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Severus Snape had never been among Narcissa’s favourites of Lucius’s associates. Then again, he had never been among her least favourites, like the Carrows and Fenrir Greyback. He had gained a little in interest for her and Lucius after the Dark Lord’s disappearance when he was all right even though anyone who knew anything knew he was a Death Eater. It wasn’t so much the fact of his being all right which piqued their curiosity but the not knowing why he was and how he had managed it. It was all shrouded in mystery by Dumbledore. Lucius was, naturally, cautious about encountering him again. Everyone who was all right felt a little shy of meeting the others who were all right, each party either wondering or knowing why the other was all right and having their own thoughts about it. Snape was not such a social butterfly that it would be difficult to avoid him altogether but Narcissa didn’t encourage her husband to do that.
“You want to know his state of mind,” she said. “However things develop in the future, you want to know which way people would jump. But do be subtle and remember that he will be looking at you the same way.”
“You think ‘nudge, nudge, wink, wink’ isn’t subtle enough?” asked Lucius irritably and Narcissa let it lie and trusted to him.
It became obvious and acknowledged that Snape was like them, desirous of the company of those who saw things the same way but who, despite seeing things that way, wanted primarily to get along with things as they were. The Malfoys had a full collection of that portion of wizarding society and Snape was not one of the prize specimens in it. Nevertheless, it was good to have him.
“I will admit that it’s good to know Snape will be there,” said Lucius, once they had agreed to send Draco to Hogwarts. Narcissa had always been decided on this but Lucius had been tempted by Durmstrang.
“The Malfoys have always gone to Hogwarts and so have the Blacks. There will always be a place in Slytherin for our children. You give Dumbledore entirely too much credit if you believe he can change that,” Narcissa said.
Lucius grumbled that he didn’t know how Snape could bear to indulge Dumbledore’s sense of superiority but agreed that, thanks to him, one did indeed know that there was a place for Draco in Slytherin.
It was clear from the beginning that Snape was keeping a special eye on Draco. Narcissa doubted every mother received those notes fleshing out every circumstance which affected her child and soothing her concerns, nor such a detailed and uncharacteristically generous end-of-year report. Narcissa wondered whether this behaviour indicated that Snape was more susceptible to her charms than he liked to appear. His manner towards the Malfoys was always an ungraceful mixture of flattery and determination to hold onto his natural surliness and show himself unimpressed by any demand for him to do otherwise. Even in his flattery there was little that was particular to Narcissa’s being a beautiful woman. On consideration Narcissa decided that Snape most definitely was more susceptible to her charms than he allowed himself to show, but that he would have adopted the same attitude towards Draco if she had been an old boot. Draco was by far the most promising child of his type. Crabbe and Goyle’s sons were, like themselves, of the thuggish hireling type. Nott’s son was bright enough but hardly a charmer. Blaise Zabini was, she admitted, much more like it, but his mother had hardly any connections with the really politically-minded people. The case was similar with the students in the years above him. The more Narcissa thought of it, the more important Draco appeared. No wonder Snape had recognised how much would depend upon him; he’d be a fool not to. Narcissa felt that she did really like this reason better than that which had first occurred to her, of Snape’s naturally curt persona giving way against its will to its sense of Narcissa’s beauty and charm. Nevertheless, having once entertained that idea, she realised how much she liked it.
It gave her something to think of the next time she found herself at a dinner party with Snape. This didn’t happen often. Snape wasn’t a sociable man and it wasn’t as if anyone actually liked him. Nevertheless, he was a Hogwarts Professor and had made connections during his time in the Dark Lord’s service. On this occasion Snape was placed next to her and for once Narcissa made an effort to condense the subject of Draco and move on to Snape himself.
“I do admire you for taking on a position of such responsibility at so young an age,” she said. Throughout the conversation she had allowed her usual attitude of cool gravity to thaw a little and now she threw positive warmth into her tone of honest tribute.
“I do my best to remember how great the responsibility is but when it comes to my mind afresh it is always the associated privilege which overwhelms me. It is such an honour to be Head of Slytherin House and see the children of those families I have most respected continually excel.”
“I’m sure you need to think more of your self from time to time, beyond your position. As I said, you became responsible so young. You do have such a tendency to seriousness, don’t you?” She radiated tender solicitousness now, only slightly facetious in affect.
“I suppose I’m quite serious,” Snape allowed. He looked uncomfortable, already nearing the end of his diplomatic tether. Narcissa had rather wanted to see him flattered, kindling easily into responsive warmth and admiration, but this did as well. He had no lightness of touch, no grace. He was so alien to her.
“Do you ever let others make you less serious? It’s so important to be able to relax and let yourself go. And when you have such a position of responsibility, really you must put yourself in someone else’s hands from time to time, to refresh yourself.” She had, just for a moment, really got Snape feeling trapped, that he did not have the resources to respond to her in the correct way, but he was also beginning to feel that she was a silly drunken housewife. She might be a drunken housewife, strictly speaking, but that was very far really from what Narcissa Malfoy was, which was why she found it amusing to let herself sound just a little like one.
“If I’m efficient, which I like to think I am, it stands to reason I do everything necessary, doesn’t it? Including relaxation, if that is necessary. Lucius is lucky to have a wife so alive to the dangers of overwork.”
“Isn’t he? Though at times he’s told me I’ve quite worn him out with relaxation. It’s all about balance, Severus.” Narcissa thought of herself riding Lucius and those times he had indeed told her she’d worn him out. It was the best way to make her tone redolent of those images. A twitch of nervousness returned to Snape’s eye and Narcissa moved on to praise the hostess’s meal. As she had said, balance was everything.
*
The next note Narcissa received from Snape managed to be both greasier and stiffer than usual. She’d forgotten all about the dinner party by then and wasn’t sure she liked being reminded. Though it was good to know that she had made an impression. She preferred the more convincingly cordial tone of her usual notes, however. Narcissa’s solution was to craft a warm, friendly, intelligent reply, scouring his note for things she could pick up on. It demanded a response, which she received and, though obviously inferior to her own, she was satisfied with it.
The next time she saw Snape was at one of her own parties. He never appeared at any of her more intimate gatherings but Lucius did set store by him in his own way and he usually appeared on the guest list for the larger events. He was never an ornament. He continued to attend because he clearly liked the idea of mingling with the glossy somebodies but once there, if he did manage to mingle he couldn’t manage to look as if he liked it. Really, though, that was the only reason Narcissa allowed Snape to attend. His unpleasantness convinced many of her guests, glossy though they were, that he must be in some way important enough to despise them. It wasn’t a bad trick and Narcissa assumed Snape would seem even ghastlier without it – more nakedly valueless in a way he did somehow avoid, repellent little man that he was. Narcissa considered her guest list as a whole and sighed. There was a decent reason for the presence of every name on it and many names were positively prizes. Nonetheless, the atmosphere of these occasions never realised Narcissa’s hopes and it was always the guests’ fault. There was never enough beauty or debonair wit and most of all there was never truly the feeling that this was the ball of balls, different in kind from all other social occasions, a paradise that the uninvited were shut out from. Still. The important thing was that many of the uninvited were, at this very moment, feeling they were shut out from paradise.
Later Narcissa encouraged Cornelius Fudge to tell her a selection of what he considered his most amusing stories. She turned away from his face, glowing with bonhomie and conviction of his supreme rightness in every way, and met Snape, locked in mutual boredom and dissatisfaction with Mrs Theskitt, both peering over each other’s shoulders. Narcissa rescued Mrs Theskitt and took possession of Snape. She decided to do what she had never bothered to do before and bring out Snape’s own preferred best Snape.
“Do you get enough time for your own research?” she asked after the preliminaries.
“Not enough, obviously. Still, I make time.”
“Do you have a free reign with your research interests or are you constrained at all by the requirements of the school – or the Headmaster’s interests?” The implication: did Dumbledore breathe disapprovingly down his neck?
“I do provide potions for Madam Pomfrey from time to time. Otherwise, certainly I have a free reign. I wouldn’t brook any interference. Besides, it’s well-known that Potions is one of the fields of magical study which is most difficult to organise into categories. Only a fool believes you might say ‘this potion affects the body, that the emotions’ or ‘this heals and that hurts’ and be done with it. An outsider would not know how to direct a brewer’s study.”
Snape meant that he had excuses up his sleeve if ever anyone suggested he brewed Dark Potions. Narcissa had been told by enough experts how special and uniquely complicated and opaque their subject was but she made this one of the occasions that she asked why it was special and uniquely complicated. After a beginning that was not only pompous but frankly rude, Snape finally began to be his best; incisive, curious, with a far-ranging intelligence that showed imagination tempered with rigour. Potions was a subject associated with Slytherin and though Narcissa had been better at Charms she knew what questions to ask. Well, she’d never seen Snape enthusiastic before. How sweet that he had it in him. She left him, having spent about the same amount of time on him that she had on the Minister himself. A dance was beginning just as she detached herself. Narcissa was taking a break for a few dances while she spoke to those of her guests who were not dancing but Snape made a movement which he curbed before it became anything. Merlin, he had been going to ask her to dance. Narcissa hurried away, feeling glad that he had not and that he had almost let himself want to.
*
The next time Narcissa saw Snape she ignored him altogether. There were more exciting people to talk to and she wanted Snape to know he couldn’t count on her for anything. She had the glimmering of an idea in her head.
*
The time after that Narcissa was preoccupied with the hippogriff business and talked entirely about that. Snape agreed with her that the beast must assuredly be destroyed but didn’t bring quite the earnest dedication to the conversation that she would have liked.
*
More time passed before the next time than Narcissa had expected and it was, if she had known, the last time of its era. Narcissa looked at Snape, sulking about everything in general unless he was sulking about something in particular. His lank hair fell forward and his bottom lip would have been better able to jut out if it hadn’t been thin and therefore meanly pursed instead. Yes, she would. She felt somehow admiring of her own perversity. There was a mirror in the room and, as unobtrusively as she could, Narcissa tipped her head so that she could see herself. Her pleasure at seeing her own pure lines gave her face a more serene glow. She moved her head back, humming with excitement inside. No one would think that she could and all the time she would. She would lower herself but at the same time she would raise Snape unthinkably high – and at the same time as that, she would again lower him. Make him see himself from the outside so that he’d feel again how unattractive he was in every way.
After making pleasant conversation with others while a smile played about her lips as she contemplated the lewdest fantasies, Narcissa pulled herself together. It wouldn’t happen until she made it, after all.
“Severus, how are you?” she asked, moving over to Snape, her tone low and tender and her mouth near enough for her breath to warm his face.
“I’m all right,” he said, surprised at the significance of her tone.
Narcissa continued to make the smallest of small talk, her tone intimate and freighted with non-existent meaning, as if the topics of health, weather, work and current affairs symbolised things known to themselves alone. All the while she watched Snape’s face and enjoyed the changes she saw move across it. He wanted very much to understand her shallow, silly wiles entirely and be quite able to watch them unmoved as, if not a man of the world, then a misanthropic intellectual. But yet the attention did unnerve him and return him to the scruffy little oik he must have been in adolescence and had still been when he first entered the Dark Lord’s service. Snape looked bored, he looked suspicious, he looked drawn up with self-possessed disgust, like the teacher he was, about to tell a class of quivering children just how they had failed, he looked, as he was obliged to look, obliging and pleased she was flattering him with her notice. And sometimes he looked as if he wanted her and sometimes he looked got at and uncovered. Narcissa was demanding something of him and he could return only with his self, which they both knew wasn’t good enough yet which Narcissa had decided she wanted.
*
She was all set to consider when exactly she would summon Snape when the Dark Lord returned. It wasn’t entirely unexpected but perhaps she hadn’t given the signs as much of her mind as she should have done. On the whole, it was of course wonderfully exciting, but this time it was borne in upon Narcissa that her husband belonged to someone else. Last time she had been younger and it had seemed rather more as if Lucius had hooked an awfully big fish and in consequence was entitled to glamour. This time it was much clearer that the Dark Lord was incomparably more powerful than she and Lucius and would only allow Lucius to be important insofar as he served the Dark Lord’s purposed. The Dark Lord was, when all was said and done, not quite so glorious these days, so it was perhaps odd that it should have struck her but there it was.
That all kept her busy for a while. Narcissa and Lucius bubbled over with plans for the future. Narcissa dwelt a little on her own feelings of caution but didn’t share them. She looked at Lucius more. While in some ways he seemed, though Narcissa barely thought the word, weaker, he seemed stronger in other ways because she recognised what he was dealing with and how high he was aiming. She wasn’t sure Lucius himself recognised this, though.
After the first flurry was over the circumstances were just right for her to fuck Snape. The old circle came closer together again both officially, in secrecy, and socially, for them to vie with each other further and convince one another they were making excellent choices. Snape was something of a favourite of Snape’s among these cronies. In comparison to some of the others he was vaguely presentable but Lucius felt pleasantly able to patronise him. He was also concerned to keep an eye on him. Narcissa agreed with Lucius that there was a shadow of doubt over his dedication and Lucius clearly felt an unvoiced qualm that Snape nevertheless had too much of the Dark Lord’s faith. Narcissa saw very little of the Dark Lord but what little she saw didn’t give her the impression he had what she would call faith in anyone. But it was just that which made them all see faith and favour in the simplest words to both themselves and others even when he wasn’t deliberately playing one against the other.
Narcissa was called upon to give a little frivolous, graceful touch of hospitality before, after or in between self-important shop-talk. On these occasions Snape would look as if he considered the whole thing to be a waste of time and as if he would consider Narcissa’s appearance an even bigger waste of time – if he could help watching her and being glad that she was there to watch. She grew to know when his intense gaze was turned on her, even when she was facing the other way.
Having Snape in the house made Narcissa feel somehow more confident about the idea of having him there for her own purposes. If Lucius came home unexpectedly it would be easier to say “Severus was dropping by to see you, darling.” And Lucius was busy. She had to compete for his attention. Narcissa felt confident in her ability to manage everything smoothly but it could only give her an advantage if Lucius had other things on his mind. Snape was busy as well, of course, but then she intended to make him give her attention when she wanted it too.
Once again Narcissa felt at leisure to stretch out her hand and take. She felt conscious of hesitation to do so. She’d anticipated this for so long and got so much pleasure from the anticipation. Was it really necessary to actually do it? On the whole Narcissa felt it was. She had really decided to send Snape a note the next day, or the day after that, when Snape actually did drop by to see Lucius.
*
Is it important?” she asked. Lucius was out. He had gone to speak to someone about something important himself and Narcissa imagined that after they’d finished with the important thing they would linger over the alcoholic part of their luncheon. Lucius had been out for a while already but Narcissa wasn’t expecting him back for another while.
Snape shrugged irritably. “I wouldn’t say that but I’d better see him.”
“You often feel people are wasting your time, don’t you?” asked Narcissa. He clearly felt he was spending his day on a wild goose chase which he was unable to opt out of.
“All too often,” Snape said flatly. Sometimes he tried to be diplomatic. Sometimes he didn’t.
“Lucius isn’t here. I think you had better wait.”
“Is it worth waiting? Do you expect him soon?”
“If you wait long enough you will see him,” said Narcissa as if this settled the matter and summoned a House Elf for refreshments.
He wasn’t letting her make him feel awkward today. He took what he wanted of the refreshments and sat as if he were waiting alone for a train, staring at a corner of the ceiling, absolving himself of any duty to make conversation though Narcissa faced him. Narcissa was angry with Snape for thinking he had the right to take up space in her drawing room like that, giving nothing in return. It was insolent. Her heart began to thump. She should make this the moment. If she couldn’t do it now when he was in front of her she had no right to pretend when he wasn’t in front of her that she could do it.
Narcissa’s gaze at Snape was so fixed and possibly frantic that he revealed uneasy awareness of it in the middle of using the ceiling corner as an aid to working out his own preoccupations. He darted his cold eyes at her. How to begin in such a way that he would panic into succumbing rather than refusing?
She rose, began pushing her robes off her shoulders and shimmied out of them when they fell to her waist. Next she unhooked her bra and let her breasts free, cupping them for a moment to feel their soft firmness and to see the pink tips peeping through her fingers. Then her knickers.
Snape looked worried. Narcissa crossed over to him and leant down. She saw his eyes follow her breasts tumbling forward as she twined her arms around his neck and kissed him. His mouth was slow but not coldly closed against her. Once she’d got her tongue into his mouth he was ready to play. He held her face in his hands and kissed back, hard and deep and wet. Narcissa heard his breath coming fast and shallow. She broke away and Snape looked up wildly, his sallow cheeks flushed.
“I want to waste your time,” she said. “Get your cock out.”
Snape looked uncertain but then he looked again at Narcissa standing naked in front of him. She slid a finger between her legs to see if she was wet enough. She’d thought she was but was surprised to find her cunt so slippery. It was just as well that she was as delighted by her own brazenness in reality as she had been in fantasy. As she took her hand away Snape lifted up his robes. Narcissa could see his erection bulging out of his underwear and she would have liked to cup her hand over it and feel its heat through the fabric but he pushed his pants down quickly. She reached down and lightly clasped it with her fingers. It was as good as any other man’s cock. Snape turned his face away in the intensity of his realisation that this was really happening.
Without any more ado, holding his cock steady, Narcissa sat down on it. Snape let out a strange whimpering cry and turned his head to look at her with such a rapt wondering look, as if she was an angel rather than Narcissa Malfoy behaving badly. She concentrated for a moment on the feeling of being entirely filled, having his cock buried in her to the hilt, then pulled back in order to thrust forward and feel herself filled again. Snape had got the idea and held her hips, only lightly at first but then began to lift her and pull her back down, when he didn’t take his hands away to put them on her bouncing breasts instead. Even with his help it was exerting and she was so very intent to chase her pleasure; the hard quick friction between her legs that was never quite quick enough though she rather wanted to postpone its fulfilment forever. In the beginning she ground her hips in a circular movement when he was in her to the full to help her emphasise the fullness, but the pace picked up as they went on and she couldn’t stop for the niceties. Narcissa could hear herself panting. If Lucius came in right now, she thought, she’d just have to keep at it. The orgasm was coming and she fucked Snape as hard as she could though she knew she was only helping it to end. As Narcissa came she tried to focus on the image of her and Snape in her perfect drawing room; the piquant juxtaposition of Snape, scrawny and still bat-like in his drawn-up robes and herself, a luscious and very carnal nymph, was what she wanted to come to.
The last ripple of climax faded though Narcissa’s cunt still clutched spasmodically at Snape’s cock. She closed her eyes and would have been better able to sensuously sink into a moment’s rest if Snape had finished too. He hadn’t, quite, and he jerked her hips backwards and forwards as he thrust into her several more times. Narcissa opened her eyes and watched Snape shut his, his head thrown back. She waited. Then he opened her eyes and met hers. He looked as if he’d been caught doing something.
“Well, that was very nice, Severus,” Narcissa said, letting his softening cock slip out of her and getting up.
“Yes, very. A little surprising, Narcissa, I thought you were a model wife to Lucius,” said Snape, who seemed suddenly returned to his everyday self, charming away the stickiness and tucking his cock away in an unhurried, matter-of-fact way.
“I am,” said Narcissa, not hurrying to put her clothes back on. She felt warm and buoyantly refreshed. “I love him as much as a wife should love her husband and I intend to be at his side for as long as we live. This has nothing to do with that.”
“Does Lucius agree that this has nothing to do with that?”
“Lucius knows nothing about it and may not take that view,” Narcissa said. She thought Snape was wondering whether she and Lucius had agreed between them that he was to be her outré amusement. “As he won’t ever know, anything that he might think is irrelevant.”
Snape gave her a hard look. “I won’t tell him. I’m not sure why you seem to have assumed I won’t, though. There’s a lot I’d enjoy about it if I didn’t fear the tedium would outweigh the humour. Is this supposed to be an isolated occasion?”
Narcissa continued to stand naked, to show she was unabashed. “No,” she said, and took a little sugared biscuit from the table.
Snape allowed his eyes to settle on her body for the first time since she’d got off him. They looked a little hungry already. “So I’m to be your bit of rough?” He was incredulous but beginning to believe already against his own will.
Narcissa, eating her biscuit, gave only a slight nod of assent.
“Well. As I said, I won’t tell Lucius. But there is only one truly failsafe way to make sure no one discovers something you’ve done and that’s not to do it in the first place.”
“That’ll do, Severus, I don’t want moralising,” Narcissa said, brushing crumbs off her fingers and recovering her knickers from under the table. Though she suspected Snape really was obeying the prompting of his conscience in warning her and it was interesting to know that he had such a thing.
Her robes on again, she assumed her previous position, watching Snape wait for a train. All was as before except that Snape removed his gaze from the ceiling to peer at her suspiciously more often. Lucius came in not more than ten minutes later.
“Oh, darling, there you are. Here’s Severus dropped by to talk to you. I thought you might be home soon, so I thought I’d better try and entertain him for a while.”
Narcissa hadn’t charmed the stickiness away. She could feel Snape’s semen dripping out of her. It was a delicious feeling and she sat like that as the three of them made small talk for a few minutes to make her hurrying away to leave them to it less bald. She thought Snape saw the look of relish cross her face and knew what she was enjoying. She hoped he knew she wasn’t enjoying knowing that Lucius could have come home ten minutes earlier. What Narcissa liked was knowing what she and Snape had been doing just a short while ago when Lucius, bless him, did not – though it had been such a short while ago and she was still soiled and glowing.
*
Beginnings were by far the hardest part. Narcissa felt no qualm as she took up her quill and selected her notepaper in order to make their next assignation. She chose the pink, scented notepaper with the improving motto at the top which she usually used for women of a certain type. She’d never really minded that Lucius was a man who always had a certain number of interests he’d rather share with his friends than his wife – it was often best not to know too much – and now she was glad. It made it easier to schedule in her own interests.
Narcissa invited Snape to the Manor. The idea of leaving her territory for a discreet hotel held little appeal. She didn’t invite him into her and Lucius’s own bedroom, of course. Snape fucked her on the bed in the Blue Bedroom. It was efficient, satisfying in itself, but quick. Neither of them had looked forward to this for days for it to be over so soon and so they lay for a while, knowing their desire would return.
They looked at each other. Narcissa looked at Snape’s face. You looked at the nose, spared an alarmed glance for the cold black eyes watching you, then returned to the nose. Then you noticed that the mouth wasn’t good either. The harshness of the face wasn’t dissimilar to that of a certain type of Important Man who rather prided themselves on the cragginess. But it wasn’t confident, prepared to take its place in the world like theirs. There was too much petty pique and inwardness. And the hair – it was a very clear expression of not only a refusal to please but a positive desire to displease. Staring at it in fascinated horror, Narcissa was aware that more of Snape’s attraction for her than she quite liked was constituted by what that greasy, straggling mop symbolised. There was the idea that Snape was resistant to Narcissa and what she herself valued and stood for, and there was the idea that he had a craven attraction to herself and her world of ease, indulgence and status which she was forcing him to give into. The resistance was necessary to the second idea but did she really want it to be an object of desire in itself?
As it happened, Snape was expressing the latter idea more than the first at present. First his eyes caressed her curves, then his hand, his face growing solemn as he made contact with her skin. His hand passed lightly over her collar-bone, her breast – tracing an aureole and then tracing it again for it had tightened and grown smaller – her hip and then the damp honey-coloured hair between her legs. Narcissa let her legs fall apart to show him the swollen, slick pink flesh. Snape traced the edges of her sticky folds ad Narcissa felt her interest begin to stir again. She fondled one of her nipples, rolling the hardened peak against her fingertip and enjoying the sensation in her nipple while liking to feel her nipple against her fingertip. Snape leant forward and sucked the nipple into his mouth. She would have clasped his head against her breast but she didn’t want to touch his hair.
Snape was suitable for three kinds of people, Narcissa decided. The first would love him and see in his ugliness only a cipher for whatever they had managed to discover within him. The second would be ugly too and accept Snape peaceably as their natural match and be pleased to have something. The third was Narcissa and she saw in his ugliness an agreeably stimulating tension between a proud and humbled Snape and a reflection of her own beauty. Perhaps she would tell Snape some of this one day, in case he hadn’t worked it out for himself.
“Are you grateful, Severus?” Narcissa asked.
He took his mouth off her nipple. “I’m as grateful as you are,” Snape said, which was much the answer she expected.
She squirmed against his fingers, ready in earnest now for something more. She caught a glimpse of his cock. “Oh good, you’re nearly ready,” she said. Narcissa moved down the bed and ducked her head between Snape’s thighs to take his cock in her mouth. It tasted of herself. She felt it thicken fully in her mouth almost at once. Snape moved his hands cautiously in her hair, perhaps taking a moment even now to admire the soft flaxen strands. She wondered whether he wanted to push her head down or if he felt reverent.
“There, all ready,” Narcissa said, and got on her hands and knees. The penetration angle was nice and deep but there was no clitoral stimulation and she had to do it herself. She was gratified when Snape’s long thin fingers replaced hers. They proved skilled. Snape’s cock was hitting that particular part of her cunt and the dual stimulation, feeding the deeper and the sharper pleasures, made Narcissa aware that she was experiencing as much pleasure as her body was capable of. She could never quite give up congratulating herself, even in the midst of wallowing in perfect sensation, which showed she had an appreciative, thankful nature. Lucius was as good as this, though not every time. Snape was lucky enough to be as good as Narcissa’s best and Narcissa was lucky enough to have a double helping of her best. How surprised Lucius would be to know that. She felt Snape’s balls slap against her more vigorously as he upped the pace. Her face was already twisting in preparation for her orgasm. She moaned as the pleasure came flooding in in full force, louder than Snape had yet heard her.
*
And so on. It all added a great deal of sparkle and vim to Narcissa’s life. After a while she realised she’d abandoned her attempts to make Snape feel touched by her, that she really liked him. She regretted it a little because she always enjoyed those when she had the time and inclination. But it was too late to reinstate them and perhaps it was best after all not to turn Snape into some sappy lovesick creature. Narcissa was sure she could have if she’d tried, but what she had now was more Snapeish and more understanding of what she required. And Snapeish was after all what she’d wanted in the first place.
She did find it funny that, loving Lucius as dearly as ever, she loved so much that she had this secret aspect of life while he was all unawares. Narcissa had become acknowledged as to some extent especially “good” with Snape, though Snape wasn’t really more consistently cordial and gregarious in her company than he ever had been. It was simply that they both relished having a mundane public conversation while thinking of their last meeting and their next meeting to come. Narcissa was sure the knowledge of cuckolding Lucius was almost as big a pleasure to Snape as the business of actually doing it and she didn’t grudge it to him. It made her feel like the beneficent distributor of innocent joys to the unfortunate.
Snape tried to convince her that it wasn’t an innocent joy, that he represented an ever-present threat to her marriage’s happiness. They both tried to convince each other that they couldn’t rely on the other turning up to be fucked, that they might have better things to do. It never worked because they were both always too eager for the fuck they’d promised themselves. Snape, being more bloody-minded and feeling he had more to prove, would have won the game if his life hadn’t been so dreary and full of demands he met but didn’t want to. Narcissa always had Lucius to fuck as well, and many pleasant pastimes besides. Snape had no one else and a busy timetable full of Hogwarts students and the Dark Lord. The temptation to snatch at pleasure and escape when he could was too great. So Narcissa was sure Snape wouldn’t really displease her by telling Lucius, placing her forever outside his reach, and neither was she surprised to find herself sitting on his face when he’d sworn he expected to find more important ways to spend the time. She rubbed herself against his nose and found it ideal for the purpose.
*
Alas. She’d have been happy for this state of affairs to continue for decades but Lucius’s arrest came as a rude interruption. The Aurors came to explain what had happened and to question her. Narcissa raged and wept and threw a vase at them and was icily outraged. She found the Aurors’ questions utterly irrelevant. All she could think of was Lucius alone, imprisoned in cold damp stone and surrounded by Dementors. It seemed so natural to recover him and return him at once to his real life and rightful surroundings that Narcissa couldn’t believe she didn’t have the power to do so.
When the Aurors had finished with her she summoned Snape.
“Isn’t it your job to stop things like this happening?” she demanded.
“It’s no business of mine if your husband is a fount of stupidity who can’t handle himself in a duel against schoolchildren.” Snape’s tone was no colder or harder than she’d often heard it but Narcissa realised he was more genuinely irritated by things near to her than she’d ever seen him. “Lucius has shown he is an imbecile who can’t be trusted and is of no use whatsoever to the Dark Lord. He may count himself lucky to be in Azkaban. The Dark Lord wouldn’t help him to enjoy his freedom.”
Narcissa choked for a moment on her rage. “You think you can talk of imbeciles to me? You?” Her voice rose to a scream on the word as an ecstasy of scorn filled her. “How dare you be so ungrateful?”
Snape bared his teeth. “What have I to thank Lucius for? I could thank him for lending me his wife but I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”
Narcissa reached for her wand and Snape Disapparated. “Coward!” she cried. Part of her was gratified Snape had realised she truly would have done him damage.
*
Draco came home. He felt, like herself, furious and forlorn about Lucius’s imprisonment. For a few days Narcissa felt they were consoling each other and the contemplation of Draco’s unquenched family pride gave her strength. Then her qualms grew. She realised Draco didn’t think of upholding the Malfoy name in a general way in the future but by actively entering the Dark Lord’s service now. Narcissa didn’t know how Lucius would ever be free if not through the Dark Lord but Snape’s words had made an impression. Would the Dark Lord care to set Lucius free? She didn’t dare ask him. He had been in contact with Draco, told him he could repair his father’s mistakes, that he wanted Draco to prove himself a man, that he knew Draco would follow him with brave and wise dedication and reap rewards accordingly. Draco began to feel gleeful rather than crushed and tried to make his mother share his confidence. Narcissa thought, though she did not say, But you are not a man. You’re a boy. It didn’t seem obvious to Draco yet that the Dark Lord would only flatter a Malfoy so soon after a Malfoy had disappointed him if the flattery formed a part of his disappointment’s ultimate expression. Narcissa wasn’t so sure it would help if Draco did understand this. Could he really do anything other than what the Dark Lord wanted? Would fear help him to do it?
Narcissa’s life had been quite changed. She regretted the loss of her previous serenity bitterly. Now she was not only lonely but had fear for a constant companion. Not many weeks passed before she realised, tossing and turning alone in her marital bed, that she couldn’t bear it any longer without a distraction. She got up and wrote a note to Snape and owled it. Just a note like all the other notes, making no reference to what had passed between them or to her fears. Narcissa did not feel that Snape would comfort her fears at all if she brought up the subject of Draco. He would probably be blunt on the well-founded nature of them. But perhaps he would keep his mouth shut and fuck her. She went back to bed feeling calmer.
The next morning Snape sent a note in reply. It was just like his usual replies, agreeing to meet her. It only remained to be seen as if he would act as usual.
Snape came through the Floo in her bedroom – her and Lucius’s bedroom – that night. She’d invited him into the marriage bed after all. It seemed the safest way with Draco in the house all day. If things had been different Narcissa would have been naked for his arrival but there were now things Snape could say or do that she would rather be clothed for. She’d always known he didn’t like her, after all. She was wearing her favourite negligee, though.
Narcissa stood up when she saw Snape coming through. Then they both stood still, looking at each other cautiously. Well. Narcissa could see Snape had only the same feelings as herself. She was about to break the ice when Snape said “Get your nightie off, then.”
“How suave, and I thought I’d have to rescue you. You take it off.”
Snape came closer and looked properly at the way the silk and lace caressed her figure. He didn’t allow himself to appreciate it for too long and hooked his thumbs under the straps and drew them down. It was so nice to be looked at again. Nice, even, to see Snape’s dispassionate face which she knew in this context meant only that he was looking with extra care and intent. His warm thumbs felt good on her skin and there was the silk tumbling down, making her feel free and bared in that way that made her stomach lurch delightedly. He kissed her mouth before touching anything else. Narcissa was surprised by how passionately she responded.
Once they were on the bed Narcissa felt he was being more attentive to her body than usual. She supposed he’d assumed he wouldn’t see it again. He sucked her nipples, licked her clit, never concentrating long on any part of her and always stroking her with soft, feathery touches while he used his mouth. In the end he spread her folds open to expose her clit as much as possible and settled between her legs seriously. His tongue lapped steadily enough at her clit that she was making meaningful progress towards orgasm but he explored her labia and inner thighs with it every now and then to allow the pleasure time to spread itself out and be really appreciated. Narcissa’s whole vulva felt caressed. After a while (quite a long while) Narcissa was ready for Snape to dedicate himself to getting her off but he began to break off even more to lavish attention on her breasts. Narcissa arched her back, pressing her breasts even more firmly into Snape’s hands kneading them, but pushed his head down before long. When he came back to her breasts a minute later, circling an aureole with his tongue before gently catching a nipple between his teeth, she realised he was trying to make her need as great as possible. She couldn’t help lifting up her hips to thrust them at nothing. Snape slid down to hold her hips in his hands, watching her continue to squirm. When he did put his mouth where it should be Narcissa pushed his face down against her, giving her more to rub against, suffocating him for a moment and getting her wetness all over his face. She felt as if she was taking possession of him, as if her juices wouldn’t wipe off in the way that counted.
Snape got her so that she could feel her orgasm just behind her clit when he licked and sucked it, waiting fully-formed. The pleasure would creep closer until it was there and Narcissa gasped and closed her eyes as it began to tear through her, only then Snape would retreat and kiss and nuzzle her thighs and dip his tongue into her belly button and stroke her pubic hair and the pleasure would fall back just a little. When he brought his mouth or his fingers back to her clit the orgasm would be right there waiting, ready to make those few steps to the end again. She made those few steps over and over again. It seemed to Narcissa as if her cunt really was her core. She felt as if all of her that really mattered was there. Wherever he touched her she felt it in her cunt, just not directly enough to tip her over the edge. She was afraid she’d come by accident, that Snape would move away too late but not be there to make it as good as it ought to be. But he really was doing very well and if she hadn’t been busy being all cunt she’d have told him so. Narcissa supposed it was his Potions background. He clearly understood just how to judge timing. She could sense his contained but rising excitement at what he was doing to her and found that still, tense quality of his presence an extra stimulus.
Surely he couldn’t go on forever. The difference between the feeling of his hot, wet mouth on her clit and his mouth on her hip or stomach had become as narrow as it was ever going to. Narcissa was rigid and trembling with tension. Part of Narcissa needed terribly to come. She’d been whimpering, her face screwed up, for some minutes now. Part of her wished he could go on forever and that she could keep the orgasm for always as simply part of her body.
Finally Snape looked up at her face. “You’re going to come now,” he said, and there was his warm wet flickering tongue and there was the waiting orgasm all whole and complete this time. Narcissa shouted and kicked Snape in the back hard enough to bruise. Most of her felt immense relief. Of course the orgasm couldn’t be in proportion to all that but now it was gone she felt so satisfied. Narcissa had never felt so worn out. Her whole body felt rosy and her eyelids were heavy.
*
Things only escalated after that. Narcissa felt herself drawn into the Dark Lord’s circle further than she had been when Lucius was there as a bulwark. Bellatrix got over her initial upset at having failed to give her Master what he wanted and began to interfere in everything. Draco wasn’t sure what to make of her. She took it upon herself to teach him things she thought he ought to know and Narcissa had to admit that these lessons might be useful. But she could have done without Bellatrix breathing down her neck and wondering why Draco’s parents hadn’t brought him up correctly. Narcissa had been without a sister for a long time. It didn’t take that long to adjust to having one, it was just that she didn’t like what she’d adjusted to.
Narcissa found out what it was that Draco was being groomed for. Draco was intrigued by the idea of killing Dumbledore but she could tell he was beginning to understand that he was being asked to bring the realms of reality and fantasy together and wasn’t sure how to do it. Narcissa told him he must be very careful and that it would serve Dumbledore right. Draco agreed with the latter and was uninterested in the former. Narcissa gave up on the idea that perhaps Draco would carry out his task and everything would be splendid, which she’d been trying to believe, and resorted to Snape.
She was indignant to find herself accompanied by Bellatrix but perhaps it was as well to have another pair of eyes there. Narcissa felt this meeting would go better the more successful she was at keeping it business-like. Confined to the business of begging, that was, without antagonistic ideas about whether she or Snape owed each other anything creeping in.
Narcissa hadn’t expected Snape to make an Unbreakable Vow. She felt sincerely thankful and was very quiet and full of relief on the way home as Bellatrix complained about their having lowered themselves by going to Snape’s nasty little house and asking for favours they shouldn’t need.
Nothing that followed was better than Narcissa expected but she had become someone who constantly reminded herself that it might have been worse. She and Snape continued to meet while Lucius was in Azkaban though Narcissa found it disorientating to be unfaithful to a husband who wasn’t there. She always asked Snape about Draco and was rarely satisfied by the replies. Their understanding began to seem more like a strange, stunted little marriage than a luxurious affair, but Narcissa needed something.
Dumbledore ended up dead and if it was after all Snape who killed him it had been Draco who made it possible. Narcissa thought he’d done very well but couldn’t find anyone who seemed to agree. She found herself a little pleased, however, that the Dark Lord really did seem to view Snape with favour after these events. An odd kind of pride by association, as if Snape belonged to her.
Finally Lucius came back to her and Narcissa felt more herself than she had done since he’d been away – even though the way the Dark Lord treated him brought it home to her how low their stock had fallen.
Narcissa fucked Snape in dark corners of the Manor from time to time. There were always people there now the Dark Lord had commandeered the place so there was always a risk of discovery but it didn’t seem to matter. Those fucks were quick and wordless and the fact that Narcissa was Narcissa and Snape was Snape, which was what had made things so good, seemed forgotten. But that didn’t seem to matter either and Narcissa found them a welcome relief from tension and worry.
And then everything happened and the Malfoys found themselves in a new world. By this point Narcissa thought it might be better than she had expected. But Snape had died, which made her feel strange, and he had been a spy for Dumbledore all along, on his side even after killing him, which again made her feel strange. Narcissa realised, after feeling only numbly puzzled, that she liked to know Snape had had this unknown thing inside him all the time. He must have liked feeling superior to them all and now he was dead Narcissa couldn’t grudge him that. Neither could she help admiring him for carrying it off. It wasn’t as if people hadn’t thought of plenty of reasons to distrust him yet Snape had kept his balance. She didn’t mind too much that she hadn’t known. She couldn’t pretend they’d been on those terms. And he had looked after Draco. Part of Narcissa found it fun to look back with the knowledge that the man she was really having wasn’t the man she’d thought she was having. Snape’s truculence and refusal to be someone else more pleasant and obliging had always made part of his appeal for her and what was this but more of the same? And part of Narcissa felt a hollow pang to think that Snape was in the ground. She was proud of him for having surprised her but she knew he hadn’t been a happy man, even if he had got to sleep with Narcissa, and now he would never be happier.