She froze, her breath gusting over his lips, her warm brown eyes dark and flecked with gold, hazy with arousal. He could feel every inch of her body; her thighs straddling his lap, the dampness of her pussy through the silk of her panties, cool against the material of his pajama pants, which did little to hide his own natural response. Stomach to stomach, chest to chest, he could feel her heart beating fast, feel the weight of her breast in his palm, her nipple still hard against his thumb. Her usually pale skin had become flushed, rosy with passion. Her scent teased his senses, fresh and sweet with a bite to it, like lemon mint.
“Always such a bloody fucking tease, Selina. Don’t start something you can’t finish.” James murmured.
The words had come out before his brain had caught up.
Her eyes narrowed. Those red lips parted slightly, and a pink tongue ghosted out to lick them, flicking against his mouth.
“I always finish what I start, James Potter.” She murmured huskily against his mouth. “You of all people should know that.”
James deliberately relaxed beneath her, putting his arms behind his head to lean back to look up at her. She was still glaring at him, and his heart skipped a beat as he saw the wheels turning. He had broken the #1 cardinal rule when dealing with any member of the Black family: never dare – or challenge – a Black.
Nothing to do but brazen it out. “As interesting and as overdue as this particular conversation is,” he drawled. “Might be better to save it for another time, yeah?”
A slow smirk curled her lips. They both knew that she had won that round, but he was right.
“How long have you been awake?” she demanded.
“Just a minute or two.” He shrugged, still deliberately casual. “I have to say, that was an infinitely better wake up call than the antidote Remus shoved down my throat the first time. Tasted like morning breath after a bender, times a billion.”
Narcissa squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together, not certain if she was holding in a laugh or a scream. “We will revisit that conversation later.” She said tightly, moving off of him and the bed in a fluid movement and briskly fixing her clothes. “Because if you speak again right now, I may kill you myself and save everyone the trouble permanently! You have a lot to atone for! Starting with where the fucking hell you’ve been for the past twelve years, or at least the past two, since the last time I saw you was in Diagon Alley two years ago when you were Polyjuiced as a buggering werewolf!”
His eyes widened comically. “Two YEARS?!?!” He yelped. “How?”
“That’s what I want to know!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “How are you alive in the first place? Voldemort killed you!”
“Ah. That. He came really really close to killing me.” He corrected. “Like, I was on the brink of death. Worse than I was here, even.” He paused to consider. “Yeah, because this time around, Dumbledore just dosed me with the potion. Voldemort literally tried to kill me with a curse!”
“You used the Draught of Living Death to try to counter the Killing Curse.” She said slowly. “Are you serious?”