Title: Love Hurts Trilogy—Part 2: Love Wounds

Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Site: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/

Author: Constant Vigilance

Disclaimer: JK Rowling is God. I own nothing.

Distribution: Sure. Just lemme know where my baby’s going.

Spoilers: Book Five.

Summary: Love according to Lucius Malfoy.

Pairing: Draco/Narcissa

Warnings: Incest, non con, necrophilia, mental mindfucking

Narcissa Malfoy smiled sweetly. “Hello, baby,” she called softly. “I’ve missed you.” Draco swallowed hard. He could hear the noisy sound reverberate in his ears and he wondered what sound vomiting would make in ears that seemed to capture every sound and amplify it. And vomit he knew he would, for his mother moved into the circle of light.

Draco always thought his mother the most beautiful woman ever to grace the earth. Most people thought similarly. She was gorgeous with her slim figure, her shining gold hair, and her brilliant blue eyes. She was cool and dignified, reserved and regal. Yet, to Draco, she was loving and kind. She always had a genuine smile for her only son. She loved him more than anything else in the world and her every action showed that.

Indeed, it was her love for Draco that led to her destruction. She defied everything that made up a Malfoy when she realized that her precious son was destined to live under the oppressive stranglehold of her husband’s master. She sold Lucius out. She gave vital information over to Dumbledore in return for the promise that Draco would be free, would be safe, and would never belong to Voldemort.

Needless to say, Lucius didn’t approve. That was the first time Draco ever saw Avada Kedavra. His soul silently froze as he watched his beautiful, loving mother fall to the unforgiving floor. And yet, here she was…back once again. Yet, Draco feared that she had forever lost her claim to the most beautiful woman. As she moved into the room, Draco wanted to cry.

In life, Narcissa would never have been caught wearing the lingerie that adorned her body. She would never have condoned looking like a whore. And yet there she stood, clad in a shimmering, low-cut, blue satin corset, cream-colored silk stockings, high-heeled strappy shoes and a garter belt made of the same blue satin as her corset.

It would have been stunning, had Narcissa not been falling apart…literally.

The corset pressed her breasts up causing the bloated and mottled skin, with no place else to go, to press up and over the wired material. The soft, creamy stockings appeared to do more towards holding the flesh of her legs in place than they did in accentuating their beauty. Draco could see where whoever had dressed her had poked a nail through the silk. Bits of her flesh protruded sickeningly through the tiny holes, making her legs look as though they had deformed boils along their length.

He followed the wretched sight down to her slender ankles and tiny feet. And felt the gorge rise in his throat. Wherever Lucius had kept her, obviously had not been as protected as it should have been. Rats had been at her feet. Her toes were chewed down to nothing, causing her to walk in a strange clomping way, as she had nothing on her lower extremities to keep her balanced.

The garter belt sank into her hips, mottled purple. In some still-calm part of Draco’s mind, he recognized that the coloring of her backside meant that she’d died laying flat. The blood in her body had pooled to the lowest point in her body, giving a hideous purple counterpoint to the rest of her milk white skin. And the fact that she wore no panties accentuated that fact.

His eyes shot away from the golden vee of curls between her legs and he flushed with embarrassment at having witnessed his angelic mother’s private parts. Unfortunately, that only allowed him to focus on her head. The long, golden hair he so loved to wrap around his fingers as a child was dull and dirty. Great patches were torn from her head and it looked as though the rats that had nibbled her toes had chosen to live in her hair.

Her skin was graying and looked slightly wet. The only thing that looked like his mother was her bright blue eyes. Eyes that still looked at him with love…even in death.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

He shivered. The voice was the same. Death had not diminished the clear bell-like tones of his mother’s voice. And somehow, that was the most horrible part.

“Draco, love? Aren’t you happy to see me?” There was hurt in that voice. Hurt that a part of Draco responded to, even knowing the truth of the matter.

“Of course I’m happy to see you, Mama,” he whispered, forcing himself to look into her eyes. “I’ve missed you too.”

Narcissa smiled hugely and moved forward. “I’m so glad, my son.” She knelt at his side and reached out to touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Draco flinched away automatically but stopped his retreat at the kicked look on his mother’s face. “Draco?” she asked, confused. “Please, what’s wrong? I love you. I just want to be with you.” She leaned in closer, her words causing cold puffs of air on Draco’s skin. “Please, my sweet boy. Please, touch me? Hold me? Make me feel again, Draco. I’ve been so cold for so long. I don’t understand why.”

His mother would never have done this. Rationally, he knew that. His mother was not incestuous. His mother was not a whore. There had to be some kind of magic compelling her to act this way. This was not his mother, and yet…and yet it was. Her delicate fragility was still there. Her need to love and be loved in return. And that was the part that burned Draco’s soul.

“Maman,” he whispered. “You’re cold because you’re dead,” he stated plainly, hoping that she would just go away.

What she did…was begin to cry. The dead have no tears to shed, but they haven’t forgotten how. Draco could tell that if his mother had the fluids left in her body to weep, she would. Her face scrunched up and her eyes looked mournfully down at him. “Please,” she whimpered. “Please, don’t say that. It’s not true. Why are you trying to hurt me, Draco? Don’t you love me? Don’t you think I’m pretty?”

She moved in closer and rubbed her cheek on his, her breasts against his bare chest, her arms up and down his own. “Please, tell me you love me, Draco,” she pleaded. “Please tell me you want me. I want you, my sweet.”

When she pulled away, he could feel the wetness on his body and wondered if she’d somehow managed to produce tears after all. Then he glanced down at his chest. Parts of her had sloughed off onto his flesh. Horrified, his gaze shot up to her face. He saw the flash of bright white that was her teeth…through her cheekbone, and he jerked his hand up to frantically scrub the bits of his mother’s flesh from his face.

“No!” he tried to shove himself back into the wall.

Narcissa smiled. “Silly little love,” she chided. “Come back here. Mummy has a special treat for you.” She winked at his appalled expression and slid down his body. He yelped and tried to heave himself away, but her strength seemed to have increased ten-fold with her death. She placed immovable hands on his hips and held him down even as she wrapped cold, dead lips around his cock.

“No,” he moaned in desperation. “Maman, s'il vous plait… ne pas faire ceci.” (Maman, please…do not do this) He felt as though he were drifting away from reality. He didn’t know what was worse: that his mother was back from the dead and sucking him off, or that she was sucking him off and he was getting hard regardless of his untold mortification.

Just as he thought he might have the strength to fling her away, she stopped and smiled up at him again. His relief was short lived as she swung a leg over his own and straddled him. She picked up his limp hands and wove them into her once-silken hair. ~Ah~ he wanted to cry, ~she remembers too. ~ The connection to his childhood memory of his mother was too much and he snatched his hands back. His gorge rose once again as he took in the clumps of hair trapped around his knuckles at the action.

Narcissa just smiled and leaned into him. She commenced to rub her crotch against the underside of his erection, trapping it between their stomachs. “Je t’aime, Draco,” (I love you, Draco) she purred into his ear. He moaned again, wanting to wake up from this nightmare. Narcissa just pressed against him harder. So hard that he heard a sickening, squelchy ‘pop’.

He didn’t want to look. He prayed that he was wrong. He offered his soul to whatever demon placed him in this predicament if what he’d heard just wasn’t true…but in the end, he looked. His hardened cock had proven to be stronger than Narcissa’s rotting flesh. He could see the purple of his cock partially hidden by the gray flesh it was sunk into…the gray flesh of his mother’s stomach.

As he slammed his head back against the rock wall, trying to make his vision swim back into focus, he heard Narcissa’s tinkling laugh. She continued thrusting against him, raking the head of his cock against the bony edge of her ribcage.

He began hitting his head against the wall, trying to distract himself from the notion that even cold and dead muscle feels like velvet against one’s cock. She pulled away from him, his cock making a slurping sound as it dragged out of her body. Another sly grin should have told him what was next, but he was too out of it to recognize the warning.

She moved her body down slightly and impaled herself on her son’s cock. She moaned slightly and began riding him. Strangely, Draco thought this might be worse than gut fucking her. Her passage was cold and slightly slimy. He could feel her flesh loosely sliding around him, and he feared that if she were to pull out now, most of her insides would come with his cock.

And the smell…oh dear Merlin, the smell. He gagged at the hideous rotting stench that arose from her insides. He wanted nothing more than to kick her off of him and run shrieking from the room.

“Draco, baby?” she whispered. “Tell me you love me.” Draco felt hysteria coming on and he tried to hold the laughter back. “Tell me how pretty I am. Tell me how good I’m making you feel. Draco?”

“I love you, Maman,” he managed to choke.

He couldn’t tell how long she rode him, but he knew that she was upset. “Draco, why won’t you cum?” she asked, the sound of tears she could never shed in her voice. “Don’t you love me?” He just nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence for the waves of horror rolling over his mind. “Well, it doesn’t seem like it,” she pouted. Then, a sly grin. “But you liked my stomach, didn’t you, naughty boy?”

Draco shifted into shaking his head as hard as he could, but she was not to be deterred. She hefted herself up off of him and dropped her body back down, sucking him back into the hole he’d created in her flesh. He knew he was crying. He knew that it was hurting her to see it, but he couldn’t stop. She ground herself down onto him faster, harder.

“Cum for me, love,” she whispered. “Come for mummy.”

Then, the head of his cock caught on her rib and raked across the sensitive ridge and he was spiraling into orgasm. He screamed his denial even as his body emptied into his mother’s cold torso. When he looked up again, Narcissa was smiling affectionately. “Good boy,” she praised him. She leaned in and captured his mouth in a kiss.

Her tongue was still nimble and it wound around Draco’s like a snake. She sucked his tongue into her own mouth and slurped it noisily. As she pulled back, he felt something foreign in his mouth and lifted his fingers to his lips to explore. He didn’t need to, though. Narcissa smiled again. He saw the gap in her perfect teeth and knew what was rolling around in his mouth.

He gave in to his roiling stomach and rolled to the side, heaving his guts up. He heard a chuckle and his eyes shot behind his mother sad face to meet his father’s gaze. Lucius raised an eyebrow and then pointed his wand at Narcissa’s back.

“Incendio.”

He screamed until she was ash. He screamed his throat raw. He screamed as he watched her flesh melt, her hair burn. He screamed as she smiled one last time and mouthed her love for him. When he finally stopped, all that was left were tears.

“Congratulations, my son,” Lucius smirked. “You pleased her with your acquiescence.”

Draco just clutched his arms around his legs and shook. “Maman,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me. I love you.” He ignored Lucius’ laughter.

“Ah, my boy. Isn’t it funny how sometimes, love wounds more than it heals?”