Winter children
He
had been thirteen the first time. Father had not been home; off on some far
more important jaunt that didn't involve being around his family. Being home
from Hogwarts, was not as pleasant an experience as he
was sure everyone at school thought it was for him. Cool disdain was like ice,
coating him over and turning him just as cold as it. Malice was glacial. His
home wasn't a home, just an exceptionally large crypt.
Poor little rich boy. Stuck at home
with parents that despised him for not being strong enough. No true
friends, just lackeys. And he knew exactly what his life was like, and what it
would be when he grew up. If Voldemort won, then he
would be one of the new command, replacing the old
guard like his father. He would be rich and powerful, one of those the world
depended on to tell it what to do. And if Voldemort
lost? Well, it would turn out much the same. That was the fundamental
truth that Potter and his mates would never understand. Even when you changed
the rules of the game, the same players still sat around the board. The ones
who were in control could seem to change, but it was really just the same faces
sitting behind the desk, signing the documents and playing at chess grand
master with a world of lives. They would never be able to understand that,
because they hadn't woken up to reality. Dumbledore hadn't either. And you
really thought he should have, but he hadn't. He was lost in the same
idealistic dream.
Draco's dreams were all nightmares. And his reality
was much the same. Narcissa - she always made him
call her that in private, never Mother, she didn't want to be reminded that she
was fucking her son - had her claws into him tightly. He was almost certain
that Lucius knew, but didn't care. If his son was
servicing his wife when he was too busy, well...it was keeping it within the
family, wasn't it? If any children resulted, a doubtful outcome, then it would
still be ultimately carrying his genes. Better she do
that then go outside for a lover when he was neglectful.
Narcissa loved to be in control. He was relatively
certain it was because she didn't have the chance to do that anywhere else. Lucius would never allow her so much as a whisper of real
power, so she exercised what scraps she had to the hilt. She would rather push
him down onto the bed then lead him to it, rather scratch then soothe, bite
rather then kiss. It was all a trade off. It was probably the most affection
she'd shown him that he could remember. Even if was obscenely twisted.
In moments of self-truth, he wondered if that wasn't really why he hated Weasley. That he had all his family around him, and that
they'd support him, no matter what he chose to do with his life. Good god, if
the boy declared that he was gay and was moving in with...Neville, his mother
would nod and let him do it. It made Draco shudder
inwardly to think of his family's reaction to the same sort of declaration.
"You're miles away, Draco," Narcissa said reprovingly, nails digging into his shoulder
as he recovered himself and turned to look at her. Father was off somewhere
again today, and they were curled up naked in the parental bed. The sheets were
already rucked up, awaiting the house elves to come
and repair them. It was good that all the servants they had were magically
bonded. Wizarding society would frown on this, but no
one in the house would dare whisper it to anyone outside.
"I was...thinking, Narcissa." Never Mother. The silvery haired teen tilted his head back
slightly and let her lay a devouring kiss on his mouth passively. She was
reassuring herself that he was hers, after all. It was so much easier to just
let her do what she wanted. He was good with a hex, his father was stronger in
his casting, but Narcissa was much more cunning.
There were degrees in everything. Just as there were times to stand up, and
times to lie down and take what was coming. It was just easier to work around Narcissa if she was relatively content, then if she was in
the mood to be a bitch and ruin things for the sake of it. As her teeth nipped
at his bottom lip, Draco sighed slightly in pleasure.
Of course, the fact that he preferred a little bit of rough handling with his sex,
either giving or receiving, wasn't really that surprising considering his
history. If Lucius had been that way inclined, he
would probably have just a strong an interest in boys as girls as well. As it
was...he happened to like aggressive women. Like his mother. Except
he preferred to dominate them. Again, a backlash
against the lack of power in his own life. Sometimes it was depressing
to be so incredibly right all the time.
"What were you thinking about?" Narcissa
murmured, trailing kisses down his neck. Little
imprints of red sprang up behind her mouth as she went, bruising his skin with
her teeth just to make sure he was still focused on her. Draco
lifted one hand and ran it through her white blonde hair, shades paler then his
own. They were all so pale. Like albino snakes, coiled and watchful under
stones. Just as deadly.
"School," Draco answered, stroking his
fingers down her back. She was beautiful, he knew that. Every touch elicited
the normal response from his youthful body, arousal growing with each kiss and
nip. In a corner of his mind, he was coldly aware of everything she was doing,
and analysing it. "I was just...ahh...wondering
what Potter would be involved in when...mmm...I got
back." Back arching as he thrust his hips upwards needily,
mouth open in a gasp, he watched his mother smile in predatory triumph.
One day, I am going to kill you, Mother. I wonder if you realise
that?
"It's a pity you can't arrange for him to have a fatal accident."
Elegant fingers cupped either side of his head, holding him still for another
deep kiss as they sank back onto the bed. He could feel her curls sliding along
his thighs, so soft and at the same time, coarse. Probably the only thing close
to vulgar one would ever find on Narcissa Malfoy. "Or for one of his little
minions."
"I think he calls them his friends, Narcissa."
Draco watched her through half closed eyes as she
moved up to rest her knees on either side of his waist, not lowering herself
quite yet. There had to be something he could do that would shatter Potter's
little world, without backfiring on himself. What with the death of his
godfather, the gaps were appearing thick and fast. Maybe he wouldn't need to do
anything at all. "Gods, Narcissa,
please..."
"Please what?"
Bitch.
He knew better then to thrust upwards and start without her permission, but she
was so close. Folds just brushing the tip of his cock, so
soft and sweet and wet. "Narcissa..."
Let his voice slip into a whining begging note, watch her smile grow a little
wider. He knew exactly how to manipulate her. "Please. I need you..."
And that was always what she wanted to hear, that she was needed and wanted and
by God, adored. Low self esteem in a person was such an ugly craving thing.
Slowly, she slid down, encasing him in soft warm flesh, and his fingers flexed
against the sheets because he knew she wouldn't let him touch her. Either she
was in control, or nothing would happen. And in the face of celibacy during his
school holidays, he'd let her do what she wanted. "Oh, god..."
"Oh yes..." she sighed, leaning her head back as she started to rock
slowly. He could feel her long hair tickling across his thighs, her hands
plucking at her nipples gently. This was so wrong. "Mmm..."
Tight. So tight. He let his
fingers dance across her skin, so lightly. Anything that seemed vaguely presumptuous, and she'd stop. She'd done it before.
"Can I touch you?"
Lust-dazed eyes looked down at him, and she nodded slowly. Draco
sighed in relief, and slid his hands upwards along her ribs towards her breasts.
If she had about three, four orgasms a night, she was always in that much of a
better mood during the day.
Sometimes he wondered exactly what it would be like to have a normal family.