AN: Wow, polemics! As I told before if you don't like, just don't read it. I'm not endorsing any behaviour, this is FICTION. And here's the second part, soon enough comes the end. Thanks for the nice reviews and I hope you like it. =]
It was haunting him, taking the place of the war and bad memories and infiltrating into his skin like foul water. I'm feeling too lonely, she had said, looking at the ground, You are too old to be kissing me like this. Draco pondered if he was actually, finally and predictably losing his mind.
"Mother, you have been too unmotivated." He sighed finishing his toast. "Yes, I know you have all the reasons to but… You are still alive. You are here." She felt herself go soft under the caring look in his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to your hobbies. Did you had any?"
Narcissa smiled. It was fun to realize her son knew so few about what she did in a daily basis, but it wasn't strange. How could a boy that spent most of his life at Hogwarts know what his parents did every day?
"I enjoyed playing the piano, sometimes the harp, singing and dancing along with your father." Her voice was almost inaudible. "I used to watch some concerts and go shopping as well. But now most of my friends are dead or jailed and…"
"That's easy. Let's ask the elfs to dust off the piano and you can play while we sing." His smile was so bright she actually thought it was a good idea. Sometimes Draco made everything seem alright again, as if everything was whole, even if the sensation lasted only a few moments. "Or better yet, lets charm the piano to play and we can dance."
It was foolish, she knew it. Nothing would ever go back, she wouldn't be as happy as she was before. Her husband was gone, her sister was dead and the little boy that was her son had turned into a handsome man that seemed to carry the weight of the world in his back. The more Narcissa stared him, the less she could believe how Draco turned out so tall, so intelligent, so exhausted and so beautiful.
Hogwarts steal our sons from us, she thought for a moment, and war ages them. Sometimes all she wanted was to crawl under her fur blanket, wrap her arms around someone and sleep without the chill shaking her bones, without the pain reverberating in every corner of her mind. When she was younger, she shared her bed with Bellatrix and ended up being too used to the notion of a warm body next to hers.
In her teens, there were often friends and boyfriends sharing her pillow. Soon she became Mrs. Malfoy and Narcissa could in fact count in the fingers of one hand the total amount of months she had faced a cold bed alone. That was, until the war exploded and her life crumbled in front of her eyes.
"Come on." The young man got up and offered her a hand. She considered some moments, wondering if whether she would enjoy the dance or break into tears again from memories of a time long gone. It was with some hesitation she accepted his invitation.
Draco conducted her with the pride of a king until the entertainment room, where lied dust and forgotten various musical instruments. The only one he charmed, however, was the piano and a somewhat jolly song started to play on its own as her took his mother in his arms to dance.
Yes, it was painful, to stand there again, to dance again, to spin again in the arms of the only person left for Narcissa to love; but it was pleasant nonetheless. Draco inherited Lucius grace and swift movements and he smiled so wonderfully that before she could even notice, she was smiling and giggling too like a little girl in the arms of a first love.
She was too lonely for her own good and the war had made her weak and frail, she was still smart enough to realize it. Narcissa was looking at her son as no mother should; she wanted to sink in his arms and sleep against his chest as no good son would allow a mother to. The harshness of the reality hit her worse when Draco picked her up, swirling, and placed her on the ground again towering her.
She was lost and the saddest part was she had nowhere to return.
It certainly didn't mean she would inflict her son her own horrendous feelings and insights, surely. When he kissed her in the lips, so gentle and obviously desperate to stop her crying, she hadn't have strength enough to push him, but backed away when the impulse of leaning against him struck her. Draco didn't deserve any of that.
He was her son. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him and as any dutiful mother, she didn't expected nothing from him but kindness and love. She had no right to demand or wish nothing more. Narcissa took an oath on herself to be not like her mother, to not put all the world's expectations in her son's shoulders.
Based on the way he smiled at her, one hand in her hand and the other at her waist, she liked to think she succeeded.
By the end of the song, they were both flushed from laughter and from the exercise, breathing a little heavier and chuckling like two fools.
"Mother…" Draco held her face with one hand, blinking, his face getting a strange expression. "I love you." She grinned back, trying to understand him.
"I love you too, sweetie." He frowned, looking like a confused child for a glimpse of second, his eyes on the ground. The song definitely died and none of them moved to charm another one; they just stood in the middle of the room in silence, still entwined and drowned in thoughts.
Before she could formulate a phrase, Draco glued his lips on hers again, his eyes squeezed shut, and it wasn't kind and soft as the other kiss. Oh,Narcissa thought as his lips pressed hard against hers, it was the kind of kiss she used to receive from insecure young men in Hogwarts. It was the kind of kiss Lucius gave her in their first years of marriage. Exactly the kind of kiss that, despite the fact a mother shouldn't want, she craved for.
No, it was her very second thought, her hands disobeying her brain completely as they went to hold his shoulders. I can't, her fingers looked for a piece of uncovered skin until they found Draco's neck. Oh hell, she gave up holding him and pressing back, her body aching for contact, her heart aching even more.
His eyes snap open of pure and complete surprise only to find Narcissa kissing him back, eyes shut and her fingers brushing his neck. I lost my mind, Draco thought stunned, feeling his hands trembling. His arms circled her waist anyway; if that was a delirium, he would do well in enjoy it until the dream was broken.
But it was no dream, Narcissa knew it too; his hands wouldn't shake in a dream, his legs wouldn't stand poorly, her neck wouldn't ache from bending to meet him up in the kiss. A dream was a beautiful projection of a desire, free of flaws and fears, hanging in the last hope of a desperate need and crowning a perfect imaginary event.
There was nothing imaginary about that moment.
When they finally pulled apart, the rush of emotions hit her stronger than ever and Narcissa felt her own face contorting in a weep, the sobs slowly taking place. It was so awfully wrong yet it felt incredibly good; she was suddenly not alone anymore but she knew too well it wouldn't last. This time, the woman allowed herself to cling to her son's chest and cry, absorbing his perfume and clawing her hands in his back.
Draco kissed the top of her head, repeating he loved her, he would never leave her, he only wanted to make her happy. Narcissa believed him with every fiber of her shaking body and wished hard she could cast her ghosts away and pretend everything was fine just for the moment, just for that night.
She couldn't.
