For my patient dragon, my kind followers and reviewers. I apologize this piece must come in two parts, but there is much ground to be covered. I also apologize the real smut doesn't roll until part two. But I promise it shall be worth thy wait.
Malfoy Manner: Our Dinner with Weasleys
Part the First - Absolute Beginners
Draco woke to the strangest sensation. Something cold…round…and hard on his lower back. Tinkling sounds…then another cold, round and hard thing on his upper back. "What the hell?" He murmured sleepily, starting to rise.
"Whoa!" Fingers pressed his shoulders back to the mattress. "You'll spill my tea."
"Your tea?" He turned his head painfully this way and that until he saw… "You're bloody mad!" There was a damn teacup on his back! With saucer! And a plate…with a scone? "Mother! You nutter! I'm not a breakfast table!"
"Obviously," she drawled. She was crosslegged beside him, quite naked. A silver service hovered a foot or so over their bed. "Don't spill! It's hot."
"I cannot believe this." She cut and prepared her scone. Crumbs drizzled onto his butt. "You are making a mess!"
"Mint can change the sheets." She began eating calmly.
A moment passed. He drummed his fingers. His stomach growled. "Is there at least tea for me?"
She sighed and shifted, lifted her cup and saucers off of him and placed them on the bed. "Yes. Here."
He sat up, looked at her as though she was daft. She shrugged and proffered his cup. "Crazy bint." He sipped. She pulled a scone off the service for him and set the plate between them. "Breakfast in bed?"
"I thought it might be nice."
"Hm." He slathered clotted cream onto his scone. "Jam?"
She passed him a jar. "Strawberry."
He added the jam to his cream and took a bite. "Mmm." He jumped when a dollop of the sweet mixture fell into his lap. It slid slowly down his bobbing erection. "Nice, mum."
She looked at the mess and licked her lips. "Quite."
And before he could speak or prepare, she was leaning over the jam and saucers, taking him in her mouth. "Bollocks!" He jolted at the sensation and grabbed the unsettled teacup beside him. "Oh, Merlin, witch." He was barely able to wrestle the cup back onto the service before she was earnestly blowing him. "Fuck, you're evil!" One hand tangled in her hair. The other reached for her thigh. "Tit for tat," he gasped, pulling.
He fell back into the pillows and tugged her thigh over his head. The jam tipped onto the bed. A scone slipped from its plate. A right mess was truly made, but the moan around his cock when his mouth found her wet cunt was more than worth it. Her left knee settled in the spilled jam and Draco reached toward the jar. Two fingers smeared the sweet redness onto her tart pinkness. "Let's sweeten the deal, mother." He dove in.
He moans turned to groans. She sucked and swirled with abandon while he licked and nipped with equal abandon. When he'd cleaned her once, his fingers re-applied the jelly. She took his cue and reached backwards to the puddle of red goo.
"Gods!" It was cold and sticky as she fisted it onto his cock. She licked now, still panting. He lapped a few crumbs from her clit. How had those gotten there? She was so hot the jam liquefied almost quicker than he could catch it.
She'd taken on a steady moaning cadence, up and down along his length. The vibrations felt fantastic. He needed to keep her making that sound. He introduced one, then two fingers into her tightening hole. The moans deepened. Bliss…
She stroked his tacky balls in rhythm. He found he could control the delicious humming with his own ministrations. He slowed his fingers' thrusts, massaged her swollen slit. His other hand spread her open so his tongue could flick and flatten on her hardened clit.
Her demoniacal mouth had begun to focus on the sensitive head of his cock. She was fiendish in knowing his weaknesses... Very well. His fingers fucked her enthusiastically, curving til he knew the tips teased that hidden button in her that surfaced just for him.
He felt his balls seizing and she rolled them. He didn't have to tell her he was coming, knew she would drink every salty drop. She always did. He grunted against her folds while she milked him. She coughed a bit, caught mid-swallow by her own abandoned orgasm. "Oh, fuck," she whimpered tightly.
He pressed his tongue flat to her clit, pinched it between the fingers that had opened her up. The fingers inside her enjoyed the shuddering contractions in her slick walls. Her mouth opened on his thigh and she growled the last of her pleasure there. He felt flecks of spit flying and patted her arse soothingly.
They breathed heavily for a while before she rose to her knees, straddling his chest. She looked down at him over her shoulder. "An excellent breakfast, son."
He slid his hands up her hips, over her lovely rib cage and up to cup her heavy breasts. "I agree, mum." He cocked his head at the bed. "Quite a mess, though."
Her forehead creased. "Indeed. What will Mint think?"
He chuckled. "I doubt Mint shall be in the least surprised." Her face was inquisitive, but he didn't elaborate. "Come on. A bath for us."
She nodded and rose shakily, dusting crumbs from her belly.
They bathed in dragon's blood and patchouli oils. Draco washed his mother's hair and broached the subject he'd been avoiding for the last two days. "So. Still on for the Weasleys' dinner tonight?" He hoped his tone was casual and not fearful.
Narcissa growled. "You got us into this."
He let his soapy hands rub her shoulders, gentling her. "You don't have to go, mum."
"I know that." She dunked away from him and rinsed her hair. She emerged wringing the wet mass of black and blonde. "But I will go."
He smiled at her. "Thanks. I don't think it will be so bad." She gave him a skeptical brow. "You know," he said. "You haven't kissed me all morning."
Her incredulous look set him laughing. "I think I better than kissed you!" She exclaimed.
He reached for her. "Oh, I've no complaints about…breakfast. I just long for your soft lips on mine."
She grinned as she straddled him, hugging him tightly. "No need for flattery, son. I've said I'll go."
"No flattery, mother." He kissed her soundly, sloshing the water as he adjusted her. "It just doesn't feel right…" He slipped inside her easily. "…until we're like this."
"Mmm. There is something to be said for it," she crooned. The water buoyed her as she rode him. They swallowed each others' cries in opened, kissing, tasting mouths.
They dressed as casually as was possible for Malfoys – Draco in a trim black jumper and oxford and Narcissa in a knee length frock of ice blue that accented her eyes nicely. She was affixing sapphire earrings when a thought occurred to her. "We should take wine."
Draco nodded and stood from the edge of the filthy bed. "I'll fetch one. Anything particular?"
She shrugged. "Something nice."
"Right. I'll stay away from the dodgy stuff."
She caught him at the door. "And Draco? Send Mint up to tend to the bed. Say that I was…clumsy or something."
He leaned in the doorframe. "Mum…I think maybe…the elf knows."
Scandal gripped her features. "Impossible!"
He tapped the wall a few times. "Just a feeling I get."
"Well, your feeling is erroneous, I assure you."
"Of course, of course." He left her reassured. In fact, their elf was in the drawing room when Draco entered. It was intricately dusting the new chandelier with a charmed rag, directing the cloth from below. It acknowledged him with a nod. "Mint."
"The mistress…spilled her breakfast this morning. Could you tend to her bed while we're out, please?"
"Yes, young master. Shall Mint tend young master's bed, too?"
Draco looked back from the cellar steps. "My bed is fine, Mint." The elf grunted. Draco scowled. "What's that, then? That grunt. What does it mean?"
"Young master's bed is dusty."
Draco flushed. Yep. It definitely knew. His mother would be mortified. "Very well," he groused. "Tend my bed, too." He flourished a finger at the creature. "And keep your opinions to yourself. I still find you insolent and may yet kick you." He could feel the elf's irreverent faces as he descended to the cellars. "Bloody nuisance…"
He selected a white and a red. Who knew what Weasleys served for dinner? What did poor people eat? He cringed at thoughts of dried potatoes, shrivelly carrots, fatty pork pie and stale crusts of bread. "Merlin, please let there be something edible."
His mother approved of his choices. He'd found her in the library, comfortably tucked into a plush divan and some wizarding novel. She looked up from the book to glance at the wines and nod. She seemed absorbed.
"What are you reading, then?" He sprawled at her feet.
"Undying Love," she answered.
"Blech." He grimaced. He hated romance novels – witches mooning about over strapping wizards with flying pirate ships and such rot. "What's it about?"
"Oh." He stared at her. She was truly fucking disturbing sometimes. "Well, we should be off."
"Off?" She blinked. "There's over an hour before we need be there."
"Well." He stood and stretched. "I um… I thought we'd fly. Lovely day and all."
"Fly?" She'd made no move to stand. "You're insane. Not on that black death trap I got you?"
"The same." He grinned. "Come on, mum. Don't you trust me?"
She sighed, exasperated. "Draco. I've not been on a broom in…close to 25 years now. I've no intentions of climbing on one now."
"Are you a witch?"
Her eyes narrowed at him. "Quite," she snarled.
"Then get on this broom with me." He took her book and tossed it onto a side table. "Witches were riding brooms long before wizards were. It's in your blood, your chromosomes…or your uterus? I don't know where exactly. But it's there." He pulled her up by her slender hands. "You're meant to be on a broom. More importantly, my broom." Her softening expression meant she was caving. "It'll be lovely, mum. I promise. If you don't like it, I'll land and we'll apparate. Alright?"
"Merlin." She chuffed. "The things I let you talk me into."
"Yes!" He kissed her. "Come on. You'll want a long cloak if you're wearing that frock."
The broom was more comfortable than Narcissa had imagined. Halfway through their journey, she leaned into Draco's ear to tell him so. Her warm breath against his wind-chilled ear was distracting. A lesser broom, and they may have wobbled a bit. He liked the feel of her stretched against his back, arms tightly around his chest and cheek resting sweetly on his shoulder. Occasionally a stray strand of her hair would flick around to tickle his ear or face. He grinned.
They circled the Burrow twice before slipping through tingly alert wards to land in a cluttered, overgrown yard surrounding a cluttered, overgrown house. Draco dismounted the hovering broom and smoothly helped his side-saddled passenger to the dusty ground. He tugged off his goggles as she discreetly took in their surroundings. She produced her wand and fixed her mussed hair with a quickness.
"Nice trip, eh?"
She glanced at him askance. "It was…a smooth ride," she admitted.
A Weasley was approaching excitedly. Draco slapped Narcissa's arse. "Oh, I've definitely had smoother rides, mum. Hello, Arthur!" He was spared her embarrassed wrath.
Arthur was over the moon. He shook Draco's hand with both his own, gushing about having the Malfoys at last. Narcissa smiled prettily as more Weasleys crowded the door. Molly pushed through them, followed by Ron. "Oy, Malfoy!"
"Ron." Draco nodded.
Ron looked past him. "Bloody fucking hell…"
"Ron Weasley!" Molly was touching Narcissa, ushering the witch toward the house. "Watch your filthy mouth! Hello, Mrs. Malfoy!" She slapped her own mouth. "Ms. Malfoy," she corrected and blushed profusely. "Do come in!"
Narcissa looked back at Draco almost pleadingly, but her son was fielding broom admiration and could only smile encouragement. "It's a Mercury," Ron breathed. "Harry!" He bellowed.
Draco suddenly wondered if this wasn't…a bad idea. Not that he would admit such a thing! But he did wonder. The scarhead appeared from the rickety shack, smiled at Molly and a clearly nervous Narcissa, and ambled up to where Ron and Arthur stood simply staring.
"Wow." Potter began staring, too. "It's incredible, Draco."
"Thank you." Draco felt a bit awkward, staring at his own broom. What to do? "Care for a ride?" He offered his goggles to the ogling group.
Eyes flicked from the broom to the owner. "Seriously, mate?" Ron asked in a small voice.
"Of course." Draco passed the goggles firmly into the ginger's slightly shaky hands.
Ron looked at the house, then back to his father and Harry. "Don't tell Mione," he whispered. "She's already told me I'm not to be on one of these. Ever."
The other men shook their heads while the Weasley took off smoothly. They watched him rise into the azure sky. "Nice day for it," Draco said.
"I'm next!" Arthur and Harry spoke at once.
Inside the Burrow, there was a bustle of activity and chatter. A rather delectable palate of odors circulated from the kitchen where Ginny Weasley was setting a long table with Hermione Granger's help. Luna Longbottom sat laughing with her husband and George Weasley, shelling peas into a copper pot. When Molly and Narcissa appeared in the doorway, all activity halted with an almost audible screech. "The Malfoys are here!" Molly sang out.
A dotty, undertain chorus of "Hello, Ms. Or Mrs. Malfoy" circled the room. Narcissa took a deep breath and a hard swallow. "Hello." Her voice nearly cracked. She whisked towards Molly and held out a thick velvet bag. "We…brought wine."
"Wine!" Molly scampered with the bag. "How wonderful! Ginny, get the wineglasses."
"We have wineglasses?"
Molly set the bottles on the table. "Yes! Well, I believe so. Somewhere…Let's see." She began shuffling about the chaotic kitchen.
"Where's Ron?" Granger asked.
"Ah-ha!" Molly emerged from an obviously enchanted nook beneath the sink with a dusty box of wineglasses. "Some broken, but…well Hermione is the best at reparo!"
Dutifully, Granger took the box. "Have you seen Ron?" she repeated.
"Outside looking at Mr. Malfoy's new broom, dear."
Hermione looked almost accusingly at Narcissa. "New broom?"
Cissa bit her lip. "Yes." Her answer was so uncertain it was almost a question.
"What broom?" The young witch put her fists to her hips and the Malfoy woman's nostrils flared.
How dare this slip of a muggle-born witch with unfortunate hair speak to her in such a manner? "He has a Mercury, I believe." She answered in a curious blend of modest disregard and haughty apathy.
"Oh, hell…" Granger was out the door.
"Ginny, don't forget the napkins!" Molly tutted.
"Oh, mum. The cloth ones? They're so pretentious and…stupid." Ginny complained.
"I always just fold them over beside the plate," Luna offered airily. "Less trouble."
Suddenly, Narcissa stepped into the kitchen. "I can help," she offered, looking surprised at her own actions. "I know charms for the napkins." She pulled her wand. A few people flinched.
Ginny dropped the basket of brown linens on the table. "Thank you."
The girl watched as Narcissa began her work, folding a napkin by each plate before waving her wand over it and whispering an incantation. Her intent gaze made the Malfoy witch even more nervous. Granger came in scolding Ron, and a napkin burst into flame.
"Good grindylows!" Molly was on the situation with an aguamenti, leaving Narcissa quite pink and apologetic. "There, there, dear." The Weasley matron patted her trembling guest. "Happens to the best of us. Neville be a gem and get those boys in. Supper's nearly ready."
The last three errant males shuffled in windblown and excited. Narcissa immediately gravitated toward her son as if he was magnetic. He patted her back and her pursed lips relaxed ever so slightly. It seemed the evening's guests, save for the Malfoys, each had a claim of sorts on seating territories – as family members are wont. Draco and Narcissa sat last, between Harry Potter and Molly.
The din of various conversations and shouts for the passing of food items was tangible. Draco served his mother graciously, afraid she might avoid eating entirely otherwise. He recognized mash, pot roast, steamed vegetables, tomato gravy, bangers and sundry rolls. Some fare was less…familiar, and he politely waved it on its way.
But he had to admit, everything was damned delicious. He had seconds of the roast, and noticed his mother forked every pea from her mismatched plate. And their wine was well-received, stimulating easy conversation. His mother truly had brilliant ideas, sometimes. Topics ranged from Draco's fine new broom to George's joke shop to the unsurprising surprising possibility of Harry teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts for a few terms.
The scarhead was irritatingly unassuming about the invitation. Draco had to practically weight his eyeballs with lead to keep them from rolling. He took the opportunity to cut in and compliment Mrs. Weasley on the meal. "You've absolutely outdone yourself, madam."
"Truly," Narcissa agreed. She tried to avoid regarding her son as a stranger when he instigated a toast to Molly's cooking prowess, but grudgingly admitted the maneuver bought him even further into the clan. Question was, did he know what he was getting into at all?
"Aye, mum!" George called. "Always the best in the kitchen. And the performing animal napkins were brill! If you'd done these when we were kids, we might have eaten our veg!"
"Oh, I can't take credit for the napkins!" Molly gestured grandly. "That was Ms. Malfoy's remarkable charm work!"
Hermione Granger met Narcissa's eyes from across the table. Her jaw clenched. "Impressive."
Narcissa's brow quirked up. "Thank you…Hermione."
Granger nodded. "You're welcome...Narcissa." Never had a name sounded so like a threat. Draco wiped his mouth to hide his grin.
"Who wants dessert?" Molly and Ginny were fetching a cake and platter of cookies.
"Pssst." Harry motioned to Draco, who leaned in. "Come on out to Arthur's garage with us. You'll like his new toy."
Draco nodded, and discreetly squeezed his mother's knee. "Back in a moment." She clutched briefly and almost desperately to his wrist. He had to wrench it away. "Have some cake." He kissed her cheek and left.
Arthur's garage was dim and dusty. The numerous exposed beams were hung with muggle paraphernalia of all sorts; radios, phones, tellies and cords. Tables were strewn with kitchen appliances, vacuums and hair dryers. Draco touched items as he passed, following Harry, Ron and Neville.
In the center of the building was a tarp covered something. Ron unveiled it with a flourish and a heavy swirl of dust. Harry and Neville delivered low, appreciative whistles. Draco cocked his head. "It's a car," he said, proud to have recognized the muggle object.
The violent reactions to Draco's commented indicated he was apparently less knowledgeable about muggle devices than he'd thought. "Well, what is it, then?"
Ron lovingly rubbed the smooth green machine. "Mate. This is a 1962 Aston Martin DB4 Drophead Coupe."
"Ah." Draco bowed respectfully. "It is a…nice car."
Harry and Neville were laughing. "Not funny!" Ron insisted. He shot a look at Malfoy. "I guess it's the type of car you would have if you were a muggle, Malfoy."
Draco looked inside it. "Perhaps. Smells nice."
"Smells like genuine leather interior!" Ron defended.
Harry chuckled. "Arthur was supposed to dispose of it after some witch charmed it to chase trespassers off her property. But he got attached to it. Makes sense…after what we did to the flying Anglia, Ron."
Neville slapped Ron's back. "Must be why this one's off limits, eh, mate?"
Ron scuffed the ground guiltily in reply. Draco opened the car's driver side door and slipped in behind the wheel. "Lovely piece of machinery in any case," Malfoy said. "On par with my broom, I'd say."
"I dunno," said Ron. "That broom…"
"Mione would kill you," Harry said.
"She nearly did!" Neville added.
Draco shrugged in the muggle car. "I don't understand," he said. "Why was she so upset about you being on my broom?"
"Here we go…" Harry and Neville settled into comfortable positions on Arthur's counter.
"Oh, shut up." Ron scowled at them. "It's perfectly understandable, really. I fell off my broom a few months back doing something stupid and she's…forbidden me to be back on one."
"Forbidden you?" Perhaps Draco couldn't keep the disbelief from his voice.
"Stuff it, Malfoy!" Ron blushed brightly. "She bleedin' cares about me! And it won't last forever."
Draco fought a grin and raised his hands in surrender. "You're absolutely right," he said. "Besides, it would be impossible for a wizard to be off a broom forever, I think."
"Don't know about that." Harry smiled teasingly at Ron. "Ronald's wife is a force to be reckoned with."
"Ha-ha." Ron chucked a dirty rag at his friend. "Just wait til my sister gets started on you."
"Oh, it's already started, mate." Harry laughed good-naturedly. "She told me tonight to stay away from the extra butter!"
"That's what you get for shagging my sister!" Ron joked. Neville looked up in surprise. "Yeah!" Ron went on, gesturing to a blushing Harry. "In our bloody house, no less!"
"Harry?" Neville looked scandalized. Draco looked fascinated.
"It was…spur of the moment!" Harry defended himself. "I didn't plan it, mate! We've talked about this!"
"Spur of the moment?" Draco asked, starting to smile familiarly. "That's your defense for deflowering Ronald's sister?"
A pause, then the group burst into laughter. "Well, isn't everyone's first time spur of the moment?" Harry asked.
"I'll say," Ron capitulated. "In the abandoned Slytherin dorms a few days after the final battle." He grinned fondly. "Ol' McGonagall had sent us down looking for dark objects left by Death Eaters…"
Draco was hoping his blush wasn't visible in the darkness surrounding them. He'd recently had his mother in the same place…
"Were there?" Neville asked. "Dark objects?"
"Nah. But the thought of getting caught made it kind of fun." Ron nodded to Longbottom. "What about you, Nev? Your first time exciting?"
Neville shook his head, looking down. "Not as all that, really. It was…you know…my wedding night."
Draco blinked. "You had sex the first time on your wedding night."
The Malfoy shook his head sadly. "And people think we purebloods are traditionalists."
Surprisingly, Neville swelled a bit. "You imply you're not, Malfoy. Suppose you've got a first time story of your own, then?"
Draco swallowed. No way in Hell… "No! Nothing like that! Just teasing."
"Nev's right…" Ron said, peering into the car at Draco. "We all shared. Let's hear it Malfoy. Or are you just as big a traditionalist smoke-blower as all those other purebloods out there?"
He was not getting into this – not with these nitwits, especially. But they stared at him so expectantly… Just make something up, then. Not so hard, is it? He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "It's not so exciting at all," he murmured.
"So?" Neville leaned forward. "Neither was mine!"
"Do we know her?" Harry asked.
"No," Draco answered quickly. "She's…older than us."
Wolf whistles, claps and exclamations. "Now, that's exciting, Malfoy!" Ron laughed. "Was she hot?"
Draco bristled. "She was very attractive, yes!" He looked at his hands on the muggle steering wheel. "She's a…friend of my mum."
"Your mum's hot." Ron said matter-of-factly. There were solemn nods of agreement all-around.
"Hey!" Draco yelled.
"Compliment, mate." Ron held up a steadying hand. "Go on."
Draco felt himself relax into the leather seat. He smiled a bit at the pleasant images surfacing – not that anyone could ever truly hear of them. He would simply have to improvise.
"It was…the night after my father's wake," he began. His audience was rapt. His mouth spun a tale of reverent, comforting sex in his quiet bedroom while his lovely mother wept down the hall.
But in his mind, separate from the machinations of imagination and self-preservation, the beautiful, peculiar truth unfolded again on an alabaster memory screen, flickering and spotting like a muggle silent film…