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With a Little Help From My Friends
Chapter 1
By Kinsfire
With a Little Help From My Friends
Chapter 1
I was in my personal study, reading the most recent Journal of American Potions Experts when my husband burst into the room. "Narcissa, we have a mission for you."
"We?" I asked softly, and believed my raised eyebrow spoke eloquently to him of my disdain for his machinations.
"The Dark Lord. We have a patient for you to keep healthy." He utterly ignored me, which has been par for the course for the last seventeen years.
"In other words, some of your … ahem … friends got a little over-enthusiastic and almost killed someone that you need information from, and it’s my job to make sure that someone doesn’t get Crucio’d or A-K’d for thundering incompetence." I watched as his face darkened, and smiled only to myself. I knew he’d been the one to overdo it - he has always enjoyed torture just a bit too much.
"He's weaker than we expected. I'll have him dragged here to your chambers. You'll minister to him in this setting."
I'd learned a long time ago not to argue with Lucius. Were it not for the fact that I would need a protector if I left him and divorced him, exactly that circumstance would have happened years ago. Once, after nursing Draco at my breast, Lucius had the child removed and fed from a bottle, declaring that no child of his would grow to be 'a momma's boy', in his far less eloquent terms. I received a broken jaw for daring to question him.
On a not unrelated tangent, my potions knowledge is surpassed by none in my acquaintance, not even that pompous, overbearing fool that Lucius designated as his son's godfather. My broken jaw did not last for long.
Choosing my chambers as the hospital was one of the few ways that Lucius could 'get back at me', as it were, for imagined slights. He had learned once, years ago, not to cross too far over the line. He was quite certain that I had been the one to poison him in response, but there was never any proof. It was supposedly a slow acting poison that even Severus was almost unable to brew the antidote for, it required so much skill. Amazing that I happened to have some of the antidote on hand for him to check against, wouldn't you say?
They are nothing, if not sexist. The only reason they accept my insane sister is because she frightens everyone else. Were it not for her fanatical devotion to that ugly little codfish, Voldemort would have killed her years ago.
But since the house was legally Lucius', he could decide that a prisoner was to be my chamber-mate for however long it took to heal him, to bring this back to the point I had started from.
The elder Crabbe and Goyle dragged a mess that had the chance to be human again into my room, where he was deposited on my loveseat rather rougher than I would have preferred, what with being required to nurse him to health again. A neatly snapped wand was dropped at his feet by my husband. "In case he needs it, of course," Lucius said mockingly before the three left the room, closing it behind them.
I pulled my own wand to verify a number of things - first, and most important, was to verify that he was in fact still alive, which I was quickly assured was the case, but I would need to work on him soon if I wished to keep him that way. The rest of my wand work was to verify that my husband had not set traps about his victim. Lucius is a master of cruelty and enjoys spreading the wealth, as they say.
Having verified that the person bleeding into my favourite loveseat wasn't going to explode, killing himself and me in the process, I began the process of dealing with the worst of his wounds. It took some time to get him to a point where I felt safe moving him, although broken was certainly a word for him. I couldn't find a single major bone that didn't have at least a chip or crack in it, if not an outright break. That included his skull. Lucius and his band of Neanderthals were quite effective with their wands when it came to pain. If only they were that skilled with their other wands when it came to fathering worthwhile children.
I got the blood flow stopped and lifted him into the air. "Snari!" I called, and a house elf appeared.
"Yes, Mistress?" she asked carefully.
"I need this young man stripped to his skin while I hold him airborne. Salvage what you can for his pride, destroy what is left." Her response was to leave me with a bruised, battered, and utterly nude young man floating in the air before me. As I set him down on the loveseat again, I took in the fact that they had managed to scar him considerably, including … My, he's rather pleasantly formed, I must say. Better than Lucius, in fact.
I ignored the fact that, in an unhurt state, I would certainly contemplate having him perform duties that Lucius has not since Draco was conceived. Instead, I continued with his care, gently but thoroughly cataloguing his scars. It was not until I reached his face (and a rather handsome one it was, I had to admit) that I realised who it was when my eyes catalogued the scar on his forehead. A chill ran through me as I had the oddest feeling run through me. This young man was either to be my death, or my salvation. Old Professor Pythias would have loved this one.
I finished what I could for Mister Potter, including a specialised Petrificus spell to keep his jaw from moving, since they had broken it rather impressively. They also had done something to make his system quite sensitive, so there would be no potions given to him for at least two days. Not a good thing.
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I was left alone to tend Potter. When I say alone, I mean completely so. Lucius made no effort to check on him later in the day, or even the next day, to see how his victim was. Potter awoke for a moment roughly twenty-four hours after he had been brought to me, and there was nothing I could do to lessen his obvious pain except stroke his forehead, which seemed to relax him. I thought I heard him murmur something, but realized that he was delusional when all I could recognize was 'my own knee'.
I took very short breaks - to dress, to clean up, and to research a little. I only dozed in short spans, having told Snari to have herself or another elf awaken me if Potter awoke. I was sticking to my dressing gowns, because they were much easier to clean than a full outfit, and were also simply my ‘around the manor’ clothes. Buying new ones was not a problem, if something happened to them. Plus, in an pinch, I could mirror Potter's mode of dress, since none of his clothing was salvageable.
He awoke a day later, still in pain, but doing far better. I scanned him again, and noted that he was healing at an unusual rate. He was still broken and battered, but he was certainly better off than I had expected. He would be able to tolerate no more than two potions, and I already knew which ones they needed to be - first I needed a bone healing potion in his system, and then something for the considerable pain. I would like to give him a nutrient potion, but his system would simply not handle that for the time being. He went to sleep immediately after drinking the pain reliever.
Eight hours later led to me awakening to find him already awake and sitting up, albeit in some obvious discomfort, with his hands quite solidly ensconced in his lap. I looked at myself and began to understand why - in falling asleep in my chair, my dressing robe had come undone. When I am in my robe, I am the only thing under it. My left breast was exposed, and I quickly covered it. "My apologies, Mister Potter. It was not my intention to titillate."
Through jaws forced to clench by my spell, he replied, "Nor was my intention to be so rude to a married woman. My apologies, Mrs. Malfoy."
My eyebrows rose at his politeness and honesty. He truly felt he had wronged me. I was surprised, considering who my husband and son were to him. I ran my wand across him and smiled, then released the spell sealing his jaw shut. "You need not apologise - it is not as if you can simply tell your body what it will and will not do. As for your wounds, the worst of them are healed. You will ache for at least another day, and I am trying to figure out how to get you nourishment, since solid food is out of the question, and even the mildest of nutrient potions I know are a bit more caustic to your stomach than I would like."
"How long before I can eat?" he asked quietly.
"At least two more days, if my readings are correct. If I must, I will give you a nutrient potion tomorrow."
"Don't worry about it," he answered me with a wave of his hand. "I'm used to going without food for a while. I can wait the two days."
His stomach chose to inform us both, rather loudly, that it certainly disagreed with his assessment by releasing a rather loud (and quite impressively varied) display of borborygmi. "Shush, you," he chuckled softly to his midsection.
A thought struck me, and I quickly ran through some possibilities in my head. Both I and his own stomach wanted something nourishing in his system soon, and I realised that I had the means to give him a proper meal at my disposal. "Mister Potter, I have a suggestion that may either horrify you or disgust you, but it would make both your digestive system and my healer sensibilities happy. Have you ever fed from breast milk?"
His only answer was to blink at me for a moment, and then his eyes flickered to my breasts. His hands and arms tightened in his lap in a vain attempt to hide his reaction, and I do not believe that he was aware of licking his lips hungrily. I will admit that it sent a thrill through me that I hadn't felt with a man in seventeen years. "Um, do you have a beaker or flask you can … what am I asking?" he said, berating himself softly. "She has potions, you moron; of course she has flasks."
I chuckled. "It would save us both some trouble, not to mention some cleaning, if you were to drink straight from the source," I answered him, enjoying his discomfort just a bit. It was nice to feel sexy again, so I was going to enjoy it while I could.
I pulled my wand and murmured the lactation spell, and watched his eyes widen as my breasts began to swell before his eyes. I was wearing silk, as I always do, so the growth made the fabric slide across my nipples, making them stiffen far more than having full breasts could cause, and I sighed slightly. "I do so love the feel of silk," I murmured.
"Are you sure about this?" he asked in a strangled voice.
In answer, I simply slid my gown open, exposing both breasts, and gently pulled his head toward me. "You need nourishment, and this is gentle enough for your system. I have no problems with you nursing at my breasts."
He gulped audibly and opened his mouth, but closed it before he could actually encircle one of my nipples. I pulled him closer and brought his lips to the source, his breath making me shiver slightly as it brushed across my right breast. He opened his mouth to say something, and I pulled him the rest of the way. Nature took its course at that point as he unconsciously applied some suction to the hard point of my breast, and after the moment’s normal pain, I felt complete again for the first time in seventeen years. I was performing a function that my body had been built for.
I was amused, I will admit, when he settled into his work - apparently his stomach had informed him that morals were all well and good, but food was far better. I was even more amused to note both his hands rising to my breasts - his left to hold the side of the one he was so diligently suckling at, and his right rose to cup my left breast.
Somewhere in the middle of his nursing, it took an erotic turn as he began to absently tease my left nipple, gently pulling and tweaking it. I felt milk flow gently from that breast as well, but I was not about to say a word to the young man, since I hadn’t been aroused by a man in those seventeen years I’ve previously mentioned. He finally disengaged from my right teat to take a deep breath, and I said shakily, "Why not switch sides? You’re still hungry, and I would look a little lopsided otherwise."
It was then that he noticed that he was still playing with my left nipple, and gasped in shock. "I’m sorry, Mrs. Malfoy!" he squeaked. "I didn’t …"
"Don’t worry about it," I replied. "Had I wished you to stop, I would have removed your hand. Since I was rather enjoying it, you may assume that I wished it to happen. I now wish you to continue nursing until your stomach tells you that it has had enough."
He gently leaned forward and captured my left nipple in his mouth. As he began to nurse, I carefully placed his left hand on my right breast. "I will not say no to doing something pleasurable, Mister Potter." I kissed the top of his head.
He stopped for a moment, but then … well, I could almost feel his eyes twinkle, even though we were not looking at each other. He continued suckling, but now his tongue came into the motions. It was clumsy, as one would expect from someone's first time, but for all that, he was skilled enough to have me gasping and actually whimpering my pleasure within two minutes.
He finally disengaged from my breast, releasing a small belch. I was quite worked up by this point, and before I could stop myself I had opened my robe completely and gasped out, "Please finish what you started. Either fingers or tongue, but don't leave me like this."
He was beyond shocked, I could see that, and unmoving, so I once again took matters to myself. I disengaged his hand from my right breast and guided it downward. He took control himself quickly, and his fingers slid gently across my stomach, which I am proud to say is rather firm, although not muscular. He stopped when he touched the precisely trimmed triangle of hair he was aiming for, but a small whisper of "Please" convinced him, and he gently ran his fingers through that hair before his middle finger found … well, I simply lost control, I must say. The accidental feather soft touch of his finger across my clitoris was more than my system could handle, and I orgasmed, which had been my hope.
I came to myself to see a wide-eyed young man staring at me in rather obviously aroused shock. "I thank you, Mister Potter. I believe that they say 'turnabout is foreplay'?" I pushed him onto the loveseat properly, and then knelt before him, taking him into my mouth before he could move to stop me. He gasped, and before I could get more than a few strokes of my tongue around the member gently pulsing against my jaw, he was exploding and I was swallowing, rather greedily, I must admit.
When I had released his rapidly softening organ, I look up at his face, and found myself uncertain as to how to proceed. He was quite honestly uncertain as to the reaction he should be having. It was obvious that a certain part of him was terribly pleased to have done this, but there was something else, something that was bothering him a great deal. He scowled suddenly and painfully hoisted himself from the couch.
"Mrs. Malfoy, I apologise for my … I was … I can not find a way to say what I wish to that does not sound like I am either an imbecile or insulting you. You are a married woman. I should not have permitted it to go so far. Please forgive my … my lack of experience is the only reason I can give for … I never wanted to be the cause for someone’s marriage vows to be broken." He closed his eyes tightly and clenched his fists. I could see tears forming at the corners of his eyes.
To say that I was stunned would be an understatement. Here I am, the wife of someone whom he knows wants him dead at the feet of his accursed master, the mother of one of his tormentors, and he apologizes to me for causing me to break my marriage vows. I felt the stirring of something I had not felt since my school days, aimed at a certain young Gryffindor of frighteningly similar appearance.
"Harry - may I call you Harry? After so intimate an experience as breastfeeding, I think that you, at least, should call me Narcissa. As I was going to say, however - my vows were never more than convenience to my husband. He needed a male heir, and I was from an excellent family. No more, no less." I walked over to him, closing my robe, and put my hand gently under his chin, lifting it. He opened his eyes. "I do not tell you anything I wish to be kept secret from anyone except Lucius when I say that you gave me something no man has given me since Hogwarts - an orgasm. I enjoyed feeding you, and if you are willing, I would be a willing teacher for some of the erotic arts you would desire for your girlfriends at school."
His face darkened suddenly. "You forget, Narcissa," he said mockingly, "I will not be leaving this manor alive - that’s what your husband and his master informed me. So -" His eyes glazed, and then a dark and angry look replaced the look of hurt. "Very good, Mrs. Malfoy. Your husband tortures me and leaves me in your care, and then you minister to me, doing what is necessary to get me to trust you. Then I spill to you the secrets that Moldie wants … or maybe he thinks if he offers me pussy that I’ll roll over and join your little band of sycophants?"
Damn me for doing what I did next - I slapped him hard on the cheek, feeling his jaw creak as I did so. Breathing hard, I stalked away from him. "How dare you?" I railed. "I have literally saved your worthless life, and now you … you use me, and blame it on me! How dare you?" The last was quiet and dangerous.
"Easily," he replied. "I dare a lot when I know that I have no hope of escape. No one knows where I am, and I know the wards around here are strong enough that even if the Ministry wasn’t owned by Lucky Lucy and his band of ass-lickers, I’d be gone from here at the first sign of a raid." He stalked over to me, getting in my face. "Give me a good reason to believe why I should trust you, Mrs. Malfoy. Before this point, I’ve only ever seen you on the arm of your delightful Death Eater husband, looking as if something foul were under your nose. You are a known associate of people directly connected with Voldemort, and even if the old half-blood weren’t both insane and stupid, he does have one or two people working with him who have at least the pretence of a brain." He stepped back. "So after an hour or so awake, during which the situation got surprisingly sexual rather quickly, I’m supposed to trust you. "I know we Gryffindors are supposed to be braver than we are smart, but do you really think I’m that stupid?"
I was too angry to listen to him at the moment, so I simply turned and stalked from the room, returning to my own bedroom to pace, furious at the audacity of the young man. How dare he! I saved his life, and this is the thanks I get!
I stomped around my room and generally threw a childish tantrum for quite some time before I had calmed down enough to not be a hazard to life and limb of our house elves.
Are you ready to listen to reason, or are you going to try more hissy fits?
Why do I continue to argue with myself? I asked in some annoyed amusement.
Especially when you lose so often.
So now I get to realize how badly I wronged the Potter child, right? This is where I suddenly realise how wrong I was and go running back in to beg for his forgiveness?
Only if you want it to continue in such a bad state. Get your head out of your arse and actually think, Narse.
I hated that nickname.
I don’t go back to Cissy until it's earned.
I stopped and thought about what he had said. I had to admit that he was right on the timing - he hadn’t been awake that long before I had shoved a teat in his face, which had led inexorably to trying to seduce him.
And as far as history was concerned, I had to admit that he was right there as well. I was married - by this point against my will, but Potter didn’t know that - to someone who had been caught as a Death Eater before, and was caught again. His associates had been torturing the young man, and then dropped him on me. Logically speaking, I had to be part of this attempt to break him. From his point of view, there was no other explanation.
Time for apologies, I thought to myself. I dressed in another dressing gown and walked back into my sitting room, this time with my wand in my hand.
I was stunned to find him kneeling against the wall, facing away from me, a twin tiny pools of blood on the floor. "Couldn’t give her the benefit of the doubt, hmm?" he snarled, and a wet smack sounded against the wall as he punched it. "Of course she’s a Death Eater," he said, the air filled with sarcasm. "Being married to one makes her one, right? That must mean that Aunt Petunia is a wonderful woman, since she’s related to my mother! Same. Fucking. Logic," he snarled, punctuating each sentence with further wet smacks.
He deflated at that point, his hands falling limply to his sides. "The Dursleys are right. I am a freak. The fate of the wizarding world on the shoulders of a worthless freak who can’t do anything right. I’m sorry, Hermione," he finished in a whisper. "I know you’re counting on me, but your faith was misplaced. I can’t do it, and …" He seemed to be trying to say something more, but he gave up and hung his head.
My decision had been made. I knew the answer. He would be my death, but I would not be the only Black to have died with a clear conscience. "Mister Potter?" I asked.
He turned his head numbly and looked at me, and then looked at his hands. Standing carefully, he turned his body to me fully and said, "My apologies for my unforgivable words, Mrs. Malfoy, and for undoing so much of your excellent handiwork. Once my hands have healed, I will set to work repairing the wall that I damaged." I looked past him to the wall that he had been striking, and gasped as I saw that he had managed to actually damage stone. With his fists. He continued to speak. "I incorrectly assumed that you knew of my lack of a dating record at Hogwarts, since I can't imagine your son not crowing about my failures in that area. I assumed that you were taunting me with that knowledge."
I looked at him carefully. He was defeated. My husband and his cronies were very good at their planning, at least when it came to torture, I will grant them that. They had not been able to break his spirit with weapons, but with my unwitting help … I held up my wand and spoke. "I will help you safely escape and survive Voldemort, returning you to your friends, at the cost of my own soul, if necessary. This I vow." The Oath was powerful, enough so that it ruffled our hair, and it Connected us. I couldn't read his mind or his thoughts or emotions, but I Knew this man before me. And Morganna help me, the Oath had accelerated a process that I now knew would have happened over a longer amount of time. I was in love with someone young enough to be my son.
Author Notes:
Narcissa gets handed a patient to fix.