alisanne

Title: Birthday Bash
Author:

alisanne
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: George Weasley/Narcissa Malfoy.
Word Count: 1790
Warnings: Mild angst.
A/N: Written for

hp_het/

hp_het's April prompt: April Fools, and as another of my fills in the

rarepair_shorts's Number's game, pairing: George Weasley/Narcissa Malfoy.
Beta(s):

sevfan and emynn.
Disclaimer: The characters contained herein are not mine. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment purposes only.

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Birthday Bash

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“I don’t want a birthday party.”

Ginny sighed. “I know you don’t, but Mum… Well, she’s having a hard time right now.”

George spun around so fast he almost knocked Fred’s picture off the mantel. “She’s having a hard time?”

“I know, I know.” Ginny, her face uncharacteristically sombre, stared at him. “But tell me you haven’t noticed Mum’s…different lately.”

Forced to look away first, George nodded. “And you think letting her throw me a birthday party will make her better?”

“No. I mean nothing’s going to make her completely better.” Ginny moved towards him, clasped his hand. “But it will remind her she still has children left. Children who love her and who want to celebrate their birthday day with her, even if one of her babies is gone.”

“I can’t do an entire day of that,” George muttered. “I can maybe handle a lunch or tea, but—”

“That’s fine. A tea would be perfect.” Ginny gave him a quick hug before backing away and starting for the door. “I’ll even organise everything.”

George raised an eyebrow. “You? Don’t you mean Granger?”

Ginny grinned. “We’ll share the organisational planning.”

“Whatever.” George turned away. “I guess I’ll be there.”

“Brilliant.”

Once she was gone, George straightened Fred’s picture on the mantel. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Brilliant.”

If George was honest, the party was nice yet painful. Everyone came, even Charlie, who brought a baby dragon with him from Romania. Unfortunately, the dragon kept escaping and setting fire to the hedges. Fred would have loved it.

Doing his best to smile and appear happy, George wandered the party, slowly getting drunk on his dad’s punch. His mum almost seemed like her old self, animated, bustling about and making sure everyone was stuffed full of food and pastries.

It all would have been fine if his mum hadn’t insisted on baking a birthday cake. A chocolate cake with a single, red-haired figure standing on top looking alone and forlorn. Chocolate had always been Fred’s favourite.

George took one look at the thing and it all came crashing down on him. Fred was dead. And he was never coming back. Shaking his head, he backed away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t.”

He Disapparated, landing in Knockturn Alley, and sinking to the ground, he drew his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms them, and buried his face. He sat there for a while without moving and it wasn’t until he heard a commotion that he looked up.

“…likes of you doin’ down ’ere?”

Squinting, George could just make out a thin figure wrapped in a cloak, surrounded by several people.

“Please let me pass.” The voice was familiar, but George couldn’t quite place it.

“Oh, I don’t fink so, your ’ighness. Your ’usband’s responsible for me old man dying in the bleedin’ war, innit?”

George frowned, standing up and automatically palming his wand.

The slim figure tried to push past the crowd, but someone snatched at their hood and her pale face was revealed in the wan, evening light. Narcissa Malfoy. She looked drawn, expression anxious.

“I bet you ’ave one of them Dark Marks, don’t you? Show us your arm, then.”

“Let her go.” George blinked as they all turned to face him.

“It’s a Weasley!” one of the crowd whispered.

“This doesn’t ’ave anything to do with you, lad.”

George smiled, and several people stepped back. “I say it does. And I’m going to say it one more time. Let her go.”

Several members of the crowd muttered, and George, distressingly sober, tightened his grip on his wand, plotting how to get them out of the situation if it came to a wand fight.

“Fine,” one of them finally muttered, and that was enough to disperse the crowd, who all melted back into the shadows.

Exhaling, George lowered his wand. “Are you all right?”

Narcissa’s shoulders slumped. “Yes,” she said. “I…Thank you for your assistance. I’m Narcissa Malfoy.” Her expression was slightly quizzical. “And that was kind of you.”

“George Weasley.” George shrugged. “And I just don’t like bullies. Anyway, maybe you should get out of this part of Diagon.”

Her lips curved upwards. “A sound suggestion,” she said. “What about you? Are you planning to stay here?”

Running a hand through his hair, George shook his head. “No, I should go, too.”

Narcissa cleared her throat. “Well then, if you would allow me, I should like to buy you a drink as a thank you for your gallant behaviour, George.”

Slowly, George grinned. “You know, a drink sounds brilliant.”

Tom didn’t even bat an eye when George and Narcissa walked into the Leaky, although he did nod to one of the more secluded tables in a dark corner.

Narcissa ordered a glass of something George’d never heard of, which turned out to be some snooty elf wine. George stuck with ale.

They sat together in silence as they sipped their drinks.

“Does that happen often?” George finally asked.

Narcissa, staring into her goblet, sighed. “Often enough. As a rule I don’t leave Wiltshire much these days, but I—”

George waited for a few moments. “You what?” he prompted.

Exhaling, Narcissa raised her eyes to meet his. “I was lonely. Lucius remains in Azkaban, I receive no visitors…I simply wanted some companionship. Men aren’t the only ones who have needs.”

George blinked. Narcissa Malfoy had been trying to solicit a…companion in Knockturn? “Oh.”

Narcissa lowered her eyes again. “And now I’ve shocked you.” She hummed. “It often seems women aren’t allowed to have physical needs.” She tipped her goblet back, draining it. “I should be going—”

“Wait.” George looked her over with new eyes. She was dressed a bit less formally than he was accustomed to seeing her, and there was nothing wrong with her figure. “Where are you going?”

“Home to Wiltshire. This clearly isn’t the right night for me to seek companionship.”

“Tom has rooms upstairs.”

Narcissa stared at him. “What are you suggesting?” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this some sort of April Fool’s joke?”

George smiled. “It’s my birthday today. Our birthday, except my brother’s gone now. They threw me a party, but it didn’t feel like it was for me. I don’t…I don’t want to be alone, and sometimes I feel like I’m alone even when my entire family’s there. I want to…not feel for a while.”

Searching his eyes, Narcissa nodded. “I understand.” Clasping his hand, Narcissa squeezed it. “And I believe we should avail ourselves of one of Tom’s rooms.”

When they got upstairs, George wasn’t sure what to do. Did he kiss her? Did she expect him to take charge? He followed her into the room, and then hovered by the door, shifting from foot to foot.

Narcissa slipped her cloak gracefully off her shoulders, laying it across a chair before turning to face him. She raised an eyebrow. “I hate to ask, but have you ever—?”

George nodded jerkily. “Oh yes. I’m not a virgin or anything.”

She smiled. “Good.” Moving towards him, she clasped his hand, leading him over to the bed. “Try not to think too much. Just feel.”

George sat on the edge of the bed, mouth dry, eyes wide, watching as she disrobed. It wasn’t a striptease, but it wasn’t the simple shucking of clothes either, and by the time Narcissa stood tall and naked, George definitely wasn’t thinking.

Narcissa walked towards him, a half-smile on her face, and when she reached the bed, she clasped his shoulder, gazing down at him. His mouth was at her breast, so it was natural, inevitable really, for him to take her nipple in his mouth, to slide his hands over her skin and cup her arse.

She sighed, her body sagging against his, and within moments she was kneeling on the bed, her thighs bracketing his hips, her fingers deftly undoing his buttons.

When he was naked, George rolled her onto her back, straddling her, and moving his mouth down over her body, he kissed and sucked his way to her fanny.

Legs spread, her fingers tangled in his hair as her licked at her folds before finally pressing two and then three fingers inside her. It didn’t take long for her to cry out and tremble through her first orgasm.

George waited until she was done before he pressed her legs wider apart and slid his cock in. She was beautifully tight, and as soon as he began to move she did, too, meeting him thrust for thrust.

Their eyes met, hers revealing nothing. Whatever she saw in his made her smirk, reach up and cup his cheek.

Closing his eyes, he fucked into her harder, bending to his task, and when she started to come again, he groaned, spilling inside her.

She stroked his back gently as he finished shaking through his orgasm, and once he was done, he withdrew, collapsing bedside her.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes.

“Thank you,” she finally whispered, sitting up.

George rolled his head to look at her. She was beautiful, the curve of her shoulder and hip making him want to reach out and touch her again, manoeuvre her body under his and slide back inside her warmth. “It was my pleasure.”

Narcissa chuckled. “Oh, it was my pleasure as well, George, trust me.” She sighed. “I should be going, however. Alas, duty calls.” Glancing back over her shoulder, she looked him over, her gaze lingering on his already half-hard cock. “Ah, to be young again.”

George grinned. “I can make it quick.”

“I’m sure you can,” she laughed. Holding up her hand, she caught her clothes as they flew towards her. “Perhaps another time should the opportunity again arise.”

She stood shimmying into her knickers and doing up her robes. When she was once again impeccably dressed, she leaned over him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for tonight. And happy birthday.” Drawing back, she searched his eyes. “I trust I don’t have to ask you not to speak of this to anyone?”

George sighed. “Who would believe me anyway?”

Narcissa straightened up. “You never know. Goodbye, George.”

Once he was alone, George stretched and smiled. As birthdays went, this had been a brilliant one. “Shame you weren’t here, Freddy,” he whispered. “We could have shown her a really good time.”

When George got home, everyone but his mum was gone. She smiled when she saw him. “Are you all right, love?”

Nodding, George walked over, sat down beside her, and hugged her. “I just needed to get a way for a bit, but I’m home now. Thanks for the party.”

“You’re welcome, dear.”

~