Mints Meet

She was at dinner that evening. He was surprised, and didn't bother hiding it when he entered the dining room. "Hello." He sat to his customary place at her right hand. "I thought I would be bringing you dinner in your laboratory tonight."

"Not tonight." She was quiet. Pensive. Her chin rested on steepled fingers. "I am between projects."

"Ah." There was a rack of lamb. Mint jelly. "Any ideas stewing?"

She nodded. "A few. I think something with mint." She licked her fork. "I've been inspired."

"Huh." He didn't mention how he'd found mint rather inspiring himself, of late. In fact, he could smell the jelly on her breath and wanted to eat it from her mouth. He sniffed. "I was thinking…"

"So was I."

He blinked. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking I might try my hand at...marketing my fragrances." She looked down self-consciously. "I've even written to Sansborough for his advisement."

"I see."

"Unless you think it's a wretched idea," she said quickly. Her face portrayed such naked hope.

"Not at all." He was honest. "I think the scents you've crafted so far have been...quite powerful."

"Do you?"

"Yes, mother." She smiled again. He melted again.

"Thank you, darling. Now." She slathered more mint jelly onto her lamb. "What were you thinking?"

He took a deep breath. Exhaled. "I was thinking perhaps I could...help you? With the perfumes and such."

Her face - expressive as always - reached a new level of expressive. It contorted through dooms of shock and ecstasies of happy before settling on a flattering 'o' mouth and worshipful eye. "Help me?" She whispered.

He was frozen. Uncertain her final emotion. "Unless you think it's a wretched idea."

"Draco." It was definitely pleasure. Bled through in her tone and slightly curled his toes. "Of course I want your help! I would - I would love to have you in the lab with me." Her pretty hands fluttered. "I suppose I'm just surprised that you're interested."

He poked at a clump of mint jelly on the rim of his plate almost accusingly. "I hardly see you anymore, so…"

"You want to spend time with me?"

The wonder in her voice was nearing offensive. His forehead creased. "Of course I do, mum."

"Oh, darling." She reached for his hand. Stroked it, then blushed hotly and pulled away. "We'll go to the lab together tomorrow. Directly after breakfast. I'll show you some of my ideas and we shall...parlez."

He nodded tersely, relieved and nervous at once. "Sounds fine." He took a bite of lamb. Mint burst green and fresh on his tongue, like a cool wave breaking.

That night, Draco dreamed of mint. And his mother. She was wearing it. Large fronds and frills wrapped her pale form skin-like, cupping and hiding her lovely breasts, curling over the daunting mystery between her thighs. She stood in the garden among the foliage, seemed to float in the flowers. So many flowers. "Hello, darling," she said softly.

"Mother." He floated, too. Drawn to her as one is to a forbidden thing. "You...mint…" His thoughts and words didn't seem to mesh.

"I meant what, love?" She asked, not understanding. He didn't understand, either, and if she meant love, then that was fine. She plucked a ripe fig from its dense bushy tree. She crushed it. It burst with a solid, lush tearing sound. Draco's mouth watered. "Smell." She extended the fig.

He took her arm, used it as a bastion to step closer to her. Mint mingled with his fingers. His heat - by now palpable and strong - stirred the oils to emanate fragrance. So when his nose encountered her fruitful fingers, he smelled mint and fig and flesh. It was decadent. He closed his eyes. Birds sang. The sun was a golden orb.

"Good?" She sounded closer. And when he opened his eyes, she was. Right before him. Eyes for the boudoir and smelling of food from the goddess' own bounty.

"Yes, it's good," he rasped. He was compelled to taste. Licked hesitantly the tips of her fingers. She drew a sharp breath that was a knife to his groin. He groaned and pulled again. Pulled witch against him. Mint crushed. Mouths crushed. He felt fig furrow into his hair with her fingers as she held his head bent to hers.

He was weak for her. His hands skated leaf, ripped at it, baring skin. He devoured her neck, bit at her clavicle. Her breasts tasted of mint, smelled of mint, her breath was mint and he was drowning in it. "So good," he murmured round a nipple. "So good…" She arched into the want, pressed breast further into his mouth.

"Make love to me, Draco." A minty gasp.

"Mmmm-mmrrm-millll," he answered, mouth full of mother and mint. "Mmmwwooma- mmsa." Her flesh was soft, dry and downy… He licked his way down, down, down…

Down?

He spat. His mouth was full of...down. He opened his tightly shut eyes to see his pillow, gutted by his teeth. "Oh, damn," he grumbled, pushing up onto his elbows. "Ow!" His cock, hard and over-sensitive from his dream, scuffed sideways in his sleep pants. "Ugh."

He rolled. Feathers flew. He reached into his pyjamas to adjust himself, but the adjustment felt so good, he decided it would be lovely to have a wank. He took himself in hand with a moan, and revisited his dream.

Fantasy was far more fun than insubordinate dreams. In fantasy, he was in control. Laid the witch in moist spring grass and bared her to the sun and the son. He laved her body with his tongue, worshiped it with fingers. The core of her was molten. He sampled it with eager fingers and mouth, and fantasy made her loudly appreciative.

"Oh, Draco! That's perfect, darling! Wonderful!" Her thighs quivered. She pushed into his ministrations. "Oh, Draco -"

"Draco!"

"Gah!" He scrambled upright, stowed his now angry erection hastily. "What? What!" He called.

A soft knock, and then his door was opening. Narcissa appeared fresh and wakeful. "Breakfast is served," she announced. "You've overslept."

"Oh." He tried to sound nonchalant. Hoped he wasn't adversely flushed. Prayed he wasn't transparent in her eyes. "I...I'm on my way."

She smiled, leaned against his opened door. "You do still want to help me today, right?"

"Yeah! Yes." He swung out of bed, turned away from her. "I'll just shower and make my way down. Not really hungry." He glanced at her over a bare shoulder. She was staring, but not at his face. "Mum?"

"Hm?" She shook herself. "Oh. Right. Of course." Her hand worked beneath her chin, making some dismissive gesture. "I'll be in the lab, then." She scurried out, the hem of her frock catching in his closing door.

For some reason, she was nervous. She knew this because of the pixies fluttering in her stomach, and the fact that she kept touching things in the lab. She didn't understand her nervousness, but it was there. No. She did understand it. Just didn't want it to be there.

She'd seen it. It was clear as the day in his thin cotton sleep pants.

Her son had an erection.

Her lip hurt from chewing it.

This was the damn mint's fault. All that bloody singing… She rubbed at her head. Moved another crucible an inch to the left.

And now he would be here with her. In this space she'd created for herself. Her lab. With all the scents that made him him. Perhaps this is a wretched idea, after all. For a manic moment, she considered calling it off. Disassembling the little workspace she'd created for him and telling him she'd changed her mind. Sending him off to France. Or I could go to France, myself! Yes, France! I could disguise myself as a muggle perfumer. Muggle perfumers love France. France is where all muggle perfumes are created. The French are mad for fragrance! I could -

"Where do we start?"

She whirled. Draco stood just behind her. Dressed. The erection no longer...erect. She brought her eyes back to his face and her sick libido under control. "Er…" She cleared her throat. "I've made a place for you. Here." She touched the table. "I'll show you how I've charmed the equipment. Then, we'll just...brainstorm some ideas and...make a perfume."

"Mint."

"Mint?" He'd spoken so decisively. She was taken aback.

"Yes." He nodded. Made his way to her ingredients cabinet and began scanning labels. "And fig."

She went to stand beside him. "Fig?" She'd not imagined. "Together?"

"Yes." He grabbed a jar. "Is there fig? And perhaps even rose. But definitely mint. And fig." He was already making way to his table.

"I- I don't have any fresh fig on hand, but -"

"There's that fig tree in the gardens."

"Yes, but it's dormant right now, darling. All I have is an extract."

"Let's have it, then."

She went to another cabinet, watched him preparing his station. He seemed unsettlingly confident. She handed him the jar of extract and he popped the cork quickly. Held it beneath his nose beside the jar of mint and breathed. "Yes."

"Yes?"

He held the jars out to her. She took them. Breathed, eyes never leaving his until they had to close. "Oh…" It was the most unexpected and pungent combination she'd ever imagined. Bright and dark at once. Encompassing. Edible. Challenging. It enveloped her. "Draco," she whispered.

"I know." She looked at him. His eyes were soft. So very sweet. "Tell me what to do with it. Tell me what else it needs."

Her mind worked. His fervor was contagious. She went back to the cabinet. Vetiver. Amber resin. She pulled jars from dry storage. Pink pepper. Patchouli. Cedar shaving. He took jar by jar from her warming hands, popping corks until the aroma around the table slowed time and stopped the perfumers.

They stared again. Smiled slowly. Awakened by the creature they'd conceived together. "Is this it?" Draco asked excitedly.

"I think so." Narcissa nodded.

"Me too." He looked at their ingredients. "Alright. Let's make a perfume."

It was hours before they had a prototype. It was a darling thing comprised of spearmint, sweet mint, rose, fig and pure delight. Complex and earthy. Rich and decadent. They smelled it directly from its vial, slowly warming and rolling the scent on their palates, letting it rest in their sinuses.

"Draco, I think it's brilliant," Narcissa murmured.

"Try it on." He thrust the vial at her. "Then we'll know."

She extended her wrist. Draco took the delicate thing. Held it steady as he drew the glass applicator from the vial. A tink, and she felt the cool oily substance meet her skin.

The result was immediate. A subtle, violent blow to the face. "Oh my," she said.

Draco said nothing. His nostrils flared. The warmth of her skin heated the oils, the musks. Upset them. Disturbed the ingredients and encouraged them to stir. Made magic where there was no magic. The man and his mother froze in its presence. Breathing. Mystified. Neither aware how close they stood to each other.

Or how the heat that daunted them was as much a product of their own design as the fragrance that consumed them now. Minds met. Fingers brushed as the vial exchanged hands.

Draco drew the applicator down her neck. Narcissa shivered from the contact. He drew it down over her clavicle, through the occipital dip, as far into the 'v' of her cleavage as her dress would allow.

Her shiver became a quiver. Anticipation set her muscles on edge. "Draco," she whispered.

Still wordless, he set the vial aside on his table. And before there could be thought, flight or fight, he pulled her close. Pressed his face into the curve of her neck and inhaled the perfection of her flesh and their creation intermingled.

Narcissa gasped at the sudden embrace. Her body tensed, then surrendered. Toes curled in her slippers. Softly, Draco moaned in the crook of her neck. "Oh…" She murmured. Her throat felt tight. Gooseflesh erupted over her skin. Her son's lips chased her pulse up, up across her jaw, her cheek until…

They kissed.

It seemed the simplest of things. But like their perfume, it was not. They melted together, pale and cold as snow. Narcissa yielded and Draco took, tasted her mouth, her whimpers, her spit.

The sound of their breaths. The sound of their lips moving wetly. The bubbling of a brew in the background. The tinkling of a tincture. The strange silence of something happening.

Even their parting made a noise of regret. Of release. Their eyes met. Mints mingled. Malfoys.

"Draco…" Her forehead creased. She'd not left her toes.

He touched her face. Wonder. "Narcissa…"

And then the sound of a door opening.

AN: The fragrance we see Narcissa and Draco create together here is based loosely on Balenciaga's lovely Rosabotanica. I adore it.