The Three Broomsticks was busy. Hogsmeade weekend saw it brimming with Hogwarts students and staff alike, so the two Malfoys entering the establishment garnered little attention. It seemed the wizarding world was becoming more accustomed to these two being about, anyway.
Draco, regal in head to toe black, ushered his equally regal mother to a corner booth. He tried not to grin as she discreetly cast a cleansing charm on the tabletop, then her seat. His eyes rolled a bit, though, and she caught him. "What?"
Primly, she slid into the booth, placed her green velvet clutch on the seat beside her, and removed her matching hat. Draco sat across from her, the cozy little table almost completely obscured by his long arms. He surveyed the establishment. "The Slug is here," he muttered. "We'll be accosted most certainly."
"Mm." She was looking at her menu. Not at him.
He scowled. "Mother?"
"Yes?" Still not looking at him.
"What the fuck is the point of that hat?"
Now he had her attention. "I beg your pardon?" She was positively scandalized. "Watch your mouth! What is into you today?"
"It's just a ridiculous tiny hat, is all." He shrugged. She was a very light shade of pink.
"Don't bother my hat,"she said. "Behave yourself." Back to her menu.
Draco tapped the table with antsy fingers. His cock ached in his trousers. He looked down. The table really was quite small… Experimentally, he reached an arm underneath it. Bingo. The hem of her satiny skirt was just at his fingertips. She hadn't noticed the touch. "Hey, mum…"
"How do you find being back at Hogwarts?"
Had she really just spoken over him like that? Like he was a child? He bristled. "It's a complete waste of fucking time wherein all I do is tramp around between classes repairing broken shite like a goddamned house elf. As far as I'm concerned, they should have levelled the rubble after the bloody war and started the hell over."
Her menu hit the table with more force than necessary. "Keep your voice down," she hissed. "And I remind you to reign in your errant mouth in my presence." The pink deepened to a rose. He decided to press his luck.
"You weren't complaining about my filthy mouth last week – "
"You are not yet too old for me to slap your face!" She delivered the threat with remarkable calm. "The fact we are in a public saves you from that particular humiliation." Her fingers restlessly toyed with a napkin. "What are you having for lunch?"
"Stop it." She levelled her iciest gaze at him, complete with arched manicured brow. He found it sexy as hell. "I will not allow you to waste this day we have together lobbing filth at me in an equally filthy restaurant."
"I miss you, mother."
"Then stop being petulant and enjoy my company."
"I want to enjoy your – "
"I'll have the lamb stew, please." Her look spoke volumes. He hadn't even heard the waitress approach. A goblet of water appeared before him.
"Right up, ma'am," the girl said. She looked at him. He recognized her vaguely…Amanda? Her name escaped him. "And you, Drake?"
He swallowed, didn't dare even glance at his mother. He could feel the seethe oozing from her. "Um…"
"He'll have the same," Narcissa said. "And a bottle of red wine, please. Elf-made, if this…establishment has any on-hand. If not, whatever isn't rancid, corked or shocked. And quickly, please, as we're on a rather tight schedule."
Now he did look at his mother, who looked at neither him nor the girl, but the bracelet adorning her wrist. She adjusted it while ignoring her environment entirely. It was an impressive and intimidating trait. The waitress scampered away. Draco scoffed. "Really, mother?"
"Well, I am busy, Draco. After we dine, I've a few stops to make in Diagon Alley. The solicitor has some more infernal paperwork for me to sign."
"I see." He nodded. "I thought we were to have the day together."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you."
"Volume, Draco!" She admonished him again. "Shall I cast a silencing charm?"
"Cast a bitch-silencing charm," he muttered.
"What was that?"
"I said 'lovely bracelet on your arm,' mother."
"Of course you did." She sighed. "Draco…"
Her eyes flashed at him warningly, then softened. "I am sorry for insisting you return to school. I want you to know –"
But he waved off her explanation. "I know. I know. Malfoy name, father executed in Azkaban, NEWTS and OWLS, restoring the routine, fuck, shite, bugger and spunk. I'm here. I'm doing it. I hardly want to discuss it further."
She was rather maroon. "Fine." She sniffed and removed her brocade jacket. He licked his lips. "What shall we discuss, then?"
The fingers at the hem of her skirt stretched to brush a stockinged knee. She jumped. Her elbow bumped her water goblet, and her delicate hands scrambled briefly to keep it from overturning. "Get a room, mother," he whispered. "Upstairs. You go up first and I'll follow. No one will notice." The fingers slid to the top of her calf.
She couldn't draw her leg away, and her maroon tint went fuschia. "Nonsense!" She said tightly. Her voice broke.
"Mother, I won't see you again until holidays unless it's like this." His free hand gripped the table edge. He was trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. "Let's not waste this time we have together lobbing banality at one another over an equally banal lamb stew, pretending for appearance's sake that we aren't complete and utter disgusting, incestuous lunatic pureblood deviants." He reached for her hand and she swatted him away, glancing at the patrons around them. When he grabbed it again, she let him hold it. "For fuck's sake, Narcissa, get a room and let me have you before we both explode."
"Control yourself!" She spat. She leaned a little closer to him. He desperately inhaled her scent while she whispered to him. "Draco. Son. These matters are to be discussed in the utmost privacy and enacted in the utmost segregation. Do you understand?"
Feeling chastised, frustrated and painfully aroused, he nodded. A dusty bottle of elf-made wine appeared on their table, along with two glasses.
Narcissa lifted one of the glasses and inspected it quickly. "Good," she said, setting it back on the table. Draco didn't know if she referred to the glassware or himself. His fingers were still at rest on her knee when she stood. "Pour for us, darling. I must excuse myself."
His eyes watched her head to the shadowy back of the Broomsticks, to the lavatories. "Pour for us, daaaahling," he mocked. "Frozen fucking cunt." But he poured two glasses of wine. Tapped the table some more. Shifted in his seat. Drained his glass in four seconds. Slapped the table and stood. "Right," he growled. "Fuck it." He headed determinedly to the lavatories.
She was at the sink when he pushed the door open. She glanced up and saw him in the mirror. He would have given half his dead father's galleons to forever preserve the look on her face.
"Draco! This is the witches' room!"
But a quick glance beneath the three stalls had told him they were alone. "I only see one witch." He approached her, happy to see her standing her ground.
"This is absolutely unacceptable!" She stressed every syllable to a clipped second. Snape would have been proud.
"You're damned right," Draco agreed ferally, pressing his entire body to hers, backing her into the farthest stall. She huffed at his force, pushed her deceitfully delicate hands to his chest. He looked down at her face when her back hit the poorly grouted stone wall. She was flushed, sweating, breathless, speechless and gorgeous.
Her pupils were completely dilated when her eyes finally rose to his. "Draco!" she gasped.
"Oh, shut up, mother." He arched his open mouth over hers, kicked the stall's door into its latch.
Bliss. They groaned in unison. He wasted no time. Bunching folds of skirt in moist palms, he hoisted her easily and pulled a leg around his hip. He was pleased to feel the other follow suit willingly, and even more pleased when her hands left his lapels to yank at his trouser fold. As soon as one hand found his cock, her other snapped around the back of his neck. He snapped a garter against her thigh in return, and devoured her neck when she pulled her mouth away to shriek a little.
He bit her ear. "Shush, Narcissa! Someone might hear you." She bit both her lips. Her head rolled against the wall and she whimpered when he took hold of her knickers' sodden crotch. His knuckles brushed her cunt when he pushed the lingerie aside. "Sweet Circe, you're wet, mother." She kissed his mouth to hush them both and he shoved gracelessly inside her.
Time froze. He saw spots behind his tightly clenched eyelids and the perfect feeling of 'home' raised gooseflesh on his entire body.
Slow, languorous love-making was out of the question. They were pressed for time, space and her cherished privacy. He fucked her hard and fast, glorying in her barely constrained mewls and the nails clawing his neck and shoulder. "Hell, I won't last," he panted. "If you don't come, I swear to Merlin I'll eat you out in this filthy loo, mother, so you'd better fucking come for me, witch."
And she did. The lying bint had been on ready from the moment he'd met her polished face at the newly renovated gates of Hogwarts. She bit – goddamned hard – his shoulder as she rippled and spasmed on his cock, her usual cries muffled to beastly growls. Spit soaked his shoulder. He spilled inside her, choking on her given name in the shell of her ear.
And it couldn't have been timed more perfectly. They stared fearfully into each other's wide eyes when the lavatory door opened.
Draco supported her shaking legs still hiked around his waist. Almost instinctively, they regulated their lost breath, synchronizing their come-down. He couldn't resist kissing her, though, the barely-there sound obscured by the sound of a witch pissing in the stall next door.
The kiss was sweet. And that was a good sign. Because he knew she would be livid when he released her, when they were alone again – mad as a grindylow on a clutch of eggs. But that was fine. The sweetness in her kiss said he would be forgiven. She always forgave him. She loved him.
After an extended hand-washing, the intruder witch left. He dropped his mother. She was unsteady at first, but gathered her wits with aplomb. He leaned against the stall wall to fix his trousers, watching her touch her hair into place and dust off her back and arse.
She avoided his eyes. "Go back to the table, Draco. I imagine our lunch well-chilled by now. I'll be there directly."
"Are you terribly angry?"
"Furious, I assure you."
"I love you, mother."
She pulled open the stall door and shoved him out.
Lunch was indeed, cold. So was his mother. She slipped into her seat across from him as though nothing had happened and immediately gulped her wine almost undecorously. "I hope you're happy," she said at last.
He grinned. "Will you come next Hogsmeade weekend?"
"Will you mind your manners?"
He nodded. "Will you get a room?"
She snapped her napkin across her lap. "We'll see."
"We'd better," he answered. "Because if you don't, I'll fuck you in the wizards' room next time."
Her bowed mouth pursed. She poured them more wine.