This story is about two people whose lives seem to be moving along perfectly smoothly, but find themselves one day facing a moment of need. There is a connection between them in the past, but that is a catalyst, rather than a reason for what happens. This could happen to many of us, but in this story it happens to Harry Potter and Narcissa Malfoy.

This was inspired by one line in Deathly Hallows, from Chapter 36: "Hands, softer than he had been expecting, touched Harry's face, ... crept beneath his shirt, down to his chest and felt his heart." This quote, and all characters. belong to JK Rowling.

The dynamics between two people of very different ages intrigues me. And having written a lengthy story (or two) involving a relationship between an older man/younger woman, I wanted to explore the opposite situation. I hope you enjoy.

LL x

It had been five years since the end of the war.

For Harry Potter, life had settled into relative normality. He was kept busy. His work as an Auror meant he travelled a lot, meeting many varied and interesting people. He was held in the highest respect by anyone who met him, although he found that with age came the ability to cope better with the adulation and praise. He refuted the term celebrity and tried his hardest to avoid publicity, although it was not always possible.

He and Ginny were now living together, and he knew in his heart that at some point he would marry her.


It was a word that rang through his head every time he looked into the face, not of Ginny, but of Molly Weasley.

He loved Ginny deeply, and needed her warmth and predictability to steady the eddying whirl of emotions and memories that still beset him at times. He was grateful for her easy acceptance of the troubled past which still haunted him. She had never pressured him into a more formal arrangement of their future. She worked for the Daily Prophet, reporting on extraordinary events across Britain and globally. She too travelled a lot, and when they were apart, Harry found the loneliness difficult. The sight of her beaming face on her return filled him with such joy he often wondered if he deserved her.

But he was not quite ready for that last step.

Harry sat in his office in the Auror department tapping his quill on the desk. It was a Tuesday in November and, as usual for a Tuesday in November, it was raining.

There was little action in the wizarding world at the moment, and he had been consigned to paperwork, never his strongpoint. The admin was a necessary evil of the job; all the Aurors had to do it, especially when there was no hands-on work to engage them. But the task before him today, of giving an exact minute-by-minute account of their latest assignment of accompanying the Romanian Minister for Magic across the Transylvanian Mountains, was particularly uninspiring. Ginny was away for a week, on a long assignment to write an article on the roots of American witchcraft in Salem. She was due back in two days and Harry longed for her return.

Harry sighed deeply and, after a final tap of the quill, suddenly rose from his desk, grabbing his robes and heading out of the office. He could stand it no more. He quickly reached the atrium , and grabbing some floo powder, vanished up a fireplace.

Moments later he reappeared in the fireplace of the Leaky Cauldron. A few people noticed him enter, but it was quite empty that day, many people clearly not venturing outside at all. He walked purposefully over to the bar.

"Butterbeer please ... uh ... no, make that a firewhisky ... too bloody cold today," he ordered decisively.

"Coming right up, Mr Potter," the landlord beamed. "How's work today, sir?"

"Boring as hell, Tom," Harry drawled disparagingly. "Why do you think I'm here?"

The landlord chuckled. "You're welcome 'ere any time you like, Mr Potter. You know that."

"Thanks, Tom. I can always rely on you to divert me from more worthwhile pursuits." He grinned at the man and took his drink over to a far corner of the pub, where he settled into a deep armchair away from anyone else. Except for one woman sitting alone with a drink, there was no one else in this part of the room. Harry felt he could preserve his privacy.

He leant back and closed his eyes, taking a long draught of the firewhisky and feeling it soothe not only the cold November dankness, but also the emptiness left by Ginny's absence.

He sat still for a while, his eyes opening wearily to stare blankly ahead of him. His eyes fell on the woman sitting nearby. She had her back turned and he couldn't see her face. She had long blonde hair pulled elegantly back, and she was dressed in a finely tailored short jacket over a knee length dress. Harry's eyes instinctively followed her shapely legs down to her feet, which were clad in beautifully crafted red leather shoes with considerable heels on them. Harry briefly wondered what she looked like, before taking another swig of his firewhisky and closing his eyes again.

His mind blurred, not an unpleasant sensation; it beat thinking of the details of how long the flight through the Morovia Pass to avoid werewolves had been.

After a time, his senses were reawakened by a noise. It was quiet and muffled, but it was there, and it roused him out of his dozy state. He opened his eyes, and they fell once again on the woman. Her back was shaking somewhat and he realised what the noise was. It was the sound of her crying.

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He had never been very good with female emotions. Ginny and Hermione always reminded him of as much. He turned slightly away from the woman and tried to ignore it, hoping she would either stop it or leave.

She did neither. In fact, her sobs grew ever louder and more impossible to ignore. Harry still had half a glass of firewhisky left and wanted to be able to finish it in peace. The woman was clearly distressed. He wondered if he should say something to her, ask her if she was alright. It seemed the right thing to do. There was no one else sitting near them, and any intervention on his part would be subtle and private. In any case, he didn't see how else she would shut up long enough for him to finish his drink quietly.

With a sigh he rose, withdrawing a handkerchief from his pocket as he went, and walked gently over to her.

He stood just apart from her, her head was still lowered, and he said warmly, "Excuse me. I couldn't help but notice you're a bit upset. I just wondered if there was anything I could do?"

The woman at last turned her head to him, and Harry found himself looking into the elegant but tear-stained face of Narcissa Malfoy.

"Mrs Malfoy!" He was so shocked he nearly fell backwards. Narcissa looked equally horrified at who was now standing before her.

"Mr Potter! I ... I'm sorry ... I just find myself ... slightly ... under the weather ... it's this wretched November rain ... never good for the spirits." She had lowered her head again and was mumbling almost incoherently in order to hide her emotion.

Harry stood awkwardly for a while, completely taken aback, then realised he was still holding his handkerchief in his hand. He held it down to her.

"Here. At least take this. You can use it to mop up ... the rain."

She laughed a little through her tears, and uncertainly reached out and took the handkerchief, dabbing her eyes with it. "Thank you," she said softly, but clearly.

Harry looked down a moment longer, then turned and headed back to his table. He sat with his firewhisky, but suddenly seemed to have lost his thirst. He glanced across at her. She seemed to have recovered somewhat. Her back was straight and she had taken out a powder compact, which she pressed against her nose and cheeks. He could see her eyes in the mirror, and all at once saw them look straight at him. He flushed a little and dropped his gaze. Narcissa Malfoy turned swiftly around. "This is ridiculous. Mr Potter, you may as well come and sit over here to finish your drink."

At first, Harry did not know how to react, then took hold of his glass and walked over to join her at her table.

He sat awkwardly on the chair and took a nervous sip from the glass, before at last raising his eyes to look at her. She was looking at him with bemused curiosity, a faint smile on her lips. She seemed to have recovered fully from her distress of earlier, and Harry could not help but notice how deeply blue her eyes were as they sparkled across at him. Her skin was pale and smooth, almost like marble. She had finely shaped features and high cheekbones, and she appeared younger than Harry knew her to be. She must now be in her mid-forties he supposed, but she had lost the look of disdain she had always carried around with her before the war, and it had taken with it some signs of age. As he looked at her now, he could not deny her beauty. He took another quick sip from his glass.

"Thank you for your assistance earlier. I hope my own son would be equally as gentlemanly if he found himself in similar circumstances, but somehow I doubt that would be the case." She spoke smoothly and with a hint of self-deprecation.

Harry at last found his voice. "I'm sorry we had to meet like this, Mrs Malfoy. I hope you're feeling better now."

"Indeed I am, Mr Potter. You know how things are – never easy – especially if you are a Malfoy." Again, the voice had a cynical edge to it. "And you, Mr Potter. How are you? I do not believe I have seen you for ... five years."

They both knew she meant since the war; since he had seen her and her family huddled into the Great Hall after the final battle, almost lost, unsure of themselves and their future, five years since Narcissa herself had saved Harry by declaring him dead before Voldemort. It suddenly struck Harry with a brutal force. He at once felt strangely embarrassed, as if he, Harry Potter himself, was not worthy of sitting here with her. He mumbled his next words out.

"I'm ... I'm fine, thank you. Very well. Busy. How is your family? How is Draco?"

She was looking at him curiously, with the same smile she had exhibited earlier. "He is well. He works intermittently for Gringott's. Thankfully not in the bank itself – ghastly oppressive place. He travels around a lot, advising small firms on financial matters. And he also helps with some of his father's business interests."

"And how is Mr Malfoy?" Harry could not believe he was inquiring about Voldemort's former favourite in such pleasant terms.

"Oh, Lucius is ... Lucius." She smiled tersely at him before lowering her eyes swiftly, drawing that matter to an abrupt close.

Harry wondered about her words. Their closeness and devotion as a family was the main reason he had felt able to corroborate their apparent defection at the end of the war, thereby preventing their imprisonment in Azkaban. Had something shifted in their family? Did it have something to do with her tears? It was not a time to discuss that, clearly, and a lot of time had passed since the war, too long it seemed, to drag up any of it again now. The two of them sat surprisingly peacefully for a while longer, while they both finished their drinks, occasionally speaking about Harry's job or the Ministry. It was never anything significant, but it was amicable enough.

Harry at last finished his drink and rose to leave. Once again, he felt suddenly awkward and mumbled his next words. "Well ... I'd better go. Goodbye, Mrs Malfoy. It was ... nice seeing you again."

She smiled that curious smile up at him once more.

"Yes, Mr Potter. It was. Goodbye."

He turned away, then stopped abruptly, spinning back to her. "Mrs Malfoy?"

She looked up, surprised. "Yes?"

"I've never said ..." He hesitated. "Thank you."

She looked almost confused. He continued. "You saved my life."

Her cool blue eyes held his gaze for the longest time. They made Harry almost dizzy. At length she spoke. "You saved my entire family, Mr Potter. I have never said ..." She too paused. "Thank you."

Her words were so warm and genuine they sent a rush of blood round his body. He smiled down at her, and the corners of her mouth twitched up slightly in return.

"Goodbye, Mrs Malfoy," he said at last.

"Goodbye ... Harry." Her smile deepened and her eyes danced.

He turned and left the bar.

When Harry Potter returned to an empty Grimmauld Place that night, he found himself thinking back over his encounter with Narcissa Malfoy. It had been a relief to him to have finally said the words he knew he had needed to say for so long, and it was also deeply warming to hear her own appreciation in return.

As he sat down to his lonely supper, he found himself replaying the moment in his head, and realised he had a genuine feeling of concern for her. Why had she been weeping alone in a bar in the middle of a Tuesday? But as he ate, the memory of their meeting faded slightly, and he turned instead to wondering how Ginny was, and thinking through the work he needed to do the next day.

But settling down to sleep that night, the last image that played in his head before drifting off to sleep, was not the smiling face of his fresh-faced girlfriend, but the deep dancing blue eyes of Narcissa Malfoy.

Harry woke early the next day. He was determined to face the day with more motivation for work than he had had the day before. He dressed smartly and found himself at his desk remarkably early. The day at the office passed more smoothly that the previous one. He had meetings with other Aurors, and was encouraged by the activity that was reported in the magical world. There may actually be some dark forces out there that needed defeating. Nothing too drastic; a vampire here, a chimera there, but at least there was something to get his teeth into.

In the afternoon he was back in his office, and at three o'clock there was a knock on his door. He looked up. Standing in the doorway was Narcissa Malfoy. He nearly fell off his chair.

"Hello, Harry."

"Uhh ... hello ... Mrs Malfoy."

"Oh, really, this is getting rather tedious. You must call me Narcissa ... 'Cissa even. That is usually the case." Harry had a vague memory of hearing Bellatrix Lestrange calling her sister Cissy. He was grateful she had not asked him to call her that. He suddenly remembered his manners.

"Uhh ... come in ... please sit down."

"Thank you, Harry. What a pleasant office." She was smiling at him, her eyes fixed into his. He lowered his gaze.

"You're probably wondering why on earth I'm here." She waited for his response.

"Uhh ... yes ..." he stumbled.

"I've come to return something belonging to you." She reached into her bag and withdrew his handkerchief, folded neatly in a square. "It's all washed – the magical way and the Muggle way, you'll be pleased to hear." She smiled at him, walking over to hand it to him. She spoke again, her voice now low and tender. "Thank you, Harry, again, for your kindness yesterday. It was ... appreciated."

Her tender smile brought warmth to her eyes and Harry felt his face flushing once again as he looked up into her graceful face. "It was nothing. Anyone would have done the same."

"We both know that isn't true."

Her smile deepened enigmatically. Harry wished she wasn't so good-looking.

"You have new glasses, Harry."

"Y ... Yes," he instinctively pushed his new oblong rimless specs up his nose.

"Very dignified. They suit you." He knew he must be bright red.

"Are you busy?" She spoke insistently. He was taken aback.

"Uhh ... not especially."

"In that case, you must join me for tea."

He looked up at her, surprise clearly written on his face. She merely smiled back at him.

He was flustered, and asked a question to try to hide his embarrassment as well as discover the truth. "Will Mr Malfoy be joining us?"

She laughed aloud. "Good heavens, no! Lucius is away on business for a day or so. I could do with some company. Come along then."

He could hardly refuse.

A few minutes later, Harry found himself in a neat little tea shop off Diagon Alley being poured tea by the wife of one of Voldemort's Death Eaters. It was virtually empty and they had arrived discreetly in the fireplace, but Harry glanced around nervously all the same.

"I know what you're thinking. You're wondering what Little Miss Weasley will think if she finds out you have been having tea with the wife of her father's arch-enemy."

Her patronising attitude riled him a little, and he responded with cynical humour.

"Actually, I was wondering more about the reaction of Big Mr Malfoy ... or even Little Mr Malfoy for that matter."

She laughed again. Harry could not deny what a thrilling sound it was.

"Don't worry. I'm a big girl – I can take care of myself. And you're a big boy now ... all grown up I've noticed. Quite the fine young gentleman, Harry." Her voice was dancing. He blushed scarlet. "There is no-one here to see us, and you can be assured of the owner's complete discretion. In any case ... it's only tea, Harry ... isn't it?" She raised a teasing eyebrow over the rim of her cup as she brought it to her lips.

At length, they settled into remarkably easy chat. Harry found Narcissa well-informed about the workings of the Ministry and the changes in the dangers the wizarding world now faced. She had a quiet, unassuming intelligence that was neither intimidating nor too generous, and Harry found himself conversing more and more freely with her. During a lull in the conversation, he suddenly asked, "Why were you crying yesterday?"

Her features tensed and she looked down. "I told you. Life is never easy."

"Was it your husband?" He surprised himself with his words.

She shot her head up to him, clearly shocked at his boldness. He worried he had offended her, but she seemed to reward his question with a response. "It is always my husband."

Harry felt a pang of remorse shoot through him. "I'm sorry."

There was silence for a moment, then she continued quite evenly. "My husband is a brilliant, complex man, Harry, and I would not have it any other way. I love him very much. But as well as the advantages of living with such complexity ... there are ... disadvantages. Sometimes, one just needs some time to oneself. You found me at such a time yesterday."

He was touched by her candour. "I'm sorry I interrupted you ..."

"I did not mean I was not welcome for your intervention. Far from it ... you were ... a breath of fresh air." Again, her face broke into a broad smile which filled him with an undeniable glow.

When they had finished their tea, they paid and stood to leave. Harry noticed the time; there was no point returning to the Ministry now.

"I think I'll go home. I've done all I can for today. Thank you, Narcissa." He smiled across at her, suddenly not wanting to leave her presence.

"I stay up in London while Lucius is away. You are in Grimmauld Place, are you not?" Harry nodded. "The house is not far from there. We can apparate away from here, and then I'll walk with you."

Harry should have protested, but did not.

Again, no-one noticed as they left the little tea-room and apparated to a hidden point outside Diagon Alley.

Harry Potter and Narcissa Malfoy walked anonymously and contentedly through the streets of Muggle London. She asked him about his time at Hogwarts, and they laughed about the grizzled old teachers who had taught them both. She went on to discuss her life at the Manor and how she often found it lonely and isolated. Harry looked at her as she discussed this, noting the regretful look that came into her blue eyes. She talked freely about her own magical skills, clearly she had many, and how she had re-evaluated her pure-blood beliefs since the war. She hinted that she had been swayed by Lucius into her opinions in the first place, but Harry reminded her that she was a Black after all. She had looked up at him and laughed again. It brought another rush of blood coursing through his limbs. The feeling no longer troubled him as it had earlier.

They eventually arrived outside Grimmauld Place. It was now dark. Harry withdrew his wand, muttered some words and watched as the buildings heaved apart to reveal number twelve. He turned to her.

"Well. This is it." He smiled awkwardly.

"It would seem that way." She returned his smile.

He tried desperately to ignore the fact that he did not want to say goodbye to her.

"Thanks for this afternoon ... 'Cissa. It's been ... really good." He meant it more than he cared to admit.

"Yes. It has. Goodbye then, Harry." With that she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Her lips were warm and supple, and her heady perfume filled his senses suddenly and desperately. She moved away from him again, but his cheek was still burning where her mouth had been.

With a final enigmatic smile, she turned and started to walk up the street away from him.

"'Cissa!" He was surprised to hear his own voice. She turned to face him. She did not look surprised.

He did not speak for a moment, and they stood silently for a time, looking down the street at each other. Then his words closed the distance between them.

"Would you like to come in?"

Not taking her eyes from his, but not speaking either, she started to walk back towards him. When she reached him, she still did not speak, did not touch him, but merely smiled that deep smile, reflected in the dancing eyes. The rest of the world disappeared.

He turned and walked up the steps to the house, opening it up with a flick of his wand. She followed him through the door and it shut behind them.

Not looking at her, he walked through to the living room and quickly flicked the fire and a low light into life. Harry removed his coat and jacket and placed it carefully on a chair. She did the same with her coat. Then they stood apart and silent for a moment. The heady atmosphere of the room was overwhelming and Harry found the feeling mimicked in the lead weight in the pit of his stomach. But it was not a feeling of shame or guilt. At that moment, all he could focus on was the refined, beautiful woman standing before him. The feeling was need.

She stepped forward, and now stood only a foot away from him. He could smell her deep floral perfume and saw her azure eyes dancing in the firelight. She held his gaze, that same tender mysterious smile playing around her mouth.

Then Narcissa brought her hands up slowly, and moved them to his shirt. Her long fingers undid the top three buttons. He did not move, simply waited to see what she would do next, but his chest rose and fell rapidly. Then he felt what he had felt those years before, lying on the forest floor. Hands, warm and soft, pressing against his heart, feeling it pounding steadily within.

Narcissa looked at where her hand lay on his chest. She smiled, deep and warm, almost relieved to feel his life force still beating hard under her fingers.

"Harry Potter ..." her breath was barely audible. He suddenly reached up and grasped her wrist, pressing the hand even harder onto his skin. Her smile faded and was replaced by a profound look of deep certainty.

It was Harry who moved first, bringing his head down, closer, closer until at last his lips touched hers. At first they did not move, the tenderness of that initial contact enough for a moment. But then he stirred his lips under hers, parting them and opening her mouth for him. She was warm and moist, and smelt of that rich floral aroma he had smelt earlier. Now she started to move under him more fervently, and Harry responded, pressing his lips harder into hers. Then tentatively at first, he let his tongue flit out, questing into her hot wetness. He found her tongue and flitted his gently over it. She did the same, meeting it with hers, their passion growing ever more needy.

He brought his hands up to clasp her head, tilting it to give him better access. She moaned into his mouth and he felt the throb in his groin pulsing hard, and his erection pressing painfully against his trousers. He had risen more swiftly than he could ever remember.

He tore himself away from her mouth and let his travel down her neck until it came to rest at the base of her throat. He kissed, sucked and nuzzled the tender flesh he found there. Once again, her perfume intoxicated him, and he groaned into her skin, causing her to reach up to his head, pulling it hard against her.

His hands came up, fumbling for the buttons on her dress, but he could not concentrate enough to do it, and instead held the materially tightly in his hands and pulled, ripping it in two. Her breasts were revealed to him, pale heaving mounds, straining for release from the confines of her bra. He reached swiftly round and undid the clasp. She helped by pulling it off her shoulders and tossing it to the side. He pulled back momentarily to look at her. She was beautiful; her body as young and firm as he could wish. She had certainly looked after herself, but he supposed it must also have something to do with her prowess as a witch – it delayed the ageing process.

She pulled his head back to hers, holding his gaze intensely for a moment, before searing him with another deep kiss. He knew what he needed, and before long, he tore himself away from her exquisite mouth to quest down, down to her swelling breasts. Holding one firmly in his hand, he lowered his head to the other, quickly finding the nipple and pulling it hard between his lips. She gasped hard and strengthened her grip in his hair.

Harry could not get enough of the tight pink bud in his mouth. He sucked and laved the nipple until it rose to a point of exquisite sensation under his tongue. It was sublime, but he knew his cock, so hard and desperate within his trousers would need to be released. As if on cue, he felt hands at his belt and buttons, and the tension was relieved somewhat as his trousers parted. Instinctively he brought his mouth away from her breast and stood, allowing her to push his boxers down as well. At last he was free, and felt his throbbing erection bounce out of its confines and rise in expectation towards her.

Narcissa smiled down at the sight before her, biting her lip with anticipation. She sank to her knees and Harry could only watch in wonder as he saw her red mouth open wide, and her tongue flit out in preparation to engulf him in her wet warmth. She glanced up at him momentarily, and he felt a desperate throbbing from his rock-hard cock. He could not stop a groan sounding from him, and with that she lowered her head around him.

It was phenomenal. His mind clouded and his head fell back. She pulled him deep into her mouth, further back than he had ever experienced before. Her tongue still managed to swirl and lick around him, sending shoots of pleasure shooting up his cock. She pulled back and licked lightly with her tongue around the tip. He reached down and grabbed her head, as much for support as anything. He wondered if he could remain standing with the sensations she was drawing from him. He felt her tongue quest deep into the slit and capture the pre-cum oozing out rapidly into her mouth.

Shit, she must stop, or he would come immediately, and he wanted this extraordinary pleasure to last for as long as it could. Reluctantly, he reached down to her shoulders, and heaved her up, his cock protesting with a painful jolt as she relinquished it from her mouth.

She was standing before him, and Harry took the opportunity to remove the rest of her clothes, and his. Then once they were fully naked, he lowered her onto the sofa and knelt between her legs. She gazed down at him, her hand coming over to caress his face, that same enigmatic smile caressing her face. He could stand it no longer. Placing his hands on her knees, he pushed her legs far apart and revealed her glistening sex to him. He could see how wet she was already, and he looked at her before him with awe and delight.

He was making her wait and it became too much for her. She groaned and arched up to him, words at last breaking the silence of the room.

"Please ... please, Harry, ... you must ... I need you ... I want you ..."

Harry needed no further invitation, and with a final glance at her desperate face above him, lowered his head to her dripping folds. She immediately moaned incoherently and pressed herself hard into him.

She tasted of the sweetest nectar, and he wanted only to disappear up into her, drinking her in as he went. His tongue pushed as deep into her as he could, then flitted back out, sweeping up her folds until it found the tender kernel of flesh at the top. Narcissa arched desperately off the sofa, a deep gasp of air pulled into her. Harry licked delicately around the swollen bud, drawing constant moans from the woman above him. Her hands came down to clasp in his hair and the pain caused him not only to groan against her wet flesh, but also brought a throbbing reminder of his own needs. His engorged member swayed desperately between his legs, but he wanted only to please this woman, taste the pleasure he was drawing from her.

He ran his tongue back down, dipping into her once again to suck in more of the sweet juice as it poured into his mouth. Then he swept up again, and flicked urgently over her engorged clit. He needed more of her, and drew his fingers up, pushing two deep inside, finding her wet and pliant. He sucked her hard into his mouth and suddenly felt her tense on him. Then with a wrenching cry she came around his mouth and fingers. She arched high off the sofa, and gasped his name. "Harry! Oh god, yes, yes ... oh god ..." The hand in his hair gripped hard, but still he held himself there, drinking in the taste, feel and sounds of her ecstasy. It was exquisite. Narcissa continued to moan and twitch for some time, but he did not move from her.

Only when her hands at last relaxed on his scalp and her breathing became more measured, did he at last pull back.

He stood up and looked down on her. Her perfect sculpted face was flushed and glowing, and she slowly opened her eyes to gaze blearily up at him. "Thank you," she gasped, still breathing deeply, that same smile shining from her face.

Harry could only stay looking down at her, her taste still strong and sublime on his tongue.

Then she brought her hand up towards him, her eyes moving down to his erect member, jutting straight out towards her. The smile turned into a smirk of sorts, and she sat up, taking both his hands and pulling him down onto the sofa beside her. "And now, sweet ... your turn."

Fluidly and gracefully she pushed him down on the sofa and swung her legs around him, positioning herself just over his tip. She leaned over him, her blonde hair falling into her face, and smiled that delicious smile down to him again. He could hardly believe the sight of the woman above him and he throbbed painfully, a groan of need escaping him. Her hands came to his chest and she ran them idly over the muscles she found there, clearly delighting in the feel of the firm young body beneath her. "So beautiful ..." she murmured as her warm, soft hands continued to run over his torso.

"Like you," Harry found himself saying almost inadvertently.

She laughed a little, and reached down to capture his lips in hers, her delicate tongue flitting in to taste him gently again before she pulled back up.

Then fixing her eyes into his, she started to move down. Harry's mouth fell open in rapt expectation. As the tip of his swollen cock entered her, he thought he may pass out. Her slick walls squeezed the head, and sent an immediate jolt of pleasure surging through him. He desperately wanted to thrust up into her, but managed to restrain himself, allowing her complete control over the pace. She bit on her lip as she felt him filling her inch by inch, and her eyebrows furrowed in attentive pleasure, but she did not take her eyes from his.

Harry's cock was nearly fully inside this beautiful woman now, and as she clamped around him, he felt himself swelling once again. His muscles seemed to be humming, poised, his world focused on his member so tightly encased in warm wet velvet. He knew he would not last long. Then just as he thought he could take no more, she started to raise herself up, dragging herself over him with exquisite languor.

He groaned deliriously. "God ... Narcissa ... please ..."

She leaned over to him, whispering in his ear. "What ... Harry? What is it? Tell me what you feel ... what you want."

He moaned once more, she was moving down again now. "Too much ... too good ... fuck ... don't stop ... god, I'm coming ... I'm coming!"

She moved hard down onto him suddenly, milking his pleasure as it ripped through him. He cried out as his seed shot up into her in hot explosive bursts. He could now not prevent himself from thrusting his hips high off the sofa and as deep into her as he could. He hit her cervix, and as she felt him spasming into her, her own pleasure washed around her over and over. Her head fell back and she groaned her ecstasy out in deep gasping cries. As her walls pulsed around him, it brought a last spurt from him, and his hips collapsed back onto the sofa.

She lay down on top of him, pushing her damp hair out of her face, and panting hard against him. He dropped a hand over her smooth back and held her there.

They lay together for a while, neither moving, save for their mutual heavy breathing. And then she heard her soft voice in his ear, a sensual whisper. "Do you have a bedroom?"

He met her eyes, which were dancing once more. She smiled her delicious smile at him and he returned it. She sat up swiftly and raised herself off him. He groaned as he slipped out of her, but rose quickly and took her hand, pulling her naked up the stairs behind him.

He went into the large spare double room. It had a four poster bed in it, and was always kept ready for unexpected visitors, of which there were many. Once again, he waved his wand, lighting a fire in the grate and the many candles dotted around the room. She was standing, her breasts glowing in the warm light, the nipples standing straight out, her long legs stretching out below her. He gasped in with the sight and despite having just come so spectacularly, immediately felt himself harden again. She glanced down, seeing him, and reached her hand out to him. He rushed into her arms and took her mouth desperately in his, plunging his tongue into her. She gasped with his sudden passion, and exhaled a joyous laugh. He moved down to her breast, pulling the nipple hard into his mouth, tugging and biting it in his teeth. His hand moved to the other breast, and he pinched and twisted the nipple hard, desperate to possess her completely. Narcissa pulled in a sharp breath of pleasured pain, but followed it with an immediate groan of exhilaration. To have this young man feeding off her body brought her such complete pleasure she thought she would come without him even touching her core.

She pushed against his hips and Harry felt his cock fully erect dripping onto her legs. He dragged his head up, letting his lips and teeth graze hard up her flesh as he went. She clasped his head to her, her fingers tangling in his unruly hair, and searched his eyes desperately. "Please, Harry ... again ...want you again ... please ... fuck me ... fuck me hard now ..."

Hearing her desperate words, still so smooth but filthy from her elegant mouth, brought an unbearable throb from Harry's cock. A surge of some force welled up inside him, a need which had to be assuaged immediately. His eyes sparked. She saw it and smiled rapturously in expectation. Grabbing her arms hard, he pulled her over to the bed and virtually threw her onto it. She cried out in delight, and knelt before him, spreading her legs to reveal herself ready once again. Climbing rapidly onto the bed behind her, he grabbed her hips and with a single grunt of preparation, thrust hard into the hilt immediately. She was jerked up the bed and cried out with the sudden force, but moved back, grinding herself against him.

Harry could not think, all he knew was the feel of her sheathing him, and his need to fill her completely. He pulled back and immediately she moaned with the loss. But she did not have to wait long as almost instantly he thrust harder than ever into her again. His hands clasped her hips and he moved steadily now, in long, hard strokes in and out, his urgent rock-hard cock flaming her walls and stroking her g-spot with each thrust.

The woman beneath him started to moan incoherently, but he caught her desperate need. "More ... harder ... harder ... please ... I need it ... god, Harry ... so good ... harder ..."

He could only oblige, and with a few final deep thrusts he felt her come undone around him. Her words morphed into a delirious groan of ecstasy and she convulsed. He gripped her hips to control her spasming limbs as ecstasy gripped her body. He felt her walls clamping down hard on him inside. He could take no more and burst into her as his pleasure erupted within him. A primordial noise was torn from his throat and he felt his long hot shoots exploding up into her.

As the last remnants of their ecstasy left their throbbing bodies, Harry could do no more but collapse onto her body as it too sank into the bed.

He lay, slick with sweat atop her, unable to move, just as before.

They did not sleep at all that night. Their bodies instinctively sought each other out, tasting, mingling, joining almost perpetually.

They lost track of how many times they brought each other to the most palpitating climaxes, or how they had done it. At one point, Harry was aware of her deep wet mouth once again on him, sucking, teasing, licking, pulling him hard down into her throat, further than he thought possible. He had come frantically, pushing her head onto him as his hot cum had filled her mouth. She had brought her head up to his and stroking his face tenderly he had watched her swallow him hard into her. It filled him with undiluted appreciation and pleasure; never had Ginny done that for him.

The extent of their stamina and pleasure amazed them both, and they were desperate for the night to go on and on. They both knew that when it did end, it would be forever.

When at last the thin November dawn crept apologetically through the shutters the next day, they found themselves almost unable to distinguish whose limbs belonged to whom. Their bodies lay entwined, his member still inside her, slick with their constant pleasure of the night.

Reality crashed down.

"I have to go to work."

"Yes." Her voice sounded remarkably poised.

"Ginny comes back later today."

"As does Lucius."

Harry did not know how he could drag his body away from her, but she drew herself up, and held his head, kissing him long and tenderly. He focused once again on her mesmerising mouth and the exquisite wetness as it possessed him for a final time. When they parted he found she had moved off him and apart. It pained him badly to let her go, but it had been achieved at last.

She breathed into his mouth, "Thank you, my sweet darling."

He opened his mouth to speak but she pressed a long soft finger against his lips. Then with a smile she raised herself off the bed. Her clothes were still downstairs. She turned back to him. "Goodbye, Harry Potter."

"Goodbye, Narcissa."

With a final hypnotic smile, she turned and was gone.

Harry went to work, having thoroughly cleaned and tidied the house first. As the day wore on, his body still glowed from the aftermath of the intense unending pleasure he had experienced the night before. But he felt no shame, no guilt. He knew it would never be repeated. As the hour came closer to Ginny's arrival, he found himself looking forward to seeing her again with the same longing he always felt.

When at last he found himself at home and heard her open the door, he rushed to her and held her long and tight.

Life progressed much as it always had. But something had changed, Harry's mind was clearer now. He now knew what he wanted.

A few weeks later he and Ginny were walking in Diagon Alley, perusing the shops for potion equipment and ingredients. Harry looked up. There ahead of them were a familiar couple. Both had immaculate blond hair and tailored clothes. The woman's hand was holding the man's arm. Ginny groaned. "Oh Merlin, look. It's the Malfoys."

Harry felt little; certainly no regret or guilt, but little excitement either, merely a contented curiosity.

Lucius and Narcissa had stopped a short distance away from them. They were going to meet.

Narcissa turned and saw them first, and Harry saw the dance in her eyes and the smile caressing her features. His insides glowed with a happy memory.

"Mr and Mrs Malfoy," he began, deliberately formally. "How lovely to see you both."

Lucius turned to them with his usual disdainful arrogance. "Potter," he drawled. "Miss Weasley."

"Hello," said Ginny, politely, but hanging back as far as she could.

"Miss Weasley, Mr Potter," Narcissa's eyes held his gaze for a moment longer than was needed. He returned it willingly.

"How are you both?" Harry continued.

"Very well, Potter, splendid in fact. Business is booming and life at the Manor is ... as it was." Lucius was clearly trying out his renewed confidence., although Harry could detect the hint of doubt in his voice. He glanced quickly at Narcissa again.

"And you, Mrs Malfoy?"

"I am very well, Mr Potter. As my husband says, life is ... as it was ... as it will be." She smiled at him, but it was not the magnetic smile he had seen so often that night. "How are you?" The question was heartfelt.

"We're really good, thank you," he turned to Ginny, a flush catching his face for the first time since bumping into them. He paused before announcing, "Ginny and I are getting married in a month's time."

Harry saw a brief cloud pass across the blue eyes, but then her features broke out into a wide smile, and the eyes danced as he had seen them do before. "Oh, that's wonderful! I'm so pleased for both of you. May I wish you every happiness. Lucius joins me in that, don't you?"

"Hmm?" He hadn't even been listening. "Yes, anything you say." His eyes moved away again in detached disinterest.

Narcissa sighed a little, then raised her head to them again. "Congratulations, both of you."

"Come, my dear, we really must be going," Lucius drawled down, his voice increasingly impatient.

"Yes, as ever, we must. Goodbye, Miss Weasley." She turned to Harry and smiled that smile once again. "Good bye, Mr Potter."

"Goodbye, Mr Malfoy." He turned to stare hard into her eyes one last time. "Mrs Malfoy."

With that, she took her husband's proffered arm, and turned away from him, walking down the street.

Harry smiled down at Ginny and took her hand in his. They too turned and headed off in the opposite direction. A moment later, Harry found his head moving instinctively around to the woman walking away with her husband. At the same time, Narcissa Malfoy slowly turned her own head and looked for a final time into his eyes, then turned back to continue walking up the street.

With that, Harry Potter and Narcissa Malfoy walked away from each other to continue with the rest of their lives.

Hope you liked it. Let me know if you have a spare moment. And if you want more intense hotness, have a look at my other LL stories or my original writing as Demelza Hart, which can be found on Amazon and most good retailers. My latest, a trilogy called Suited to You, features the following stories: Spontaneous, Exposed and Sated. X