Mrs. Robinson

Mrs. Robinson

    Harry suddenly woke up with a jerk. The room was dark. Furniture covered in white canvas crowded the space, and slivers of light escaped from the creaks of a large door.

    'I see you have awaken,' drawled a soft but distinctly feminine voice.

    'Who are you? Where am I?' he shouted angrily. He felt handcuffs restraining him to a chair. Thick rope bound his legs together as well. His head veered wildly while he located the voice. Who was it? His mind panicked. A quick upsurge of adrenaline and fear up ticked his heart. Blood rushed through his head, and he felt suddenly so dizzy and exhausted.

    'Questions. Questions. You will know soon enough.' The voice gave a soft laugh. Harry heard a flash and saw a small glowing point of ember floating in front of him. He smelled the spicy clove cigarette and felt the ephemeral waves of narcotic smoke caress his face. It was her!

    'Narcissa Malfoy!'

    There was a clap and quite unexpectedly the room was flooded with light.

    'At your service, mon Cherie.'

    The tall statuesque blonde sidled up to him leaving contrails of smoke through her path. Her new Jimmy Choo heels clicked softly but determinedly to his chair. Harry's eyes glazed as he slowly but uncomprehendingly took in her form: Chanel glasses tucked into the collar of her black silk dress, her snowy white breast heaved passionately against their binds, Narcissa’s hair bound into an elegant coiffure, and her pale and manicured hands gracefully but forcefully reached out for his cheek. For once, Harry was speechless and only managed a small and undignified grunt. Her grey steely eyes took him in, and he felt scoured and raked in her gaze. Naked. He felt so disturbingly open like a meal for a bird of prey.

    'Narcissa! What are you doing? Why do you have me here?' he gestured with his head at their surroundings, a large dusty ballroom full of furniture.

    'Harry,' she said while still holding his face in her cool hands, 'You left so suddenly after our last tryst that it left me so befuddled. I wondered: don’t you love me at all?' She glanced at him with a sharp gaze. Her blood red lips pouted deliciously, and her small pink tongue delicately licked her upper lip.

    'Narcissa! I had homework to do! Potions homework of all the confounded things!' Harry sighed and his shoulders shook. 'I am only 17 after all,' he said wanly.

    The new thought struck Narcissa’s head Harry observed. 'Oh!' she whispered.

    'And Narcissa, I do love you! How could you assume otherwise? Now stop acting like a ninny and unbind me woman!' Harry was really quite put out. He was doing his much hated Potions work in his dorm room, and the last thing he remembered was a painful blow to the side of his head and a mental blackness. Narcissa blushed furiously and twittered while she hurried about undoing the handcuffs and the rope bound around his feet. 'Oh sorry, love,' and some 'Oh my goodness!' escaped from her embarrassed lips.

    Harry got up and soothed his pinched wrist. Narcissa contritely stared and finished her clove cigarette. In an instance as soon as she crushed the clove stub under her patent heel, Narcissa launched herself at Harry's arms and rapidly pecked his cheek and soothed his hair. For a moment, unbidden thoughts of his mother and Mrs. Weasley sprang to his head. He inwardly shook inside his socks and banished the disturbing thoughts from his head. He got busy with the zipper at the back of Narcissa's dress and groped his hand up her thigh. Yeah, she was old enough to be his mother, but HOT DAMN: she was a fox!

    'Oh Harry! How could I be so silly! Blame them on my new widow jitters! Oh my goodness. What would my mother say?' She cooed into his ear and licked his neck.

    'Quiet Mrs. Malfoy or there will be hell to pay!' Harry grimaced and smacked her bottom. Narcissa squealed and gripped his shoulders while planting a stupendously naughty kiss on his lips. And I used to be such a good little boy, Harry thought. After all, the whole affair began as an innocent meeting on Harry's part to inform poor Mrs. Malfoy that Mr. Malfoy was currently cooling his heels at the bottom of the English Channel after a run-in with an enraged group of Deatheaters. It was something a good boy scout would do, right? Harry remembered that Narcissa sat so prettily on her firm bottom whilst dabbing her beautiful eyes with a perfumed handkerchief. She had on a black Yves St. Laurent couture dress and diamond laced Blahnik heels. She really did play the 'sad widow' part rather well. Unfortunately, at the end of the appointment, he knew all too well what a 'merry widow' looked like. Holy Mother of God. I sure did get myself into a pickle, he thought. It just goes to show that the path to hell is paved with good intentions.

    Like many a lazy afternoon the couple had spent before in the past, they shortly divested their clothes and fell into a sweaty and decidedly sticky but passionate embrace. There was quite a bit of moaning, pinching, and a fair amount of healthy caressing. Clothes were haphazardly strewn on the floor. Narcissa's Jimmy Choos were forcefully ejected into the air and got stuck on the corbeled ceiling of the Malfoy Manor ballroom. Harry's glasses scuttled on the marble floor. Many a furniture piece toppled from the frenzied snog. A painting of Clodius Malfoy, hanging directly in front of the snogging couple, blushed fiercely and averted his eyes. (He did manage to steal a peek here and there.) The moaning and squeals reached such a crescendo that it managed to outstrip the usual decibel level on the Spice Channel! It was no wonder that neither of them heard the rapidly advancing footsteps outside the door nor the soft click of the door opening.

    'Mother, I decided to leave early and......' Draco Malfoy stopped dead on his tracks. His grey eyes bugged out and his chest heaved as if short of breath.

    'Potter!' he thundered!

    'Malfoy!' Harry yelped!

    'Mother!' Draco cried!

    'Oh dear!' Narcissa grimaced.

    'Potter!' Malfoy angrily cried.

    'I can explain everything.' Harry cried. But there wasn't much of an explanation that would do in such a situation. Draco found them in a compromising tete a tete, specifically 'The Tail of the Ostrich' position as so vividly described by Sheikh Nefzawi in his grand opus, 'The Perfume Garden,' if you want to get tediously technical about it! (Narcissa was a very good and patient teacher.)

    'Potter!' Draco angrily cried again. His pale face had become very red and quite suddenly he fell to the floor with a thud.

    Narcissa unlatched herself from Harry and stood up elegantly.

    'Well that was certainly interesting.' she said.