A Mother's Love

For as long as Draco could remember, his mother had loved him.

She loved him in a more powerful and special way that most of his friends' mothers loved them. But this had never bothered Draco. He had always been different from his friends anyway.

He and Narcissa had always been close. Ever since he was a little boy, he would always go to Narcissa rather than Lucius. When he fell and scraped his knee, when the cook made him one of his favorite foods, when he found a new book by a Wizard author or a Muggle author, he would go tell Narcissa. And she would put aside her own book, or her sewing, or whatever else she had at hand and would gather Draco up next to her or on her lap and let him show her or tell her what he had discovered or been given.

Besides, his mother was beautiful. Narcissa was tall and slender, with graceful hands and long fingers. Her nails were almond-shaped. She had long, fine, silver-blonde hair, an aristocratic nose, pretty lips, and cerulean blue eyes.

Draco inherited most of his looks from his mother. He had her slender figure, pale face, although it was more pointed than his mothers, graceful hands, silver-blonde hair. But his eyes, his expressively gray eyes with almost girlishly long blonde lashes, were his one feature inherited from his father.

***

The first time his mother had touched him sexually, Draco was eight. Before that, there had been little things, little glimpses, like he'd lean up to kiss his mother and at the last moment, she'd turn her head and he'd get her lips instead of her cheek.

The day it happened, a Thursday in the Autumn, Draco had been up in his room playing quietly when one of the maids, Lisbeth, had come in and told him it was time for his bath.

Draco stood up obediently and followed Lisbeth into the bathroom, taking off his clothes while she adjusted the temperature of the bath water.

Once he was undressed and Lisbeth had gotten the water ready, he climbed into the large, deep tub and started washing himself.

Lisbeth smiled at the child and sang softly as she washed his back.

Ring around the rosies Pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

Ring around the rosies Pocket full of posies Ashes, ashes, we all fall down

Nursery rhymes are said, verses in my head Into my childhood, they're spoonfed Hidden violence revealed, darkness that seems real Look at the pages that cause all this evil...

Her gentle voice trailed off into silence as Narcissa entered the room. She stood respectfully with her head slightly bowed as her mistress entered the room.

"Thank you, Lisbeth. I'll take it from here."

"Yes, Mistress." Lisbeth stood up and curtsied before leaving the bathroom to attend to her other duties.

Narcissa sat down and smiled at her son. Draco smiled back up at her. Narcissa's washing of his hair had become a nightly ritual for the both of them.

After she had finished shampooing and conditioning Draco's hair, Narcissa helped her boy out of the claw-footed, marble tub, at which she flicked her wand so it drained itself.

Picking up a soft, dark green towel, she began to gently dry Draco off, starting with his fair hair and moving down to his alabaster shoulders and chest.

When Narcissa reached his waist, she knelt down on the floor before her standing child. Looking up, her eyes met Draco's briefly before she bent her head again to take him into her mouth, her breath hot and syrupy and her tongue gently caressing the length of his member.

"Mother," he sighed, leaning back into the stone wall.

She did not reply, but instead continued on sucking and licking him until he came in her mouth. She swallowed some of it and stood up enough so she could kiss her son on the lips, transferring the remainder of the cum into his mouth. Draco looked at her, wide-eyed, and swallowed reflexively.

"Thank you, Mother," Draco said.

Narcissa smiled. "Anything for you, darling. Come, let's get you ready for bed."

She helped Draco pull on the pajamas folded carefully and left on a chair by Lisbeth.

Narcissa took him by the hand and led him into his bedroom. He climbed into bed and she pulled the covers up around him and sat on the edge of the bed.

Draco assumed his typical sleeping position: flat on his back with his arms crossed over his chest.

Narcissa looked down at her soon and smoothed his flaxen hair.

"Close your eyes, darling. Go to sleep."

Draco closed his eyes. "Good night, Mother."

Narcissa bent down and kissed Draco on the forehead. As he closed his eyes, Narcissa's entrancing voice filled his room, reaching all the way up to the high-arched ceiling and all the way down to the cold stone floor, warming it, going down past it into the expansive dungeons that held ancient remnants of prisoners long gone.

On candystripe legs the spiderman comes softly through the shadows of the evening sun stealing past the windows of the blissfully dead looking for the victim shivering in bed searching out fear in the gathering gloom and suddenly! a movement in the corner of the room! and there is nothing I can do when I realise with fright that the spiderman is having us for dinner tonight!

Quietly he laughs and shaking his head creeps closer and closer to the foot of the bed and softer than shadows and quicker than flies his arms are all around me and his tongue in my eyes "Be still be calm be quiet now my precious boy don't struggle like that or I will only love you more for it's much too late to get away or turn on the light the spiderman is having you for dinner tonight!"

And I feel like I'm being eaten by a thousand million shivering furry holes and I know that in the morning I will wake up in the shivering cold and the spiderman is always hungry...

And before Narcissa was even finished, Draco was fast asleep, lost in his world of dreams.

***

The first time Draco made love to his mother, he was thirteen. It was summer, not a week after he had been let out from his third year at Hogwarts.

It was a Saturday afternoon in early June. He had been flying in the back when one of the servants, a French girl named Louise, told him to come inside, his father wished to speak with him in his office.

Draco made a face unbeknownst to Louise - although if she had seen, she surely would have smiled and said with a giggle, "Ah, mon Draco, pleez do not allow your papa see you! 'E'll be most upset with you!' - and came down as he had been told, still holding his Nimbus 2001 in his left hand as he followed Louise to his father's study.

"Merci beau coup," he said to Louise.

"Ah, oui," she replied with a curtsy. She blew Draco a kiss as she turned and walked down the hallway.

Draco sighed and steeled himself before knocking on the door.

"Come in, Draco," his father called.

Lucius was sitting at his desk with a quill in his hand, scribbling something on a bit of parchment, with a book on something illegal, no doubt, open. He gestured at an empty chair for Draco to sit in.

Looking up from his writings, Lucius studies Draco for a moment. There was so much of Narcissa in him, in his posture, his hair. Only in his eyes was there any trace of Lucius in the boy, and the way he hardened himself to outside influences.

"Draco," he began, "you have failed again. This is the third year in a row that you have not been able to succeed in your duties. You had so many chances to bring Potter back to us, we could have been so much higher in the Dark Lord's graces, and you failed on every attempt. You couldn't even beat the bloody boy at Quidditch and I have bought you the best broom on the market!"

Draco inwardly sighed, knowing better than to make any outward sign of his boredom. He'd heard this speech before, and he just didn't care anymore. Let Potter do whatever he wanted. Draco had given him a chance, more than one. Not only that, they were already high up in Dark Lord's good books, with all the research Lucius did on ancient dark curses and Salazar Slytherin's experiments with crossbreeding centaurs and unicorns, for example. He didn't dare relay any of this to his father, as he most certainly did not want to get Lucius angry.

Lucius stopped and looked at his son again. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it, feeling the familiar tinge of pain in his left forearm.

"We will continue this later. I'm being called. Go inform your mother that I'll be late tonight."

"Yes Father," Draco intoned mechanically. He picked up his broomstick and left Lucius' study, letting the door slam behind him.

Dinner had been a quiet affair that night, with Draco and Narcissa eating alone, the large dining hall eerily quiet and empty. Throughout the meal, Draco could feel the eyes of the portraits of now-dead Malfoy relations staring at him.

He excused himself, murmuring something to his mother about schoolwork and retired to his room.

He'd had trouble falling asleep that night. A quick glance a t the grandfather clock told him it was 1:30 in the morning,

Sighing, Draco sat up in bed and reached for the glass of water on his night table. As he drank, he thought of his meeting with his father.

"We will continue this later."

Lucius' ominous words rang in Draco's mind. As he sat in bed, feeling very much alone, he heard familiar footsteps coming down the hallway.

Narcissa had entered his room with a hint of caution masked behind her graceful movements. Years of being married to Lucius had taught her to be wary of insomnia-ridden Malfoy males. Then again, that was Lucius, and this was her Draco, her baby boy who had always told her about everything and talked to her of everything from Quidditch to Blaise Zabini, the pretty red-headed Slytherin girl whose father was a Death Eater along with Lucius himself.

"Draco, darling, is everything all right?"

Draco looked up into his mother's cerulean eyes. She placed a smooth hand on the side of his cheek.

"I couldn't sleep."

Narcissa smiled at her son. She tilted his face up gently and kissed him, her arms encircling him. Draco's slender fingers worked on the knot keeping Narcissa's black silk kimono on, succeeding in his goal. Her robe slipped off her shoulders, leaving her naked in the moonlight.

She unbuttoned Draco's pajama top, which he tossed to the side of his bed. He pulled of his bottoms and his boxers and discarded those, too.

Narcissa laid down next to her son. Draco rolled on top of her and kissed her while Narcissa's well-trained fingers stroked his member into life almost instantly.

Lowering himself into his mother, Draco found his rhythm relatively quickly. Narcissa knew her son had previously been a virgin, but he preformed surprisingly well for his first time.

"Oh, Draco," she found herself moaning as he came inside her. He pleased her in a way Lucius never had: sex with Lucius was rather like an examination with a doctor, cold and clean and sterile and with no real emotion in it.

Draco smiled at his mother who kissed his forehead.

"Good night, Mother," he said, sleepily, having been tired from the exertion.

"Sleep well, darling."

Narcissa gathered up her kimono and left Draco's room, shutting the door softly behind her.

***

Draco Malfoy was now seventeen years old and about to start his seventh year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

He had been fucking his mother for roughly four years and while she no longer washed his hair, their other nightly rituals had not been forgotten. And Lucius hadn't a clue. Draco snorted. Lucius was hopelessly wrapped up in his Death Eater life. He didn't ever take much notice of his wife or son anymore, except to berate Narcissa when dinner parties didn't go as planned and Draco for not yet capturing Potter for Voldemort.

Draco had not been initiated yet. While the typical age for incoming sons and daughters of present Death Eaters was sixteen, Narcissa had begged them to let Draco's initiation be after his graduation from Hogwarts so his duties as a Death Eater wouldn't interrupt his studies - unless, of course, Draco wanted to be initiated earlier.

"No, Mother, I think it's best I wait," he had said.

In all honesty, Draco didn't care. He didn't care about being a Death Eater or capturing Potter or killing Muggles and Mudbloods. Sure, he might not like Granger, she was an obnoxious, know-it-all, Mudblood, and Potter was an irritating good-doer, but did that justify killing them? Draco was no longer so sure. Unlike his father, he did not agree to everything that Voldemort said just because Voldemort said it and he was a supporter of Voldemort - or close enough to one..

But whether or not he agreed with it, whether or not he liked it, Draco did not have much of a choice when it came to his future. Lucius had made it painfully clear to him that one day, he too would become a Death Eater and he too would become a member of the Inner Circle and he would do exactly what Lucius and Voldemort instructed him to.

And Draco would. Unless it meant killing his mother.