Narcissa wasn't really sure when it had begun, because, at first, she thought it was completely innocuous. Innocent. In all fairness, she was probably right. Babies aren't aware of things like that, and, looking back on it, it had started when Draco was a baby. She thought he did it whenever he wanted milk, but now she remembered moments that it did seem a little odd. Moments when she probably should've stopped it in its tracks.
But, alright, even if she could explain away all the times it happened when he was a baby, what about when he started growing up? Well, she told herself, toddlers are still innocent creatures who don't usually do things out of malice. Sure, it was embarrassing to have Draco hit her chest when they were out in public, but she'd be lying if she said that she didn't think it was a little adorable that he'd pout and stomp his feet whenever she'd explain that, at his age, she had no more milk left to give him.
That didn't stop him though.
She couldn't count the amount of times that Draco, as a toddler, would reach for her breasts while babbling. She'd gently grasp his hand and pull it away, a humored twinkle in her eye, and lightly tell him over and over again that he was too old and there was no milk anymore.
Could it be that she avoided growing too wary due to the fact that when she told mothers who had similar aged children about it, they'd laugh and say they were facing the same issue?
"I think they find comfort in it," one mother had said.
"Me too. I mean, all they know is that they cry and then mom gives them milk which makes them feel better. It makes sense they’d associate our breasts with comfort," said another.
These comments made Narcissa feel better. If that was the case, she thought, if it truly made him feel at ease then alright.
As he got older, though, Narcissa found it harder to justify his behavior. At 6 years old, he had stood in front of her while she was knelt down trying to grab something and stared at her chest for a few moments before reaching out and putting his hand right into the slit of her cleavage. Narcissa, thoroughly startled, yelped and fell backwards. She didn't exactly yell at him, but her voice was certainly not friendly as she finally reached the end of her rope and told him to stop doing that. He was far too old by now and had no reason to expect anything to come from pawing at her breasts like that. Draco looked ashamed throughout the entire scolding; his chin pressed into his neck, his little hands balled at his sides, and his face red with suppressed tears. When Narcissa was done, she huffed, got up, and walked away from him.
He did stop after that, but Narcissa noticed that things between them were no longer the same. Draco did not seem as comfortable anymore. Whenever she sat beside him, he would stop kicking his feet and look down at his hands that would ball in his lap. He would go uncharacteristically stiff whenever she picked him up. He would shy away whenever she tried to grab his hand. The way he was acting, you'd think Narcissa had inappropriately touched him and not the other way around.
She decided to talk to him when his cold demeanor persisted for a week.
"Draco," she began, "why do you keep wanting to touch my chest?"
"It makes me feel better," he said, his eyes wide, "they're so squishy and feel nice. Like Jell-O."
Narcissa, despite herself, couldn't help but smile at him. "It makes you feel better enough that me telling you to stop made you sad?"
He swayed from side to side. "I thought you were mad at me. I didn't mean to make you uncomtable."
"Uncomfortable," Narcissa corrected.
Draco nodded and fell silent.
Narcissa sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You have plenty of squishy toys. Why not use them instead?"
"Not the same as mommy," he said, his eyes glistening, "mommy is better."
Narcissa felt her heart swell. She bit her lip in deep thought. "Okay," she nodded, finally, "I'll let you do it, but only when we're home, okay?"
Draco nodded enthusiastically.
"And don't hit them," Narcissa raised her eyebrows.
Draco giggled.
From there on, their relationship returned back to what it once was. Narcissa noticed that having access to her breasts actually did make Draco less likely to throw a tantrum. It was like the world's weirdest coping mechanism. Secretly, she thought that the behavior couldn't last for much longer.
She was wrong.
When Draco, aged 10, got his letter from Hogwarts, Lucius had been away. At age 7, Draco learned not to touch Narcissa around him. 7 was apparently the age that Lucius started curling his lip in disgust at Draco's habit. Draco had come running up to the pair of them sitting on the couch, excited about something Narcissa could no longer remember. He put one hand on her breast and started telling the tale, but Lucius jumped up, a look of deep displeasure on his face, and began to scold him fiercely; he was much less kind about it than Narcissa had been the day Draco made her fall over. "She said it was okay," Draco, despite his cowering, had cried at his father, crossing his arms with a defiant pout. All this did was make Lucius round on Narcissa.
"Narcissa," he said, his voice losing some of its edge, "Draco is too old for this. It's odd. Unnatural. He should know better by now.”
"It's innocent," Narcissa said, hotly, "He's still just a little boy. I don't think he's doing it with any type of… Oddity attached to it."
Lucius scowled, "You shouldn't allow this. He needs to cut it out."
Narcissa scowled back. She looked at Draco, who looked very ashamed of himself and like he was about to cry. She felt her anger boil to the surface in one quick wave.
"Don't tell me how to raise my son." Narcissa said venomously. Lucius, despite being noticeably startled, did not give up that easily. The two argued with such passion that Narcissa, after only about 15 seconds, tried to banish Draco from the living room. Lucius stopped him just as Draco made to turn from them.
"Draco, do you realize none of your peers do this?" Lucius said. "The other boys will look down on you and think you're a freak for what you do to your mother."
"So you figured you'd get a head start, huh?" Narcissa snarled.
"I'm looking out for him. I won't have my son grow up with any oddities! I'm also looking out for you , Narcissa. What happens if I tell the other parents about this, eh?"
Narcissa's face went red and Lucius got a look on his face that conveyed the feeling that her reaction was exactly what he expected. With a slightly threatening look, he let the matter drop after Narcissa failed to say anything else. Poor Draco looked absolutely shaken. That night, when Narcissa tucked him into bed, she decided to check in with him.
"Draco," she said, "don't mind your father."
"Does he really think I'm a freak?" Draco asked, his eyes wide.
"You're not." Narcissa said.
"You really… Don't mind then?"
"If it's making you happy then I can't imagine what there is to mind," she said with a smile. To her delight, Draco looked back just as brightly and seemed to put the day's happenings out of his mind.
But now he was ten. Narcissa had been tidying up his room when she heard him squeal from downstairs. With a smile, she waited for him to come tell her what had happened. Sure enough, he came striding into the room a moment later with a proud look on his face and a letter that had a splash of red, green, yellow, and blue on it.
"Ma!" He said, flashing the letter in the air. “Look! Look! I finally got it!”
"Well, come on then, let's read it together." She scooped him up onto her lap. He tore the letter from the envelope, opened it, and then used one hand to hold it while using the other to reach up to hold onto the side of her breast. She froze. In truth, the instances in which Draco had done this had grown further apart. She thought he was finally weaning away from it once and for all. It was harder than ever to justify why this kept happening. She looked at him and saw that it seemed like he hadn't even noticed. He happily read the letter while kicking his feet. His face betrayed no sign of perversion, so Narcissa let her body relax and held him closer to her. He placed his head against her shoulder.
When Narcissa and Lucius were gathering Draco’s things for the Hogwarts express, there was a moment when Lucius left the room. Draco, who was having first day jitters, watched him leave before reaching a shaking hand up to gently grasp Narcissa's breast. He wasn't even looking at her. It was almost as if he was acting on instinct. Despite the fact that Draco noticeably became calmer after touching her, Narcissa frowned. More than ever, she had been wondering if this was truly okay. Maybe she should take him to a psychiatrist? Even if it calmed him down, surely this was not not normal 11 year old boy behavior. When Lucius' footsteps started descending the stairs, Draco moved away from Narcissa with a startled, jerky movement, and went back to biting his lip from nerves. The stark contrast made Narcissa put away the ideas of normalcy that came to her mind. She didn't want her little boy feeling distressed, and if touching her made him feel better then so be it.
Maybe after a year at school he'll have new coping mechanisms since I'm not there.
Her boy boarded the train, waved at both her and Lucius, and was off.
Narcissa never realized how much joy Draco brought into her life until he was gone. Malfoy manor suddenly seemed so empty without the sound of Draco’s laughter filling it. When Narcissa woke up in the morning, she had gotten halfway done making a portion of breakfast for Draco before remembering he was not there to eat it. She went into his bedroom and decided to tidy it up despite having done so already on the day he had left. His room smelled so much like him, she stood there just basking in the scent—picturing her little boy home again.
When Draco came back for the Christmas holidays, she could not remember the last time she had been so happy to see someone. Her cheeks hurt with how big her smile was as she watched Draco run up to engulf her in a hug. "I missed you so much," he said, his voice muffled against her abdomen. She ran her hands through his hair, and said, “I missed you, too.”
He beamed up at her, and she got a sensation like she had stepped into a warm sun ray.
It was a week into the holiday before he revealed that his habit hadn't gone anywhere. He came up behind Narcissa one day, after telling his father about a particularly nasty experience with Harry Potter, and wrapped his arms around her. Narcissa could tell that the experience had upset him, and she was happy to provide comfort. They stayed like that for a bit before his hands started traveling up to her breasts. She didn't stop him, and, with a jolt, realized she had been expecting this. Even looking forward to it, if she was being honest with herself. Despite still finding it a little strange, this thing that Draco did was something that had persisted since childhood. It was odd, yes, but it was like Draco was reminding Narcissa that he was still her little boy. His hands stayed there for a while, gently squeezing and letting go. Narcissa took one of his hands and kissed it. She could feel his body go slack, a sound of deep contentment escaping him. He jumped and let go when Lucius came into the room.
At 12, the habit persisted.
At 13, the effects of puberty started. Draco's voice cracked at odd moments, he grew, and Narcissa even noticed a bit of lip hair (she refused to call it a mustache). When Narcissa took Draco out, she noticed his eyes lingering on some of the girls who would walk by. She encouraged him to go talk to them, but he would simply frown, go red, and vigorously shake his head. Narcissa had always loved waking Draco up in the morning, and was more upset than she’d like to admit when he eventually asked her to stop. When she inquired as to why, he just frowned and mumbled something Narcissa could not discern. It was at this age that it seemed like Draco's habit had died out. That would've been fine if not for the fact that his sweet demeanor died with it. He no longer ran up to Narcissa to hug her. No longer sat on her lap. In fact, it seemed like he didn't like being touched by her at all; she put her hand on his shoulder once, and he yelped before shuffling away from her. Narcissa's heart suffered a blow. What had happened? She decided to ask Draco, one day, when the two were alone together in his room.
"Did I do something?" She asked, sitting in a chair she had pulled up beside his bed while he sat with a blanket over him, looking a little sheepish.
Draco shook his head, an inexplicable blush on his cheeks. "it's not you, it's just…I…Feel different."
"About what?"
"Everything." Draco said, and he let out a groan that gave the impression of him wanting to talk about this for a while. "I have these… reactions when I see girls. It makes me feel disgusting."
Narcissa understood at once what was going on. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought to have this talk with him beforehand. She explained that his body was changing and he was becoming a man. She explained it was normal to feel differently about girls now and there was absolutely nothing disgusting about it. To her delight, he grew more relaxed as she got all of this out.
"Is it normal to have…weird dreams? Ones that make you…change when you wake up?” He quickly glanced down at his crotch before going red in the face.
Narcissa didn’t miss a beat. "Those are wet dreams, sweety. Everyone gets them. What happens to your body is called an erection. That’s also normal."
“That’s why I made you stop waking me up,” Draco said with a sort of sheepish half-smile, the tip of his ears gone red. “I didn’t want you seeing it.”
“Is that why? I thought you finally wanted nothing to do with your dear old mum.” Narcissa faked a dramatic sort of affronted drawl, which made Draco chuckle, before continuing. “You’ve been so cold towards me lately. It’s unlike you.”
“I…” Draco suddenly looked more uncomfortable than he had all day. “It’s not your fault,” he said before dropping his gaze. Narcissa couldn’t help but feel like there was more he wanted to say. She waited for a beat, and when no response came, continued with,
"Maybe you'd like to talk to your father about this rather than me? A little man to man?"
“Wait, what about girls?” He asked, out of the blue, curiously cocking his head. “Do they experience all of that, too?”
“In their own way, yes.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that they also experience wet dreams and arousal, though girls may be a bit more shy about showing it.”
“How can I tell if a girl feels that towards me?”
“You should be more focused on your studies.” Narcissa joked, reaching to stroke Draco’s cheek. “Don’t worry about girls right now.”
Draco didn’t seem completely satisfied, but he let it drop and went back to being more like the little boy Narcissa knew.
14 would've been as uneventful as 12 if not for one particular event. Lucius had left for work early in the morning, leaving Narcissa to wake up without him. She had gotten out of bed, still in her nightgown, and began making the bed as she did every morning. When she got done, she was surveying her work and about to readjust a pillow when Draco's voice sounded from the hall.
"Ma...?" He said, his voice brimmed with uncertainty.
Narcissa jumped. Draco was never up this early. A memory from last night flashed into her mind: Lucius, at the dinner table, spoke about the fact he'd be leaving early in the morning. Draco had looked at him, then at Narcissa, and she thought the look on his face was that of surprised excitement. Narcissa had raised an eyebrow at him, but he had already gone back to his dinner.
The memory faded away as she looked at Draco now, standing in the hall, looking red, and like he very much regretted opening his mouth. Narcissa, having been ignored last night, decided to give him her raised eyebrow now.
"Um..." Draco said. "Never mind."
He turned to walk away, but Narcissa stopped him. "No," she said, "what is it? Do you need to talk? You can tell me anything, you know."
Draco was avoiding her gaze, and Narcissa got the distinct impression he was trying to find his courage. She wondered what he had to say. At 14, his habit wasn't gone. Looking more like a young man than a little boy, the optics of Draco seeking privacy with Narcissa so he could touch her were not great. Nor were the optics surrounding the fact that he—more often than not—got erections from it. Narcissa knew that boys could not control their erections, and it didn't always mean arousal, but still. She also tried to explain it away by saying that she may be his mother, but she was still a woman, so perhaps Draco's reaction was just an unfortunate tenet of his biology. Narcissa had no litmus test. Boys this age did not touch their mothers like this, so she wasn't sure what constituted 'normal breast fondling' between mother and son. She would admit that she noticed that he seemed to be getting a little... Braver? More curious? She wasn't sure what to call it when he tried to subtly rub himself against her while clearly trying to get relief from his nether regions whenever these 'breast fondling induced erections' would occur. She pretended not to notice. It didn't particularly bother her. Draco was a teenage boy and they were notorious for wanting to know about sex. Besides, it wasn't like he would rub himself into an orgasm. Just one or two caresses against Narcissa's thigh and he dared not go further than that.
"I…"
Narcissa was torn from her thoughts as Draco's voice sounded in her ears.
"Iwanttoseeawoman'sbody," he said in one breath.
Narcissa blinked. "That's normal, Draco." she smiled brightly at him. "We talked about this last year—"
"I know, but... I still haven't actually seen...anything."
"Are you asking me for wooing advice?" Narcissa raised a humored eyebrow.
"No," Draco said, in a soft voice, "I'm asking to see you."
Narcissa felt a chill go through her. "That's not... What?"
"I'm curious now ," his body became animated as he rushed to explain himself, "and I don't want to pretend to like a girl just to see her naked. You always told me I shouldn't play with hearts, so... please?"
Narcissa didn't know what to think. This was not a normal request. This was not a normal request. Still… How many boys feel comfortable telling their mom's that they're curious about women? Why shame him when he was being honest? Did 'not normal' mean that it was automatically bad? She let out a deep breath through her nose, nodded, and, with shaking hands, reached for her nightgown.
"Wait," Draco said, "can I do it?"
Narcissa let her hands drop. Draco crossed the room in a few exuberant strides. His face was angled towards her chest, but his hands started just below her collarbones. His hands were cold, and Narcissa could feel goosebumps crop up in the wake of his fingerprints. He did not untie her nightgown at first. Instead, he pulled open just the part covering her breasts and abdomen, the little belt thingy preventing the gown from fully opening. He stared at her, his hands falling to frame her stomach. Then, he reached to untie her belt, and was transfixed as the fabric fell open to reveal that Narcissa only had on a white pair of panties that she was quite fond of. He pushed the gown off of her until it was half fallen and half pooled at her wrists. He stroked her; First her shoulders, then her arms, forearms, waist, stomach, sides—before finally moving up to cup her breasts.
“The girls you go after won’t be so saggy,” Narcissa joked, feeling strangely embarrassed in front of her son.
“Pity,” Draco said. His eyes were glossed over. Transfixed. “Your skin is so soft.”
He wasn't just feeling her breasts, he was caressing them. Weighing them. Turning his head curiously in each direction as he surveyed them. He drew his thumb over her nipple and Narcissa let out a sort of surprised, sharp cry. This drew Draco's attention instantly. He looked up at her with wide, curious eyes; the likes of which Narcissa hadn't seen since he was a little boy.
"Sorry," she said, "a little sensitive there."
"Do all women react like that?"
"No, some women don't like being touched there at all."
Draco looked like he found that interesting.
His hands trailed down, hooked around the waistband of her panties—
Narcissa stood up straight, moving his hand away. “No,” she said, forcefully. “Draco. No. Never that.”
Draco looked startled. He drew back from her, which gave Narcissa a glimpse of the bulge in his pants. She wasn’t sure how to feel. She didn’t want to shame him, but something in the back of her mind grew in volume as it said that this was not normal.
"I'm sorry," Draco said, and he looked like he meant it.
"Go to your room," Narcissa said, but only because she couldn't really think of anything else to say. She wanted to tell him it was okay, but she wasn't sure it was.
Draco did not obey her right away. Instead, he fixed her with a worried expression and said, "Are you mad at me?"
"No… No, baby." She sighed. She wasn't mad but her head was pounding from her swirl of thoughts. "I think we both just need some space, yea?"
Draco bit his lip, nodded, and walked out of the room without another word, looking rather dejected. Narcissa watched him go. For one moment, she wondered if he’d masturbate to what had just happened. He was certainly worked up. She scowled at herself and shook her head. Despite her efforts to not think about Draco touching himself, she found herself straining her ears, every now and again, to see if she could catch a sound of him doing it. No such thing reached her ears, but she wasn't entirely convinced that he had just quietly gone about his day. She wondered if she had hurt his feelings. Then again, if he were heartbroken, would it not be better to end his fixation on her now rather than later? Narcissa, despite trying her best, could not fully convince herself that it was normal for a boy to get an erection at the sight of his mother's body. It disturbed her a little. Maybe she should take Draco to a psychiatrist. Oh, but they'd just make him feel crazy!
Narcissa bit her lip as her train of thought switched all together. Despite the fact that she was no longer young, by any stretch of the imagination, Draco had been so… mesmerized by her body. He had grown aroused by gazing at her. She hated to admit it—it honestly made her feel a little sick, but his reaction made her feel desirable. God, when was the last time she had felt like that? Lucius sometimes still did the trick, but it was very rare and usually fleeting. Not like it was when they were younger. But now? To be viewed as desirable by a young man—
A young man who is your son! You're sick. Maybe you did fuck him up, after all.
Narcissa shook her head, thoroughly disquieted at this point, and tried to find something else to focus her energy on.
At 15, Draco had a breakdown. It happened after a couple of months of him being noticeably withdrawn from Narcissa. It was rather random, the breakdown. Narcissa had made a comment about his behavior; she had joked, again, that he was becoming a typical teenage boy that was embarrassed to show affection to his mother. Draco had started crying. It was rather startling how quickly his cries turned to sobs. It must've been too much for his body to handle because he dropped to the floor of the kitchen, holding his face in his hands. Narcissa rushed to his side, alarmed, kneeled down in front of him, and grasped his now heaving shoulders. He told Narcissa he thought that he was a freak. Sick. Unnatural. He told her that he had feelings towards her. Feelings that no boy should have for his mother. He said he felt dirty. At first, Narcissa didn't know what to say. What to think. She was disturbed to find that Draco's confession was not shocking. She wouldn't necessarily say that she'd been expecting it—what, after explaining away his behavior for so long, but it certainly wasn't unprecedented. She was hit with a nasty feeling; all of the excuses she had been making were just that: excuses. Deep down she had known that Draco's behavior wasn't normal, but now there was nothing to protect her from the truth. She should've gotten him help. Why hadn't she? Draco begged her to say something. She told him that she didn't think he was a freak. That his feelings didn’t have to be a big deal. He looked as if he was scared to ask something else. Eventually, he said that he sometimes thought she felt the same way about him since she didn't seem to mind how he acted around her. Narcissa told him that she couldn't feel that way about him. “But do you?” He asked. Narcissa was stunned into silence. She didn't know. She... Didn't know. Why had she been so keen to indulge his whims? Let him undress her a year ago. Excuse his touches?
"Draco," she said, "I think a part of me really likes having you view me that way. That's all I'm going to say, okay?"
Draco nodded at her, his eyes getting the tiniest bit brighter. His body relaxed and he seemed incredibly placated by these words. From then on, the atmosphere between them was warm. They had both finally gotten it off their chests after letting it hang over them for years, and it was a noticeable relief. Draco never had a stint of being cold towards her again, though, sometimes, the atmosphere between them would get a little heated when they were alone together and in close proximity. Nothing ever happened. It was kind of odd: they just let the energy hang in the air without acting on it. Narcissa figured it was because she did her best to keep an aura of "there's a line here". She was far too conflicted to do anything with Draco. The very thought of it terrified her. Disgusted her. Aroused her. Made her blush. Made her hate herself. Made her feel young again. Gave her butterflies. Made her want to vomit.
...
See?
So she kept the line between them, and he seemed to know that she wasn't comfortable, because he didn't try to do anything with her, either. His aura was rather calm and patient. Like he was willing to give her all the time in the world. This just drew Narcissa to him more, but she wasn't going to tell him that. A part of her hoped that her not crossing that line would encourage him to seek another woman.
Another year passed. Draco was 16. At this age, Lucius thought it best to treat him more like a man. He spent more time with him, showing him around the Wizarding world with more emphasis on how things work. Narcissa had a memory of walking in on Lucius and Draco in the living room. Not wanting to interrupt, she decided to lean against the wall and listen in silence. Lucius was talking about the history of Malfoy manor; who built it, the first Malfoy's to inhabit it, where some of the furniture was from, and so on and so forth. At the end of his speech, he was holding a crystal ball that he thrust at Draco before saying,
"One day, my son, everything in Malfoy manor will be yours."
Draco turned the ball over in his hands, seemingly studying it. "Everything?" He repeated, his voice low and wistful like.
"Yes," Lucius said, his voice holding pride.
At that precise moment, Draco looked at Narcissa. His eyes glimmered with a deep, aching desire that made Narcissa’s heart stutter and race. Then, it was gone. He gave her a quick once-over, blushed, and turned his attention back to his father.
Narcissa turned, put her hand to her chest, took a deep and steadying breath, and then walked away from her son and husband.
At 17, the war had passed. Draco was broken. Her little boy had been stretched to fit the silhouette of a grown man, and the resulting damage was showing its colors.
Narcissa listened, each night, as Draco's bed squeaked with him twisting and turning. She would never be sure how long it went on like that, because she fell asleep before it stopped. The next morning, she would wonder if it had ever stopped at all; Draco's eyes were accompanied by bags, and he was so absent-minded with pouring his coffee that his cup overflowed. Lucius frowned and glanced at Narcissa. She looked back. They had both tried to get Draco back to his old self, with very little progress.
At dinner that night, Lucius surprised both her and Draco.
"I'm going to be doing overtime at the ministry," Lucius said, sparing a glance at Narcissa. "Why don't you and Draco do something fun?"
The light in Draco's eyes grew brighter at these words. He looked at his mother, who gave him a quick smile before turning back to look at Lucius. She couldn't quite explain it, but there was something about his tone that made her take pause. She oftentimes found herself thinking that there was no way Lucius had missed all of Draco's behavior through the years. He never actually walked in on Draco in any compromising positions, but there were times when his gaze traveled from Draco to Narcissa and then back again. She was never brave enough to ask him what he was thinking, but she was sure he knew anyway. He couldn't miss Draco seeking privacy with Narcissa. Couldn't miss all of his awkward erections. Couldn't miss all of his stares. Couldn't miss the fact he liked touching her whenever possible.
Lucius' tone at the dinner table was that of resigned knowledge.
Is he giving me to Draco? Narcissa thought. Was he realizing there was nothing he could do about her and Draco's affection for each other? But why encourage it?
She looked at him more closely and saw his deep eyebags that had grown more pronounced every single day that Draco remained in his depressed state. Could it be that he was so desperate for his son to be happy again that he'd allow something such as this?
She'd never find out. Lucius finished his dinner, did the dishes, and was off. At the shutting of the door, tension immediately struck the air. Narcissa could feel her heartbeat race dully in her chest. Draco, who was standing behind her, took tentative steps closer to her. He put his hands on her waist, waited to see if she'd object, and then wrapped his arms fully around her before resting his head in the crook of her neck. The two just stood there. Draco did not do anything besides hold her close and breathe her in. Narcissa felt herself relax in his grip and gently grasped his wrist to show that she enjoyed what he was doing. She wasn't sure how long they stood there, though she'd guess around 5 to 10 minutes. Only then did she feel the tickle of Draco's hair as he lifted his head to place a kiss on her shoulder.
"Is it bad to say," Draco began in a whisper, "that I've always thought dad a bit of a fool?"
"Very bad," Narcissa said. Despite her eyebrow being raised, there was a hint of humor in her voice, "you should respect your father."
"I've always thought you deserved better," his voice held a note of resentment. "He can't see what's right in front of him."
"And what's that?"
"Where do I begin?"
"He's worried about you, you know?"
"I don't want to speak about him right now."
"I'm worried, too." Narcissa, suddenly feeling her temper flare, whipped around to face him. Draco was evidently startled by this, stumbling backwards. "You're barely eating. You're withdrawn. So, out with it. Talk to me."
For a moment, Draco just looked at her. Narcissa thought he may decline to open up to her, but then he thickly swallowed, started going red, and his lips trembled. Narcissa was horrified as she took a step towards him.
"I don't feel like a person anymore," he said in a voice horribly choked with tears, "The things I did! The people I hurt."
"You are still a person." Narcissa said. Her words did not stop his tears. Her heart broke for him. She could not bear this sight! She reached to hold his face in her hands. He looked up at her, blinking away tears. Despite looking older, his face was still that of the little boy that Narcissa so dearly loved. He still had the face of the boy she rocked to sleep, the boy she sang lullabies to, the boy whose scraped knees she patched up, the boy who she watched turn into a man. She stroked his lips with her thumb, and his eyelids drooped in a dreamy fashion.
She kissed him. His lips were warm from the heat in his face. He was surprised for a moment but ultimately kissed her back. She drew away for a quick second, not opening her eyes, before going in again with passion borne from the first kiss. He held her so tightly that she opened her mouth to gasp. He took that opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth. They were positively pawing at each other—years of tension coming to the surface. It was only when he tried to rile up her dress that sense came back to her.
"Go take a shower," she said, abruptly pulling away from him.
Draco blinked at her. "Wha—?"
"You'll feel better afterwards.” She smoothed out her dress, hotly. “I want to take one as well. I'll go after you. I think we both lost our heads there. Nothing a shower won't fix."
Draco searched her face for a few moments before looking crestfallen. "Okay," he said gently, "have it your way."
With that, he turned and stalked up the steps. Narcissa was left with her heart thumping. Her thoughts whirled as she listened to him clean himself up. When it was her turn, she stared blankly at the shower wall as she ran a finger across her lips. She couldn't believe she had just kissed her own son. That she lost control. When the water began to run cold, she got out. She retreated to her bedroom, leaving the door open, to put on a pair of panties and her nightgown. She could hear the wood in the hallway give a creek as Draco's weight acted upon them. She knew he was watching her. Putting her hands on the dresser, she began taking deep breaths. She would not outright admit to wanting him. She would not push his hand in case he ended up changing his mind. She would not be the one to cross that line. It would have to be up to him. If things were going to go that far between them then she wanted to be 100% certain that it was Draco who wanted it and not just him rising to meet the sick desires of his mother.
She abandoned her nightgown, took off her panties, and, without casting a single look in his direction, went to lay stomach down on her bed. She hadn’t wanted him to think that she was expecting him to join her, which is why she hadn’t looked at him. Instead, she gave him something ambiguous. He could join her or not; it was up to him. To her slight surprise, Draco’s footsteps retreated back to his bedroom. Narcissa was fine with that as well. She just hoped she hadn’t offended him. She started to nod off, but was awoken a little later by the sound of her bedroom door creaking open. She stared at the headboard, still on her stomach, and listened as Draco's footsteps got closer. He stood to where he was visible from the corner of her eye, and Narcissa was slightly startled to see that he had apparently abandoned his clothes in his bedroom, standing only in a pair of boxers.
"I know you think that you're a monster for wanting this," Draco said softly. "I almost gave up just now…but I want this, too. We can be monsters together. If I'm wrong, feel free to stop me, but I'm an adult now. I know what I want. I've wanted this for years , and I don't think I can handle another night with your guilt standing in the way of what we have both desired for so long."
Narcissa swallowed but didn't say anything. Draco searched her face, and Narcissa thought it was quite clear that he was asking for her consent and giving her a chance to yell, scream, or curse him if she didn't want him touching her. She remained quiet. Draco stood there for a few seconds more before pulling off his boxers. His penis was semi-erect and looked… formidable. It was longer than that of Lucius, but was noticeably less girthier; not that she minded. He walked out of her line of vision. From there, Narcissa felt his weight on the bed; it was accompanied by a slight squeaking. Draco's wrist came into view as he used his hand to support himself while bending down to kiss her on the shoulder. She took a deep breath. Let it out. He pulled away from her and supported his weight on his knees. With both hands, he trailed the length of her sides; at the top of her ribcage he slid his hands underneath her. She raised herself up to give him access to her breasts. He held and squeezed them, his breathing slowing down. He drew away from them after a few moments and used his hands to manipulate Narcissa's backside into the air.
Narcissa's heart raced painfully in her chest. Her thoughts came so fast that she couldn't even make out one before it switched into another. One part of her made her wet her lips in anticipation to speak up and back out. Another part of her told her that the reason her lips were still so dry, despite just licking them, was because she was too wet somewhere else to have some to spare for her mouth, and that she couldn't think of anything worse than asking Draco to stop. She wanted this. She hated herself for wanting this. She wondered if she should stop for Draco's sake. She wondered if she was a bad mother. She wondered about how Lucius would feel to see his wife and son like this. She hated that the thought of Lucius seeing this kind of turned her on.
Something hard pressed against Narcissa's opening, and an icy hot feeling overtook her as Draco let out a long moan while slipping into her. At first, he went slow. Narcissa got the feeling he was getting used to the sensation of being inside of a woman. She wondered, idly, if he was trying hard not to cum instantaneously, then rolled her eyes when she realized that she was engaging in self-flattery. Draco's pace increased and Narcissa shut her eyes, face pressed into her pillow as little moans escaped her. Draco grunted and lowered himself to where he was nearly flush against her. He started placing impassioned kisses against her shoulder, making her gasp. The sound their bodies were making, slapping against each other like that, was filling Narcissa with extreme arousal and a bit of shame. It was so primal. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been made love to like this. Draco hugged her torso and started feverishly thrusting within her, grunting every time his groin slapped against her ass. Narcissa's mouth remained open as moans escaped from it in steady intervals. Her fingernails bore into the underside of her pillow—she hoped she wouldn't rip it. Her orgasm approached faster than she'd ever like to admit. Faster than Draco, a seventeen-year-old boy. She clenched around him and arched her back in a way that didn't speak to the amount of shame she was feeling. She wondered how Draco felt on his end. He got five or six more thrusts in before making a strangled sort of sound and cumming inside her. Narcissa gasped and went slack against the bed. The feeling of Draco's hot cum made her incredibly aroused for someone who had just had an orgasm. For the first time, she was happy she was so old. At 41, it was unlikely for her to get pregnant. That was something she did not wanna deal with. He stayed inside of her for a while, laying against her, both of them breathing heavily. Narcissa enjoyed the feeling of his young, lean body flush against her. There was something incredibly primal about their sweaty, heaving forms pressed against each other. Narcissa clenched around him, wanting to enhance the feeling of him being within her. He let out a low, short moan.
"Ma," he said, his voice tinged with humor. He buried his face in her neck and kissed her there again.
Narcissa smiled, letting out a little chuckle as she turned her neck to the side to encourage more kisses. She clenched around him again and he breathed in sharply.
"Ma," he groaned. He pushed his hips forward and Narcissa realized he was hard again. For the second time that night, Draco fucked her; his hands holding her waist as he thrust into her at a pace that was both deep and fast. He came inside her again, seemingly without a care in the world. He even had the audacity to press himself completely flush against her as he did so. Narcissa would need to talk with him about not doing this with any of his girlfriend's.
The thought of him with a girl made her frown. She cleared the image from her mind.
He pulled out of her then. She could feel his semen drip out of her pussy, coating it. The feeling of it against her clit made her throb a little. He flopped down beside her, and she turned to face him, her eyes widening as she saw him with his palm pressed to his face, looking like he was about to cry. Narcissa supported herself on one elbow and reached out her hand to touch his cheek, but found that she hesitated and could only hover over it instead. She wanted to touch him but was scared that she was the reason for his tears.
She should've asked him to stop. Not for her sake, but for his. What if he felt like he couldn’t live with himself anymore?
"You must hate me,” Draco said. "All these years—God—I tried so hard to be normal around you. I was normal at first, I think. I only touched you because I found it comforting, but I eventually realized that I was attracted to you. I guess I finally cracked after suppressing it for so long."
"How long?"
"If I’m being honest, it’s been a long time," he chuckled wryly, “I always wanted to be around you, but when I started being interested in girls, I realized that I thought about you in ways I shouldn’t. A lot. It scared the shit out of me, but I could never fully get rid of it.”
"Wouldn't you rather have someone your own age? I'm…Very old."
"I like that about you." Draco said, turning to face her with a startling fierceness. "I like your body. Your hands give the sweetest touches. Your arms give the warmest hugs. When I was scared as a little boy, your legs were there to hide behind. When I was upset, your breasts were—" he sighed and readjusted. "I remember you trying to get me to stop touching you and me being so sad about it. I thought you didn't love me anymore. I was so ashamed. Looking back on it, I wonder if you knew that it'd get out of hand. I tried to stop, you know? I knew it wasn't normal, but I kept making excuses to eventually crack and touch you again."
Draco's voice sounded, once again, choked with tears. Narcissa drew him nearer, putting his face right against her breasts. She could feel him take a deep breath that relaxed him, and she began petting his head. "You have nothing to be ashamed of."
He nuzzled gently against her, sticking his face right in between them. "Am I," he choked out, slightly muffled, "still your little boy?"
"Always." Narcissa said. "Nothing will ever change that, darling."
"Promise?"
" Of course ."
He sniffled and let out a shuddering chuckle. With one hand, he reached up to cup one of her breasts. He gently squeezed it at random increments, and eventually his breathing slowed until he fell asleep. Narcissa kissed the top of his head and followed in his wake.