Draco Dexter

Feeling disheartened now that Hermione didn't love him enough for a love potion not to work on him, Harry wandered listlessly down the corridors of the huge Malfoy mansion, lost in brooding thoughts. His eyes trailed the musty wooden floorboards as he shuffled along past doors and dark spots on the walls where paintings had been.

He passed an open door without glancing at it and continued down this hallway until a voice called out behind him, "Harry?"

He looked around to see Narcissa Malfoy, his soon-to-be-step-mother, peering out the door. Her blond hair was pulled back by black chopsticks and she wore a simply blouse and dress pants. She looked beautiful just the same, without that grimace on his face, and Harry could hardly believe that one day, she'd be his step mom.

She had a funny glaze in her eyes as she watched him. "Harry, are you okay?"

He nodded. "Fine," he said squeakily.

She peered more closely at him. "Want to come in?" she asked.

He shrugged and followed her into the room that proved to be a bedroom. Papers littered the floor where she had obviously been going through them and he carefully skipped over them. Narcissa closed the door behind him, and, Harry couldn't help but notice, locked it.

"Have a seat," said Narcissa, indicating to the bed.

"Er...okay," said Harry, carefully sitting down.

Narcissa plopped down next to him. "Harry," she said, scooting close to him on the seat, "I've been thinking about you a lot lately. In fact, I just can't seem to get you off my mind."

"Um," said Harry, not sure how to take this. "I was wondering... there was something I wanted to ask you..."

"Yes?" she said, reaching up and pulling out the chopsticks so that her luxuriant blonde hair spilled down around them.

"Do you want me to call you 'Mom'?"

"I'd far rather you called me 'Sex Kitten," she murmured into his ear. Then she reached forward, and in one smooth move, pulled off his glasses and shoved him back against the couch. "I've heard that you might be playing Quidditch for England next year," she said.

"Er, well, perhaps.."

"You must have *very* fast reflexes."

"Well, I'm all right, really."

"And a great deal of endurance."

"Well, I--"

"In fact, I bet you can go all night like a pile driver."

"Like a WHAT?"

"Forget it," said Narcissa breathlessly, leaning her face close to his. "Harry...show me your Golden Snitches."

"Er..."

"Let's play Quidditch and I'll be your best Seeker yet."

"Um...no thank you," said Harry weakly. He pushed at Narcissa at the only place available: her chest.

"OH! Feisty, are we?" With long-nailed hands, Narcissa grabbed Harry's head and pressed her lips to his.

"Oh dear," said Harry in a muffled voice, failing to resist any longer. He was a teenager, after all. What kind of guy, other than Ron, could resist a hot chick like Narcissa trying to play Quidditch with him?

Knocking Harry onto his back, Narcissa began expertly unbuttoning his shirt. "You're very skinny," she said, a bit critically, "but you've got lovely muscle definition, must be all that Quidditch."

"Thanks," said Harry, who, without his glasses, couldn't really see anything, and whose eyes were beginning to cross.

"I used to play Quidditch,' she said. "Bet you didn't know that."

"What position?"

"All the positions, baby."

Harry goggled at her. Sure, he was popular, and girls liked him, and he'd made Teen Witch Weekly's Top Ten Hot To Trot Young Wizards list, but this was way beyond him. "Um, Narcissa," he began, but she was already biting his earlobe and telling that sure, maybe he thought he knew how to fly already, but....

Suddenly, Harry pulled away. "No, I can't! This is completely wrong. You're about to become my stepmother, I have a girlfriend, you're old enough to... um... skip that... and besides, I don't go for blondes!" He sat back heavily on the couch, exhausted from the effort of both trying to unglue Narcissa's lips from his and the sheer torture of resisting.

Narcissa folded her arms over her chest, pouting. "But it's not *fair*. Everyone in this house right now seems to be oiling the ol' trombones except me!"

Harry stared in disbelief. "What on earth are you talking about? You're about to get married to my *godfather*, for heaven's sake. Every single time I walk by that bedroom, I hear these weird sounds that are giving me nightmares a scary mental images of sadomasochism and pudding."

Narcissa sighed, reluctantly buttoning her shirt. "Those weird sounds are nothing more than Sirius's reactions as I read passages of Herm-- Hermia and Lysander in "A Midsummer Night's Dream," she adlibbed, pale eyes widening in fear.

Harry examined her suspiciously. "*What* were you planning on saying?"

Narcissa shifted uncomfortably, aware that she had lost the upper hand in this conversation. "Absolutely nothing, dear. Now, how about you go find one of those lovely carrot topped friends of yours and send them in here for a tune-up?"

Harry shook his head. "Tell me, or else I spill the beans to Sirius and.. er... Draco."

Narcissa scoffed, but continued to speak anyway. "You want to know? All right, fine, but it's not my fault if you get upset. Those screams of agony are what happens when Sirius hears certain passages from your girlfriend's..." and here she paused for dramatic effect, *diary*."

Harry shook his head. "It's worse than I thought," he muttered. "You don't just have a screw loose, it's come entirely out and is rattling around your head."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? Shall I repeat some of the more memorable entries for your listening pleasure? Although, I'm entirely sure you were there for the events described."

"Shoot."

"All right, then." Narcissa cleared her throat. "10 June. Dearest Diary, you'll never *believe* what Harry and I did in that as-yet-undiscovered-by-Filch broom closet today..."

Harry paled. "What, you've *memorized* my girlfriend's diary?" he spluttered.

"Of course," said Narcissa pleasantly. "It's the most exciting bedtime reading I've discovered in ages. In fact, it was her rave reviews of your performance and your - oh, how does one say this delicately - your *broomstick* that attracted me to you in the first place. Now take your top off."

"I will not!" said Harry, getting some spine at last. "How could she give rave reviews of my performance? We've never...I mean, we haven't..."

Narcissa arched a delicate blonde eyebrow. "Well, she's certainly been riding the late-night broomstick express with someone. If it wasn't you..."

The door opened, and Sirius came in. He looked very suspicious.

"What are you two up to?" he demanded, looking from Narcissa's unbuttoned top to Harry's disheveled hair.

"I was giving him the talk, dear," said Narcissa pleasantly. "You know, the *talk* about the birds, the bees, the broomsticks, and then I was going to do that thing where we put a condom on a banana so he knows how to do it."

Sirius looked suspicious. "It doesn't look like you were giving him the talk," he muttered. "It looks like you were giving him the guided tour."

"What?" cried Narcissa. "You don't *trust* me?"

Sirius shook his head. "No."

She crossed her arms obstinately. "Trust is an essential element in marriage. If you don't trust me, then maybe we shouldn't get married."

Harry gulped loudly, looking from his godfather to his step-mother, as he tried to scoot surreptitiously away. *This isn't happening,* he thought.

"Fine then!" Sirius snapped. "Maybe since your screwing' on Harry I'll go screw on Hermione!"

"WHAT?" Harry cried.

"Go on then!" Narcissa shrieked. "I'm sure Harry's better than Hermione anyday!"

"But--" Harry sputtered as Sirius slammed the door shut and Narcissa began slinking up close to him away. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about..."

"Harry, dear," Narcissa whispered. "I'll be your girlfriend now."

"Er," Harry said eloquently.

"Aw, come on, Harry," Narcissa said silkily, unbuttoning her shirt once more. "Hermione's nobody. Let Sirius have her."

Harry felt numb with disbelief, and had a funny ringing in his ears. Narcissa reached for him, and he dodged away just in time to avoid whatever she had in mind.

"Hermione isn't nobody!" he protested. "She's my girlfriend." Narcissa looked thoughtful.

"What's she gonna say when Sirius tells her what's been happening?"

Harry sat as if in a trance. He didn't want to lose her, she was, apart from Ron, the only one he could confide in.

"Sirius has changed, Harry." Narcissa went on. "He's different isn't he?"

Harry nodded. Her penetrating gaze seemed to catch him in a hold so powerful that he couldn't move...

"Come on, Harry." she whispered, walking up to him slowly. "Show me how to play Quidditch."

"NO!" He yelled. "Leave me alone!"

"Harry!" she said as if nothing had happened.

"I need this." She reached for him again, caught his shirt and began unbuttoning it once more...

"Dearie me," Harry whimpered, trying to dislodge Narcissa's iron grip on his upper arms. "I'm getting too old for this."

"Oh, no you aren't, dear," she whispered, smiling seductively at him. "You're only 16."

"Which means you're making me JAILBAIT."

"But I'm not!" Narcissa sidled up closer to him. "The legal age in Britain is 16. Didn't you know that?" She placed delicate hands on his now bare chest.

He whimpered. "Mummy, Mummy, please don't hurt me."

"That's Sex Kitten to you," snipped Narcissa, bearing down on him, again, with a forcible kiss.

She pried his lips open and plunged her tongue into his mouth. It was alarming, but, Harry had to admit to himself, not all bad. She certainly knew what she was doing, even though she had her tongue so far down his throat that it was starting to remind him of a doctor's visit. "Say ahh, Harry..." he thought to himself.

"Ahh," said Harry experimentally.

"Oh, shut up, boys are soo much better when they don't talk," said Narcissa, grabbing at the lapel of his shirt and ripping it open so that the buttons flew off and rattled around the room like runaway Chiclets.

At that moment, the door opened and Hermione walked in, looking pretty and innocent in pink robes. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of her shirtless boyfriend, pinned to the couch by Narcissa, who was running her lips over his collarbone.

"Harry!" she screamed. "What are you DOING?"

"Er," said Harry. "Nothing." He pulled away, sending Narcissa flying across the room.

"Harry Potter!" she shrieked, getting up off the floor. "Why ever did you do that?"

Harry glared at her, as if she was a poisonous spider. "I said I'm getting too old for this, didn't I?"

Narcissa shrugged. "So?"

"So?" Harry spluttered. "So you don't care."

"Care about what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"You don't care about Sirius, or Hermione or anyone else!" he answered hotly.

"If that's what you think of me, you're wrong!" she yelled savagely. Then, miraculously, her tone softened.

"I just wanna have some fun." she looked at him dangerously. "You hurt me, sending me flying like that." she added.

"Oh." Harry replied half-heartedly.

Narcissa let her breath out in a whoosh.

"Let's get this going. Again." she said. She then pulled out a wand. And as Harry goggled at her forwardness with an overwhelming sense of disbelief, she muttered the words,

"Imperio."

Totally ignoring the fact that Hermione was in the room, Narcissa cast the spell.

Again, like so many other times, the blissful feeling of not thinking about anything flooded his senses.

Come on, Harry... said a voice in his mind. Come to me. I need you...

He had grown immune to it since Professor Moody's tryout when he was a fourth year at Hogwarts, but something about it this time wasn't letting him refuse.

Come here, Harry... the voice purred. I don't bite...hard...

"HARRY!" screamed a terrified voice somewhere else. "HARRY! What's the matter with you?!"

"Hermionewazzamatter?" he muttered groggily.

And then the voice was directed at Narcissa. "What are YOU doing with that wand??!"

"Go away, dear." Narcissa spat. "I got business." She turned to Harry, who was half unconscious on the bed, and began to fiddle with the buckle of his belt.

Hermione's eyes blazed. "And just what in the hell do you think you're *doing* to him, you filthy, disgusting... *honestly*!"

Narcissa stopped and looked up briefly. "Yes, that's it," she said sarcastically. "I'm a filthy, disgusting honestly. Right on, Agatha Christie."

Hermione had been prepared for possibly any other retaliation but this. "Well, I see where your son gets his sense of humor from, and it's certainly not Lucius."

"Of course not, dear," Narcissa purred, setting back to work on her poor subject's belt buckle. "How could it be Lucius? He's not even Draco's real father."

At this stunning pronouncement, Hermione gasped, and clutched at the doorframe for support; on the couch, Harry was stunned out of his magical reverie. "WHAT?" he shouted, breaking free of Narcissa's spell. "What did you say?"

Narcissa clucked her tongue, releasing her grip on the poor teenage boy. "I said that I was considering a run for Parliament." She rolled her eyes as Harry leapt from the couch and made a mad dash for the door. "I said that Lucius wasn't Draco's real father, you poor darling adorable little git."

Harry's eyebrows shot up to his scar. "Well--who--*Hermione!* You're choking me!"

"Just staking a claim," Hermione replied defensively, glaring at Narcissa. "When you start to lose feeling in your neck, then I'll stop."

"Right then," replied Harry, who was in the midst of a rather ridiculous scene: Tall Shirtless Teenage Boy with Askew Glasses Being Held in Death Grip by Pink-Clad Teenage Girl While Pouty Blond Mrs. Robinson Looks On. "Well, er, then, who on Earth is it?"

Narcissa's mouth curled in a catlike smile. "Well, dearest, it's none other than Albus Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore?" gasped Hermione, never loosening her death-grip on Harry for a second. "But he's so...old...and...gross."

"He was a sprightly one hundred and three when we first got together," sighed Narcissa. "And despite his age, he was very...vigorous. And he is a Magid!" she added. "You've no idea what they're like in the sack!"

"Really?" boggled Harry.

"Really?" repeated Hermione, looking at Harry with renewed interest.

"Why do you think I'm so interested in Harry?" demanded Narcissa, sitting up abruptly. "Ever since I heard he was a Magid, I've been biding my time, waiting for the right moment. Or, actually, any moment."

Hermione and Harry were now both staring at her in amazement.

"Yes, indeed," Narcissa continued, examining one long blood-red nail to see if it had been damaged. "Magids aren't like regular blokes, my dear," she said to Hermione. "They're sensitive, they like to cuddle, and they can go all night long without stopping to breathe. Of course, Harry's just getting started, but with a little training, I definitely see round-the-clock acts of nakedness in his future."

"How come Professor Trelawney never says that?" muttered Harry.

Hermione tightened her grip on his neck. "Come on, Harry. I need to talk to you alone."

Harry looked very reluctant.

"Alone, and naked," she clarified.

This perked him up. "All right!" he announced.

Hermione smiled demurely.

"Can we light some candles and have sex near them?" asked Harry.

Hermione shrugged. "Sure."

"Right, let's go," said Harry, now all but dragging her towards the door.

Hermione looked triumphantly at Narcissa. "Harry and I are going off to 'be together'," she announced. "You are not welcome to come."

"Well, far be in from me to cut into that seven seconds," said Narcissa snidely as they departed in haste.

Narcissa watched the couple with discontent. She had been so close...yet so far at the same time.

"I'll have my chance." she promised herself smugly. "He'll see."

Meanwhile, Hermione had just shut and locked the door. She turned to Harry, who was conjuring up candles and lighting them with his wand.

"You had me scared for a minute, Harry." she said shyly. He looked up in bewilderment.

"You know!" she snipped. "With Narcissa!"

Harry relaxed a little. "Sorry." he mumbled.

"Oh, I knew you were made for better stuff than her, Harry." Hermione purred, slinking up to him.

Harry smiled uncertainly.

"Where's Sirius?" Hermione asked suddenly. "Oh, " Harry said. "He's gone." Hermione didn't pursue the subject. She shed her pink robes, and Harry, his black ones.

Underneath Hermione's bathrobe were pink, frilly pajamas with bunny rabbits on them. Her feet were clad in fluffy slippers to match, of course.

Harry blinked. Here Hermione was, fully-dressed, and here he was, in boxers with fluttering golden Snitches and long dress socks. His chest was bare. He felt kind of abused.

"What?" Hermione wondered, noticing his staring at her.

Jogged back into reality, Harry's head shot up and his eyes went from emerald to sea in confusion. "Huh?"

"What're you staring at?"

Harry flushed. "I...um...like the bunnies."

She peered at him suspiciously, and then, quite shockingly, burst into tears.

"What?" he said, bewildered, as she collapsed on the floor in a bawling heap.

"Make fun of me, huh? Huh?" she sniffled. "Everyone makes fun of me!"

"Er--I love you?" Harry offered.

Her tears got stronger. "Everybody hates me! Nobody likes me! MOO!"

His mouth agape, all Harry could do was stare. He'd been seduced by his step-mother, told that with a bit of practice, he'd be the master in bed, and now his girlfriend was mooing like a cow.

"Dearie me," he whispered. "I'm truly, really, horribly...getting WAY too old for this..."

Harry crossed the room to Hermione, his self-consciousness gone now. He held her tight to his chest as her 'mooing' slowly changed to loud wet sniffles.

"It's just...well...with what...Narcissa said - you being so....good and all - what about me? I don't want to let you down Harry. I haven't exactly had much experience. You're my first real boyfriend, well...there WAS Victor Krum but......." She began to cry again, though slightly quieter this time.

"I guess...I would just feel embarrassed............" She laughed uncertainly." Maybe I just need some practice."

"I'll give you some practice doll-face"- said a voice from the door (*sorry about that one!*)

Both Harry and Hermione spun round. "Sirius?" Harry gasped, feeling rather stupid in his black Quidditch boxers.

Sirius smiled strangely and pulled out his wand, pointing it at Harry. "Imperio!" he said.

Oh crap...not again...thought Harry.

"Go take a walk Harry," said Sirius.

Harry tried not to obey, but he couldn't help it. He heard Hermione squeak in fright as the door shut behind him.

"Sirius -" Hermione began.

But she was cut off as Sirius lunged at her.

* Meanwhile, Narcissa was getting desperate. She NEEDED a Magid.

A Magid. Magid. Magid...Harry had disappeared, and she was too saddened to search for him.

Another Magid then. Who's another Ma--

"Draco," she whispered.

* * * * *

(or not, depending on reviews *wicked smile*)

Love,

The Teenage Witches