a deadly, poetic infection (sappholococcus) wrote in hp_traditions, @ 2008-05-14 18:40:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | narcissa/lucius, nc17 |
Happy Traditions, leianora!
Title: Life is a Magic Thing, Part the Last
Author: ???
Gift For: leianora
Pairing: Narcissa/Lucius
Summary: The coming of the May in 1997 is very different than any other, for the Malfoys.
Rating: NC-17/R-18
Warnings: Fluff-Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Author's notes: Spoilers for HPVII.
Part one on IJ | Part one on LJ
The hawthorn trees still bloomed, come spring. The yew still burst into greenery, and the ferns still unfurled, the clover still erupted into tiny white blossoms. Outside their hedge, the peacocks still displayed, roosting in the trees and laying eggs. Nature cared little for the wars of humans, magical or not, and life marched—or rather, danced—on.
The runes stung. The woad had been painted over their cuts and bruises, and its temporary nature had no comfort. Narcissa had decided to use henna for its permanency this year, preparing it the evening before. Now she drew on his skin as though she were icing a cake, her movements precise and sure and nowhere near as light-hearted as the spring around her. Fertility was forgotten. Peace, protection from evil, strength, joy, hope, luck…
'Narcissa…' Lucius murmured as she pulled away. 'Do not forget…'
'What is the use?' she said bitterly. 'Fertility cannot help us now.'
'It also can't hurt, my love.' He gave her a wan smile. She gave him a weary one, her eyes shimmering, though tears had long since stopped falling.
'My stubborn optimist,' she said with a painful chuckle, reaching a hand to caress him. 'Awaken, then.'
'Mm…' Lucius had to try. No matter how he did, however, there was still that fog. If only…
A drop of water plunked onto his forehead. It was fat, and warm, and Lucius thought of Narcissa soaked to the skin, rivulets running down her milky curves, slowing at her hips…her hips, la, gorgeous and fertile hips, delicious and succulent hips…the hips he had seen bloom from the slenderness of childhood. He drew in a breath sharply as he felt her whisper a spell, opening his eyes. The henna soaked into his skin, making him shiver, and with another whisper the surface paste was gone, leaving behind the orange-brown markings. Narcissa had been bold, marking him over and around the Dark Mark, the runes for cleansing, healing, power, good and life surrounding the black tattoo she had always seen as ugly. Lucius was frightened at how hot the inside of his forearm felt already.
The sky suddenly opened up, and banished all thoughts as Lucius brought himself back to reality, the water filtering through the yew tree's narrow leaves easily, warm and somehow reassuring. Narcissa looked at him and managed a smile as they both remembered all the rainstorms they had made love, played, and fucked in.
'Remember how you longed for Draco to get over his fear of thunder?' Narcissa said, stepping closer. She was within arm's reach now, and usually Lucius would restrain himself from pulling her close, ever the submissive; but he had been forced into the role too much, of late, and it was why he pulled her closer now, catching her lips in a soft, wet spring kiss. The magic flared, and burned on his arm painfully—but it was a healing pain, and though he cried out into the kiss, he held fast and his lust didn't waver.
'Lucius?' Narcissa pushed away to look into his eyes. 'My swan…'
He kissed her neck, feeling the runes tingle like antiseptic, burning away the cobwebs and he could think again, could feel her in his arms fully again…. Lucius held her closer, moaning in hedonistic bliss at the sensations. As she ran her fingers through his cropped hair, Narcissa cooed soft loves into his ear. How he was her very good boy, how beautiful he was, all glowing with old magic, how she wanted him to greet the May with her.
Laying her down, Lucius obeyed, Narcissa's legs wrapping around his hips, then his waist, as he set a pace. He watched her as he rolled his hips in and out, more a dance than simple thrusting. How the water glistened in the morning light, how her hips had widened since he'd married her, her body softer and to his eyes more fecund, despite the reality of their pureblood infertility. He gave her wet kisses again, adoring how her lips felt beneath his, how her moans had relaxed her as she surrendered to pleasure.
His hair glowed with moonlight more than sunshine now, he knew, but Narcissa opened her eyes and gasped softly, transfixed by his gaze, and he moved faster, the familiar expression giving him new enthusiasm. As her moans grew louder and she began to writhe, her cries of his name intermingling with 'yes' and 'more', Lucius felt his pleasure through a haze of pain. It was the heady sort of pain, clearing away the infection that had riddled him for so long, and he screamed as he reached his height, more than full of hope at what it meant. The vine-shaped light spread over Narcissa with the same joy, but there was something different…where all the times before they'd put out only leaf-shapes, now…there were flowers, bright pink-red.
Narcissa startled, looking up at him; he looked down at her.
'Baby?' they both whispered.
.oOo.
They huddled in a corner of the Great Hall during the battle, the fighters on both sides paying them no heed, the angle of the walls offering them some protection from the flying curses and hexes. Narcissa had given Lucius her wand, and he was pushing all of his energy into a shield charm, determined not to lose his family, especially now. Draco sensed something was wrong, and now that his mother had healed the burns in his lungs, he could speak.
'What's going on?' he asked softly of his mother from his place snuggled in her arms. 'Besides the obvious, I mean,' he added with a wan smile.
'When He is dead, I shall tell you,' Narcissa murmured, her voice tense.
'It's something important, isn't it?'
'Draco, don't pry.'
'I want to know, mother. I worry.' A few locks of Draco's now shock-white hair fell into his eyes, as though to punctuate just how much he worried. At this, she smiled, brushing the hair behind his ear.
'There's nothing to worry about. It isn't that sort of secret. Call it a surprise, h'm?' She kissed his forehead and held him close, letting him hear her heartbeat. This proof that she wasn't worried or in pain calmed Draco, and he nestled tight against her again.
'I love you, maman,' he whispered, knowing he hadn't called her that in years. She hugged him tight, just as Lucius fell gracefully to his knees. They both looked over, to see he was still shielding, though the battle was over.
Lucius felt when the Dark Lord died—he nearly screamed, falling to his knees as his magic was returned to him, his mind, his soul. And it was still May, and the runes glowed through his robes, bright and burning and…joyful. Lucius had the urge to whirl, to take his family in his arms, but he couldn't trust anyone here, not the winners, or the losers. No, the Malfoys only had each other, now. He strengthened the shield, and when the schoolmates of his son came nearer, he knew his eyes were glittering from their shocked expressions. No longer were they silver, the May burning in them as he protected the gift the gods had given him.
'Mr Malfoy, please…'
'Not again,' he heard himself hissing at the Potter boy. 'Not now. Not ever.' He felt his wife's hand on his arm, her voice in his ear.
'Boy,' she breathed. 'Put it down.'
Lucius lowered the wand, though he didn't take his eyes off Potter; Lucius felt another presence, beside Narcissa, and knew it was Draco. He relaxed, but only slightly.
'Harry?' One of the Aurors came up beside him, regarding the Malfoys. 'What shall we do with them?'
'What's all that?' Harry asked bluntly. 'All the runes and the glowing. Is that a spell?'
'It's May,' Narcissa's voice was calm. She tried not to splay hands on her belly, but she felt a tingling warmth, and looked down to see the runes spidering over her as well, blooming as before. There was a gasp from Draco, of realisation.
'You're—I—o gods…' He looked at Harry. 'Please, please don't…not now, not…please, Potter, please don't.'
Harry was looking at Narcissa, though, and she at him.
Please, Harry, I implore you. Do not rend my family asunder; the Dark Lord did that enough.
Harry thought. The Malfoys had done so many horrible things, but had he ever stopped to think about it? Over the past few years, as the war had begun, Harry had studied the world wars of the Muggle world, in hopes that he'd find something useful to use against Voldemort. In the process, however, he'd learned a few other things—things that made him decide on taking Narcissa's hands in his own, focussing on her. After all, she was the only Malfoy that he had no ill will for; his anger was calmed by that fact. He was surprised at the tingle that spread from her, to him, the green light seeking him and giving him the urge to run outside and roll in the grass.
Noticing how he startled, Narcissa smiled softly. 'How appropriate it is, that all things old die with the winter and life begins anew in the May.'
Harry couldn't help but smile a little. 'It wo'n't be easy for her, or him.'
'Was it easy for any of you?' Narcissa asked, and Harry let go of her hands.
'You saved my life, Mrs Malfoy. I wo'n't forget that.'
'Thank you,' she replied, grateful, and smiled as he moved away. 'And Harry?'
He turned, raising a brow.
'Consider yourself invited to Midsummer.'