Re-upload post hack.
Warnings: Incest/Smut
Beta: Nova Super

He had been drinking, but the amusement and humour was heavy in his voice as he told his son the family secret. It was as if he knew the inner turmoil it would cause. He didn't care. To him it was a joke. But for Draco the truth didn't simply bother him. It ruined him.

"Malfoy women know what is expected of them when they marry into the family. You would be wise to remember that when choosing your own wife."

Draco walked down the long, narrow, portrait lined wall of the family residence, his hands stuffed in his brown trouser pockets as he reflected on his father's words. Was it true? Did all Malfoy women really allow themselves to be treated like this?

It had started out as a simple discussion on marriage. Draco was the only heir, he knew he was expected to marry and produce a fair-haired Malfoy son of his own. It was his last year in Hogwarts and he soon would get a job at the Ministry, just like his father. He would marry young, just like his father. He would have a son, just like his father. He would take the mark, and live in fear, just like his father. Draco's future had been mapped out for him since he was just a tiny fetus floating in a water sack in his mother's belly.

He looked down at the his ink free forearm. Not yet. He could lie to himself and say there was still time. You could still get out of this and make a run...

He always ran. It was what he did. He grew up a spoiled snotty child and never learned how to stand up for himself. He could throw petty and poorly rehearsed insults until he was red in the face, but the second someone pulled a wand on him, he shivered and trembled like a coward.

He could pinpoint every event in his future—as planned by his father. But this was certainly one hell of a twist. My own mother. How does one go about doing that with their own mother? Who in the bloody hell had come up with such a ridiculously insane idea? What... was some tight-arsed relative bored one day, complaining to his dad about being randy and not wanting to spend the money on a whore? Of course, the father probably replied with something along the lines of, "I know son, just go shag your mother, she's quite fun."

Draco shuddered. Just how disturbing could one family be? He paused to look at the portraits on the wall. Some of the women threw him saucy winks and flirtatious grins. His lip curled in disgust. He pondered how many of the Malfoy ancestors in those portraits had screwed each other. He understood how necessary it was to keep up blood purity. It was highly likely he would marry a second cousin of his, but that was different. That was accepted in most societies. But your own mother? He continued onward making his way into the study.

"Draco, darling. What brings you in here?" His mother asked as she glanced up from the sunflowers that had been sitting on the window sill. She set the watering tin down and walked across the room. "Is everything alright, love?"

Of course it's not mother...He scoffed softly to himself drawing his hands out of his pocket. He couldn't even bring himself to look up from the floor.

Narcissa frowned. "You can talk to me, you know. I won't tell him."

He knew she was referring to his father. "I have nothing to say to you, mother." He replied in a cold, childish tone.

"Come here, love," Narcissa cooed, reaching out with the intent of hugging Draco.

He jerked violently out of her reach, looking up for the first time. She looked hurt by his actions. He loved his mother; not as a man loves a woman but as a son loves his mother. But his father's words replayed over and over in his mind like a broken record. He could hardly look at her without thinking about sex. How easily Lucius had shattered every loving thought Draco had ever had about his mother.

Draco looked like his mother's son. He had all of her features... except the eyes. He had grey eyes, just like his father. His mother's were a crystalline reflection of the sea, rimmed by a darker sapphire blue. Stunning.

"Draco?" she called to him again, worried wrinkles appearing on her face, disturbing her otherwise flawless porcelain doll-like features.

Can I really say it? He asked himself. What would happen if he did? Would his mother step back in horror and blame Lucius for the the corruption of her otherwise—in her eyes—perfect son? He always had been a mummy's boy. If something bad happened, he ran to Narcissa with his problems. He raised his shoulders his arrogant façade back in place; the one he used in school. He puffed out his chest as if nothing phased him. He could do this—pretend to be a hard shell, he was practised in the illusion his father too so often used.

"Draco please tell me what is wrong. Did your father do something?" she questioned, he could hear concern in her gentle voice.

It was the same soft and soothing voice that used to sing him to sleep when he was a child. The melody of the child's lullaby flowed though his mind. How quickly a sweet memory could become so lewd and dirty. His mother's singing turned into the possibility of her moans and a chill travelled up his body and seeped into his bones, making him shudder with self loathing.

Narcissa shook him gently, he didn't recall when she placed her small hands on his arms.

His shoulders slumped. "Is it true mother?"

She stepped back, her thin eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Is what true?" she asked, worriedly.

Draco ground his teeth and shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced down at the floor. "Father told me..." he ran a hand through his pale blonde hair. How it remained so silky after all of the potions he had used in the past, he'd never know.

"He told you what?" His mother probed, tilting her head to the side anxious to hear what words would come from her son's mouth.

"That when you joined the Malfoy family..." he trailed off again. Just spit it out, Draco. "Did you marry father knowing that one day you might have to..." Why is it so hard to say? Sex. Fuck. Shag. He didn't even want to say it.

Narcissa brought her hands to cup Draco's face, tilting his head up. He avoided eye contact and stared behind her at the bookcase along the far wall. "I might have to what? I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong," she stressed.

His lip curled. He would have loved to say his distaste wasn't aimed at his mother, but there was a part of him that was disturbed that she knew. It was the single fact that made his stomach churn. "Fuck me," he spit, finally making eye contact with her.

Her hands dropped immediately and Draco could feel a sudden coldness where his cheeks had been previously warmed by her skin. He studied her for a moment. Where before he hadn't been able to make eye contact, now it was her who was looking anywhere but at her son. He could feel the shame radiating off of her in waves.

He nodded to himself. "So it's true." It wasn't a question. Narcissa's head snapped up and settled a gaze so heart breaking Draco could feel heart pangs of his own. "Then tell me it's not true! Tell me that when you married father, nothing of this—" He gestured between the two of them. "Was ever discussed."

She shook her head. She couldn't deny it. "Darling, I was promised to your father. I had no choice!" she exclaimed hysterically. "But you do have a choice! Can't you pretend nothing was said?" she asked desperately, her eyes watering.

Draco's face turned red. "You don't get it, do you?" he demanded as a furious tremble erupted through his body. "You have no idea what he's done just by mentioning it to me," he ground out through clenched teeth. He pointed accusingly in her direction. His voice cracking, like a third year hitting puberty. "I can't look at you because of a few sentences. Just words. He didn't think twice about saying them, but now I can't think about you without thinking about it!"

"Oh, love." Narcissa said, her voice unsteady and tears building up in her eyes as she reached out for a second time to hug her son.

He slapped her hands away. "Don't you dare touch me," he bit out. "Because of him, I can't stop thinking about you in such a vile way. I feel disgusting!"

His mother grew an eerie calm, the wrinkle in her brow smoothed, and she looked completely serene. The tears falling down her cheeks were the only sign that a fight had even took place. "I can't take back the vow that I made," she said quietly. "You're not disgusting, Draco. Not even if you are thinking about it. This is a tradition that goes back many, many generations." She walked over to the window sill and picked up the watering tin and continued to pamper the sunflowers. "I had hoped Lucius had forgotten. I had hoped you wouldn't know. I hoped if it did happen... well I knew I'd accept it openly."

Draco's face softened immediately. She had no choice... He walked up to her and put his arms around her tiny waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. She needed comfort more than he did at that moment and he hated himself for being the one to put her in such a state in the first place. "I'm sorry, mother," he whispered into her neck as she rested her hands on top of his.

"It's okay, Draco, truly." she whispered softly.

Draco burrowed his face in her neck smelling her floral perfume, just like he used to do as a child when she carried him to his room after he kicked and screamed wanting to stay up—only now, his father's words remained imprinted in his mind. His own mother pressed up against him. Instead of flowery scent that once lulled him to sleep, it was now a tantalizing and sensual smell that shot through him to his groin like lightning.

He hardened against her. Oh gods no.

She tensed in his arms. She could feel him, he knew it. He clenched his fists and tried to step back, respectfully, but Narcissa held tight onto his forearms. It's okay, Draco, truly. Surely she didn't mean she was okay with him making an advance, not that he would. Then why was she holding on to his arms with such ferocity?

His mouth went painfully dry and he bit his tongue hoping to create enough saliva to dull the scratchy ache. "Mum?" he croaked. Mum. A term of endearment rarely used.

His cock throbbed, hardening even more. Please stop...He was going mad with this cruel and twisted desire.

Narcissa turned in his arms, he tried to break away, but she reached out to grip his arms. He could have easily broken the hold. So why didn't he?

She ran her hands up his arms to his broad shoulders. When had he gotten so much taller than her? He towered over her. "Have you ever thought... you could see... perhaps it would pass if you try?"

His resolve was hanging on by a string. He had accepted the truth: Draco Malfoy, was attracted to his mother. "Mother, I can't," he whispered as she rose, demi-point, on the tips of her toes. She was still inches shorter than he. She ran her fingers through his hair. "Your hair..."

"Is just like fathers—I know," he said as his gaze dipped lower to her ruby painted lips.

Draco had been with women. More than he would ever admit to his mother. He knew what he was like in bed, he knew he was good at shagging, but he was horrible at making love. "I refuse to treat you the way I do other women, mother. I can't. I won't do this."

Narcissa forcefully pulled his head down mashing her lips to his, prying them open with her tongue. She snaked her tongue into his mouth to caress his own, lovingly. She kissed him with such a fierce passion, he was convinced she wanted him.

Soft Lips. Succulent and plump. Delicious taste... Wrong.

His hand left her waist to tug on her long blonde curls and she sighed into him. He pressed himself against her, gauging her response for any sign of rejection. She broke away from the fierce lip-lock. "Draco, please," she whimpered as he latched his mouth just beneath her jaw, sucking on the tender skin. He could feel her pulse drumming heavily beneath his lips as he marred the skin with a dark love bite.

"Please what?" he demanded in a harsh and authoritative whisper.

She didn't answer and he gripped her hips and forcefully turned her to the window. Her hands planted firmly on the sill, careful as to not disturb the flowers.

Draco slid his own hands up her silky garment, admiring how her wide hips became such a narrow waist only to expand to delightfully large breasts. He palmed them, feeling their weight in his hands as he lowered his lips to her neck paying attention to the unmarked flesh just as intensely as he had to the love bitten skin on the other side. He skimmed his teeth across the surface causing his mother to tremble in front of him, her nipples pebbled and strained against the fabric of her blouse. He gave a rough squeeze, testing her. She rewarded him with a heady moan.

His mind wanted nothing to do with the act he was performing with his mother. He didn't want to remember the experience that was to come. Even as he was hard against his mother's delectable arse, groping her breasts, bruising her swan-like throat—he still felt it was wrong. His head wanted to walk away, but he couldn't deny the physical part of him that did want this. The man inside of him ached to feel his mother mewling under his touch, panting out his name, quivering like a promiscuous lover greedy for only him.

Despite the internal conflict, Draco's fingers continued their journey across Narcissa's petite body. He gave her breasts one last squeeze before moving to her shoulders. He applied pressure and she melted beneath him, her head leaned back against his chest in a content sigh.

He was on a shallow path that forked in two very different directions: He walked away or he stayed. There was no way of knowing the outcome of either choice. No matter which path he chose, there would always be a question that lingered. What if?

He wondered if his mother was having the same battle in her own head, but as he ran his warm palms down her arms to lay on top of her hands and laced his fingers in hers, he doubted it. She had made the first move, after all.

"Draco..." she whispered as he ground his pelvis against her bum.

"Tell me what you want, mother," he ordered. "Tell me what you need."

Narcissa arched her back, wiggling her arse against him. "Just you," she sighed dreamily. She drew her small, smooth fists into a ball unintentionally squeezing the fingers that lay intertwined with hers. She continuously ground against him wantonly, trying to create some sort of friction.

Draco removed his fingers from her and spun her around to face him again. He gazed into her partly closed, lust-filled eyes. She showed no hint of rejection and he knew instantly which dark and twisted path he was going to wander down.

He lowered the straps of her simple sundress down her arms, the fabric peeled away from her body and his cock throbbed as his body tensed in anticipation. The silk slid over her breasts slowly, and Draco licked his lips in determination. He removed the dress like a child opening a present; giddy, excited, somewhat nervous and completely anxious. He knew in hindsight about the body that was hidden by the garment, yet he had never really seen it.

Her breasts bounced slightly as they finally freed from the confines of the silk. Her nipples, while already erect, only hardened more and Draco wanted nothing more in that moment, than to latch his mouth over one and tease it with his lips, tongue and teeth. He leaned down to suck on one of the nipples, an act that he had done so innocently as a babe. He could feel her breath hitch as he pulled on it gently with his teeth, the act no longer innocent at all. The dress slid down the rest of her body to pool at her feet, leaving her in her simple white lace that covered what his body desired most.

Oh mother... why do I want you so bad?

He pulled the lingerie down her slender legs, kneeling as he went. His head swam as the scent of her arousal grew and his mouth watered.

She spread her legs instinctively and Draco found himself face to face with his mother's sweet cunt. She put her hand on the back of his head guiding him forward as if she knew it was what he wanted—perhaps more than it was what she wanted.

Draco didn't think twice as he gripped her leg firmly in one hand as he parted the sweet flesh. He placed a small chaste kiss to her thigh before tasting her for the first time. Her fingers sifted through his hair and her head fell back as he worshipped her with his tongue and lips. Desperate to hear more of Narcissa's breathy gasps, he thrust a finger into her, curling it in a way that he knew would get a reaction.

Narcissa didn't disappoint and let out a sharp moan, tugging at Draco's soft hair. He lapped greedily at her, adding another finger. Her moans came louder and quicker as he increased the speed of his ministrations, bringing his mother to her climax. Her thighs tensed and Draco suspected that had it not been for the windowsill she was clinging to—her knees might have buckled.

He stood again and reached behind her and with one quick swipe he threw the flowers to the floor below.

"Draco!" she scolded, still breathing heavy. She opened her mouth to say more, but Draco cut her off with another kiss. Her hands went to his shirt tugging it up and breaking the kiss to remove it fully. The shirt was thrown off to the side and she unbuttoned his trousers lowering them with his pants, freeing his cock. She grasped it with expert fingers, stroking him with a firm, yet gentle hold.

Draco hooked his hands behind her thighs. He lifted her easily to sit on the sill, her legs draping over his forearms. He looked down at his mother who was spread openly before him, glistening with the remains of their previous activity. He leaned forward. "Tell me you want this," he whispered against her lips.

He expected an answer, but she didn't give him one. Instead she guided his throbbing cock to her awaiting opening, teasing herself with the tip. He thrust forward entering her in one swift movement. She clenched around him causing him to grunt. He couldn't remember how long it had been since he had been with a woman. Possibly never, the girls he had been with were nothing compared to the ideal form of woman in front of him.

He forced himself to keep his thrusts slow and smooth. He refused to treat his mother like a common whore.

Draco was fully aware of the sharp pain of his mother's nails running down his back. She wrapped her legs around his narrow waist, creating a new angle for them both.

"Fuck, mother," Draco panted into her neck. He could tell by the way she clenched around him, she was close and the swelling of his cock told him he was nearing release too.

He rested his forehead on her shoulder as his thrusts quickened. His hand snaked between them to gently rub her clit, silently begging her to come so he could finish himself. Her body vibrated below him and she came with cry, constricting around him. The tightness was bliss and he spilt into her accepting body. He leaned forward, resting his head on her shoulder as their breaths regulated.

Narcissa turned to kiss the top of his head, in an entirely maternal display of affection. "I love you, Draco."

He placed a chaste kiss to her shoulder. "And I you, mother," he replied with a warm softness.

They lay there as seconds turned to minutes. His arms soon grew tired and he moved away to redress, letting Narcissa do the same. She chuckled suddenly and he turned curious. "What?"

She picked up her wand and the flowers returned to their original place on the sill, sitting pretty as if nothing had ever happened. She smiled mischievously as she leaned over to him and said in a whisper, "You're better than your father."

He laughed.

As Draco left the room he couldn't help but to find the irony in the situation. The twisted cycle that they had created. The very womb that he had come from, was the very womb where he had shot his own seed; mother to son, son to mother. If she ever asked, he would be able to tell her with complete honesty that he didn't regret it and never would.

Author's Note:

I just wanna give a quick shout out to my friend "T" who explained to me a little bit about Freud. After talking to him he seemed to make me come to two main possibilities on how this could turn out:
1) I give Draco the opportunity to indulge sexual intimacy with his mother.
"If they fuck it's possible Draco is satisfied, if they keep going at it depends on how Narcissa feels about it I think... Freud would expect a son with this complex to bone his mother at every opportunity." - T

2) I let Draco walk away. He never indulges in any sexual intimacy with his mother. He could go insane, or his problems could deepen.
"Depends on what you'd like to write. Both are good alternatives for exploring Freudian psychology. Exploring either the release and satisfaction of living out urges (fucking) and the mental stability that comes with it, or the deepening neurosis caused by shame and guilt associated with urges you can't act upon." - T

So I hope Freud would be pleased with this story. I understand incest for some people is dirty and disgusting. Most people would agree, however this is written for a challenge that is based on Freud's theory and not necessarily meant for pointless smut between mother and son (though technically I put a lot of detail in the smut that was rather unnecessary). I am open to flames.

Thanks for reading.