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart
A throat cleared softly behind him and he turned. His breath caught and he gulped past the lump in his throat. "Oh hell, mum..."
She stepped onto the balcony and gave a little turn. The whorish white moonflower blooming above dipped to touch her let-down hair. "Do you like it?"
'It' was an ankle length silk affair in deeply scandalous red. 'It' clung to her every curve, revealed her entire right leg and left none of her back to his imagination. Yes, he liked 'It' very much. "C'mere."
Another love before my time
Made your heart sad an' blue
And so my heart is paying now
For things I didn't do
She smiled when he pulled her silk to his skin, began a slow sway. They were impossibly close. Below, the muggle trio seemed to serenade only them, and there was a smattering of applause and appreciative cat-calls.
In anger unkind words are said
That make the teardrops start
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart
"I might miss these o'er friendly muggles," Narcissa murmured against her son's chest.
"And I've no doubt they shall miss us, as well." He stroked the small of her back. His fingertips flirted with the low 'v' in the gown, dipped ever so slightly into the crease of her arse. Difficult to differentiate between gown and skin... "You are unbelievably beautiful in red, Narcissa."
"Hm." She brushed lips over his breastbone. "And you are unbelievably beautiful in nothing, Draco." She moaned when his fingertips slipped even lower. "Son..."
"What?" He whispered in her ear, brushed his bottom lip over the sensitive cartilage. "Ungh!" He couldn't stifle the grunt or the lurch when her own fingertips slipped between them to toy with the clasp of his trousers. "Mum!" Tickled like hell... "Watch your fingers!"
"You watch your fingers and I'll watch mine," she negotiated. Nipped at his tender nipple until he hissed. His arms tightened on her, but his fingers ceased their merciless tease, so she accepted the truce with a final pat upon his ample erection.
They danced a little closer, chanced (and succeeded at) a long, seductive dip. There was more muggle cheering from below. The Malfoys smiled their secret.
There was a time when I believed
That you belonged to me
But now I know your heart is shackled
To a memory
Narcissa's fingers flitted across Draco's shoulders. They caressed his jaw and lips before pulling his cheek to her mouth. She kissed there, then whispered in his ear. "Will you take me to bed, darling?"
He couldn't answer. Simply stopped swaying. Taking both her hands in his, he stepped back into the shadows of the bedroom, pulling her along with ease.
Pleased with its effect, the music followed.
The more I learn to care for you
The more we drift apart
Why can't I free your doubtful mind
And melt your cold cold heart
In the dim, Narcissa's gown was the color of blood. Draco held her head in both hands, tilted her for kissing. The kiss was abandoned, open-mouthed and wet. Kisses Narcissa had never before imagined herself experiencing. She worked open Draco's trousers and boldly stroked his hot hardness. He groaned into the kiss - an empowering sound.
When his mouth devoured her neck, she spoke breathily to the ceiling. "Do you think anyone can see us?"
"Do you care? Ah!" Her thumb stroked over the sensitised head of his cock, gathered up the wetness there and drew it down. "Narcissa." His grip on her arms became a warning.
"I don't particularly care, no." She nosed his ear. His hands quivered when she sluiced his trousers down.
"Excellent." Draco's thumbs tugged easily at the thin straps crossing her shoulders. The moonlight's silver mingled with the yellow glow of the street lamps, outlining his mother in luminescence. "Because you're exquisite like this."
She gasped, caught her breath when his lips dipped to her nipples. He sucked and nibbled as she backed to the bed. "Oh, love..." When she fell boneless against downy cotton, Draco caressed her silk-clad legs, pushed the silk up and away from her bare core. She whimpered when his fingers barely brushed the trim, soft fur over her mons.
"It occurred to me earlier, mother," he spoke softly, massaging her cunt with gentle, curious strokes, watching those strokes intently. "That of all the flavors I've sampled here in the bayou, the one I'm most curious about is yours."
"Draco..." Her thighs trembled with her voice. Fingers curled hard into lush sheets. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had that singular pleasure - could nearly come just from the thought of it. She bit her lip while Draco leisurely fingered her, teasing. "Please..."
His free hand tugged off his socks, left him fully nude. The moon, the stars, the lights of New Orleans were kind to him - her young Adonis. "Please what, Narcissa?" One finger delved just a little deeper into her slit and she surged against it while he knelt between her raised knees, still just vexing with his touch.
"Please..." Even the silver lighting couldn't hide her deep blush. "Please taste me. Touch me. I don't care!"
He salivated at her words, the deliciousness of her wantonness. "I aim to please, ma'am." The term he'd picked up from the southern ancestors sounded nice muffled by her pussy, and if he'd enjoyed her begging, he was fully unprepared for the passion of her appreciation.
"Oh, sweet goddess!" She thrust against his face. "So good, darling!" His tongue drove insistent circles around her hardened clit, thrilled at the discovery it had made. And finally that probing finger saw fit to fuck her properly. She could hardly censor herself in the face of such raw bliss. "Shite, Draco," she spat. Her own fingers were rough in his hair, nails scratching at his neck.
His cock wept with her every hissed imprecation. She was glorious - one foot pressed to his shoulder and the other burying toes in the mattress. He introduced a second finger to her ever-swelling slit, lengthened and slowed his strokes to fully arouse the tortured tissue.
"Fuck, yes." She cursed carnally, tossing her head and clenching her eyes as if to fight the approaching climax. And perhaps she did just that - held it at bay to enjoy the sensation for just a moment longer...
He was the ultimate tease, though. Driving her to growls and uncharacteristic anathemas. "Nonono!" She curled when he withdrew his fingers, but was brought up short when he slid them into his mouth.
"Mmmm." His silver eyes were damnation. "Better than beignets, mum."
"Draco." Her hand curled round his neck, urged him to meet her sweaty visage. "I want you inside me," she whispered.
"You want what?" He bent again and sucked loudly on her clit.
"Ah!" Her body lurched as if it was not her own. "I want -"
"Louder." He sharply slapped her cunt and she cried out. He shoved his fingers inside her again, gave her no time to catch her breath or her sense. His other hand pulled her hair, tugged her ear awkwardly to his lips. "Tell New Orleans you want me to fuck you, Narcissa. Let the city hear you beg for your son's cock."
She kissed him sloppily, breathing heavy, still rocking with his fingers' knowledgeable work. But she didn't deny his request. "Fuck me, Draco! I want you inside me now." The voice quavered, but it was firm and, yes - loud.
"With pleasure, witch." He settled between her eagerly spreading thighs with hardness in hand. Knees buttressing his weight, he teased them both by rubbing at her entrance before easing inside. "Nnnnarcissa," he groaned, fell into her embrace. "You feel bloody amazing."
Cissa's breath hitched on his first thrust. Awkwardly, she reached one arm to the solid cherry headboard behind her, bastioned herself against his onslaught and ironically wrapped him in her other arm. A loving embrace amidst chaos. Caught up in the incredible pulse of him against her impossibly tense walls, her words left her. But Draco seemed to have enough words now for both of them. Lust loosened his tongue nicely and she enjoyed the fruits of his filth.
"Fucking hell, mother. Your cunt's as tight as it is sweet." He shifted her knee up and over his shoulder, deepened the penetration.
"Ohmygod!" Narcissa clutched at his shoulders, felt the head of his cock ram against her cervix - the burn of his shaft scraping that magical place too far for her own reach. "Draco! Baby!" She wrapped her other leg high over his hip, saw her toes bob in and out of view with his hips' snapping.
His right eye stung a bit with sweat. A drop slid from his nose to the quaking valley between her tits, mingled with her own salt. He licked the mix lewdly. His bollocks ached.
"Good, Cissa?" He grunted. "Am I fucking you properly?"
Her eyes rolled with her abdomen. A burning curl of something luscious was threatening to unfurl beneath her belly. Roughly, she rubbed Draco's wet fringe from his eyes. Voice dropped an octave."I've never known better, lovie."
"Ugh?" His head fell back, jaw slacked. The pleasure was catching up to him, too. "Never?"
And there it was, the plume of smoke, the flash of flame and the spiraling fire that drew her down into hell's bliss. "Never!" She shouted, seized him to her and rode out the crashing waves. "Dracodracodraco..."
He snorted into her neck, animal to the end. The grip of her muscles milked him of seed and strength. He moaned that inimitable moan, hips losing rhythm. "Merlin, Narcissa." He huffed. They collapsed in a heap of sweat, spit and their own leaking essences. Kissed into breaths catching.
He rolled to his side, releasing her from his weight. She rolled with him. Her gown was a bunched and sticky mess, even more like blood in this light. Music, laughter and voices drifted in as if unaware of the lovers' activities.
Draco looked down at the contentment on his mother's face. His voice was scratchy. "Never, eh?"
"Hm?" She was ready for a rest before round two.
"Never known better, you said." He closed his eyes, lulled by the designs her elegant fingers were drawing on his belly and breastbone.
"Should that surprise you?" She was looking up at him with a clarity - a wakefulness - that unsettled him at first. "To know you're the best lover I've ever known? There was only ever your father before you, Draco. And perhaps a few...dalliances that never reached maturity."
He blinked. Sad, really, to think his mother had not been properly seen to before now. But then... A slow, calculated grin spread. "So you're saying I'm-"
"Better in bed than your father?" She sat up loosely, rolled her shoulders and affixed her gown for some modesty. "Yes, that's what I'm saying." She slid from the bed onto weak legs and made for the lavatory. She peeked briefly around the corner from the hall. "Although I wouldn't get terribly excited. I'm not so certain being better in bed than your father is such a grand accomplishment." Draco frowned and she smirked. "But the goddess was far kinder to you anatomically. Lucky boy."
He grinned again. Crossed his arms behind his head. "Lucky you, too, I'd say!" He yelled to the loo. He heard no argument.
They opened the window in the lavatory, as well. Music from outside was amplified by the tiled walls. A creamy witch leg hung over the clawfoot tub's edge, water dripping occasionally from a tapered toe. Her son languished between her thighs, back to her front, head in her neck. He was laughing at her discomfiture over something, as usual. "What if I hadn't come back, eh? Would you have accepted a drink from that muggle?"
"I suppose so." Her expression read she was done with taking the piss on this particular issue. She gestured just past him to the wire rack stretched across the tub. Their bottle of absinthe stood there, the eye on its label blinking at them in perpetual surprise.
He handed her the bottle and she sipped straight from the neck, hissed at the burn of it. "And if he'd wanted more?"
"Oh, please." She gave back the bottle. "What could have possibly happened, Draco? I would hardly..." Here, her voice dropped to a whisper - "...fuck some muggle in a public place if that's what you're suggesting."
Draco took his own swig of the green libation. The bottle dipped into the bubbles. "I've seen some of the things that happen in public places here, mum. Just saying." He rubbed at her cool, moist knee. "There was a moment when I thought you might fuck me on our balcony earlier." She pinched his nipple. "Ow!"
"You would have been sorely disappointed." He pinched her knee in return. "Ow! Prat."
He chuckled. "Yes?" She shifted behind him and he felt the scratch of her cunt against his lower back. "Oh..."
"Mmhm." Her fingers moved wet hair from his ear before she kissed the lobe. "I think I'm quite clean, son." She bit next - teeth tugging the sensitive flap of skin. "Besides, the water's gone tepid and I'm rather cold."
Draco plugged the absinthe matter of factly. She had him hard again in mere seconds. "I suppose I could warm you up, then." A splash as he stood. She gazed up at him from her recline, eyes lingering on his impressive erection.
"Mmm, I suppose you could." She took his outstretched hand and followed him into the bedroom.
Even at three a.m. it seemed this muggle city didn't sleep. Ever present was some music or other, wavering in from afar. Voices and vehicles. Laughter. It all seemed to culminate into one never ending song - the song of one place, filled with muggles, made magical by time and something simply...essential.
Gauzy curtains fluttered. The mother sat on the edge of the mussed bed, pulled her son to her by his sharp hipbones. Draco smiled down at her, steeled himself when he recognized her intent. One hand went to her arm - the other to her soft head. "Oh hell, Narcissa." His head fell back. Knees weakened. "Ung..."
Her mouth was decadent. Sinful. Stroking his cock in time with her hand, she set up a varying suction that soon had him quivering and tensing - as inarticulate as she'd been earlier. "Fuck, mum. That's..."
Occasionally, she moaned, sending a trilling vibration along his shaft. Her free hand fluttered up the inside of his thigh to fondle his swollen and aching bollocks. After a few minutes, he tore himself from her ministrations with a pop. "Gods, stop. I can't..." He steadied himself on her shoulders. "You'll bloody well kill me."
She craned her neck upward to sloppily claim his lips. "If you can last for me later, I'll let you come in my mouth now, darling."
He groaned. "Definitely killing me." But as tempting as her offer was, he couldn't guarantee the stamina she desired. He pushed her back on the bed. "I'll remember that later. But for now..." He urged her backwards on the bed. "I can only offer you more immediate gratification."
She smiled anticipation as he settled between her thighs, rubbed at his shoulders. He laved her breasts. "Draco?"
"Hm?" He was working a dark love bite to the underside of her right breast, wondering if her cunt tasted of the mint soap they'd soaked in.
"Let me ride you, love."
He froze. Bombarded with overwhelming images of this remarkable witch on top of him. "Uh..." She propped on her elbows and crooked a finger at him, gesturing him up. He obeyed, powerless in the wake of her newly awakened sensuality.
She arranged pillows against the headboard, aware that the carving there was potentially painful to his back. "Sit," she instructed gently. Patted the pillows. Draco scrambled to comply, knee slipping a bit on the sheets in his haste. She smiled at his eagerness as she mounted his thighs.
Draco reached for her. Could hardly bear to not be touching her. "So bloody gorgeous, mum." He caressed her hips as she settled over his erection. She was hot and wet, clearly ready for him. He bit his lip and watched her - felt her - descend slowly. "Oh, gods..."
Narcissa watched, too. Clutched the headboard behind her son in both hands and filled herself with his steely length. Draco was beautiful, as well; the clenching of his hard belly muscles, that perfect 'v' of his abdomen and the purple/red maplines on his swollen cock as her hungriness devoured it. "Too much," she whispered, head falling back.
"Hurts?" He could barely ask, but his concern was genuine. He fingered the fall of tangled hair cascading over a shoulder and down her back.
"No!" She couldn't control the hitch in her voice. Quite the contrary. She shuddered. This was her favorite position - one she'd missed greatly. "So good," she murmured. Shifted her hips and cried out at the stab of pure, hot pleasure. She stretched up on her knees...slid sloooowly back down. "Draco, you perfect darling..."
She held that same impossible pace for some time, occasionally catching a glimpse of her son's straining face either watching her straining face or watching their glistening connection. Her hand traveled lazily to his chin, pursed his lips for a lewd kiss, then continued down his smooth chest and over the knotty stomach.
Draco groaned when those fingers delved into her own pink tissue. "Goddammit, Narcissa." His bollocks reached a new level of need, bulging just like his eyes as he watched her pleasure herself on his cock. "Fuck me, witch. Faster!" His hands tightened on her hips, urging her to rise and fall. "Yeah...like that. Shite, mum."
She grunted when he sat up, pressing her hand between them and increasing her fingers' pressure on her engorged clit. "I'm so close," she growled in his ear before licking it.
"Thank the goddess," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Come for me, then. Because I need to fuck the hell out of you right now."
The growling wasn't her, was it? It's the thing inside me, tensing to strike. That feral thing with the glinting eyes. That incredibly amazing feeling, hot burning and threatening and now becoming a - "Dragon!" The word was simply that - a word. The one wrenched out of the moment by abandon and blinding lust.
But to Draco... It was the embodiment of this passion between them. Their essence. Him and her, but mostly him. He rode out her tensing and releasing thighs, took in the impossible arch of her back and the silent scream lodged in her throat. Her arm, snapped taut, trembled violently beside his head and he kissed it while she completed her arc of satisfaction. When she was reduced to tiny spasms and kittenish mewls, face lax on his shoulder, he shifted her.
If it was a dragon she wanted, a dragon she would have. "On your knees, witch."
"Mm?" She was slow, but compliant. Facing the foot of the bed on shaky hands and knees, she gave him a backward glance of pure coy.
So he wasn't gentle. Thrust bollocks-deep into her reddened cunt in one smooth maneuver. "Ahh!" It rocked her forward and she nearly toppled, caught herself awkwardly on one elbow. "Draco!"
"Narcissa." He fucked her mercilessly; fast, firm and with little regard for delicacy. She'd proven she could take it. She felt fantastic this way - tight and unable to control his depth. Her tits jolted with his every pump and he reached for one, leaned over her back and let his hips stoke the fire in his bollocks. "Fuck, witch. I'm going to come in you..."
"Yes!" Her reply was pained perhaps, but not an opposition.
He grappled with her, groped a breast and clutched one shoulder as he unloaded inside her. "Yes! Unh! Unh!" He didn't censor the carnal joy - his vehement victory. In fact, he rather fancied the stragglers in the street below knew he had made the witch his again. "Ohhhh, Merlin," he groaned over the last sloppy convulsions in his groin.
Narcissa moaned her own surrender into the pile of duvet she'd collected in her desperately clutching arms. "Better, darling?"
"Mm." He caressed her hips as he slid out of her, oddly gave her hot, abused cunt a little massage. His spendings collected on his fingers thick and milky, mixed with hers. "Much, mother. You?"
"Mrph." She collapsed fully on the bed. "I think I'm destroyed." But she was smiling satisfaction.
He wiped his hand on the sheets and lay facing her. "That was...nice." She laughed tiredly and he grinned. A breeze blew in, cooled their bodies. In the distance, there was thunder. "Sounds like a storm." She nodded. He touched her face. "Mother?"
She blinked softly. It was as if she knew what was coming. "Yes, son?"
"Will we go back home? To Wiltshire?" He asked because the weather reminded him. The rumbling sounds of British thunder on British horizons - the way it shimmered their wards. He missed it.
"Do you want to?"
"Yes."
Her own hand ventured to his face, feathered over his jaw. "Yes, Draco. We shall go home."
"Will we still have this? Us?" The earnest want in his voice - the naked and obvious fear of rejection - shook her.
"For as long as you will have me, lovie...I'm yours." She blinked at moisture in her eyes. For how long will that be? The moisture escaped as tears when Draco gathered her to him suddenly.
"Good." He sighed. His relief was almost palpable and he kissed the top of her head. "Not that we have to leave soon, you know."
"No?"
"No. Of course not. It's good to spend time with extended family."
"Absolutely." She patted his chest. "And there's always the bread pudding to consider."
"And the beignets."
"And the beignets."
He tightened his hold. Music drifted in from the street. A passing muggle woman was singing clearly, lonely, in a voice that embued chills...
Oh, she may be weary...Young girls they do get weary...
Draco stroked his mother's arm, felt her sweat cooling in the evening air.
Wearing that same old shaggy dress, yeah yeah...But when she gets weary...Try a little tenderness, yeah yeah...
He tilted her chin gently. Kissed her plumped lips. "I love you, Narcissa."
She threw an arm over his chest and settled into his side. "And I you, Draco." Sigh. He reached awkwardly for a corner of strewn duvet and pulled it over them. Feet in the pillows and heads at the foot of the bed, they drifted into sleep, lulled by the muggle woman still singing somewhere in the street.
They would be home soon enough, feet firmly on British soil, comforted by familiar weather and wards. But for now...home was in each others' arms. And probably always would be, wherever they laid their heads. The bayou had taught them this; move like the Mississippi, but know your gris gris. The best faith lies in love and heals the deepest wounds - Bayou Faith. Malfoy Faith.
AN: The end, dahlings. I'll miss this piece. Cold Cold Heart is from Norah Jones and Try a Little Tenderness has been covered numerous times by numerous talents, but my two favorites are by Otis Redding and Florence Welch. Also this chapter goes out to Beautiful Disaster - ask and ye shall receive, gorgeous, and thank you for all of your reviews.