Harry walked out of Madame Malkin's store contemplating the blond boy's mannerism. While he seemed to be spoiled, this Draco Malfoy character clearly had everything made for him.
He walked into the bookstore and slammed into an older woman.
A flush of pink flew into his cheeks. She was very attractive, with long blond hair and an aristocratic face. Her frown wasn't ugly, but regal, and Harry felt a slight thrill of some sort at the predatory glint in her eye.
"My, aren't you the clumsy one. Did anyone teach you manners?"
"I-I'm sorry," Harry whispered, trying his best not to stare at the woman. She had a sort of figure that women half her age did, and a striking resemblance to-
Her voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Who are you, boy," she said sharply.
"Harry Potter."
That stopped her short. She did not stare at him as the patrons of the Leaky Cauldron did - with awe and excitement. She glanced at him partially dismissively and partially with cold, detached calculation.
Then suddenly, her face twisted into a smirk. "You are... a half-blood. Perhaps we shall be able to wash the taint out of you yet."
"What?" Harry continued to stare at her, and realized suddenly that his face had drawn closer and closer to her, as if he were a moth to her flame.
"Come with me."
Harry didn't want to panic, but he did. While his Aunt Petunia barely ever cared for him, she had impressed one lesson with a sort of seriousness and motherly concern that he could not ignore. Never go off with strangers, ever.
He opened his mouth to shout, to scream, to-
Her mouth found his, claiming his lips as hers.
Harry had never kissed anyone before. He watched his Uncle Vernon and his Aunt do it once in a while, but it had always looked too cute for the walrus-sized man.
This sensation was entirely different. Her lips tasted faintly of exotic fruits and spices, while her lithe tongue massaged the inside of his mouth. He barely noticed that she had pulled him into an alley. Harry gasped for breath, but he didn't want the sensation to end.
It seemed as if the space in his lungs became tighter, and his vision dimmed. There was a soft pop, and he realized that he was lying face-up on an opulent green carpet, breathing heavily.
The woman in front of him was sitting daintily on the edge of a huge bed with green and silver sheets. They brought a certain contrast to her blond hair and black clothing that Harry could not help but admire.
"My, my. You are far more forward than my husband ever was."
His cheeks burned in shame, but she was not done. Her wand, produced from somewhere within her sleeves, picked him up and dumped him unceremoniously onto the bed, beside her.
"I haven't indulged in many a year... but I think I will make an exception for the boy who... defeated the Dark Lord."
Her hand made an almost lazy twirling motion, and he felt his sweater, and the overly large t-shirt, forcibly pulled upwards. He fought against it for a moment, but realized that he couldn't win against magic.
She darted forward, her timelessly beautiful face perched over him like that of a bird of prey, and a shock of shame hit him the same time a cold draft did.
He shivered, both at the change in temperature, and from the pleasure of her long tongue flicking his left nipple.
"Ahh-" he cried softly.
"You're so very sensitive, Harry. You're not touched very often, are you? Not used to... human contact?" He didn't understand her question and its nuances, so he nodded truthfully.
"Perfect." She smiled, truly smiled. It was very unlike the little devilish smirks that she leveled against his uncertainty, and Harry compared her to an angel for but a moment.
Her mouth clamped against the base of his neck suddenly, applying a slight amount of pressure that resulted into a feeling completely out of the realm of his experience. A nailed finger pinched his other nipple, still hard from the coolness in the room, causing him to gasp in a combination of pain and pleasure.
Her wand was suddenly in her hand, and he felt his oversized slacks slide off, revealing his underwear, and she suddenly gripped his most private of places through the white clothe.
He struggled for a moment, doubly shocked by the sudden intrusion that he knew was wrong.
"Not too small for you age, but nothing special."
Harry's ears colored a further red. It didn't seem like a compliment at all. He shrank into himself as she chose to pull off his underwear manually.
She looked down over him, fully dressed, and Harry felt yet another flash of shame.
It was quickly extinguished as she took him into her mouth for just a moment, and a wave of pleasure so intense that his knees buckled even as he lay there tore through him.
Then suddenly it was gone.
"N-no," he whispered. "P-please. Don't stop."
"Such a wanton little boy-who-lived, aren't you, Harry Potter."
His embarrassment came back in a rush.
"Very well."
She closed her mouth around him again, and he mewled in surprise. "Ooh-oh-ooooh."
She stopped again, and the disappointment was nearly unbearable.
"I do love the sound you make when I-" She stopped suddenly as a wicked look appeared on her face. "Tell me, Mr. Potter. What exactly am I doing?"
He looked away, thoroughly mortified.
"Now, if you don't tell me, I won't continue!"
He stared back into her cold, grey eyes, his own vibrant green wet with tears. "Please. Don't... don't stop it," he begged, and she almost gave in immediately.
But she didn't.
"Not until you tell me."
"You're... you're l-licking my... my-"
"Say it, Harry."
"You're licking my... my p-penis."
"Yes. I am." She gave a long, luxurious run from his belly button to his tip, and Harry couldn't resist screaming in pleasure.
"Now, don't you think you're being a little bit impolite, Harry?"
"I-impolite?"
"Yes. Here I am, licking you for your pleasure, and you just lean back and take it as if it were free."
He frowned, deep in thought, and she almost tore off her clothing immediately and took him. That would have been quite fun, but she knew it would be terribly traumatizing, if pleasurable. If she played her cards right, he would be hers for several years, until she grew bored, or he grew more manly.
"I can lick you back?" he queried, the innocence shining in his eyes.
Yes. You can.
"Now tell me, why would I let you do that?" she mocked. "You're an impolite little boy. How do I know that you'll be capable of-"
"I'll do my best, I promise!" he swore to her, the resolve shining in his eyes alongside the pleading. "I'll do anything you tell me to. Please. Please. Please."
"Okay, Harry. Go ahead."
She leaned back as well and lay next to him, her hair pooling about her. He looked confused for a moment, staring at her cloak as if it were the gates of Hell.
"Do I- do I-"
"Do you what, Harry?"
"Do I take o-off your-"
"Yes."
He obliged, slowly opening the front of her robe, with a sort of dedication and patience in undoing the fancy knots that very few boys had.
He reverently pushed her panties outwards, and knelt next to her stomach.
"It's not like m-mine," he protested, staring at the light blond patch of hair and the slitted opening.
"Be creative," she said, losing all her patience. As he lowered his head toward her womanhood, she pulled his leg over to the otherside of her and leaned forward, taking him completely into her mouth as his tongue darted into her vagina.
She applied a hard suction, causing him to gasp as his tongue worked enthusiastically.
If it had been her husband it would have taken hours for her to reach her peak. But the knowledge that the saviour of the wizarding world was pleasuring her, obeying her every command, turned her on like nothing else.
Her thighs clamped around his head painfully, but he didn't care. The pleasure was too great, and it took all his willpower to simply work his tongue in and out of her.
He gave a slight cry of delight as he approached something brilliant, something impossibly powerful that he had never felt before.
His tongue worked with more urgency, and it ran over her clit roughly.
"Oh," he moaned suddenly, as pleasure beyond anything he had felt in the short time with her crashed over him, and he lost himself into the haze of ecstasy.
He collapsed onto her, completely spent, his amateur licking forgotten.
She rolled him off of her, onto his back, and stared down at him disapprovingly as he suddenly remembered his promise.
He glanced into her eyes fearfully, expecting a harsh reprimand.
To his surprise, she chuckled. "I think we're going to have a lot of fun together, Harry. But let's not be strangers. You may call me Narcissa."