Malfoy Manner:

Birthday Witch

Part the Fourth: Cake and Wishes and Birthday Licks

There was only one candle on the cake. Light blue and spiraling. It cast a hefty amount of glow, though, and when he re-entered the dining hall, Draco had to pause. The candle illuminated a scene from some sensuous painting: His mother - an elegant goddess in velvet - leaning into Potter - the rakish youth in rolled shirtsleeves. They looked close to kissing, but Draco suspected Narcissa had every intention of saving that activity for him to witness if not instigate.

The pair righted almost guiltily, and at that moment, instigation seemed like a wonderful idea. "Cake," he announced unnecessarily.

Narcissa smiled widely and gasped at the concoction. "Lovely," she breathed. Her eyes glimmered in the flicker when he set it before her.

"Just like you," Draco murmured. "Happy birthday, mother." He dipped his index finger in the marbled chocolate and vanilla icing, brought it to her lips.

"Thank you, son." Her mouth wrapped round his digit firmly. Her eyes met his as she sucked. He took a steadying breath. "Mmmm." She moaned as she pulled away. "Delicious."

Draco leaned over, catching Potter's rapt eye as he did, and swept the dot of icing from her bottom lip with his tongue. "Indeed," he agreed. Kissed her sweetly. Again his finger descended to the cake. "Would you like a taste, Harry?" He rubbed the sweet glob sloppily across Narcissa's puckered mouth.

Harry's gulp was quite audible. "I would," he managed huskily. He watched an undecipherable look pass between the Malfoys. Draco nodded, and the witch was leaning toward him. As if he couldn't have resisted if he'd wanted to, Harry met her over the corner of the table and learned the flavor of sin.

Draco had been correct. The image of Potter's mouth moving on his mother's was electrifying. His cock swelled at the sick pleasure of it. Harry's hesitation and shyness seemed to dissipate under the seductive lure of Narcissa's breaths. Draco could see the other wizard's tongue travel wetly along the sensitive edge of his mother's mouth before disappearing inside again. He watched one of her neatly manicured hands leave the table edge to stroke Harry's smooth face.

Potter pulled away suddenly, as if awakened from some lusty dream by her touch. "Gods," he murmured.

"Mm," Narcissa answered.

Draco descended before awkwardness could. "Perhaps you're as perfect with my mother as I am, Potter." They both looked up at him. "I'd like to find out."

"Draco." His mother's eyes thanked him tenderly.

He stroked her chin. "Blow out your candle, Cissa. And make a wish." Again, his gaze caught Harry's and both wizards watched her lips 'o' and blow delicately until the flickering flame puffed to smoke.

But extinguishing one fire set another less obvious one to burning. Draco brandished a glistening silver knife. "Would you like to do the honors of serving my mother's cake, Harry?" He asked lowly. "Or would you rather join us upstairs...and make her wish come true?" He allowed the moment to fall for what it was. An invitation extended gracefully. His mother smiled her approval at him before looking to Potter.

There was no expectation in her expression - just naked hope.

Harry looked between the two of them for a second, perhaps slightly longer. When he reached for the knife Draco offered, Narcissa's eyes fell and Draco's widened with undisguised surprise.

But Potter's hand only placed the knife on the table. It thunked into Narcissa's line of sight and her eyes slid up Harry's bared arm to his earnest face. He rose, this time more gracefully. "Far be it from me to deny a witch her birthday wish," he said. He extended a hand to her.

Narcissa took the hand, licking her lips. She looked to Draco as she rose. He smirked at her. "Lead the way, mother." He took up three champagne flutes and the unopened second bottle. Just in case. "I'm right behind."

If she was nervous - or more likely excited - it barely showed. She was as composed as ever, leading Harry confidently up the stone steps to the first floor landing. As they rounded a thick column, she gave him an unguarded smile. Harry was grinning and blushing like a schoolboy and Draco imagined that was exactly how he felt.

For his own part, Draco was enjoying the sensuous sway of his mother's hips beneath a waterfall of cobalt velvet. She glanced at him over her shoulder and he winked.

Her confidence didn't falter even after crossing the threshold into their room. Draco watched from the corner of his eye as Narcissa continued to seduce Harry with whispers, brushes of lips against his ear. He bent to her, lured as if to a siren. She traced the veins in his arms with sultry fingers. Their kisses were light and flirtatious, but Potter lurched when Cissa stroked his erection through his khaki trousers.

Draco nearly laughed. Nearly pitied her willing victim. He busied himself, wanting to allow her the extra 'luring' time. He swept open the heavy draperies, letting the moon and stars light the room through thin tulle hangings. He lit a fire. Popped the cork on the champagne and poured.

A tiny sound from his mother caught his attention as he summoned a chaise and small table from across the room to the bedside. He looked up to see Harry's mouth devouring her neck, a thumb beneath her frock's edge had obviously found an aroused nipple.

Draco's mouth dried. He took a long drink of champagne and dropped his wand onto the table. The sound broke the couple apart.

"I'm so sorry!" Harry chuffed. He was trying to gather his wits - unsuccessfully, Draco imagined - and holding Narcissa at a shaky arm's length. He looked guiltily between the Malfoys. "I shouldn't have -"

Narcissa was shushing him, pressing against him again. But Draco smoothly took the situation in hand. Held out a flute of golden, bubbling liquid - the Felix Felicis of lust. Harry took the libation and Draco took another from the table for his mother. "Potter," he began, approaching them casually. "Birthdays are about celebrations. And they're about choices."

Behind his mother, he placed champagne kisses on her shoulders, purposefully leaving glistening traces of the beverage on her skin. "We offer you a choice tonight." He traced formless designs on Narcissa's back. She shivered and worked free the buttons on Harry's shirt. Harry watched her fingers. "You can sit here - " Draco gestured to the chaise " - as our guest and watch me fuck this exquisite witch, which - if I might add politely - you've already done in far less comfortable circumstances. Or..." He loosed the tie back of his mother's neck, watched Potter's eyes fall predictably to her bared breasts. "You can relinquish the seat to me and let me watch you fuck this exquisite witch."

Potter gaped. Draco pressed his champagne flute into his mother's free hand. She held the glasses aloft, sighing as her son cupped and massaged her tits. He tweaked her coral nipples til they stood at attention in the cool air, knowing Potter salivated. "Tell him, mother." He whispered in her ear, kissed his way down her neck.

"It's true, Harry." Narcissa's voice was breathy beneath Draco's ministrations. She handed off the champagne flutes to Harry. He drank one swiftly before setting the glasses on the bedside table. "I told Draco to bring you here for me. For my birthday. I want you to watch and if you want -" she hissed when Draco hit a particularly sensitive spot " - if you want...I want you to join us." One hand curled behind her, tangled in her son's fine locks. The other beckoned to Harry.

He took the hand hesitantly, but let her pull him to her. "Join you," he repeated. His hands lingered just over the skin of her shoulders, the fingers brushing Draco's hair ever so slightly. "Draco said..."

Draco pulled away reluctantly from his mother's hold at the sound of his name. He grabbed Harry's hands and settled them firmly on Narcissa's breasts. She chuckled. "I said I would watch," he reiterated into her ear. "And I will...if Potter is more comfortable that way." His silver eyes flicked up to Harry's green ones. "I just want to see my mother happy on her birthday."

Harry met his almost challenging gaze and took it for what it was. "What do you want, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Narcissa reached up, took hold of Harry's collar and pushed his shirt off of him. Her eyes roved his body as she spoke. "I want you to call me Narcissa, first of all." She softly kissed his chest as Draco pulled her hair from her shoulder, let it brush her back. "And I want you to be the Gryffindor you are...and join me and my son in our bed tonight." Her fingers worked open his mugglish zipper, ventured inside his trousers.

"Oh, hell!" Harry groaned at her touch, leaned his forehead against the top of her head. "Bloody Slytherins..."

Draco laughed aloud, pushed his mother's dress over her hips. It pooled heavily at her feet. "Is that a yes, Potter?"

"I don't know what the fuck I'm thinking," Harry whispered, "but yes." Narcissa smiled and he smothered the smile with a kiss.

Draco stepped back, shedding his own attire, and watched Potter's hands skate over his mother's skin. "Well, for Merlin's sake, take her to bed, Potter," he grumbled. "I'll be along in a moment."

Truthfully, he wanted to watch for a bit, to take in what had become an obsession over the last several days: another wizard's hands, mouth and cock working his mother. He sat on the chaise, calmly removing his shoes, socks and trousers. Harry struggled to free himself from such bonds while Narcissa sluiced onto the bed like mercury across a hot cauldron lid. Draco couldn't help grinning at his peer's eagerness.

Soon, the two were kneeling on the bed, exploring new territories. Draco summoned a champagne glass from the bedside table and filled it. He relaxed into the lounge, raised a toast to his mother when she caught his eye over Potter's flexing shoulder.

"Draco?"

"In a moment, mum," he answered darkly. He settled into a shaft of shadow. The champagne was working its magic. His arousal was less urgent, more luxurious. It put him in a hazy bliss.

He wondered if his mother looked so abandoned when she was with him, if her eyes glazed like that, if her toes curled like that. Probably. He grinned lazily when Potter laid her back and began kissing a path down her body. It was Draco she looked at, though; her icy blue eyes fluttering in the sconces' low lights.

It was Draco who took Potter's glasses when she removed them, set them on the table by the chaise. It was Draco whose name she sighed when Harry found the ticklish underside of her breasts.

It was Draco she reached for when Harry's mouth settled over her core, when his tongue slicked a blaze of pleasure up her wet slit to her throbbing clit. She arched. Potter's hands - darker than Draco's tightened on her hips. Her face was a mask of frustration and want. Draco's nostrils flared. He could smell her desire, and knew what she needed.

He sat forward, feeling drawn to the action unfolding. "Good, Potter," he said. "Give her your fingers, now. Fuck her with your fingers."

"Mm." Potter listened. Narcissa lunged at the introduction of strange digits sliding inside her.

"Oh, yes!" She cried out. Her hands flexed in the duvet, scrambled to Harry's shoulders.

Draco's cock twitched. He tensed on his seat, gave himself a brisk stroke or two. "Suck her clit, Potter. Hard, then lightly. Flick it side to side with your tongue."

Not only was Harry relatively attentive, but he seemed to take instruction well and managed to stretch the witch's pleasure into the realm of torturous. When she was sweating and cursing, Draco intervened.

"Draco, baby!" She reached for him again when the mattress shifted beneath his knee.

"Hush, mum." He stroked up the inside of her thigh, the backs of his knuckles scraping Potter's ear. When he bent, she lurched up to his lips, kissed him ferally. Draco slid his mouth along her jaw, her keening reverberating this close to his ear. "Is it good, mother?"

"Yes!" She gasped. "I want -" Her son's fingers in her mouth silenced her.

"Excellent." Draco rose, looked down to Harry's still working head. "Potter. Up."

Harry kissed his way up the witch's thigh, licked salaciously around her knee. His eyes were darker than Draco had ever seen. "Yes?"

Draco was tugging his mother up. "Lay back," he instructed. "Mum likes to ride. Don't you, mum?" She nodded, attacking Draco's mouth with her own. Harry helped her climb over him, adjusted her in the saddle. Draco pushed her mouth away, made her face Harry as she sank onto the darker wizard's cock.

"Oh, sweet goddess," Narcissa moaned. Different from Draco in every possible way, Harry was thicker inside her, stretched her but didn't quite reach the same way Draco did... She shifted. "Fuck! There!" Her head rolled back and Draco caught her mouth with his, pressed his front to her back.

Harry winced in pain as the witch set her gait. She seemed in little hurry, but his bollocks ached and his usual stamina was worn by the deviance in which he'd embroiled himself. "Narcissa," he growled.

She broke from Draco to smile down at Harry. "So good, Harry," she muttered. Her pace increased, but hardly the way he wanted. Draco straddled Potter's leg to whisper in his mother's ear. And Harry couldn't be certain what was whispered, but it sounded like Parseltongue and spread an amazingly alluring grin on Narcissa's face. At her nod, Draco slid behind her.

"Oh, fuck." Harry couldn't look away. This was his weakness before him: the splendid, sick Malfoys, gloriously twined like the snakes they were. She leaned back into her son's embrace with the trust of a lover longstanding. Pale hands on pale skin, their sharp features twin-like meeting on kisses and caresses. Draco's long slim fingers parted Narcissa's swollen folds and Harry could see her pink molten pussy eating his cock while Draco worked the pearl of her undoing.

Watching them this way, Harry could almost forget his own desire threatening to burst, threatening to burn him to ash. He relaxed in their glow, saw Narcissa moan around Draco's free fingers, laving them thoroughly. Draco pulled them from her mouth with a thick 'pop.' "This should be interesting, Potter," he murmured.

"Huh?" Lust, sex and corrupted blood flow made Harry a bit slow to understand. But seeing Draco's glistening wet finger disappear behind his mother - and the sudden pleasure contorting her beautiful features - made things quite clear.

"Oh, shite!" The witch pitched and hissed as her son readied her tight pucker with his finger. He slicked the sticky moisture from her cock-filled slit backward for his own devices. She leaned forward, dropped to her elbows and Harry buried his hands in her hair, pulled her to him for a kiss. Draco kept up his slow, deliberate work on her clit, driving his mother to motions and sounds he'd never wrung from her before.

Feeling her relax at last, Draco sheathed his own hardness in her arse, facing her initial resistance with gentle pumps of his hips. She broke from Potter's lips to grunt and cry out at the intrusion, but they were pleas for more breaking from her throat.

Harry fought against his own pleas. The odd sensation of Draco's cock pushing against his own through the soft, surrounding flesh of Narcissa's cunt was overwhelming. He pressed his eyes tightly shut until stars burst there.

"Yep. Definitely interesting." Draco's voice was thready and strained. The feel of Harry's hardness sharing space within his mother was obviously affecting him, as well. "Narcissa?"

"Yes!"

"We've all night long to worship you like a goddess." Draco leaned over her back to speak in her ear. Harry groaned at the change in angle and Narcissa reached back awkwardly to clutch her son's head. "So for now, I want you to come like a slut for me."

Harry may have been surprised to hear such language between the mutually adorative Malfoys, but the words worked like dark magic. He felt her tense beneath his hands, her whole body coiling like a spring, and he coiled in return. Unable to resist any longer, his hands gripped harder her hips - bruised them - and he thrust upward.

The trio cried out at once, collapsing, seizing and heaving like some mythical chimera in its death throes. And it was that 'little death' that claimed them, though perhaps not so little. The magic of three making it more somehow, making it greater. Immeasurable.

And not a death at all to the witch within the web of arms and legs - the witch far from the cusp of crone and still maiden at heart. She breathed the smells of sex and sweat, felt muscles relaxing that she'd long since forgotten. She smiled even filthy with fluids. A silence filled with breaths settled, broken by the son.

"Mother." He mumbled into her shoulder.

"Hm?" She mumbled into Harry's shoulder.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you, son. Harry?" Potter groaned. Narcissa pushed onto an elbow - difficult given Draco's weight atop her. "Are you alright?"

Harry blew a shank of her hair out of his mouth. "I think I died."

"Again?" Draco asked.

Harry chuckled. "You're both crushing me."

"Don't be such a big girl blouse." Draco grunted.

"Don't start acting like bickering boy wizards now," Narcissa sighed. She nuzzled Harry's neck.

"This from the witch with two bickering boy wizards inside her."

"She can bloody count, Malfoy," Harry groused. "Gods. You've something narky to say about everything."

"I need the loo," Narcissa said.

"Oh, hell." Draco took a deep breath and extracted himself from his mother. Flopped to the mussed duvet. He caught the little kiss she gave Potter before slipping from the bed. The two wizards lay naked - side by side - staring into the gauzy bed canopy above them. Again, it was Draco who broke the surprisingly comfortable silence. "Well, Potter. Thank you for coming."

Harry chuffed laughter. "Is that it then? My work here is done?"

Draco shrugged. Settled his arms beneath his head. "She'll be in the loo for an hour. Might even bathe. We should have a rest."

"A rest?" Harry looked at his odd bedmate.

"Oh, yeah. She'll want another go. Or two."

"Good gods," Harry muttered. he seemed thoughtful, chewed at his lip.

"You alright? Really?" Draco asked. He was genuinely concerned.

Harry nodded. "I was just thinking...I'll be engaged in a fortnight. I should probably feel guilty right now."

"But you don't." Draco tisked. "Fortnight is a fortnight, mate. And snakes don't spill secrets."

"That's true." Another silence fell. Potter sighed, tabling his thoughts for later. Then, he began to laugh.

"What?" Draco propped up, looking at him. "What's funny?"

"I was just thinking. How proud old McGonagall would be of our interhouse relations skills right now."

Draco snorted. "That's gross, Potter."

More silence. Muffled sounds emerged from the cracked door of the loo. The sound of running water. "D'you say she was having a bath?" Harry asked.

"Yeah."

Harry nodded. "Should we...you know...join her?"

Draco's ears perked. His brows quirked. "Merlin's beard, Potter. I was thinking the same bloody thing."

Harry groaned as he slid from the bed. "First time for everything." He offered his arm, helped pull Draco from the bed. "It is her birthday, after all."

Draco slapped Potter's shoulder as the two naked wizards made their way to the loo and the witch who was doubtless waiting for them inside. "Cheers to that, mate."

AN: Thanks to all of you for being so patient with this last chapter. I hope I made it worth the wait. Who is ready for awkward Malfoys at Harry's engagement party?