Malfoy Manner: Business Time

Part the Second: Mixing Pleasure

Minerva McGonagall was quite shocked to hear from Draco Malfoy. Her shock only increased as he outlined his plan to her. He'd never seen a woman purse her lips more than his mother did before he talked to McGonagall.

"Mr. Malfoy," she trilled. "I do appreciate your…unscaled generosity. But you must understand Hogwarts will never be in a position to pay back such a sizeable loan."

"I didn't use the word 'loan,' headmistress." Draco was growing frustrated. Why did she seem so hesitant to accept? "If it makes any difference, I could have a contract sent to you stating that all materials and building would be considered donations."

"Mr. Malfoy…" She sighed. "Draco. I wonder at your motives, to be quite honest. If you feel some sense of…debt –"

"I am no doubt indebted to many at Hogwarts…Minerva." He enjoyed her little bristle. "But I assure you this particular gesture is one of interest in the students' enjoyment. Quidditch was my favorite part of school, to be honest. And it's healthy – invigorating! It provides marvelous incentive – "

"You're preaching to the choir, Draco." She shifted uncomfortably in the floo. "I'd like to refer the matter to Kingsley and the Board of Governors. It will have to go through them, anyway."

Draco tisked. "No offense, headmistress, but from what little Potter has told me the Board of Governors may not have Hogwarts' best interests at heart."

"No offense taken, Draco. In fact, you'll hear only agreement from me. But it's the way things are done. And Kingsley is firmly on our side. Prepare your figures, Mr. Malfoy, and we'll begin the process."

And wants to shag my mum. Wonder if she would… Nah. "I will, headmistress. And…I thank you for your valuable time." He made to withdraw from the floo.

"Mr. Malfoy?"


Even in the green flames, he saw her face soften. "Thank you. Though words don't seem enough, I thank you. Hogwarts thanks you."

Draco nodded curtly and left the flames. He felt a strange something in his chest and put his hand over it, just rubbing. He consulted the ledger, and made another floo call.

In fact, he was four floo calls and four pages of notes into the day when his mother came into the office with lunch. "How is your project progressing?" She asked, placing the sandwich tray on his desk.

"Well enough." He poured tea. "Compiling notes for McGonagall to present to the Board. And Kingsley."

She nodded. "Anything I can do?"

Draco grinned. "Wear something sexy when we visit the Minister?"

She rolled her eyes – a habit she'd picked up from him. "Nearly done?" She was wearing his necklace. He fondly remembered that she'd worn it and nothing else for the duration of last evening.

"Not quite." He reached in a drawer for a fresh sheet of parchment. "I've Quality Quidditch Supplies to contact. And the contractor." She nodded. Draco had turned away for ink before he realized she was leaning toward him for a kiss. When he turned back, she was awkwardly retreating. "Gods." He grabbed her arm, tugged her across the desk. "I'm sorry, mother." He kissed her soundly, but withdrew before she could get her fingers into his hair. "I'll see you at dinner?"

She nodded. "I suppose."

"Good." He headed back to the floo, heard the door snick shut behind her.

Again, he was late for dinner. This time, her lips were much thinner. He grimaced as he slid into his chair. "I'm sorry, mum. I got caught up again." She didn't reply. He tucked into his Caesar salad. "Good day?" He asked.

She tore open a roll rather viciously. "Fine."

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. "Are you alright?"

She buttered the roll with a vengeance. "Fine, yes."

Mint popped in with the stuffed chicken breasts and sautéed truffles. He looked at his mother and smirked. "My favorite?" She tried not to smile, nodded. "You're fabulous." She did smile at that. He hesitated to tell her… "Mum?"

"Hm?" She gave him a definite come-hither brow.

He bit his lip. "I, um… I'm waiting for a floo call. Shouldn't be long now." The come-hither brow turned into the go-thither brow. "And then two little owls to send off and I'm done!" He reached for her buttery fingers, but she extracted them. "Don't be angry," he said. "As soon as this project is complete, I will be on time for every meal. I promise."

"Don't promise." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I need to…accustom myself to your working more." She glanced at him. "I suppose I had you all to myself for so long, it's difficult now to share you."

He couldn't help but be flattered by that. "After this is done," he said lowly. "I will be all yours again."

Her answering smile was a bit wistful. "Perhaps."

He was adamant in convincing her, but Mint interrupted. "Young master has a floo call." Damn it.

Narcissa waved him off. "Go. Take care of your business."

He kissed her knuckles swiftly. "Then, I take care of you." He winked.

But one floo call turned into several. And two owls turned into four, and would have been more if he'd had more owls at his disposal. He was tired. And expecting to hear from the Board of Governors or even the Minister himself in the morning. Time for bed.

His mother was already asleep. He slipped under the duvet beside her, spooned to her back. She curled into him almost instinctively. He kissed her hairline and whispered. "Broke another promise, didn't I?" There was no response. "I'm sorry, mother. I just want to get something right. On my own. With no solicitors or bloody goblins or accountants. I need to know I can do this. Please, understand."

He fell asleep without seeing her eyes open in the moonlight, the moisture that glistened in them.

It was an early morning. Draco left Narcissa sleeping soundly and summoned Mint to the office with coffee. Even the elf seemed drowsy as if roused unexpectedly. "Will young master join mistress for tea?"

Draco considered. "Not this morning, Mint. I'm not exactly certain when to expect my calls today, but I imagine they'll be early." Mint nodded and popped away. Draco hoped his mother wouldn't be too disappointed. If all goes well, this will be wrapped up by lunch. And I will never get myself into such a predicament again.

Kingsley Shacklebolt flooed at nine a.m. Draco leapt to the call. "Minister!"

"Draco?" Already disbelief tinged the African wizard's tone. "Please explain to me what Minerva is on about. You want to rebuild the quidditch pitch at Hogwarts?"

Draco took the Minister's use of first names to heart. "It's really very simple, Kingsley." He launched into his explanation succinctly, referred to his notes when necessary.

"And these people are on board?" Shacklebolt referred to Draco's contacts.

"The only one I haven't heard from is Quality Quidditch, and worst case scenario I'll visit them in person. Kingsley, we're go if the Board is." His foot tapped excitedly.

Shacklebolt sighed. "Can you be here for the next Board of Governors meeting?"


"Three o'clock."

"Three o'clock…" Draco glanced at the clock over the floo. "Wait. Three o'clock today?"

Kingsley nodded. "Afraid so."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. "I…yes."

"Good!" The Minister was smiling and shaking his head. "Bring your notes. Draco."


"This could be big." And the Minister was gone.

"Mint!" The elf appeared. "If Quality Quidditch Supplies floos, tell them I'll return their call. Can you prepare my gray suit? The linen one?" He winced. "Please?"

"Yes, young master."

"And as owls return with post, please leave it on my desk." He gathered his notes into a snake-etched leather portfolio that magically tied itself.

"Yes, young master."

"Thanks, Mint." Draco was out the door and down the stairs. "Nine thirty…I've plenty of time." He wondered if his mother would go with him. Found her in the library, reading quietly, bare feet tucked beneath her. She wore an ice blue cotton frock embroidered with wave patterns – for all the world like a peaceful siren on a stone at sea.


She looked up as though surprised to hear his voice. Her hair was loose and curled softly. She must have let it dry naturally. "Yes?" His necklace sparkled on her throat.

He swallowed. Pleasantries first. "What are you reading today?"

"Bound to Love."

"Huh. Is it about necrophilia?"

"No. Bondage." She closed the book and regarded him frankly.

His brow quirked. "Well. I'm sure it has you yoked in." She shrugged. He went for the kill. "How about a trip to Diagon Alley?"

She brightened. "When?"

"Three o'clock?"

She blinked. "Today?"

"Yes. The Minister wants me at the Board of Governors meeting."

Several emotions played on her face. "I see." Fluster seemed to win out. "Shouldn't you attend alone?"

Draco came to kneel before her. "I need you with me. And I thought a nice lunch out would be good for us. We haven't had much time together since I got involved in this project, and now it's nearly done." He took her hands in his. "The trips alone are boring. Lunch alone is boring. Come with me, mother."

She caved. "Very well. I could get some shopping, done I suppose."

"Of course you could." Draco stood and pulled her to her feet. "You look lovely, mother. I think you've taken well to this pale blue."

Suddenly, she was kissing him. Passionately. His knees nearly buckled. "I've missed you," she said into his mouth. She was backing him towards the wall. Soon, he was pressed between the wall and the window and her hands were stroking his hot hardness with insistence. "You've missed me, too."

"Gods, yes, witch." He hadn't even realized…

"Take me to bed. Then we'll go."

Her tongue tasted of the cherry cordials she'd eaten. He sucked on it, and surged forward. She gasped when he pushed her back a few steps, then squealed when he shouldered her briskly. "Draco put me down!"

"I'm taking you to bed, mother." She was lighter than he'd expected and gave him no trouble navigating the stairs, despite her tempting wiggles and slaps to his backside. He cast her onto their bed. Her soft curls spread like ivy tendrils against the stark white duvet.

"Draco," she whispered. Her fingers traveled to her necklace, gripping and rubbing it warmly. Heated eyes watching her son disrobe, she reached for the clasp at the back of her frock, intending to join him.

"Don't." Draco said. He stepped from his trousers. "I want to see you in that dress." He climbed over her, rucking it up with his fingers. He bit a hard nipple through the thin bodice. "I want to fuck you in it."

She nipped at his lips. "Then do it! Now! Please!" Her thighs cradled him sweetly.

Draco tugged the crotch of her knickers aside roughly and slipped his cock inside her heat. "Oh, Merlin." He rubbed his face across the dress bodice, loving the feel of the silk on his face. "This is…" The delicious friction of lace scraping his cock incensed him. "So fucking good, mum." He groaned.

Her mewls, gasps and head tosses; her arching back, breasts threatening to spill over the bodice – all these things were the culmination of Draco's greatest weaknesses. He loved his mother wrongly, lusted after her, coveted her and abused her body with his wants.

But she hardly denied him – the woman who birthed him. As any loving matriarch, she spoiled him, offering herself up in a multitude of filthy, magnificent ways. He stared at her face as he fucked her now, consuming her wide eyes, her swollen lips, the hitch in her throat when his cock slipped harsh over her g-spot. Her bent legs widened to swallow him whole as the spring inside her wound tight around him…and sprung hotly as a geyser.

In the months they'd been lovers, they'd learned each other. Divined together. They knew the touches, the words, wicked whispers that set their timing to perfection. They came together like the moon and tide. He rolled in as she rolled out, her pull magnetic and his push cathartic. Caught up in bliss and magic, he spilled into the womb where he'd been spilled so many years before.

After was gentling. Kissing and soothing. Sometimes laughing. They bathed, and dressed in the normality of mother and son on an outing. Draco was smart in his gray suit, portfolio clutched to his side. Narcissa swept her hair into an elegant bun and sported a trim classical burgundy skirt and jacket.

They could floo into Borgin & Burke's with relative ease, but neither was truly willing to re-visit the place, so The Leaky Cauldron it was. They stepped out to nods and even a few begrudging smiles. The Malfoys were earning a respectable place in a restored world and couldn't be more conscious of their precarious position. They ate lunch at a quiet bistro in a private booth where Draco rehearsed his presentation to his mother's critical ear. She gave advice and he took it, softened his approach and tried to 'smile more.'

In the crowded Ministry, Draco leaned down to his mother's ear. "I'm nervous," he admitted.

She shook her head, regarding a directory on the wall. "You've no reason," she told him. "You're ready."

Having found their destination, she set off toward a crowded elevator.

"What if I'm a wreck?"

"You'll be a phenomenon, Draco."

His brows raised as the elevator gate closed them in with a group of office lackeys. "A phenomenon? I rather like the thought of that."

She regarded him askance, lowered her voice to deter attentions. "Do you not realize your charisma, son? That you are handsome and have a capacity for great confidence?"

He nodded. "You're saying I'm a cocky bastard."

She grinned, a grand occurrence on her face. "I'm saying let your natural charm shine through. Don't try to be anything you are not."

"Right. Be a cocky bastard. Got it."

The 32nd floor was a maze of conference rooms that appeared little more than closets until they began to magically expand for arriving delegates. There was a stir at the end of the hall. The Malfoys approached it to see Kingsley Shacklebolt chatting with several elderly witches and wizards. When he saw them, he beamed. "Mr. Malfoy!"

"Minister." Draco extended a hand. "Thank you for the invitation and the opportunity."

Members of the Board were watching this exchange in rapt attention, peeking over and around shoulders. "Well," Kingsley said. "We are excited to hear your proposal. If you're ready, I believe we're all here and can begin early." He smiled at Narcissa. "Will you join us, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Draco looked to his mother with a smarmy raised eyebrow. She bowed gracefully. "Unfortunately, no, Minister. I intend to do some shopping. I will meet with Draco after his…meeting."

"Our loss, then." Kingsley said. Draco's smarmy raised brow became an expression of simpering sulk behind the Minister's back. Narcissa noticed, and pursed her lips disapprovingly. "We usually wrap up business in about two or three hours," Shacklebolt said mildly.

"Two or three hours?" Draco couldn't control the disappointment and shock in his voice. It was Narcissa's turn to grace him with a smarmy smile.

"Well, then." She allowed Kingsley to grace her knuckles with a gentlemanly kiss. "I shall enjoy my shopping with no rush."

"Please, do so," the Minister sighed.

Draco rolled his eyes. Please do so, he mocked quietly. Then his mother's hand stroked his face, pulled his cheek down til she could brush her lips sweetly across it. "Good luck, son," she murmured. His knees melted and he watched her hips sway away down the hallway, attuned to the rhythm of her clicking heels.

Kingsley ushered him grandly into a tiny, but growing room, and soon he was engulfed in introductions to people whose names he would hardly remember in five minutes' time. But his presentation went smoothly. He was brisk and as charming as his mother suggested. He smiled as he presented figures and named suppliers, builders and solicitors. He made jokes at his own expense when he unrolled blueprints and flashed pictures of sporty new quidditch gear. He was, in essence, winning this table of witches and wizards whose combined ages would equal well over one thousand years.

And when he was done, he bowed, thanked them for their time, and sat at the rounded ash table to the Minister's right. There was silence for a moment, then the grimacing, groaning and nodding began. Muttering spread around the table til Kingsley raised a hand for quiet. "Mr. Malfoy makes a very valid point here today," he said.

Draco regarded him in mild surprise as he continued somberly. "Hogwarts deserves this opportunity. And if Mr. Malfoy feels generous enough to make it possible, I see no reason to deny its enactment."

Heads nodded. Draco imagined he could hear the cracking of old necks accustomed only to denials. But if the Minister himself had already spoken… The vote taken was a unanimous yes, and Draco didn't hide his relief and his pleasure. That was quick. He made to rise, again thanking the Board for their time, but was halted by Shacklebolt.

"Sit, Mr. Malfoy. There's a bit more business to cover here today. One point of which may concern you most directly and…require some thought on your part."

So Draco sat. Wrinkled faces beneath black hat brims sobered considerably. Again, Kingsley's clear voice spoke. "I have felt for some time now – as several other Governors here have, as well – that this Board lacks fresh thought such as this. It has stagnated over time, become more concerned with funds than the true reason we gather here: Hogwarts."

More heads nodded, while others shook. The Minister gestured to a particularly wizened witch nodding off at the end of the table. "Vinarega?" The witch perked up at her name, and Kingsley smiled. "Vinarega is resigning from the Board. She feels her time has come to rest." The witch nodded, and returned to her nap. Kingsley looked now to Draco. "Mr. Malfoy. I would like to nominate you today…to join us here. To take a seat on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, an institution to which you have shown loyalty and true concern. Would you consider the opportunity?"

What. The. Fuck. Draco froze. His heart may have ceased beating a moment. He stared at the numerous eyes staring at him, some warm, others…not so warm. He felt Kingsley's hand fall onto his shoulder.

"I hope this doesn't come as too much of a shock, Mr. Malfoy." The Minister was saying. "But this is how we operate."

A shock? You could have just crucioed me in the stones, you officiating…officiator. In fact, his shock was so great, even his internal sarcastic vocabulary had failed him. "I…um…" Um? Think, fool! Can you do it? Would you? Given the opportunity to make a difference, could you? He thought of his mother, of how proud she would be, of the restoration of the Malfoy name and how much it meant to her. He schooled his probably embarrassing features and nodded. "I would be honored, Minister – distinguished Governors – to join your ranks. If you see fit to have me." He swallowed.

Kingsley was smiling broadly at him. "Mr. Malfoy. Would you wait outside for a moment?"

Draco nodded. On shaky legs, he entered the opulent hallway and dropped onto a bench. What the devil am I doing? He looked at the door across the way. What the devil are THEY doing? They were voting in there. Deciding a path for him that he'd hardly imagined for himself. Father was on the Board. I doubt he ever did anything beyond buying and selling favors… Will that hurt my chances? He scrubbed his hand down his face.

When he again looked up, the portrait frame on the wall facing him – empty when he'd arrived – was filled with a gently smiling Albus Dumbledore. Draco was momentarily startled. He blinked at the painting.

"Mr. Malfoy," it said softly.

"Headmaster." His voice lingered over an old regret. He shook it off.

"Doing well for yourself?"

He nodded, mouth rather dry. "Trying, sir."

"Doing well for Hogwarts, I hear."

"I…hope to."

The kind face he remembered winked. "I do believe you shall succeed, Draco…in this task."

What was that strange stinging at the back of his throat? The door opened before he could contemplate it further, and Kingsley stepped out. "You may return, Mr. Malfoy. Ah! Hello, Albus." He'd noticed Dumbledore's presence.

"Minister." Albus' image dipped its head.

Draco nodded to his old headmaster again as he entered the Boardroom. Kingsley followed. The door closed heavily behind them.

When Draco emerged two hours later, his lovely mother was seated most properly on the bench he'd occupied earlier. A few shrunken bags sat beside her, and when she saw her son's face, her expression of patient waiting immediately drew to concern. "Draco?"

Kingsley spoke for her speechless son. "Mrs. Malfoy, you're addressing the newest member of the Hogwarts Board of Governors, I'll have you know." He slapped Draco's back. "See you in two weeks, governor?"

"Of course, Minister." But he was watching his mother's face. Kingsley and the rest of the delegation departed noisily, while the two Malfoys stood quietly staring at one another in the dusk-dimmed hallway.

She stepped toward him, eyes moist. "Is this true, Draco?"

He nodded, glanced toward the empty picture frame Dumbledore had inhabited earlier. He was pulled back to his mother. Her hands held his face steady and she smiled up at him. "I am so proud of you."

"I know."

"Are you alright?"

"I think I'm in shock."

She chuckled. "Perhaps you just need to eat. It's nearly supper now. Shall we have a celebratory meal?"

He nodded again and let her pull him almost boneless to the nearest elevator. As the cranky gates parted to admit them, reality began to set in. I'm on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts. He smiled. If I can do this, what else can I do? His smile became a wolfish grin. This is just a step, really. And a small one. Already there are changes to be made…advancements. He chuckled. They are going to hate me.

"Still in shock, governor?" His mother's cheeks were very pink. The gates slammed shut behind them, and Narcissa took hold of a hanging leather grip.

Draco leaned against the round, brass bar on the lift wall. "I rather like the sound of that," he said, dipping his head close to hers. She let him kiss her, but put her hand against his chest when he stepped closer. "I think I'd like to hear it a bit more."

"Then we could skip supper," she said nervously. "Go directly home?"

He tossed his portfolio to the floor, tugged her bags from her hands. She gasped when he growled and hefted her firm arse onto the brass bar. "Oh, I think we've got a good two or three minutes of bumpy ride all to ourselves, mum."

"Draco." She put her hand against his face. The lift started down.

He placed the hand on his face alongside the one clutching the leather hanger. "Hold on," he hissed in her ear. His mouth stopped any protest as he slipped between her legs, practiced hands making short work of garters and knickers.

The lift jerked suddenly, turning his gentle caress of her warm wetness into a rather rough one. She pulled away from his lips. "Oh, Draco!" Her knees locked round his waist, steadying him as the lift turned and lurched wildly.

He freed his cock, stroked her swollen clit with it. "Sorry this is going to be quick, Narcissa."

She didn't complain, but pulled her arms taut with the overhead grip. "No need to apologize…governor."

"Oh, Merlin, witch." He groaned as he thrust sharply into her. The lift lurched again, and he grabbed the bar beneath her.

It may have been fast, but gods it was hot. Cissa offered up her pale throat to her son's sharp teeth. She used the grip she clung to as a directional device of sorts, adjusting her position on his cock to satisfy her own lust. Every time the lift lurched right or left, or dipped suddenly, his strokes seemed to slip a little deeper, stroke a little longer across the sacred speck inside her. Glancing over his head, she watched the blur of empty or nearly empty floors as they passed, counted down the floor numbers flashing on the dial above the gates.

They were at 22. With each floor that flicked, she tightened exponentially. At 18, she bit her son's ear. "Make me come, governor." Her voice quavered. He wrenched her head to his, kissed her sloppily at 16.

At 14, he was pounding her so fast neither could get a breath. She felt the wave approaching. At 12, it was crashing, and she had to let go of the steadying hanger to clutch her son. The lift lurched violently and Draco pressed her hard into the wall. She coughed.

At 10, he whispered filth to her. "Fuck, you're hot, mum. Your cunt's like heaven, I swear. If this is what I get when I make you proud, I'll be the best man you've ever known. And I promise you'll come like the 12th floor every night we have together. Or better."

His oath finished at 8. He spilled inside her at 6. They'd caught their breath by 3, and at 2 they were straightening their attire. By the time they hit the first floor, they looked like nothing had passed betwixt them but pleasantries. They collected their dropped accoutrements, and exited the rickety lift.

After five o'clock, the Ministry began to clear out and settle. Only a hundred or so over-achievers bustled about, and even they looked to be wrapping up their days. "So," Draco began. "Out to eat? Or home?" He knew damned well she was ready for a bath, and hopefully proper, indolent sex in their comfy feather bedding.

She gave him a baleful look. "Home, I should think."

He smiled and curled her hand over his arm. "Very well," he said. "I suppose Mint can cook up a supper for us?" They strolled toward a floo.

"Mint shan't mind that a bit, I imagine," Narcissa cooed. "Governor."

"Good, good." Draco escorted her into the floo. "And directly to bed after supper, I think." She looked at him curiously. "Gubernatorial business tomorrow, you know." He grabbed a handful of powder.

"Any gubernatorial business tonight?" She asked, teasing him.

"None at all." He looked down at her suggestively. "I never mix business with pleasure. Malfoy Manor!" He tossed the powder, and took them home.

AN: Always - thanks to the dragon who advises with fiery breath. Also to Cherepaha for making an exception for me, and to all my loyal readers and reviewers - I thank you. You make this worth while. Oh! Big thanks to Aerosmith - for the musical inspiration.