Harry Potter 1. Sapor Termino

_Chapter Story. Nothing belongs to me, all J.K. Rowlings. Please enjoy…_

"I am sorry," Lucius Malfoy stooped down, bending his elegant body as he began to siphon the emerald green ink from the stone flagging of the common room. She shook her head gently.

"No, it is quite alright Mr Malfoy."

I shall replace it," he continued, smiling slightly as he flicked his wand and the shards of glass disappeared, "I should like too."

He turned away, after an enigmatic smile of apology as a leaving token and strutted across the common room to sit with his gaggle of friends, all anticipating his arrival.

"That boy loves himself," Roderick growled, throwing the tall boy's back a distinct look of loathing.

"Oh," she kept her eyes on the parchment as she answered her suitor, "He does not."

"Yes he does," Roderick snorted, "Prince Malfoy, King of the Slytherin Common Room! Quidditch Captain, prefect…_death eater._"

"You are just envious," she answered cruelly and then standing up, she bent down as she gathered up her things, "Maybe you should go and sit with that gaggle and wish you were one too."

Casting her eyes back on the group in the far corner, she watched Malfoy as she made her way up the stone steps. He seemed to court everyone's attention with little effort as he was surrounded by his friends. She hadn't spoken to him before, though she liked the way he strutted around without a care, without being obnoxious. She had, nearly, almost, not quite been part of that group which he lead. She hung around the fringes, never quite slipping in as it was all to enticing, all to exotic. She knew about their activities, their practices, their predilections. She liked it all, she liked him. She shook her blonde head slightly and with that dispelled the notion of lust for the altogether bad boy, whom she wanted to get to know.

She startled as a bottle of ink was placed down in front of her, clanging slightly in the quiet darkness of the library.

"I did say you didn't have to," she looked up at his figure, half ensconced in the darkness, half illuminated by the yellowy light.

"And I said to you, Miss Black, that I wanted too," he nodded his head slightly, and motioned to the chair next to her, "May I?"

"Please," she lifted the bottle of ink and studied the bottle, there was a crest on it, "This is very pretty ink."

"Malfoy Green," he answered, leaning back, "Still sealed."

"Your family has its own ink," she frowned prettily, "You must have money to burn."

"We do," he answered lazily and laughed, "Please forgive me, but you look quite beautiful in this light."

It was almost whispered and she had to struggle to hear it; she blushed dreadfully and was thankful for the dull and dusty lighting in the library.

At first, even though he had complimented her, she found his presence rather irritating but as time wore on she found herself putting her work to the side and sitting with him for hours, talking about nothing really. Nothing hugely important or critical or world changing, just things.

It was nearly dusk, though it was a Friday so not terrible, by the time they left the library and went back to the common room. He offered her his arm, but oddly, awkwardly, she refused.

The next day, when she had risen - which was somewhat later than usual, given her late night - Roderick was already waiting impatiently for her in the Common Room. As they meandered through Hogsmede, he began to pester her.

"Please," he sighed dejectedly, "Just come home with me? Your father has given you permission, just for the weekend. You can even have a separate room."

"Oh, thank you," she said with inevitable sarcasm, "I am so pleased you would grant me that one allowance."

"Oh, do come on," he lowered his voice to a whisper, as he pushed open the door of the Three broomsticks, " I have been very patient with you, Narcissa."

"And I apologise," she said hotly, turning angry eyes on him, "For not putting out what you want!"

"I did not mean it like -"

"Drakakas," Lucius Malfoy interrupted Roderick mid-sentence, strutting into the bar behind them, "Why don't you stop grumbling and join us for a drink?"

He looked at Narcissa, "The both of you, I mean, of course."

"Of course," Narcissa answered before Roderick could refuse, though he wasn't likely too because he liked the idea of being in the in-crowd, she would be grateful for the company anyway. Things between her and her suitor had been somewhat frayed of late and she was forever thankful for the company of others.

"Miss Black," Lucius pulled out a seat and nodded his head to her, rather gallantly as she sat amongst the group. Her sister smiled but didn't speak, Bellatrix rarely spoke. She just sat looking sullen and sexy and altogether too dangerous to be an 'innocent' girl.

"There's a seat over there, Drakakas," he said rather less kindly, motioning to a seat wedged between Goyle and Crabbe. Roderick had no choice and he slumped over, past Bella and Rudolphus to his seat between Malfoy's personal body guards. They barely spoke either, they grunted and growled and she could not quite remember if she had ever heard them speak. In fact, Narcissa quite imagined that they couldn't speak, that they were mute and dumb and this always made her smirk to herself.

"Miss Black," Lucius Malfoy sat down beside her and she could not help but feel his leg pressed to hers under the table, "How are you today? Since last night, I mean."

Roderick was, however squashed between to men made of brick still able to hear and he gave her a look of angered incredulity, as if already she had cheated on him. Though she hadn't, so she turned defiant eyes on him and dared him to go any further.

"Fine thank you," she said haughtily, "And you?"

"Better than I felt last night," Malfoy answered with a smug smile, aimed slightly in the direction of Roderick.

"I see," she looked him straight in they eye, daring him to continue but he simply smiled again and turned to speak to Bella. And, she was sure he placed a hand, just fleetingly just momentarily, on her leg.

Autumn seemed to approach with a speed quite unsurpassable by other years and she found that days had come and gone and she hadn't realised, especially with the amount of work she had been assigned by her classes.

She sighed to herself as she spooned some of her cereal into her mouth ,and looked over her potions essay again.

"Please!" Roderick huffed, "Come home with me this week end, come on! We can leave tonight"

"Ok," she finally gave in, as she finished of the last of the essay, " Fine."

Sixth and seventh years were allowed home at the weekends, as long as they had permissions from their parents and Roderick had been pestering her from the summer just to go home with him one weekend. It had become wholly tiresome and now, she had finally given in.

"Good! Good!" He stood up, somewhat more amused as he scooped up his school things, "Jolly good!"

He stooped to kiss her cheek and then took off. A moment later an other voce behind her, far more refined and less excitable. Breathe on her neck, a familiar, haughty drawl.

"Go on! Please," Lucius mocked then sat down beside her, "Please!"

"Stop it," but she smiled anyway, "Leave him alone."

She looked at him, his grey eyes staring into hers, "Why are you so horrid to him."

"He's poor…and disgusting," he stared to turn at the retreating back of Roderick Drakakas, "I mean, can you imagine his _mansion_, a sprawling ruin in the middle of the Yorkshire Moors. With his poverty ridden family, still clinging onto their pure blood status. He disgusts me."

"So I see," she said, rather disdainfully, "Well, Lucius why don't you keep your opinions to yourself?"

She had to admit to herself, somewhat unwillingly that she agreed with Lucius but she did not appreciate him quite openly criticising her choice of company.

"Because, Narcissa," he bent nearer her so he had to whisper, "I would hate to not amuse you."

She liked Lucius, very much as it must be said, as a friend of course and she did not see why everyone had a problem with him. He was not as obnoxious as many said, or indeed as arrogant - well certainly not to her.  
"I think, instead of going with him this weekend," he bent so near to her ear she could feel his breath on her neck, "You should come with me, go for dinner, dance..."

"No," she said quietly, "I can't."

"I think you can," he answered, a little coldly, "I think you will." He stood up and, taking her hand raised it to his lips. It took a while for her to realise what he was going to do, but when he placed a kiss on it and then, a moment later, bit the soft skin on her knuckles she let out a small hiss of pain.

"Miss Black," he relinquished her hand and then with a smirk of achievement turned to go.

She couldn't even answer, she just gaped at his retreating figure as he swept out of the hall and realised the tingling feeling traversing her body, something she had never felt before. She couldn't concentrate anymore, not on eating or working. She couldn't even work that day, simply because his eyes were ingrained in her thoughts.

_Please review._

_Yours,_

_M_

_Xx_


	2. Contricio refragatio

That day, after lessons in which she had relinquished no attention she made her way down to the lake to sit under a tree and try and salvage some of the material she was supposed to have learned today. Nothing would sink in though and she knew Slughorn would be highly annoyed when she handed in the potions essay due next week, because nothing she had learned had sunk in today.

She, after a while of fruitless labour, looked up towards the quidditch pitch. A character, hardly unrecognisable was diving on the empty pitch, feinting and showing off to no audience in particular. He looked up momentarily floating in mid air and removed his flying goggles. Then he waved at her, his only audience, and smiled. And then, as only Lucius Malfoy could he dived to within inches of the pitch and then pulled up, so he shot back into the air and then took off. She wondered of one day he would be a proffesional Quidditch player, he certainly had the aptitude for it.

"Show off," Roderick threw himself down beside her.

"Leave him alone, he is my friend."

"I noticed," he huffed, his jealousy hugely transparent.

"Oh, stop being so covetous!" She answered angrily.

"Sorry, you've just been being so friendly with him," he continued quietly.

She didn't even answer him because she was so afraid she would loosen her tongue at him and tell him how she felt about Malfoy and that he was a little boy compared to Lucius and that, well…he was just thoroughly inadequate.

"Well," Roderick continued after a long and tense silence, "Have you packed?"

She looked up to the air, into the now setting sun and the figure of Malfoy swooping like a graceful, tantalising bird. And she felt that tingle again as if he was performing for her, for her pleasure. Like when he had bitten her. It created in her an urge to lie, to be reckless and accept his offer. She let the lie tumble from her mouth awkwardly.

"I can't come," she turned to Roderick, "Mother and Father want me to go home for the weekend, they owled me." She stared at him as if daring him to defy, he just stared back in return.

"Oh, well" Roderick smiled poorly for he knew not to push it any more, he had already irked her, "Ok. I shall see you on Sunday."

"See you then," she didn't take her eyes off the book she was reading as he stood up and placed a kiss on her cheek. She watched him, however sulk off down to the entrance of the school.

She stood up then, stowing all her work away in her bag and hugging herself - for the weather was so cold - made her way to the edge of the pitch. A moment later, Lucius had dismounted his broom and was heading towards her, running his hands through his white hair. She felt the sudden urge to tangle her fingers in it but she wouldn't. because it was not proper to be so desiring of a man.

"So…" she smiled as he neared her and was momentarily disabled by the way he looked. His face glistened with sweat and he smelled of all the things he shouldn't, of sweat and manhood and yet he smelled wonderful and she wanted to bury her face in his hair and run her hands over his elegant shoulders.

"Hello, Narcissa," he tossed his head back, "Aren't you meant to be with Drakakas?" He looked at her darkly. As if he could read all the delicious thoughts she was harbouring in her head. She frowned prettily.

"Stop it," she blushed slightly for she hated being thoroughly transparent and though he said nothing, she knew he was feeling more than smug as he took his hand in his and lead her towards the school.

An hour later, when she had dressed and packed a bag (just a few things for she didn't quite know why she had packed a bag) she made her way downstairs, into the now deserted common room. Lucius was already waiting, sitting by the fire. He stood when she reached the bottom of the stairs and offered his hand.

"Good evening, Narcissa," he took his hands in hers, "You look lovely."

"Lucius," she blushed considerably, "Thank you." .She had never felt so complemented before, so wanted and yet he barely said anything - in fact, he said very little at all and yet she felt utterly desired.

" Well, shall we?"

"Indeed," she made for the stairs out of the common room but he pulled her hand back.

"No, Narcissa," he laughed slightly, almost taunting her naivety, "Do you want us to be seen?"

"No - well… I," she fell silent and shook her head, her eyes slightly lit with annoyance.

He said quietly, "Narcissa, I always have a plan."

He produced a small velvet bag from his inside pocket and threw it into the huge fire, immediately the flames turned emerald green.

"How…?" She looked at him incredulously but managed to recompose herself in a more lady-like manner, cool and elegant.

"I have connections, Narcissa…" he answered with an air of mock mystery, "There's a Professor in this school who is easily bribed with Crystallised Pineapple."

"I see," she answered, following him into the flames.

"Mhmm," He agreed, wrapping a tight arm around her. She squirmed a little, but was concentrating so much on the feeling of his body near hers that she didn't quite catch what he shouted as their destination. Next moment they were swirling through the flames and she felt him pull her closer.

She opened her eyes when the terrible swirling sensation ceased and found herself staring into the dim light of a sumptuously decorated ballroom. She scrunched her eye to try and define something, but all she could see was furniture covered in dust sheets.

"Come on," he took her hand and led her to a door, which creaked miserably in the silence. Stepping through the door, they were in a huge well lit hallway, the walls covered in the portraits of past Malfoy's.

"Wait a moment," he motioned to a seat by the wall as he went through a door to her left, leaving her alone in the dreadful silence.

She felt awkward, stairing at the pictures whose cold grey eyes followed her every slight motion, scowling. Lucius, moments later came through the door again, this time wearing a warmer cloak.

"Ready?"  
She stood up, taking his proffered hand.

"Where are we going?"

"Ahh, that is a surprise," he leaned nearer her, so she was required to press against the nearest wall. He held her there, staring into her eyes, breathing onto her neck. But never near enough her lips to kiss her. She felt him strain against her as if he was trying to resist something and his eyes took on a colour she had never witnessed before, the grey turning black. She squirmed in fear but he would not let her move. He gripped her wrists, as if saying,_ this will how it will always be_.

"Your bag," he whispered, running his hand up her arm, "Is upstairs, by the way."

He smiled then as he pulled her towards two huge, heavy oaken doors and out into the night. He pulled her against him, she felt inexorably guilty and exhilarated all at the same time as he Apparated both of them into the night.

She was grateful for the warmth of the restaurant, even though she had been wearing her ermine and velvet cloak. The weather was thoroughly unpleasant and she knew it would snow soon.

"Mr. Malfoy," the waiter smiled, showing them to their table which was ensconced in a corner at the far end of the room, "Please, can I get you a drink?"

"Wate-," she began.

"Champagne," Lucius interrupted, handing over his cloak and then removing hers, "Please."

The waiter nodded and taking their cloaks in hand, sauntered away to another table.

"If I didn't think of your better nature," she said quietly setting herself down, "I would believe you were trying to get me drunk." She cast a quick glance over her shoulder, just to check they weren't being watched.

"No," he smiled fiendishly, " Stop looking over you shoulder dear, it's highly unbecoming. Drakakas is not going to walk in here, he couldn't afford it."

"Stop," she squirmed uncomfortably, "Stop being nasty about him." He sneered slowly and she felt highly uncomfortable.

"Let's dance," Lucius suddenly said, standing up and motioning towards the dance floor.

"We haven't ordered," she protested, though she stood up anyway.

"It doesn't matter."

He pressed himself up against her, most uncomfortably, highly unsuitably and informally. She couldn't get away though and at first she squirmed at the contact with his hard body, the muscles underneath his shirt. But as he wouldn't relinquish her hip or hand, she had no choice and was forced to relax.

"Why are you doing this?" he questioned, resting his mouth below her ear.

"This? Because…"

"You want something different?" He continued, placing a slight, almost non existent kiss on her neck.

"I, yes…"

"I like dancing," he whispered in her ear and she felt utterly at his mercy, as if he were torturing her and making love to her all at the same time.

"I also like it," she turned her neck, so he had better access but countered her actions with words, "Someone might see."

"Let them," he nipped her ear with sharp teeth, "Let them see you at my mercy."

Dinner was a hurried affair but not awkward, it just seemed an inadequate way of talking, of being together. And there was something all to exciting about being with him, about having him do everything for her. At having him listen intently to her, because Lucius Malfoy was a good listener when he wanted to be. He kept eyes on her always, hungry and defiant.

_Please review and thank you to all my other reviewers who were so kind, especially whoever it was that said they were shocked it hadn't been reviewed more, because ti was so good. You actually manged to make my day!! D_

_Yours,_

_M_

_xx_


	3. A Puella Lost ut Insons Insontis

_Angelle, you rock! Fabulous review, how cute! Thank you!_

When they returned, the house was somewhat warmer than what it had been but the paintings, judgmental and silent followed her as he led her down the hall and into the Drawing Room. Their eyes cast glares and frowns. As if they were admonishing their blond ancestor and his behavior.

Inside the Drawing Room, plush and warmer than the rest of the house she felt a little more comfortable as she settled on one of the overstuffed chairs and breathed a sigh of relief as she noted the lack of portraits on the walls.

"Dobby," Lucius said into the air and with a crack an elf appeared, bedecked in a ridiculous and dirty pillow cover.

"Master?" The elf looked surprised to see Lucius, but bowed anyhow.

"Champagne and strawberries, elf," Lucius said nastily and turned to the mantle, where he rested himself against it.

"Champagne?" She toyed nervously with her fingers, removing her silk gloves.

"Indeed," he smiled as the champagne and strawberries appeared on a near bye table, courtesy of the elf who then made himself scarce. He poured two glasses and handing her one, sat down.

"So, this is your house?"

"Yes," he sighed slowly, "Two months of the years. Less if I can help it."

"I like it," she answered, sipping on the champagne.

"You do?" He stood up, and slowly but meaningfully came towards her. She nodded mutely and was very aware that she wanted this, whatever it happened to be.

"Enough," he smiled, taking her glass from her and offering her his hand, "You are beautiful in the fire light."

"I am?"

"Don't you trust me?" he whispered, running a hand down her face.

"I…yes."

She wasn't sure if she did, she knew of his reputation. Of how he was often given the name of a womaniser, of someone who's domineering tendencies were well documented. Yet she was still drawn to him, over all this because his eyes were different with her. He didn't sneer or glare, he smiled at her alone. He could hurt her if he wanted, because it was what she expected. He could possess her. But she deicide their to draw the boundary firmly in her head, she would be his equal. She would submit only at her own will, she would make sure that one day she was his wife.

"Actions should suffice," he smiled as if he were reading her mind and then kissed her.

His hands ran through her hair, over her arms and hips. He pushed her backwards, so both of them, quite gracefully landed on the brocade of the couch. He pushed hard against her mouth, not that she didn't want it just that she had never felt anything like it in her life. She had never felt such intent, such hard desire conveyed only by someone's mouth. He touched every part of her, under her shirt and her shoulders, her neck.

His hands traveled down her legs, onto her skirt and pushed it up after he had tired of her upper body. Suddenly she was hugely aware of the situation and she fumbled to move his hands, her previous confidence fleeing from her.

"Lucius, I'm not - I haven't ever, stop… I haven't been with -"

He ceased abruptly and stared gently at her face and she was shocked by the kindness in his eyes, " Oh, you aren't…I had no idea, I am sorry." He made to sit up but she grabbed the material of his shirt, so it exposed a white shoulder of fair skin.

"No, don't be…" she turned her face away, to hide the blush creeping over her neck, "I've just never…"

"Cissy…" he whispered gently tasting the sound of it in his mouth and then turning her face with his hand, " Cissy, I think from now on I shall call you that."

He kissed her chin gently, "I thought you had but there's no need. I can wait. A part of me is rather honored."

To her, she knew this wasn't him, she knew Lucius Malfoy would never have said that to another girl. But it made the feeling inside her build up and seep into her veins and she wanted him to posses her, she wanted to give herself to him.

"I want to," suddenly she was fierce with intent, "I want you too."

"No," he smiled gently, "I'm not as bad as my reputation would suggest…not, at least with you."

"Please," she whispered and kissed him. She forced his hands onto her skirt and her mouth onto his, guding the material up with the help of his hands.

"Not here," he whispered almost desperately, as if he was fighting within himself as he tore at the laces of her bodice,"Not here."

And taking her by the hand, he led her through the double doors and past the portraits.

Hours later, he lay on her chest, his breathing hard, and her nostrils were filled with that smell of him, that masculine smell mixed with sweat and the new, oddly enticing smell of sex. His room was dull and warm and she curled her body around his.

"Thank you," she breathed, frightened to speak into the thick air.

"I am tempted to say 'any time'," he lifted his head and smiled languidly.

"I don't feel guilty," she ran her fingers through his hair, "I feel exhilarated."

"What have you to be guilty for?" He stared into her eyes, "For desiring more."

He kissed her then, her neck and chest and collarbone. He assaulted her with feelings, almost like painful blows.

"I've wanted you," he stalled, his hand tangling sharply in her hair, "For the last year. I've wanted to do this to you, to woo you …all this time. I want you, Narcissa."

"I know," she ran her hands through his hair and tugged. And she realized as he had his way, she had know all along. This was fate and she embraced it.

Morning came cruelly, shafts of sun falling through the huge windows and illuminating the room, making the dust dance. She woke to the feel of his breathe on her neck and marveled in the warmth of the room.

"Good morning," he whispered in her ear.

"Morning," was all she could manage but it sufficed.

"You must be rather disappointed," he laughed, burying his head in her hair. She felt his awkwardness in his body, how he stiffened slightly, how he was trying to say something that would not escape his aristocratic mouth. He was not as sure now, he was displaying emotion in something other than actions.

"No, quite the opposite," she smiled turning in his arms to face him.

"I mean, I wasn't the Casanova I reputedly am."

"No?" She was genuinely curious now.

"I'm not like that," he said slowly, "I have never been like that with a woman before."

"How do you mean?" She closed her eyes and let the fresh sun fall onto her face.

"I've never made love to anyone," he answered quite candidly, "I've had plenty of sex but never…Well. I'm not good with words."

It was an easy way out and she let him escape for the time being yet she go the feeling he was struggling desperately to say something intense and deep and emotional.

"I think you are," she said softly, "I think I grasp exactly what you mean."

A look of relief, just momentarily slipped over his face and then his mask of aristocratic arrogance returned.

"Intelligent woman," he said carelessly, "You may well be the end of me."

"Why Don't you educate me some more?" She smiled coquettishly, climbing on top of his marvellous body and bucking her hips, "I learned much last night but I am still very new to this art form."

"Indeed you are," he gripped her hips roughly and pulled her down, "We must do something about this...Bliss."

"We should get up," she said, toying with the silk of his bed sheets after more hours of basking in the bed, "You know."

"I know," he stood up and swung his legs over the side as he reached for the dressing gown on the nearest chair.

"Lucius," she smiled slightly as she sat up too, " I don't have anything to wear."

"I know," he smirked, untying the cord, "I'm going to keep you here, my naked slave."

"No," she giggled in a very unladylike manner, though her current state of undress really didn't call for etiquette. He took it off and threw the dressing gown at her.

"I've got another in my wardrobe."

It was made of immensely plush velvet and smelled of his cologne and it was far too large for her frame but she wrapped herself in it anyway and marveled in the feel of it.

"It suits you," he commented, emerging from his wardrobe wearing a rather tattered and older dressing gown which was rather too short for his long arms.

"I would like to say the same…"

"Come on," he motioned to the door, holding it open for her as he cocked his head, "Let's have breakfast."

_Thank you for the reviews everyone,_

_Hope you enjoy!_

_Yours,_

_M_

_xx_


	4. Vos Permissum a Mulier in Vestri Vita

_Again I can't thank enough for the reviews! They're great!_

In the weeks leading to Christmas, school was somewhat different because she felt like a new person, like someone who had been on a trek in Tibet rather than a girl who had spent a weekend in Malfoy Manor. She felt as if she was walking about in a day dream and a very enjoyable one at that. Moreover that she was privy to something delightful and, more importantly being pursued by Lucius Malfoy. Of course she had sadly but necessarily, made ends with Roderick.

"Miss Black!" Professor Binns had told her she was on her last warning merely moments before, "Will you pay attention!"

"Sorry, Professor," she stuttered slightly, "I apologize."

"Leave my class, Miss Black," he ordered with a sigh and she was compelled to stand up and pack her things. She sulked out, much to her own charging as her fellow class mated sniggered at her back.

"Well well," she heard a voice behind her as she made her way down the deserted corridor, rucksack slung over her shoulder, a voice she now reveled in, "Miss Black is out of class," he slipped his hands round her waist, "As a prefect, it is my duty to punish her." He was feeling playful today, evidently.

"I dare you Lucius," she said haughtily, "I'll make you pay."

"Oh bliss," he kissed her neck, "Did you get kicked out of class?"

"Indeed I did," she answered, "Binn's hates me."

"No taste, no taste at all," he smiled, nuzzling her hair, "Let's go for a walk."

He led her along the corridor and out into the snow, his arm around her waist.

"I was thinking," he smiled, "We should go to my home this weekend."

"Oh but it's odd and you will think this is strange but it's so big, so cold…" she shivered, "I don't like it much."

She had not been invited to his home again, they had spent the last few weeks in the castle and so it had never became necessary for her to tell him how uncomfortable the sprawling mansion made her feel.

"I know," he pulled her tighter as he removed his cloak, "Here."

She took the garment gratefully and wrapped it over her shoulders, "Lucius," she approached the question carefully, "What of your father?"

She had been trying for some weeks to ask him this but each time he avoided it, or answered the same thing. He never indulged her curiosity.

"I don't see him," he answered bluntly, "He left when I turned 13, I never see him."

"Lucius," she said gently, placing a hand on his arm but he pulled away.

"Let's not discuss it," he said formally, "It's boring, tedious even."

"Not to me."

"You are far too nosy!" He bit out, "Learn to hold your tongue."

"I was merely asking," she said coldly, "Suit yourself."

He stared at her momentarily in anger and then turned swiftly to continue walking, she caught up and slipped her hand into his. He said nothing but he took her hand nonetheless.

"I forgot," she suddenly remembered, "Mother's coming to Hogsmede this weekend to meet us. Well me really, because Bella canceled." She wasn't close to her Mother but still, she felt it was only manners to meet her at least once a year.

"Ah, I see," he kissed the side of her head, "Not a problem."

"maybe you could meet Mother?"

"I'd rather hex myself Cissy," he laughed, "All that womanly talk of dresses and gossip."

"We don't speak about things like that," she answered curtly, "You can walk me to Hogsmede then?"

"You have a deal," he kissed the side of her head again, "And also I think you and I should make our relationship public."

"Really?"

"Really."

"But I just ended it with Drakakas," she said, "I thought you didn't want to, just yet."

"No, I'd like to see him suffer."

"I see," she looked at him disapprovingly, "You are very cruel, Malfoy."

He sneered then and she was compelled to wonder exactly what had come over him. Sometimes he managed to be two different people all at the one time.

"So," Brita Parkinson edged her fat bottom onto the seat, "You and Lucius Malfoy. It's already about the Common Room. Is it true?"

"What do you think?" Narcissa looked at her disdainfully, staring into the chubby face.

"I think, well done!" Gretel chimed in, "Just splendid!" Though Narcissa could see jealousy etched around her mouth she smiled sweetly at the pathetic Gretl.

The Common Room was buzzing with the latest tidbit of news and Narcissa was beginning to regret her enthusiasm for letting Lucius let it 'slip' to Gretel who had, inevitably told the entire school. Yet, she was rather pleased when Lucius smiled at her from across the room, eliciting a wondrous gasp from the girls sitting around her.

"Miss Black," he sauntered across the room, making quite a show and their was a part of her that just knew he was out to make her blush, "Might I?"

She nodded her head as he threw himself down beside her.

"What are you doing?" she hissed.

"Irritating you," he laughed, slapping her knee, "Evidently I am successful."

"You've changed your tune," she smiled at him, "You were very sullen today and at dinner."

"I was?" He looked at her as if she was lying, "Miss Black, I think you li-"

"Malfoy!" She looked up to see who had interrupted Lucius and found Roderick, slurring and angry and cradeling a half bottle of Fire Whiskey.

"I knew it," he said hotly, rolling up his sleeves, "I knew you wanted her."

"Excuse me?" Lucius looked at him like he was filth and Narcissa had never seen it before. She was suddenly very warm, very aware of just how much she was attracted to him when he looked at someone like that.

"How dare you," Roderick seethed, spitting in the now standing Lucius' face. Narcissa looked on, not quite sure what to do. She watched Lucius clench and unclench his fists and she felt the need to step in.

"Roderick see sen-"

"Leave it Cissy," interrupted Lucius by raising his hand, "This is between Drakakas and I."

"Cissy? Cissy?" Roderick turned his eyes on her with incredulity, "You gave him what he wanted!"

Narcissa didn't really see what happened next apart from Lucius' flying body as he flung himself at Roderick, his hair feeing behind him as he pounded his fist hard against Roderick's' face.

"Lucius, Lucius no!"

She dived forward as gracefully as possible, grabbing her lover's school shirt, "Stop! Stop this instant, the two of you!"

The two men separated after provoking a chant from the watchers and knocking over a table and bookshelf, much to Narcissa pleading.

"Stupid boys!" She screamed, hauling Lucius off him, "Stop!"

"Sorry," Lucius muttered, moping blood from his nose on his shirt, his eyes rather dejected as they scanned her face.

"Apologize to her," he muttered to Roderick but Roderick turned his face away.

"I would never apologize to a whore like her," Roderick said coldly, "A whore that would sleep with a Malfoy. Then again Malfoy, your Mother-"

"Shut your mouth, or I swear on it," Lucius made to dive at him again but this time Goyle interceded, holding him back as Roderick stalked out of the room.

"I'm sorry," Lucius said quietly as people, loud with talking of the momentary events made their way back to their seats. He kissed her cheek and everyone was too busy gossiping about them to see it. He turned his back on her and made his way up to the dorms.

What had provoked such a fight, she had the distinct feeling it wasn't her. She knew from the rage in his eyes, the plae of his face, the force of his fists. She wanted to got to his dorm and so as the common room emptied she did, makign her way quietly up the stairs to thier dorm.

Everyone else in his dorm, Crabbe, Goyle, Mulciber and Dolohov were sleeping. Snoring loudly. She knew which was his bed for it was the only one with the curtains drawn. She pulled them back, only slightly and undressing swiftly, not caring for the consequences laid down beside him. He stirred slightly as she pressed her face to his back.

"Goodnight," she whispered, kissing the nape of his neck.

"Cissy," he grasped her hand that lay across his heart, "Bliss.".

"So, darling how are you?"

"I'm fine Mother," she smiled, removing her scarf and finding them a table at the back end of the café.

"Good, good!" Her Mother smiled slightly but could not dispel the awkwardness, "Bellatrix wrote today to apologize again. A weekend with the Lestrange family, it must be serious. Is it?"

Her mother was very precocious about her daughters' futures, especially after the recent scandal with Andromeda and was, as society had bred in her, always glad to know of gossip and scandal as long as it did not concern her own children. She was not a good Mother, not by Narcissa's estimations but she always kept that opinion to herself.

"I really don't know, Mother," Narcissa frowned slightly at her Mother's unbidden curiosity.

"Oh well," her Mother looked slightly disappointed.

"Sorry to disappoint, Mother" she chided, "But I have some news of my own."

"Oh?" her mother looked decidedly more pleased.

"I have ended it with Roderick," she decided to keep the other part of that story to herself, simply because she liked to keep her Mother out of the picture for as long as possible as it was _always_ the safest option.

"Oh, well I can't say I'm not pleased," her Mother answered airily, "He was not of our stock, very primitive the Drakaks'. definite suspicion of some altogether un-pure blood member. Not your type dear. Not an honourable family."

She wasn't sure if this was her mother's idea of consoling kindness or just her voicing her true opinion and she rolled her eyes in discerning amusement.

"Hello, Miss Black," she looked up and was startled out of her reverie by Lucius, nodding his head pleasantly at both her and her Mother as he and his friends strode past. He smiled again and she had to wonder why he done things like this sometimes, was it simply to tease or to rile her.

"Who is that young man?" Her mother whispered loudly, so that Lucius looked over his shoulder and smiled. Narcissa felt herself blush but set her eyes on her Mother.

"Lucius Malfoy," she answered.

"He is quite lovely looking."

"Mother!"

"What?" Her mother smiled incredulously, taking a sip from her tea, "He's very handsome. Cheek bones you could cut potion ingredients on!"

"Ok, I get your point!" She leaned towards her mother as she grasped her chance to find out, she lowered her voice to a whisper, "Tell me, what do you know of his family? He's a very curious creature."

"Oh, now that was sensational!"

"Really?"

Narcissa was not one not to know what she was embroiled in.

"Well," her Mother reveled in gossip, "Years ago, when the boy was ten maybe their was a _lot_ of gossip."

Her Mother was only truly happy when gossiping, it was the only relief she got perhaps from the tedium of living with the monstrous Cygnus but Narcissa truly loathed the hobby and found it very unbecoming of any lady, regardless of their social standing.

"Gossip?" Narcissa tried to look less than darkly interested and she thought she must be rather successful, for her Mother plowed on with enthusiasm.

"Yes about Ira Malfoy, it was interesting," her Mother looked at her suspiciously suddenly, "Why do you want to know?"

"Interest, Mother. He's my friend but he never speaks of his family. Even though their pure-blood royalty and infamous. Who is Ira?"

"The boys mother of course! Anyway, it was always rumored that Ira was not happy in her marriage, though Abraxas was much enamored by her. Of course, she was not happy - and who could blame her. She had always been a wild one, Ira, never happy. Your father went to school with her and Abraxas. Well, it was rumored that she ran away with Drakakas' father. You know, Roderick."

Narcissa had to prevent herself from letting her jaw drop at that moment because this news had come as quite a surprise.

"of course, it was all hushed up. Abraxas put it out she had died, the funeral a family affair. But everyone always suspected something more. It was odd that at the same time that Roderick Drakakas's father went missing and it had always been known they were more than friends. And then to make matters worse, Abraxas up and left when the boy was about 13 to fend for himself. And there is rumour they, I mean Roderick's Father and Ira live in France. He couldn't live in that manse without the wild Ira. Of course he gives the child more money than you could imagine but I can't see it making the boy less lonelier."

Narcissa didn't have an answer for that and suddenly she understood why Lucius never spoke of his Mother , why he was reluctant to speak of his Father. She now, inexorably felt terribly guilty for trying to find this out because it was truly none of her business.

"That's horrid," she said quietly, "Imagine how terrible it must be for Lucius."

"Oh, imagine the scandal!" Her mother said, reveling in the juiciness of the gossip, "It was huge news."

"I see," Narcissa cast her eyes on her lover, surrounded by friends but not uttering a word. She hated her Mother for knowing this, she loathed her for divulging his darkest secret.

"Is he a nice boy?" Her Mother pressed on, standing up and leaving some knuts and sickles on the table for the bill.

"Yes, he's very nice," she answered quite distractedly, "At least he is to me."

"Yes, I had heard he was a bit prickly from Bellatrix," her Mother confirmed, "Though he would make a wonderful match. Though, on second thought I think it's not wise to associate with him either, no matter what a match he would make. Your Father would never approve, regardless of the name of Malfoy. If he's anything like his father, you won't want him."

Narcissa did not answer and she was grateful for the blizzard outside, for it detracted from her non -committal actions as her Mother walked her to the gates of the castle.

"I hope," her Mother smiled as a parting word, "You're coming home for Christmas?"

"We shall see," she kissed her Mother's cheek, "I might spend it with my friends, I'm not sure."

"Oh well dear," her Mother answered, "At least promise me boxing day, I fear it may be just your father and I on Christmas." Narcissa knew what a dreadful thought that must be for Druella.

"Perhaps," she smiled gently as she walked up to the stair, "Bye bye."

"Bye dear," her Mother answered as she turned on the spot and disappeared.

"Hello," Lucius seemed to come out of nowhere sometimes and he had not been there a moment ago but then she remembered that he could Appparate.

"Oh, hello," Narcissa made her way towards him, her hands held out because she wanted to be near him - to have him hold her. She threw herself at his chest, rubbing her face against the silk of the shirt under his cloak.

"What's wrong Narcissa?" He lifted her chin and checking no one was around, bestowed a kiss on her lips.

"Nothing," she clung tightly to his cloak in a type of apology, in a desperate bid to make him feel loved.

"I love you," she whispered, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"Bliss," he whispered kindly with an odd look of tenderness, "You must tell no one I return those sentiments. That I too…" He trailed off.

She laughed then, a euphoric laugh as he lifted her off her feet and spun her around in the deserted court yard.

_Please Review,_

_Yours_

_M_

_xx_


	5. An Par a in a Diligo

_So, this chapter is sickly short thus I am posting two chapters today. The problem is, it didn't fit in the following chapter but is necessary so here it is. Still, you should review! D Oh, there's naught language in this chapter._

_Enjoy!_

"Lucius," she muttered, running her hand across his back as they lay in the bed of the most expensive hotel in London, "Lucius look at me."

"I need no one," he said calmly and she knew he could see pain in her eyes as he said it. She wondered sometimes if Lucius enjoyed hurting her like this and she imagined sometimes he did it just for fun. And she enjoyed it too, when it was consensual. But now as he said these things just to hurt her, anger rose in her.

"Even someone like you needs someone to spend Christmas with, you arrogant Bastard" she cried out, slapping him hard between the shoulder blades. He growled.

"Lucius, let me spend Christmas with you," she whispered suddenly, lying on top of his back. As he refused to look at her she knew exactly how to grasp his attention.

"Why, why with me? Why not your family?"

He turned awkwardly to look at her, her eyes boring into his. She felt him squirm beneath her as she slipped her hand round his body and reached her goal, eliciting a groan and a reaction quite palpable.

"Lucius Malfoy," she bit his neck hard, bringing blood to the surface so he hissed again as she moved her hand expertly, "I want to, you cannot stop me."

He turned suddenly, flipping under her so she was thrown slightly in the air. He bit hard at her lip, and her own blood trickled into her mouth as he forced himself into her. She cried slightly and then smiled with feral glee as she realized what he was doing. She had discovered this side of him and had known that this was how he was. He bit and scratched and hurt her and oddly enough, she enjoyed it. She enjoyed him sneering at her, enjoyed his icy demeanor and arrogance as he plunged into her.

"Have it your way, Narcissa," he panted, her breath in his ears as he gave her what she wanted.

Secretly, a small part of him looked forward to the prospect of Christmas with someone he loved, if this was love. He had never felt it before, never wanted someone like this before. But all of that was fading from his mind as she moved over him and under him and possessed him and he found it hard to concentrate on anything but her.

"Don't ever swear at me," he said gritting teeth as he ground into her, "Do you understand?"

She cried out in answer as he crushed the bones in her wrists against the head rest.

"Tell me you understand," he said coldly though his actions conveyed passion so intense she thought she might burst.

"I understand." She nearly screamed it but not quite, she would not betray her pleasure so easily.

* * *

"So why," she questioned as they walked in the grounds after dinner, "Why doesn't your father not come home?"

"let's not do this," he answered, taking her hand in his and kissing it, "It's tiresome, really."

"Oh Lucius," she laid her head on his shoulder, "Who did you go to for Christmas?"

"Crabbe, Goyle, whoever. It really does not matter, I always have someone's company," he studied her face, "Oh, don't look so sorry for me! I am a Malfoy, Malfoy's survive on their own."

"Silly Man!" She said berating him and then motioning with her hands, "I love these gardens Lucius."

She stared around her, the tinkling fountain of Malfoy Manor played a slow melody to accompany their walk. They had arrived mere hours earlier and he had offered to walk her in the gardens because he knew she loved the snow and the smell of winter.

"Is my home any warmer?" He question, turning icy eyes on her. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"It can be," she said cryptically, "When I am Mrs. Malfoy, for that is a certainty, I shall make it my home."

"I like that," he smiled smugly, "You are so sure I will make you my wife?"

"Of course I am," she said quietly, intensely, "I am the only person who knows you Lucius, I am the only person who can give you want you want."

"I would like to think," he pushed her roughly, so that her back cam into contact with the bark of the nearest tree, "That you are not becoming to familiar, Miss Black."

"No," she made to kiss his lips but he pushed her face away. She smiled angrily and bit his lip hard.

"You learn well," he whispered, "But don't ever think you can get the better of me."

"I don't," she rested her head on his shoulder, "But I am too much of your equal to lie down to you."

"I know," he lifted her head with a soft hand, "maybe that's why I fell this way for you, you are equal."

"I am unsurpassed," she laughed, her voice echoing in the silence.

"Narcissa Black," he stared at her, helpless, beautiful, "You are becoming addictive. I fear I might drown in your eyes one day."

"Don't be silly," she lifted his hand and kissed his palm through the leather of his glove, "You already have."

He kissed her then, frantically, desperately.

_Please Review,_

_Yours,_

_M_

_xx_


	6. Factum Sufficientia

_Ok, second chapter of today. Enjoy!_

The next day, he had left early in the morning and to where she did not know. He left her in the bed, with a note telling her he would be home for dinner that evening and so she had Malfoy Manor all to herself. Though she imagined that this place could not be discovered in just one day. on the bed side table he had left her a box of fine chocolates which she savored slowly, instead of a sensible breakfast. He had told her the elves were at her disposal and so they were. But there was only so much she could make them do before she felt restless. it was Christmas eve and to make it worse, she felt so uncomfortable in this house on her own.

She soaked in the bath for a long while with a book from the vast, dusty library and how she loved this bath. It was huge, big enough to fit more than five or six people and was raised out of the floor, with marble steps leading up to it.

She got bored though for this book was not what she liked to read, it was some nonsense about the Dark Arts and in all honesty, was a little repetitive. She dressed, leaving her damp hair straggling down her back as she went in search of something else to do.

She got caught up in the portraits though, the non-verbal, barely moving portraits of his ancestors. She noticed how flaxen they all were, grey-eyed and beautiful. A family of beautiful but reckless people. In a far end of the Drawing Room, in a corner of darkness there hanged Ira and Abraxas and a frail, beautiful Lucius.

Dust covered the portrait, cracked and broken on the surface. Ira was not like them all, she was not platinum and diamonds but ebony and fire. She had eyes full of something disastrous, like a collision. But Abraxas had nothing, spare a sneer so fitting that Narcissa shivered. Lucius did not look out of the portrait at all, he stared always, forever at the floor.

She wanted to burn the portrait for it upset her to see them, even though she knew only one of the three. She wanted to stamp on the disaster that was this family because oddly enough, it reflected her own notorious House of Black.

She avoided looking at the walls in the hallway, for they whispered silently about this new Mistress of the Malfoy enslavement as she quickly made her way towards the room through which she had first entered this Mansion, the ballroom.

The ghostly figures of furniture long-shrouded in dust sheets surrounded her but still music from long ago soirées echoed. She knew now why Lucius hated this house, the ghosts had never escaped it. It managed to speak without saying a word. She would banish this from it, she would banish them from him.

She moved to the nearest piece and whipped off the cover, a plume of dust rose and she coughed slightly. Under it was a chair, beautifully ornate and pretty. She done this with each in turn, piling the sheets in the middle of the room. A beautiful grand piano stood in the center, disused but stunning. With each sheet removed, something stirred within the house's walls itself, squirming uncomfortably but she pressed on until finally the room was, however cobwebbed and dusty, presentable.

She realized the sun was setting outside and she pushed the tendrils of hair back that had escaped her chignon.

"What are you doing?" A voice behind her, a startling question.

"Lucius," she turned to him, but his face was unreadable.

"Don't touch this room, Cissy," he said quietly, his face blank, "Don't touch it."

He turned to go, and she wasn't quite sure what to do. She didn't call his name, or run after him as she felt she had no right to. The house stirred again.

That night, they did not eat together for she could find him nowhere. She went to bed alone, hoping he'd lie down beside her soon. And she drifted into a fitful sleep.

Hours later, how many she did not know she woke suddenly, cold and still alone. She reached for his robe and wrapped it round herself, for she had now fully coveted it and it was hers and made her way downstairs.

She followed the eery music, like nothing she had ever heard in her life, to the ballroom. Almost in a trance, for she could feel the fingers on her body, feel the breath of notes on her skin.

She had never known he could play but then again, she realized, she knew very little about the man that she loved so much. He seemed immersed in long forgotten dreams as his elegant hands caressed the keys with the passion that he administered on her. Beside him, almost dwarfing the figure at the piano glittered a huge and magnificent Christmas tree, which had not been work of her own.

She didn't want to disturb him, she wanted to make sure he had this time to himself and so she turned to go back to the sleep from which she had woken.

"Don't," he continued to play and stare ahead at the stand on which rested the non-existent sheet music he was playing, he removed one hand from the keys and patted the stool beside him. Then returned to playing.

She sat down beside him and watched his hand flutter over the keys, a wild piece that she did not recognize but loved regardless.

"I did not know you could play like this," she said after a while.

"Neither did I," he said strangely, "I forgot I could at all."

His hands moved faster and faster and his face changed, so that all that it portrayed was rage as the music became deafeningly louder. His breathing became erratic, angry, hard and she didn't know what was happening. She wanted to pull him back from the abyss over which he loomed, fearless of the consequences of his actions. She seen it in his eyes often, that gleam of sinister evil that resided within him as he made love to her. How he fought it, how it won sometimes.

"Lucius, stop" she said quickly, slightly frightened by the aggression on display.

He continued on, his hands bashing the ivory keys and turning the melody into a horrible clang of wrong keys and chords until she could no longer discern sound from pain.

"Stop!" She commanded loudly and with a terrible, clattering finality his hands came to a halt and up to his face, burying it in his hands. She rested her head on his shoulder as he sat at the piano, no longer playing the crazy, erratic melody.

"I'm sorry," he said after a moment, raising his eyes from his hands to meet hers, expectantly, "I haven't…" He trailed off and looked on hopelessly, he had forgone all eloquence. She had disturbed the Ghosts in this house and they had managed to haunt him again and rob him of his voice.

"It doesn't matter," she looked at him, for she could find no words "You play beautifully and I am sorry."

"Thank you," he answered sincerely, "I quite forgot I could do it so well. But my hands, they're larger than before…"

"And beautiful," she lifted one hand and then the other, "The Christmas tree is beautiful."

He smiled gently and then taking his wand from the inner pockets of his robes, waved it wordlessly at the piano. The keys began to move of their own accord, imitating the melody she had heard him play. She wondered if this piano was enchanted of old, or merely enchanted by him - much like she was.

"Dance?" He took her hand in his and led her to the middle of the ornate marble floor. He pulled her closer than she imagined she could be to anyone.

They had to accommodate the furniture scattered in different places and the pile of dust sheets in the middle but he moved her effortlessly, beautifully. She felt as if she would melt at any moment, as if she was indiscernible and nothing as she rested in his arms.

"Narcissa," he breathed into her hair, "Let me make love to you, here?"

And so she stepped back and she allowed him, among the dust sheets.

She was sure, somewhere in that time when time itself seemed to stop he said he loved her. She knew it, she didn't need to hear it, something told her that all of this was enough for her to survive forever. Words were immaterial to her, to him, to both of them. They loved each other through action - action sufficed.

_Please review,_

_Yours,_

_M_

_Xx_


	7. Fides

"Good morning," she smiled at him sweetly, "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you," he rolled over so he was facing her entirely, "You too."

"Get up," she order quietly, "You have gifts to give me."

He laughed languidly and raised himself up, straightening his pyjama top.

"And," she climbed out of bed herself, "I have Christmas dinner to organise."

He smiled lightly but said nothing. He caught up with he brisk walking pace though and placed a protective arm around her waist. Narcissa Black was wise enough to know that gratitude did not always materialise in words.

Christmas breakfast, she insisted was followed by each opening their presents in turn, rather than opening them all at once. Even though they had been courting for only two months, she realised how well he seemed to know her and her penchant for the finer things in life. Perfume, robes, underwear, shoes, furs and hats. But he relinquished one gift till the last, till she wrestled it off him and greedily tore it from it's wrapping.

Within the box lay something so beautiful, she herself - as vain as she was - felt inferior next to it. It was a necklace of diamonds and pearls, glittering in the light from the fire.

"Tears and purity," he whispered, slipping it round her neck, bestowing a kiss just above the clasp of the chain.

"Thank you," she smiled up at him as he kneeled over her, his hair dripping over his face.

She reached behind him and handed him a long box, wrapped in a green bow. He took it from her, smiling rather impishly and removed the lid. Inside was the cane with which he would become synonyms.

"Olivander made it," she said quietly.

"I love it," he answered, studying the ebony, " I shall take it everywhere, it will cut a good figure of me. Don't you think?"

"Yes," she laughed gently and leaned forward to kiss him but he grasped her wrist instead and kissed her palm.

"I'll make you my wife," he whispered, nothing but surety in his eyes, "No one will stop me."

"I know."

Christmas passed in a flurry, as did the Christmases proceeding and eventually they married - he fulfilled his promise. The Black's disowned her like they had their other two daughters' for her terrible choices but she had him and the safety of the Name of Malfoy and the nights that she submitted to him. She gave birth to Draco, his pride and joy - his magnum opus and hers. She let him take the mark, she watched as he was arrested. But still, she submitted; for he was irresistible and he always needed her.

_**Onto Part 2 of the story, **because you seriously didn't think I'd leave it here! I'll post the beginning of part 2 later._

_Please Review_

_Yours,  
M_

_Xx_


	8. Institutio of Diligo

_ Part 2. _

* * *

"Put down your quill," she order, "It's late. You promised you would stop working . Don't think you are going to get out of it."

"I know there exists no chance of that," he answered rudely, earning himself a sneer, "I will stop Narcissa, if that pleases you."

"Of course it does," she grinned slyly, " Perhaps if you're a good enough boy you will get an early Christmas present."

"Oh really," he put down his quill and reached out for her hand. In one swift move, he pulled her to sit in his lap. She reached out and removed his glasses, bestowing a kiss on his nose.

"You look tired Lucius," she said softly, "You have been working terribly hard."

" I have not, I swear it to you. I just did not get much sleep last night," he rubbed his eyes, "Being away from you does not bode well with me, I hate business trips at the best of times anyway."

"I know," she stood up brusquely and pouted, "But then again when do you ever listen to me?"

"Ha!" He snorted ruefully, "Stop pitying yourself dear, it's highly unbecoming."

"I-" she began to answer as the door of the library bust open.

"Hello!" Draco beamed at both of them and Narcissa rushed to him, hugging him gently. He had grown, he was nearly taller than her she noted.

"Hello, darling," she almost gushed but not quite, "I did not think you'd be home so soon!"

"I got into the group flooing home," he smiled politely to his Father, "Hello, Father."

"Hello son," Lucius smiled slightly, "You are slightly sooty, but nonetheless here. How is school?"

"Fine," he shuffled slightly under Lucius' scrutiny and Narcissa made a mental not to remind herself later on to tell her husband to lay off about his academic achievements. He was only 13.

"Good." Lucius smiled and she seen Draco slump with relief beside her.

She had the uncanny feeling that her husband had read that thought in her eyes, so well matched as they were, and had let it rest. It was Christmas Eve after all.

"Come on," Lucius stood up and removing his glasses, looked at his son, "You and I are going for a round on the Quidditch pitch."

Narcissa cocked an eye brow at her husband, "Oh really?"

"Yes dear," her husband ushered their son out of the room, "Come now darling, don't look so enraged. It doesn't become you."

He was like an excitable, over grown child in one glimmering second and she was overcome with the urge to stamp her foot as he smiled gloatingly at her, the man was so very infuriating when it came to having male company that was willing to endanger their life on a broom.

She watched them out the window, for it was far too cold for her to even contemplate leaving the warmth of their home. She found herself just as attracted to him now as she had been when first he swooped and dived for her as his audience. She looked forward to his return, when he would smell the way she loved. The smell that overrode his cologne and pedantic grooming regime.

He was better than Draco, she admitted quietly to herself. His skills and trust of his broom far outweighed the newer model of broom that Draco was sporting with his slightly less refined style. It was a good thing she had bought both of her boys new, identical brooms for their Christmas. It would save any more unnecessary competition developing than already existed.

They trundled in an hour later, both pale skins' mottled with the harsh cold of winter and dragging brooms behind them. She held the door open for them, for she wanted to close it as soon as possible and keep the heat in the house. Draco, dripping snow now melting on his clothes ran into the Den to get the best spot by the fire but Lucius hung behind.

"That looked like fun," she said dryly, contradicting her tone by taking his broom from him and settling in his arms. She breathed in his hair and that smell and revelled in it. He kissed the crown of her head, so lightly she wasn't sure if he actually had and ran a possessive hand down her side.

"Bliss," he whispered, dipping to kiss her neck and she was not sure to what he was referring. But she knew it was her and deep down, she knew it was, for he always called her 'bliss'. She breathed in the scent of his clothes and him and wanted to strip him in the hall, because he was so magnificent. It didn't matter how he riled her, she would still indulge him.

"You smell good," she suddenly admitted, without meaning to.

"I do?" He looked at her oddly then smiled, "Really. You are strange, my dear wife."

"I am?" She cocked an eye brow as she remained in his arms.

"Yes, but beautiful."

"Do you love me?" She taunted him gently.

"You needn't ask," he said softly but firmly.

"I know," she smiled and then kissed him.

"Are you two coming?" Draco was standing in the doorway to the den, looking at them rather incredulously, "I am hungry."

"And impatient," Lucius cuffed him on the shoulder, enough to make him flinch but not enough for it to hurt.

After dinner which was somewhat filled with the most ludicrously idle chatter on the part of her son, they retired to the Den. The only room in the house where the family managed to be truly at ease. Lucius sat by the fire, paper in one hand, a snifter in the other. She read a book too but was actually in reality, running through the list in her head of what she had bought for Christmas. Two pairs of Dragon-hide boots, a set of Eastbourne Eagles Quidditch robes, Bespoke cloak, silk shirts and belt for Lucius and who knew what else. She had bought Draco a camera, a good few books for Lucius too. A new set of duelling leather for Lucius, simply because they took her eyes also. Both of them a broom and Draco a set of flying boots and new goggles. Those were just the main gifts, she added faintly in a slight panic.

"Draco," she warned, watching her son rustle and prowl at the mountain of gifts under the tree. He looked up, batting eye-lids in mock innocence.

"Come away from that tree," Lucius growled, not looking up from the Evening Prophet. Draco withdrew his hand as if it had been bitten from within the pile by a strange animal.

"Don't you have some studying, or some such other thing to be doing with your impatient self?" Narcissa asked kindly.

Draco snorted derisively, "No! it's the Christmas holiday."

"Watch your tone, boy," Lucius warned, this time raising his eyes from the paper, "Otherwise I'll hire you a tutor to make sure you have plenty of work to occupy yourself and pick up those marks."

Narcissa raised an eye brow at her son, enforcing the threat with a stern gaze. He smiled slowly, instead playing on her affections. He had learned very much from his Father's charming mannerism.

"Can I open one?" He said, no longer able to control his impatience.

"No," Lucius affected a stern drawl, he took his pocket watch from his waistcoat and studied the face, "It is time you were going to bed."

Draco opened his mouth in protest but thought the better of it. However, being his Father's son he would not give in so easily.

"Might I choose a book from your collection Father?"

"You may," Lucius narrowed his eyes but let whatever comment Narcissa expected to come to his lips pass, "Goodnight, son."

"Goodnight Father," he move across the room towards her, "Goodnight, Mother."

He placed a kiss on her cheek and as Draco passed Lucius, her husband placed a hand on his shoulder and patted it affectionately as he stood. Her little boy smiled and ran out of the door.

"Now," Lucius remained standing as she addressed him, "I believe you have something for me."

He smiled knowingly and took the hand she offered as he led her from the room. Time for a somewhat tradition of their own personal Christmas.

"Play for me," she demanded quietly as she took her seat on the stool beside him, "Play for me."

He began a now familiar melody, which remained nameless to her and she closed her eyes, enjoying knowing how his fingers fluttered over the keys. with the familiarity that they oft fluttered over her.

"You still play beautifully," she whispered, frightened to disturb the peace in the music.

"So do you," he stopped playing and turned to face her, "You play very good games with my mind dear."

"I see," she laughed softly and lifting his strong arm, ran her finger over the faint white mark on his forearm. He watched her every move and stilled her wrist, "Let's try to forget."

"I do," she whispered, "But it made you different."

"I know," he hung his head slightly, so he could kiss the skin of her neck, "But not to you."

"No," she agreed, cradling his blond head in her hands, "No, you're still untouchable."

"And better," he swallowed the difficulty of being open as he raised his lips to hers, "For knowing you."

She smiled against his devouring kiss and pressed herself into him awkwardly.

"Bliss," he whispered as he pulled sharply on her hair, eliciting from her a strangled cry, "You are beautiful."

"Thank you," she smiled, with a distinctly feline edge as she lay her head on his chest, his heart hammering beneath the silk of his shirt. She let rest a moment then bit sharply through the material as the bells of all the clocks in the Manor chimed midnight.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered, "Bliss."

_Please review,_

_And thanks for all the support!_

_Yours,_

_M_

_Xx_


	9. Insolitus Urgeo

Narcissa awoke when it was still dark, her husband entwined around her limbs and she thought it perhaps humanely possible to melt into someone without realising it. She had an issue finding where he might relinquish his grasp on her and then she realised he never would.

"Lucius," she said softly, rubbing a hand over his chest, "Lucius, it's Christmas. Wake up."

"Let's just lie here," he murmured in return, pressing into her stomach, "It's too cold to leave this bed. Let this be your Christmas gift to me - indulge me."

"If only, darling," she sighed, "But we have an impatient 13 year old who will no doubt be wetting himself with the prospect of all the parcels under that tree."

"True," he smiled slightly, "He is quite a boy, Narcissa."

"I know," she pressed her head to his chest, "A tiring, alarmingly excitable boy. But still, he reminds me of you."

"I was far more subdued," Lucius opened his eyes, "Was I not?"

"You were more intense, you were a man before your time…" she pondered a moment then kissed his chest. "That is what made me attracted to you."

"Oh," he laughed gently, "You are far too sentimental for this time in the morning."

"Cad!" She cried, nipping his chest with her teeth.

"Let's get up," he said, rubbing her back softly in an uncharacteristic show of affection as he sat up and as was always habitual, adjusted his pyjama shirt. She stood up and reached for his cane, which he always lay at the chest at the bottom from habit alone.

She turned to their bedroom door, usually always closed as it creaked open and her son came in already bright eyed and excitable. He had evidently been sitting awake for hours.

"Merry Christmas," he shuffled from foot to foot and addressed each of his parents in turn, "Come on!"

"We will come when we are ready," Narcissa said sharply. For she would not be ordered about by her son when she was still tired. Lucius raised an eye brow at his unusually snippy wife but she simply smiled back.

"Come along now," Lucius stood up and made his way towards the door, "I believe we both have an entire mornings-worth of presents lying under the tree."

Narcissa followed, bedecked in the robe Lucius had 'loaned' her all those years ago - because it was still lovely and velvety and far too large for her and comfortable.

Hours later, sipping tea and eating crumpets they were surrounded by mountains of paper and presents and Draco still had more to open. There was sometimes Lucius seemed rather jealous of the attention his wife divested on their son. She handed him the illegal book she had managed to acquire from overseas and he kissed her nose gently, "I have something for you."

"Oh," she looked at him dryly, "Haven't you gave me enough, dear?" he had again, as he did nearly every day, flourished her with paintings and flowers and robes and jewels. She really wished sometimes he would stop but then again, a present was the way Lucius said "I love you."

"Never enough for Cissy," he whispered and she was glad of it, for Draco was far too busy playing with a cheap camera they had bought him the morning before in Diagon Alley and for some odd reason, she didn't like her son being privy to his parents' smothering relationship. It was not all wine and roses of course, this marriage; for sometimes they were as stubborn as each other. But these moment, brief and strong made up for it. The verbal duelling, the nasty comments, the frozen mannerisms that each affected. They melted in these moments or times when they were on their own.

Lucius reached into his dressing gown pocket and produced a small velvet box, embossed with the Malfoy Crest. This little show of arrogance made her smile as he flipped the box open.

"It's beautiful," she smiled gently.

"It's an eternity ring," he answered, removing it from the box and slipping it on her finger, just above her wedding band, "I…well, it speaks for itself, dear."

"Thank you," she stared at him and for an odd moment she seem within him the black replacing the grey, the urge to bite but the fight to withdraw. She loved his control, his ability to prevent or master his urges. And she loved his lack of ability to voice how he felt.

The flash from the camera brought them both back to their senses and she laughed slightly as her husband dived at their son for the camera, gently but quite firmly wrestling it off him.

"This was a bad present," he breathed childishly, rubbing Draco's blond hair roughly.

"But Father," Draco laughed peevishly, "It will make a beautiful picture."

"I don't think so," he smiled gently at his wife and left the den.

She stared at the ring on her long finger and admired the emeralds as they danced in the fire light.

"I wonder where he got it," Draco said, staring at the ring.

"Knowing your Father," she said slyly as she handed him another wrapped gift, "Somewhere he ought not to have bought anything."

Draco snorted slightly as he tore at the wrapping paper.

The two brooms she had bought her boys rested against the far away wall and she moved them to the corner where the portrait of Abraxas and Ira and Lucius still existed. She stared at it because she hadn't for years and for the first, frightening, startling time Ira raised her defiant eyes and smiled at Narcissa.

She let out a little shriek herself as her Mother In Law's face returned to an impassive frown of arrogance.

"Narcissa," Lucius looked at her strangely as he closed the Den door behind her, a cup of tea in his hand "Are you alright dear?"

"Yes," she said distractidedly for a feeling of ill had swept her as she stared at that portrait, "I'm fine, it's nothing. I just feel faint."

He smiled at her and settled by the fire with his latest book, "Sit yourself down dear, it does me no good to have an ill Wife on Christmas. Who will oversee the Christmas dinner?"

She frowned prettily and lay down on the couch as she watched Draco study his new chess set. He looked up momentarily and then smiled at her,

"I think this is the best Christmas ever," he said turning to her then his Father.

Lucius looked over his book and cocked an eye brow at his son, "You say that every Christmas."

"I do?" Draco puzzled momentarily, "So I do!"

Narcissa laughed as she sat up, trying to dispel the notion of discomfort creeping into her bones.

"I'm going to dress," she nodded to the brooms' resting against the walls, "You boys should go for a round on the pitch, while the sun's higher in the sky."

Lucius looked up and at the brooms and then sneered slightly, "You are in an odd mood. Permitting us to risk our lives on brooms."

"Oh, be quiet," she said icily, crossing her arms across her chest, "Well, you might as well embrace the opportunity. It won't happen again."

"Fine," Draco abandoned all his presents and dashed out the room, "Hurry and get dressed Father!"

Lucius stood up after a moment, eyes still on his wife.

"Narcissa," he gripped her shoulders, "Are you sure you are well? You're not pregnant are you?" It always slightly concerned her that this was the first thought that entered Lucius' head when she was ill.

"No," she waved a careless hand, "No."

"Good," he raised an eye-brow, "I couldn't deal with another."

"I would never dream of it," she kissed his lip and closed her eyes.

"Bliss," he lifted her chin with his finger, "You beautiful creature."

She smiled and kissed him again, "My ring is beautiful."

"I know, it compliments you," he winked at her as he made his way from the Den.

She wandered down the hall, the eyes of the portraits still following her as she came to the door of his study - they still did not approve of her, perhaps because she had brought happiness to Malfoy Manor. The camera rested on his desk, beside it, the photograph that he must have charmed from the instrument, she smiled to herself . Today she would wear the necklace with the pearls and diamond, just to compliment her ring.

_Sorry it took so long, I had tons of course work!_

_Lol_

_Yours,_

_M_

_xx_


	10. Profundus

Part 3

_**IMPRTANT:Ok, so we've time warped back to their younger years. This story is complicating even me, so we're at the point Narcissa's just left school!!**_

_**Thanks for the reviews.**_

"I want you to marry me," he said quietly, offering the ring, "I want to make you Mrs. Malfoy."

"I want to be your wife," she answered, offering the hand onto which he placed the ring. She lay on the fur rug of the hearth, her body unclothed and glowing in the fire light. He ran a finger down the column of her neck, down between her breasts, over he stomach.

"Such a beautiful body," he whispered, "You will make a fine wife, a beautiful Mother."

"Thank you, Lucius," she smiled gently, brandishing his hand and brining it to her lips. He lay down beside her and fiddled with the emeralds of the ring.

"I have just left school," she said slowly, "I didn't think you would ask so soon after I left school."

"I don't want anyone thinking you are not mine Narcissa," he said sincerely, "You are mine. I merely want to make sure no one thinks you are on the market, you are to be courted."

"I am not the type," she said coldly, "Though I doubt my parents will be happy."

"I doubt they like me, my family has a reputation," he snorted, "And I do not like your parents, or your sisters."

"I know," she narrowed her eyes, "But I will tell them."

"At your peril," he said bitterly, "You understand they hate me. I may be a pureblood, I may be from the richest wizarding family in the world but I am not worthy of a Black."

"I couldn't care less," she laughed coldly, "Just imagine Bella's face. Imagine how beautiful our child will be."

"Imagine," he kissed her possessively, "Imagine your Fathers face. Do you hate them, Narcissa?"

"I do not hate them, I do not love them. We have never been close. They are mad, fundamentalist…"

"And you?" He stared at her, "Don't you agree?"

"Yes, with the ideals. But they are ruining themselves, the house of Black will cease to exist after the death of my sister and I."

"And, the house f Malfoy will be you," he said firmly, "I want you to forget about them, Narcissa. I want you to think only about me, like I do you."

She smiled, nodded but said nothing. She did, after all only think about him. And she knew, for her Mother had managed to find out about their liaison that she would not be happy. She found Malfoy arrogant and dangerous, she knew of his intentions, she knew more about his past than Narcissa did and did not like him.

"Mother hates you," she said simply.

"I couldn't care less," he answered arrogantly, playing with a strand of her hair, "The Black's have no right to hate anyone. You are all a bunch of inbred, obnoxious…"

"Be quiet," she said sternly, for she would not have him berate her family any longer. He smiled cruelly, but let it lie anyhow.

"When will you tell them?" He questioned finally, reaching out a hand to trace a pattern across her nose and cheeks.

"Tomorrow." she answered, holding up her hand and studying the engagement ring as it glinted in the fire light.

"It is beautiful," she commented lightly, though she had many a jewel that Lucius had bought her.

"It is, isn't it?" He stood up, his glorious body pearly in the light and reached for his robe. She noticed it then, like she was always compelled to do. The Dark Mark. It writhed on his arm, black, haunting. He had told her of it months after he had graduated Hogwarts, showed it to her. He contorted slightly in pain as he dressed, for she knew it burned worse than anything in the world.

She never really, even after a year and a half knew what to say in these situations. Instead she just watched him and felt in herself, nominally, that fear that often encased her. Even as she allayed herself with the cause, she knew what he had done, what he would do for it. She knew, already he was a murderer. He had, with a somewhat perverse enjoyment shown her the chamber below the drawing room merely weeks before, trophies, bits and pieces. Strange, Muggle devices.

She liked to detach herself from that part of him, from that strange, odd, horrible part of him that she liked to think didn't exist. Sometimes, when she watched him flinch over this burn she wondered why she put up with this side of him, the black invading the sensibility.

"When will you be back?" She almost bit out, standing to cover herself with her crumpled cloak.

"I don't know," he looked at her strangely, "Don't wait up."

"I won't," she answered acerbically.

He sneered at her, knowing she meant to convey exactly her tone and meaning.

"Drink some wine. Darling," he grinned cruelly as he turned on the spot.

So, was this to be her married life. She sneered at the thought as she cleared the mess from beside the hearth, deciding she would irritate him when he got home.

Indeed, he didn't get home until the sun was creeping over the horizon to steal the night from them. She watched him preamble over the lawns, clad in black, beautiful, tortures.

He closed the door behind himself as he came into the room, which had that morning smell of breath and burned embers. She drifted in and out of sleep as he crept in beside her, smelling of cigars and lurid things she liked not to imagine. He sidled up, body warm and hard against her.

"In your dreams," she whispered cruelly, for she was not in the mood to please him. He didn't give up though and he had been drinking, she could tell, "You smell terrible."

He grunted lucidly, "Indeed I bet I do. But still, am I not fuckable, fiancée?"

"No," she snorted, wriggling out of the bed, "And, come and tell Mummy and Daddy tonight you proposed, Lucius. Tell them you're going to make me your own little whore."

He grinned lopsidedly and turning over, closed his eyes.

As she sat watching the sun cover the dark, she tried to stop wondering what he had done. She knew he tortured people, she knew what he liked to do. She never ever did mind that he drank, for he rarely did. And in fact, she quite liked a drunk Lucius but it was just that smell on him, the acrid smell of something untoward that made the reality of his predilections all to real. She shook the notion as she watched one of his peacocks strut across the lawn. She went to the owlery and sent an invitation for dinner to her parents tonight, she had no choice.

He hustled down to breakfast in a dressing gown, his hair dripping with shower water. Smelling of clean pristine, velvet and black. He smiled at her sheepishly, a rarity in Lucius Malfoy.

"Good morning," she cocked an eye brow as she handed him his paper. He bent low to kiss her head. She placed a hand on his shoulder and stopped him, kissing the skin below his ear. He groaned slightly and lifted her up by the waist.

"No," she pushed him away and wiggled from his grasp, "Eat breakfast darling, come along."

"So, your parents tonight? Dinner?" He groaned slightly as he bit a piece of toast.

"Yes," she smiled, "Dress in your finery, most arrogant behaviour. Irk them, Lucius."

He grinned, "Why don't we just not."

"Not an option, dear," she answered, "Oddly enough, don't you have work to do this morning?"

"I have," he shook his head slightly, "I have so much but in all honesty, it can wait if you can think of something better. Shopping, darling?"

"What will you buy me?" She cam to stand behind him and began kneading his shoulders.

"Well, I'll drop into the Ministry. Hand some things in, then we can browse until evening. Buy you something beautiful to wear tonight."

"Don't I always look beautiful?" She asked slowly, "Don't I look beautiful, lying underneath you?"

"Merlin, yes!" He sighed again. "Are you punishing me with imagery?"

"Maybe," she stood up to go to the window. A large owl, a black family owl had appeared at the pain and was tapping impatiently.

"My parents accept our offer," she looked up dryly from the letter.

"I was hoping they wouldn't," he shook his head, "No such luck."

"Ha!" She closed the window behind her.

He stood up and walked towards her and reached a hand onto her shoulder, "My darling. I…" he looked at her, "Last night I'm sorry I left abruptly."

"It is nothing new," she answered casually, "I know it is going to be like this."

"As long as you understand I-" he stopped again and squeezed tightly, "It's just… a hobby."

He smiled oddly as he turned to go.

"But it isn't, is it Lucius?"

He kissed her then and smiled sadly as he closed the door.

_Thank you for sticking with me!_

_Yours,_

_M_

_Xx_


	11. Irritum Elite

"Isn't it lovely?" She smiled slightly as she spun round, the skirt belling marvelously at the bottom.

"I don't know," he growled impatiently, looking heavenward, "It's time we were going, Narcissa."

He leaned against a chair, where gowns and skirts and shirts and clothes were piled high, due to his fiancee browsing. He wondered just how long they had been in here.

"We have plenty of time," she answered, turning her back on him and disappearing back into the changing room, "The Elf's are preparing dinner."

"Mr. Malfoy," Madame Malkin sided up, her smile rather gleeful given she knew what he would be induced to spend, "Is everything to your satisfaction?"

"Yes," he answered gritting his teeth, clenching his fists. He always regretted taking Narcissa shopping, even though he always forgot - and repeatedly did it - how truly terrible the experience was.

"I'm finished, Lucius," she emerged, clothes pristine on her body. He nodded slightly with a sigh of relief.

"Is that all for you?" Madame Malkin took the huge pile of clothes she wanted and began pricing them on the very odd till, which made little comments on the garments now and then.

"Yes," she smiled a 'thank-you' at him as she adjusted her hair in a mirror.

"How much?" He question Madame Malkin, rather grimly as she handed over the bill and he took out his check book. He didn't ever carry enough cash to pay that, so he signed his signature rather hastily and pulled her arm out of the shop, ordering Madame Malkin to have all the garments sent to the Manor.

"How do you manage to spend all that money?" He inquired as the walked down the street, her hand resting on his arm.

"Do you grudge me it?" She questioned cruelly, stopping to look longingly at the shoes in Amblers Boots and shoes.

"No!" He cried out slightly as a child on the busy alley collided with him, "Of course I bloody well don't!" And truly, he didn't.

"Well then," she smiled sweetly, "Stop complaining."

"I am not," he smirked, " I fear all your spending may bankrupt the Malfoy name, I thought that quite impossible but you seem to be trying."

"Oh, but you earn so much more than I could ever spend!"

"You want a bet?" He led her through the Leaky Cauldron and out onto the bustling street. Immediately, he began walking imposingly. Overbearing, beautiful, frightening. She couldn't keep up with his strides as he hurried towards somewhere quiet they could apparate.

"You don't have to rush so," she put a hand on his arm, "Stroll leisurely, darling."

"I'd rather not, after all aren't we going to have to endure a splendid evening of your atrocious parents?" He sneered, his fowl mood having returned "Let's start the amicable mood now!"

"Stop it," she ordered, as they turned on the spot. She was not content, after they had landed in the ballroom to let it rest there.

"You must be decent tonight, Lucius," she warned wearily as she followed him out of the ballroom, nearly tripping over the pile of bags and boxes freshly delivered by Madame Malkin.

"I will be," he sighed turning to her as he put a restraining finger on her lips, "No more words. I'll be bathing."

She growled gently as she watched him go, shaking almost with contemptible anger as she followed him up the stair a moment later. Sometimes, she wondered why she was marrying him.

The bathroom was thick with steam, so warm she felt the breath evaporate in her chest and dizzy her to breathlessness. He languished in the bath, his white skin mottled with the heat. She wanted to reach out and stroke him and her indignant anger turned to lust, to wanting something she knew was easily achievable. But instead she admired the marvelous body from afar, in the reflection of the bathroom mirror. The blond hair, dripping onto the marble, the elegant hands lying weakly over the huge edges and eyes, closed in glorious relaxation before he would have to face her parents. She wanted her children to have those hands and hair, and the males to have his looks. They would get everywhere, they would be successful at everything if they took after him. And the females after her.

"I wish to be young forever," she mumbled slightly, overtaken by jealous grief at the knowledge she would one day lose those looks.

"Sorry?" He didn't open his eyes.

"I want to be young forever," she answered vainly, staring at her reflection then his to gage his reaction.

"You needn't be young to be attractive," he answered and momentarily, her mouth fell agape at his kind candor. She was barely sure if Lucius had the heart to utter those words but then again, he always managed to shock her with how much he loved her.

"Not to me anyhow," he continued, opening his lazy eyes to stare intently at her naked reflection but added quickly," But you should not stop making an effort. Though I doubt you would, my dear, vain Narcissa. You are a namesake well suited. Narcissistic to the extreme - but justified. We make a fine pair, we will storm the world."

He stood up, beautiful and uninhibited as he rose out of the water. She thought he might reach for the towel but he didn't. Lucius never felt any need to hide himself. Instead, he stepped down the stairs from the bath and came to stand behind her.

"Rule the world," he whispered in her ear, running his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, "And you will stand beside me, unchanged by time and still beautiful…" He ran fingers through her hair, piling it in his hands and tugging gently. His tongue licked down her neck and he lowered himself to carry on down her spine. She closed her eyes, leaning on the counter for support as she went weak at his touch.

"Your parents will disown you," he whispered, turning her softly so she was pressed between his lowered form and the bathroom counters. He kissed her thighs, each in turn.

"I know…" she ran her hands through his hair as he stood up, so he was eye level with her. She wanted to see him and he would never bow to her for long. He forced his lips to hers in a painful, harsh kiss and she was powerless to stop him, willingly she let him lift her onto the counter. She knew what he wanted.

"You are so beautiful," he lifted her up fully so her entire body was supported against his. She smiled deftly, and watched in the mirror as they made love. How beautiful they looked.

Their earlier, more carnal events were dispelled by the time they sat awaiting her parents in the drawing room. All notions of a fun night having vanished in the aftermath of it, Lucius had returned to his former, fowl mood. She decided to say nothing, still weak and languid from her time in the bathroom. Though far better dressed and presentable in one of her new dresses. She had seen to all the arrangements which in all fairness to the elf's' had been followed to the letter and so now she adjusted the canapés on the table and angled the decanter.

"I don't know who you are trying to impress," he yawned derisively from behind the 'Evening Prophet', "You are already shaming them, they will know by now you did not attend the ceremony. Oh, and how angry they will be. Then, when they find out it is to marry me-"

"Shut up, you cretin!" She snapped hotly. He lowered the paper, smiled cruelly and then hid his face again.

An elf popped its head round the door moments later, "The visitors is arriving at the front gate, Missus."

"Show them in," she muttered, straightening up as she felt tension build in her lower back.

"Calm yourself," he said standing up and discarding the paper on the table, "You are a Malfoy."

She shot him a sideways glance and he grinned fiendishly, she returned it. How wicked it was to be liberated by a name. she had never though of it like that.

"Mrs Black," Lucius smiled charmingly and bent his body over to kiss her Mothers hand. Druella stayed for as long as propriety demanded barely necessary then relinquished her lily-white hand as if he had bit it. Her parents seen the Malfoys-pure blood as they were- as scum. Not worthy of a Black, certainly. They all were philandering, womanizing, conniving and tainted. But then again, if that was the Malfoy's, what were the Blacks? She grinned quietly to herself as she turned to her Father who was as much as philandered as any other.

"Father," she kissed his cheek, "Hello."

He obviously could not contain himself enough for niceties, "You did not graduate?"

The incredulity in his tone was laughable as he growled at her.

"I had no need to go, I graduated in absentia," she waved it off with a casual hand as Lucius moved to pull out her dinner chair, then her mother's. It was straight to dinner for Narcissa as a hostess this evening, no drinks in the drawing room first as she had planned. No pleasantries for these guests and the tension they brought with them.

"No Black has ever left Hogwarts having not graduated!" Her Mother suddenly bit out, unfolding her napkin with violent motions.

"Excuse me if I am wrong, my dear Mrs Black," Lucius interjected, looking positively overjoyed at this opportunity that presented itself to mock her parents, "But didn't Andromeda leave without graduating?"

Cygnus flushed desperately and Druella stared at her plate. They lifted their forks and began to eat. Lucius simply shrugged his shoulders and began eating too. He sat at the head of the table, King in this game of chess, which he seemed to be thoroughly enjoying.

"Well," Lucius said, sitting back after the main course in which they had all endured a terribly long silence, "We haven't set a date yet…though I want to make her my wife as soon as possible."

Narcissa looked at him as if she might like to hex him severely but he plowed on, rather enjoying watching the famous Cygnus Black floundering in his own murky mess.

"A date for what?" Her Mother's eyes met hers and for the first time she felt a fleeting stab of pity for what she was about to do.

"Our wedding," Lucius licked his lips, behind a sneer, "Of course."

"Of course," Cygnus stared at his plate as the pudding appeared on it, "Of course."

"Is this what you want Narcissa?" Druella had formed many ideas on Lucius, none of which Narcissa knew to be true. Druella breathed gossip, none of which was ever hugely substantial, so Malfoy had become synonymous with pure blood scum in her dusty mind.

Lucius stood up and banging an angry fist on the table just for effect, seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself living up to their expectations, "Of course it's what she wants, isn't it Cissy?" He smiled devilishly at her.

She didn't hesitate, "Yes Mother."

"I see," her mother puffed out a breath, "Well, it is a blood match-"

"No!" Cygnus stared at her, dragon like and she was suddenly tormented by the power he exercised over her as a child, "No!"

"Oh yes," Lucius' whisper cut above his shouting like a hiss, "And you will not raise your voice in my house, old man. Especially not to a woman."

"I am held in better esteem than you, Malfoy or your cad of a Father!" He answered, standing up also.

"Indeed," Lucius drawled, flopping backwards as he looked momentarily at her and the terror on her face "Do sit down, you are embarrassing your wife."

In a sudden moment, calm seemed restored in the most tentative way possible and Narcissa seen this as her opportunity to say what she had to, thanks to Lucius.

"I am to marry Lucius Mother and Father with or without your blessing."

"So I see," Cygnus growled, "We will attend the wedding but after that, as custom we will see you only at formal events. We are not pleased with this match, we will not see it as a good one. We will not bless it, as is Black tradition if it is not suitable. We will attend the wedding to hand you over and wash our hands of you."

"Bravo Cygnus!" Lucius clapped his hands derisively, standing up and mockingly giving an elaborate bow, "What a fond rendition of the Black fallacy. Unless you marry your cousin, you are disowned…fabulous parenting, even better family values! My, what a lot my in-laws are, eh Narcissa?"

She turned to look at him, pleadingly for she could not stand to see her parents so embarrassed any more. He took her warning and sat down, one leg resting across the other, steepling his fingers as he watched what was to happen next. She knew what she would do. She moved to stand behind his chair, her hand resting on his velvet clad shoulder, the king on his claimed throne. He reached his hand to hers and twisting his neck slightly, placed a gently reassuring if very obvious kiss on her knuckles.

"I am Mrs. Malfoy," she looked at her parents as her father clenched his fists, "And I am sorry it must be like this."

"He will destroy you," Druella looked at her, "You know."

"She knows," Lucius answered before she could, "And she is my only saving grace." He squeezed her hand.

"I know," she looked at her Father, then swallowed.

"Send us an owl to let us know the day of your wedding," her Father's eyes shamed her, "Sometimes I wish that the Black family didn't require us to be at the weddings to hand our children over when we do not agree, I'd rather die a muggle death than have him as my son in law. His Family are scum, pure blood but scum. Do you know what his Father did?"

"Yes," anger surged in her as she gripped his shoulder tighter, "What you do to my Mother."

She did not see her parents out of the door, she watched them close the dining room door and stood behind him, motionless for minutes.

"Did you mean what you said?" She questioned, not really addressing him as she moved to come and stand before him.

"You are my only grace," he lifted his chin to watch her, "You keep me feeling…"

She had never realized this was how he felt, yes he loved her but what was love? Was this is it, did he love her for this? He reached his hand out to her.

"That is why," he stood up and turned to her as he opened to door, fiddling with the buttons of his cuff and then removed his jacket. But even through the cotton she could see it burn, "You will always be beautiful to me. Wait up for me tonight?"

She smiled, "Always."

_Please R&R._

_Yours,_

_M_

_XXXX_


	12. Matrimonium in Spondeo

_Please enjoy!_

Twisting round, she found herself confronted with the image of herself bedecked in her wedding dress. And how beautiful she looked. This mirror only made her love herself more in this dress. She loved the feeling of it against her, like she felt what she was preparing to do was the most right thing in the entire world.

"What do you think?" She looked at her sister and Mother's reflection in the mirror. Her Mother's face shone back in a half-hearted smile. She was dressed in fine robes of purple, Bellatrix in Red as she had requested when asked to be bridesmaid. Rather grudgingly, is it be said. Narcissa's other bridesmaid, Iva Zabini was off seeing to the final touches of the wedding.

"Well," Bella grasped the train of the dress, "It's not the Blacks that paid for this one."

"The Blacks are not paying for anything," Narcissa answered sweetly, "Lucius paid it all. And Father wouldn't give me anything."

Her Mother sighed slowly, then stood up. She had never been close to her Mother and given that her Mother did not approve, she had been very surprised indeed that she had accepted Narcissa's invitation to join her in her suite before the event. She hadn't expected anyone to help her with this wedding but she had known her Mother wanted to, it was the only wedding of her three daughters that would reflect the society she wanted. Six hundred of the royalty of the Wizarding world were waiting downstairs in the ballroom. The buffet was being prepared, the wedding band was setting up and she knew that somewhere Lucius was twisting his thumbs. And that Alphius Dodge would be preparing himself for the ceremony. And even if her father forbade it and then evidence was painted in bruises across her face; Druella was determined to be part of this wedding.

"My wedding was the best," Bella grinned nastily at Narcissa's reflection, "I wore a black corse-"

"We know what you wore, we saw the pictures!" Druella snapped, "I'm glad you took them, the shame that caused! Never inviting your family!"

"Oh do hush, Mother," Bella cooed, standing up to come to the other side of Narcissa's reflection, "You are truly stunning, Narcissa. It's a shame you are wasting it on Malfoy, though he is thoroughly charming and offensively rich. Oh, and gorgeous."

"Bellatrix-" her Mother thought better of berating and instead looked at her youngest daughter "You are beautiful Narcissa, I haven't looked at you properly for years."

She looked at her Mother, then to her sister and then back again and wondered how her family had come to this. Why her sister had become so wild and why her other had disappeared? And her Mother, when was the last time she had spoken to her Mother in anything more than trivialities.

"You have grown into a beautiful bird," her Mother suddenly seemed to well with tears, "You are not going to be ruined, promise me you won't let him ruin you."

"She's not you, Mother," Bellatrix said quietly, anger in her voice as she stared with animosity at her own Mothers reflection. The tiger was never to be tamed in Bellatrix. Druella looked weakly at both her daughters, the dark and beautiful Bellatrix and the cold Narcissa and then stared at her own feet.

But Narcissa could not bear Bellatrix's cruelty, she could not stand to see her Mother in so much pain.

"Mother," she whispered as Bellatrix left the dressing room of her suite and walked across to a decanter, from which she poured a large glass of fire whiskey, "I am so glad you came today."

"Thank you," her Mother reached out to her hand, "Thank you very much."

Narcissa never wanted to justify herself to anyone but she felt so much pity for the Mother whom she barely knew that she found herself trying to comfort her as they waited for noon. She wondered why this had come to this, why in those school days of Hogsmede she had never seen the sadness in her Mother's eyes.

"He is not bad Mother," she said quietly, "I-I love him."

She had always known her Mother did not believe in love so this had not been a particularly intelligent thing to say but Druella reached out uncharacteristically and brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face, "You are my hope," she smiled gently, "You were this beautiful thing and intelligent bundle of hope. And I want you to run and come to me if ever he-"

"Enough Mother," she turned away to slip on her shoes, "I would not allow him to do anything to me, and I know he will not. He loves me."

"After today," her mother pressed on, "I will not see you again, Narcissa. Your Father will not allow and I will not disobey him. I am sorry about this."

"I knew about that, Mother," she turned to her as her veil swished behind her and the long train of her dress, "I understood what marrying Lucius would mean for my Father."

"I know," Druella sighed as a knock came to the door. Instead of sitting idle, Druella raised herself up and answered. It was Yaxley, Lucius' friend and best man on the day and Snape, his young 'apprentice' who had been around the house a lot more of late. He nodded curtly to both ladies as he strode into the room with the nervous Snape in tow.

"Narcissa," he smiled, "You look stunning. Lucius shall be pleased."

"Thank you Yaxley," she smiled graciously at both men and Snape nodded slightly. Yaxley moved towards her and put out his hands, so that what he was carrying became more material. It was a leather case, with which she had become familiar. From Lucius' favorite jeweler in Paris nonetheless.

"This arrived this morning from Paris, Lucius was afraid it wouldn't get here in time," Yaxley looked slightly embarrassed, "You know what he is like."

She smiled and took the box from him, pulling of the white ribbon gently. Inside glittering diamonds welcomed her, on fabulous platinum. A necklace and bracelet and earrings. She smiled at the gift then at Snape with a devilish smile.

"He also said that you'd not to think this was your wedding present," Yaxley rolled his eyes, " He said he just thought you would look nice in it. And that he, well, you know what he feels for you."

She reached up on tip-toes and divested a kiss on Yaxley's cheek, wondering if Lucius had sent him just to be cruel "Give him that from me, will you?"

"Not likely," Yaxley laughed and made a rather quick and embarrassed exit dragging the meandering Snape with him.

"Mother," she handed Druella the necklace, "Put this on for me?"

"Gladly," Her Mother draped it round her neck and then locked the clip, "He has impeccably taste."

"Well," Narcissa closed the back of an earring as she gazed at the clock, "It's time."

She smiled to herself thoroughly astounded she had got this far. She was about to be Mrs. Malfoy and how wonderful that felt.

"Are you ready?" Iva, pretty and already disastrously lost of her first husband came into the room, "Why darling Narcissa, you look quite swell!"

Narcissa smiled and laughed at her old school friend, of model-quality who was hugely scandalous to her family who did not like her choice of career. And how it beguiled her that Iva did not care one jot.

"Thank you," she turned once again to look at her reflection in the mirror, "And how excited."

"I have never seen you so animated Narcissa," Bellatrix crowed, "He must be good at something."

Bellatrix always managed to lower the tone as she swigged the last of her alcohol for that morning as they walked down the corridor.

Narcissa could not resist as they made their way down the stairs, "Bellatrix, you should lay of the liquor. You're getting a pudgy middle."

She glided in front, rather pleased that she had brought Bellatrix down a peg or two.

Much to Narcissa's relief and bedazzlement, the wedding ceremony went without a hitch and she was impeccable. As was her groom who seemed more than rather subdued by her beauty. They exchanged rings, which she had left to Lucius to arrange. Of course, Mr Malfoy would wear his on his little finger as was custom and so had managed to wangle a ring in the shape of a snake. Hers was a platinum band, elegant and discreet much to her surprised pleasure. He smiled sheepishly as he placed it on her finger and for the first time he seemed truly nervous. Some guests looked on with feigned interest, others were genuinely pleased for them (mostly old school friends, Lucius' business partners and their present circle) but others were there out of politeness and necessity. Like Dumbledore and Fudge and other people neither particularly cared for and of course their families. Indeed, it was only her small family in attendance. Lucius' Father had not shown face and neither had his Mother, though neither had been expected she knew Lucius had hoped they might, just for him to save the family's floundering reputation. Alas, they were both absent and she made a silent promise to turn the Malfoy name around, to make it reputable.

"You were quite beautiful, I was forced to think I was marrying an angel when you glided down. All to slowly," he whispered so no one knew what he was saying as they danced, "I thought you would never reach me and how afraid I was you would never get there."

She smiled up at him, "Oh Lucius, how lovely today has been."

Most of the unwanted guests had left now, so it was just a small group of around two hundred milling about the ballroom in the glow of firelight, drenched in champagne and eating canapés. Her family had not gone yet but Bellatrix was comfortably ruined, as was Rudolphus and they were curled up in a corner of the drawing room, fumbling about the last time she had saw them. She couldn't care less for she felt so content that what her ridiculous sister did meant nothing to her.

"Let's get a drink," Lucius let go of her and let her pass in front, taking two flutes of champagne from the tray floating nearby.

"To us," he whispered, clinking his glass against her own, "And the world we will create."

"Well said," she smiled fiendishly as she sipped, "I do wish my parents would just go. All the oldies have gone, leaving us to party."

He looked at her sideways and raised an eye brow, "Who are you and what have you done with my wife? She would be tired by now!"

"Wife!" She tried the words in her mouth as she suppressed a giggle, " I am someone's wife."

"You are not just someone's wife Narcissa," he reached out to touch her wedding band, "You are mine."

"Oh and how wonderful!" She smiled and then braced herself as she saw her Father and Mother, dressed to face the cold outside coming towards them.

"Thank Merlin," Lucius whispered but already she could feel terror building in her and pain for she knew this would be the last time she ever saw her Mother as her daughter, rather than a social equal. And her Father, she knew he would not go without a parting word of nastiness.

"Goodnight Narcissa," her mother smiled weakly and in her eyes Narcissa could see a glimmer of hope die, "You make a splendid couple."

"Thank you Mother," she leaned forward and kissed her Mother on the cheek.

"You have let me down," Cygnus did not hold himself as he addressed her," he is even more of a monster than me, Narcissa. For that is what you think I am."

"Father-"

"No, Narcissa" Her Father would brook no protest as his voice raised defiantly and some people nearby stopped to listen, "You marry below you and you expect me to be proud of you! He is filth! Pure-blood does not mean equal to you, you are a Black."

"Mr. Black," Lucius interjected even though he had been there all the time Cygnus had been speaking as if he wasn't, his tone threateningly powerful ,"Let us take this somewhere quieter, shall we? You will not embarrass my wife in front of our guest." With that he led Cygnus out by the arm, discreetly but firmly and Narcissa followed.

The guests went back to dancing as Druella stood in a corner of the ballroom, trying to fight off tears as she searched for someone to save her. There was no one.

"How dare you," Lucius looked more than threatening and Narcissa feared what he may do in this situation, "Never embarrass me like that again, you may be older than me Sir but it does not give you right to think you lord over me. A man of your caliber is no ruler of me."

"And a man of your caliber Mr. Malfoy," he growled, "Is not fit to marry my daughter. You are scum and I doubt there is not some tainted blood in those veins, son! You will turn into your Father, a philandering lecher!"

"Just like you then," Narcissa snapped, "I know what you did when I was little, I know about your Mistresses, your fraudulent charges! I am not stupid Father!"

"No," he laughed cruelly, "But perhaps you contradict that by marrying this fool! I may be many things but a wife-beater I am not, his Father was!"

He may not beat her Mother, she mused but he certainly played mind games with her. Perhaps that was worse.

Lucius head sprung up at this comment and suddenly his eyes were aflame with anger, "Fine! You do not believe I love her, you think I will hurt her? Fine! Right here I will make an unbreakable vow! I will vow to never beat her or be adulterous."

Cygnus stared open mouth as he watched his son-in-law roll up his sleeve and Narcissa just looked at her husband as if he were mad.

"Lucius, no" she shook her head, "I don't want you to do that."

"Why, do you think I will not live up to it?" he looked at her straight in the eye and she felt unbelievably uncomfortable under that type of scrutiny.

"Of course I don't, I trust you too much to make you do this!"

"Get down on your knees Narcissa," he ordered, "I would have you know you are everything to me."

"I already do know-"

"Get down on you knees then," he continued patiently with a serene smile as he lowered himself onto the Persian rug of the study. She refused to move and simply shook her head, she would never make him do this- she knew how he felt for her, no vow was necessary.

"Narcissa," he looked sternly at her, "I mean it."

She looked at her Father, then her husband and hitched her dress slightly so she could rest on the floor better. Lucius smiled kindly at her.

"Lucius I don't want this, I don't need this."

"I do," he said simply as he took his hand in hers and leaned into kiss her forehead.

"Cygnus," he kept his eyes on hers at all times, "If you do not believe me, then you will have this. When you hear of my death you will know I have committed this against your daughter. You understand? Now, do the honors."

Cygnus took out his wand but hesitated.

"Do it, Cygnus!" Lucius almost shouted in frustration as he gripped her hand tighter. She shook her head furiously but did not let go.

"I know you love me, I know-" but already light was binding their hands like a rope and she felt the tight pull of her husband's hand on hers.

"I promise to love you forever, Narcissa Malfoy. I will never be adulterous to you or lay a hand on you unless you grant your permission. I request this in return?"

Another shot of light bound their hands and the glint from her wedding band blinded her, "I too promise all to you, never to be adulterous to you an to love you, forever Lucius Malfoy even in times of trouble. I request this of you?"

"Yes." Another shot of blinding light tied them and then disappeared.

"Goodbye Father." No sooner was it done that with Lucius assistance she had stood and kissed her Father's cheek one last time, "Goodbye."

Cygnus said nothing but nodded curtly to Lucius and left the study.

"Why did you do that?" She question after he had gone.

"To prove…" he trailed off as she frowned at him.

"That was horrible. Surely you think I trust you enough."

"I know you do," he stood up and leaned against the desk, "He didn't."

"The only person that matters is me," she said coldly, "You needn't prove anything to anyone."

"I know that," he looked at her and then turned to look at the window, "I needed to prove it to myself… Marrying you Narcissa, is the best thing I will ever do with my life. I needed to prove that I could love you forever, I need to know I would die rather than hurt you. And you need to know that too. We are different outside of these walls, we are two different people because when I am with you I am not so arrogant, I am not a fool. You make me different and I love you for it. You change me from what I am in politics, in the world of business and in society."

"In equal measure you do that to me," she wrapped her hands round his waist and pressed herself to his back, "You needn't vow anything. What you just said makes me more happy than any vow signing away your life."

"I would die for you," he laughed deeply, "I remember when I didn't care about anyone. And I want people to still think that, have no doubt. I will never be affectionate in public, damn even alone I find it hard to say these thing but I need you to know that I will never stop loving you, ever. You understand?"

"I do," she came to stand in front of him, "You have a reputation to upkeep. It is highly unfashionable to love a wife, especially if she is yours!"

"Indeed," he laughed and lifted her to his mouth to kiss her.

"Come now Lucius," she took his hand, "Let's return to our wedding reception."

"Yes," he sneered slightly as he reached out to still her. He ran a finger from her neck, down the front of her bodice, "Isn't it time I divested you of your virginity?"

"Ha!" She laughed gloriously, "Can't that wait? Somehow I recall my being divested of it already."

"If only," he growled slightly, "Ah but if only on that fateful night you had not been such a wanton creature, I might be taking you this evening."

"I doubt I could have lasted it out," she kissed his chin, "Don't you?"

"With me at the helm darling, you wouldn't have lasted a month!"

"I won't glorify your tremendous ego with a retort to that, Mr Malfoy," she answered as they returned into the throng of guests.

_Yours,_

_M_

_Xx_


	13. A Vas Expleo Explevi Expletum

_Thank you for the reviews!_

She stared down at where her feet were supposed to be but there was only a mountainous bump in the way and she couldn't balance on her heels. They were too tall and she sighed, bending down to take them off but she couldn't reach. How disgusting she felt as she finally managed to get them off with much hassle, after much panting and discomfort.

"Lucius get me other shoes, will you?"

"Get them yourself," he answered from behind the Evening Prophet as he sat at the fire, already dressed in his finery.

"Lucius!" She snapped and sighing he stood up compliantly, muttering expletives as he went and dumping the paper on the bed in a rather weak show of his displeasure.

"Narcissa," he disappeared into her dressing room, "This is the third pair. Why don't you just wear flat shoes?"

"No," she threw herself unceremoniously down and tried to prevent completely uninvited tears cascading down her face. Oh, how emotional she was these days and she would flat-out refuse to compromise style over this bulge in her stomach.

"Why on earth not?" he asked gritting teeth, "We are already late!"

He emerged from the dressing room, one pair of heeled shoes dangling from one, a pretty pair of pumps from the other, "Now, your lovely long dress will cover the pumps, please wear the flat shoes?"

He was pleading now and she smiled impishly as she took the patent shoes that he thrust toward her. They would be far more comfortable, she knew.

"Oh but," she grumbled, standing up and slipping them on, "I am so fat!"

"You are," he smiled gently, never one to lie to her, "But still beautiful."

"I am not," she glanced in the mirror, slightly repulsed them overcome with what this meant - this was impending Motherhood. She rubbed a hand over her bump and smiled. This baby was special, after she had lost the other. Especially, she was surprised to realise, to Lucius.

"I decided tomorrow is my last day at work," he mused as they stepped out into the night, "You are near your time."

"Not until next week," she contradicted, "And you'll just bother me, fussing about."

"No I won't," he frowned, "I'll see to fixing the nursery, getting a basinet for our chamber, getting-"

"Go to work until I owl you I'm in labour," she laughed, "You will drive me crazy!"

"I will not," he pulled her against him and Apparated them both into the bleak night.

As they arrived on the gravel outside Fudge's house, she knew tonight was just one of those nights that would mean a more than sullen Lucius and a more than irritated self. He hated Fudge at the best of times and loathed all social occasions unless he had handpicked the guests himself.

"I dread this," he muttered in her ear, "Boring mundane people…tedious chatter, you know."

"I do indeed," he turned her to take off her cloak and hand it to the waiting elf, even though he mollycoddled her usually he had become even more attentive given her delicate condition.

"This house," he took a glass of champagne for himself and water for her as they entered the room, "Is horrid. I thought Fudge might try harder."

"If he had enough money," she commented conversationally and then as someone whom she detested, Brita Yaxley seen her across the room placed a vapid smile on her face and waved sweetly.

Lucius groaned and sneered.

"Smile darling, be pleasant," she ordered out of the corner of her mouth.

He sauntered off and left her to the gaggle of society wives who had come in a pack toward her - he left her to be eaten alive, making a quick escape, finding instead a corner with Nott, Rosier, Mulciber and a Dolohov in which they could sit and talk of manly things, which bored her.

"Narcissa!" Gretel Crabbe cooed, "Oh my! Look at your bump, you are huge."

"I know," she laughed gently, "But it is just a slight inconvenience."

"Tell me," Laurina Dolohov pushed into the group, brandishing a champagne glass and a desperation for dirt on anyone she could possibly garnish, "Has Lucius been of any help? When I was pregnant with my first, why Anton was so useless I felt as if I were going it on my own."

"Oh, I know!" Divina Goyle- rather chubbier than last she had seen her Narcissa noted - interjected "When I was pregnant, my husband was all nerves, no use at all."

"Of course," Elgara Mcnair interjected sagely, "It's all about the blood lines dear. They don't care about you, just as long as it's a healthy boy they're happy."

Narcissa nodded curtly at the older woman, by a mere 2 years but did not share those sentiments exactly, Lucius cared more about her than the Malfoy bloodline at the moment. As they conversed inanely around her, she watched her husband. Ranting about politics no doubt, surrounded by his fellow Deatheaters and Fudge, who seemed desperate to be correct and nodded avidly and gesticulated wildly with his cubby hands. It was an unspoken acknowledgement by all these society wives at these types of soirees; they knew what their husband's did and there existed a sort of forced camaraderie. But never a fit discussion of course, especially with the likes of The Bones' and Dumbledore floating about so it was always little hints, little laughs at the nervousness they all felt.

But damn, he looked good when he was inflamed with the passion of his business and politics. He was the richest man in the Wizarding World, having netted a huge deal in Muggle holdings yesterday and he looked smug enough. He may not like them but he liked to exploit them. She was proud of him, courting all sorts of attention from males and females as he went. He knew how to work a crowd.

"Stop gazing," Iva was at her side, smiling cruelly. She turned to her oldest and most beloved, genuine friend, surprised she was there and smiled devilishly back.

"Love sick, deranged. What do you see in Malfoy?"

"Iva," she kissed her oldest friend on the cheek, "How are you? "

"let's walk," and unceremoniously Iva excused them both and dragged her out into the gardens. She could feel the disproving stares as they went but she liked her oldest friends company better than their's.

"Isn't this place awful?" Iva questioned, "I mean it is bad enough it is being held by Fudge but Muggle lovers and half-breeds too?"

"Now now Iva," she laughed slightly, "We must be tolerant!"

"Never!" Iva answered with a dramatic flourish, "You look exuberant, glowing Narcissa."

"I am fat," she retorted, noting how with this stomach she waddled slightly, "I feel like a big fat pumpkin on the verge of bursting! It's awful!"

"I bet," Iva linked her arm in hers, "After Blaize I was positively ugly, though I dropped it in two weeks."

"How?" Narcissa questioned incredulously, for she doubted it.

"Starved," she laughed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "It's my job to be beautiful Narcissa, the last thing I wanted was to be fat!"

"Oh you are so vain!"

"And you are not?" Iva grinned at her, "Well, how are you?"

"Wonderful, truly I am," Narcissa answered, " I haven't seen much of you lately."

"I've been busy with the baby and," she lowered her voice, "My new conquest."

Narcissa raised a questioning eye-brow.

Iva needed no encouragement, "Well, his name is Vitalie. He is an Italian Wizard and positively gorgeous!"

"Iva," Narcissa smiled disapprovingly, "You are married!"

"And what of it! My husband is useless and old!"

"And the father of your son," Narcissa stopped momentarily, "And just out of curiosity, why has Blaize got your name instead of Ragar's? I read it Witch's Society, didn't it anger him?"

"He's not taking _his_ name, I want a son who has no ties to any Father! what's to say what will happen in my future? And I thought you didn't read those trashy magazines! " Iva questioned dryly, raising an eye brow.

"Oh, be quiet!" She laughed mirthlessly in reply, "Just be careful."

"I shall be," Iva answered, "I have missed you, and your hypocrisy. The wife of societies richest man, indulging her little penchant for trashy literature! What will they say? doesn't Lucius get angry you read those? doesn't he beat you like they all say?"

"We should meet up more," she answered with a grin, "So you can make sure I retain my hypocritical ideals and so to check my husband is not beating me. Though if he did I would curse him."

She always felt so comfortable with Iva because they shared a bond that was born from their similarities in taste and culture. in the finer things that could be given to them and the easiest way to get them. Sadly, Narcissa had found that when she had found Lucius, she doubted Iva had. But she wouldn't even tell Iva that, never mind anyone else.

"And how is Lucius?" Iva sighed in a mockingly dramatic breath, "The man whom you are so deeply in love with, yet you dance around each other like you hate one and other at these parties! And how he cheats on you? I hear the scandalous gossip, it makes me giggle. "

"Fine," Narcissa laughed, "Just fine and those old harpies should keep their mouths firmly closed."

"Sex still good?"

"You are truly fowl, Iva."

"I know, but still."

"Yes, we are quite happy. Looking forward to the baby, Lucius' business deals are going well."

"And he is a rising star for the dark Lord Voldemort, I hear?"

Narcissa hushed her, "Don't speak so openly."

"There is no one here!" Iva studied her red talons, "Ragar tells me he is a favourite, he always was a charmer your husband."

"He is," Narcissa found herself momentarily upset by Lucius' outside activities, "On both accounts."

"Indeed," Iva suddenly looked sad, "Ragar goes away for nights on end to do his bidding."

"And?"

"I don't know," Iva sighed, "it seems like a lot of effort for nothing, don't you think?"

"I have no idea," Narcissa admitted, "I just want this child out of me so I can get on with things."

"Indeed, like time with Lucius?" Iva nudged her suggestively.

"Are you a Nymphomanic, Iva?"

"Possibly," Iva looked genuinely curious as to her own mental state.

"I thought so," she replied with a laugh, "And yes, I barely see him these days, Lucius I mean. Time would be nice with him but I suppose I should be so busy with this child. And being so tired of late hasn't helped either. When he is home, I am sleeping."

Iva laughed and then hugged her, "How I've missed you! Letter's aren't good enough, we have to meet-"

"Narcissa?" Lucius was behind her moments later thundering down the path rather hastily, "Dear, what are you doing out here?"

"Talking to me," Iva frowned.

"Hello Iva," Lucius bowed graciously and then turned to her, "Narcissa, I wondered where you had go to. It's cold out here."

"I am ok," she assured, "And anyway, last time I looked you were quite engrossed, ranting no doubt."

"I do not rant!" He cried indignantly as he turned her and guided her up the path with Iva in tow. He would not have her in the cold.

"You do!" She chided softly, "You are so serious sometimes!"

"Be quiet," he warned quietly, "Now," he took her hand and guided her to the centre of the floor as she turned to wave at Iva, "Would you care to dance?"

"Yes, if you insist. And if you can find my hip."

"I won't have a problem with that, darling," he whispered so no one could hear as he placed a hand on the soft indent of her side. They danced then, in a proper sort of way. Not to close a proximity but close enough to know what each other meant to the other. They often played games like this, staying as far away and as rude to each other as possible in society, it fuelled all the gossip that they liked to laugh at and encouraged the idea they were all propriety rather than in love with each other.

She felt a shooting pain slightly, then knew exactly instinctually to her own amazement, what was about to happen.

"Lucius?" she tried to keep her voice calm and low as they danced effortlessly, "Lucius I am going into labour."

"What? That's not possible, not until next week," his eyes widened with shock.

"Oh it is possible," she convulsed slightly at another minute pain but recomposed herself, "And it is happening."

He continued to mover her round the floor gracefully, "So, shall we take our leave then?"

"Yes," she laughed slightly at his utter calm, she had expected him to flap about but she should have known, not in such a public setting.

They said goodbye swiftly and he fetched their cloaks, some disapproved of their leaving so early. Especially Fudge, who had a soft spot for Lucius. But he said she was tired and they all took that as an answer, after all, she was with child.

By the time they had reached the Manor and made their way slowly up stairs, the pains had become worse. She had not imagined it would happen this quickly, no one had prepared her for this.

"Call for the Mediwizard's darling," she ordered kindly as she changed, rather awkwardly into a suitable night gown. He looked at her strangely.

"I have never seen that before," he studied the muslin white with utter contempt, it covered too much of her obviously "it's horrific."

"I do not fancy delivering a baby in silk, Lucius," she answered dryly, "Now, could you go and floo the Mediwizard?"

"Yes, of course," he looked at the garment with a bewildered frown as he went. She decided rather devilishly, as she began to pace in front of the fire that she should wear this when they argued. Just to irritate him.

"They're here," Lucius entered the bedroom a few minutes later, with a Mediwitch and three assistants in tow, looking decidedly more calm than Lucius did. His hair was slightly mussed and she knew he had been running his fingers through it.

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy," the Mediwitch was a lovely woman, younger than Narcissa perhaps with curvy hips, a soft smile and was pure-blood to boot. Narcissa was glad of this service for she had not wanted to travel to St. Mungos at any hour of the night. Lucius had insisted on this private Mediwitch rather than having people come from the hospital, he hated the idea of them not dedicating their entire time to her and perhaps not being entirely servile. It had been something she was fully willing to indulge him in.

"How are you feeling?" The Mediwitch continued, removing her cloak along with her assistants. They were all in fine white uniforms, of greater ilk than those from the hospital.

"I am quite fine," Narcissa answered, though her breathing was laboured and little tiny droplets of sweat were leaking into her eyes. She felt somewhat very sore.

"Shall we get you on the bed then?"

"Of course, yes," Narcissa made her way to lie on the bed, harboured by the contraction in her stomach. Lucius stood, looking rather useless.

"Mr Malfoy," the Mediwitch turned to him, "Your wife's about to have this child, quicker than we thought. Would you like to step outside?"

"I-oh, if course," he stood up straight and turned to go. But over the Mediwitch's shoulder, he blew his wife a kiss. She felt the strange urge to giggle, Lucius Malfoy did not suit such childish romanticism.

He paced up and down outside, taking off his cravat and running his fingers through his hair at intervals. He tried to read but he could hear the silence from the room acutely, so he couldn't really concentrate and even though there was no crying or screaming on Narcissa's part, he wondered if she had put a silencing or muting charm on the room - for surly there must be some noise? It seemed to go on forever and he found himself more worried about her than this baby, he wanted the child of course and hoped for a boy so she wouldn't feel the need to put herself through that again. He didn't want another child, he wanted this one and her. And that was it.

"Mr. Malfoy," the Mediwitch opened the bedroom door, "Your wife has given birth. But she has lost a lot of blood, she is very weak. She passed-out at one point."

"I see," he felt himself drain of energy and replaced with it was a horrible fear, "Is she alright?"

"Of course very weak but otherwise fine, it was very traumatic for her," the Mediwitch smiled mildly, "I shall stay this evening, to make sure everything is alright. I think that's the best precaution. She done very well, it was a very hard labour."

"Yes," he looked at her vaguely, "I had a room prepared for you… I didn't even hear a noise."

"Your wife was very graceful, she didn't make a sound," she answered, "You can see her now, if you would like and the baby. I shall go clean up."

"Yes," he stood and mopped his forehead which he realised was sweating profusely, "Thank you. The room's just there." He watched her go in the direction in which he pointed, shown by an elf and then turned to his own bedroom door, trying to steel himself to see her.

Their chamber was full of heat, uncomfortable and sticky. The windows were thrown open and the assistants were bustling about around their bed, obviously having just changed the sheets and Narcissa's nightgown. In the centre, she looked so tiny and exhausted. Her blond hair was lank with perspiration and it clung unbecomingly to her forehead. He found himself momentarily amused and glad by the fact that she wasn't near a mirror, for she would have surely tried to better herself.

"Narcissa? Darling?" He approached the bed cautiously, almost afraid to speak to her.

"Isn't he lovely?" She questioned, her pallid skin warming slightly as she opened her eyes and smiling, lifted up the bundle in her arms to present it to him.

Grey eyes, alert and bright stared up at him. His own eyes in a smaller shape. How amazing it was to be reflected in his own eyes, to hold something that he had created and know it was his most proud effort. The baby felt weightless in his white blanket, and tiny compared to Lucius' own hands. He held him there, above his wife for a moment and then sat down beside her.

She rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes as he came to sit beside her, still cradling the child in his hands.

"Thank you," he kissed the side of her forehead and watched as the assistants bustled out, "I am so proud of you for doing this for me. I cannot thank you enough. He is a handsome boy. "

"Like his Father," she smiled serenely, though she looked too pale to be alive, "What shall we call him?"

"Draco, I think."

"I think so too, little Draco Lucius Malfoy" she laughed quietly, "I am so tired."

"Are you truly alright?" He felt suddenly full of concern.

"Yes," she smiled, "I am thirsty," she straightened up and opening her eyes put out her hands for the newly named Draco, "Can you fetch me a drink?"

"Yes," he moved to hand her the child and then decided against it, she looked so tired, "I'll keep him. I refuse to relinquish my son." He took out his wand with one hand and waved it into the air, where a glass of iced water appeared.

"It begins!" she joked weakly, taking the glass he offered and took a big gulp. She sighed as if refreshed and drained the glass.

"I want to take a picture," she said quietly, reaching with some exhausting effort into the side drawer and producing a camera.

"Later," he insisted, looking down at his son.

"No, Lucius," she protested and though he imagined that she was so weak he may well have won this argument, he backed down so as not to upset her.

"Stand up," she ordered with a smile as she raised the camera to her eye. He did as she asked and smiled slightly, genuinely. She clicked and it flashed and it was the first time, he realised his son was in a picture.

"Not even an hour old and your Mother is making a scrap book," he addressed the sleeping child in his arms, studying the tiny body "Little Draco, you have the hands of a seeker."

The boys hands were thin and elegant, even though he had the baby fat of all newborn children everywhere else. His hands were so small, Lucius realised but strong looking, like his own.

"Put him in the bassinet, no quidditch for either of you tonight" she said quietly, "let's get some sleep, I believe you will be exhausted as me."

" I doubt it. I can sleep beside you?" He asked incredulously as he made his way to the bassinet at the window.

"I see no reason against it," she slid down the headboard so she was lying on the bed, already half asleep as she curled into herself.

Extinguishing the candles with a flick of his wand, he quickly changed into pyjamas and lay down beside her. Reaching out for her, he pulled himself nearer her and placed a hand on her stomach. She was still soft and chubby, but he found her hip without any trouble at all.

"Thank you, Narcissa," he whispered into the dark, "Narcissa?"

But she was already fast asleep. He smiled.

_Please review._

_Yours,_

_M_

_xxxx_


	14. Atrum

_Hope you all had a nice Christmas, please review and enjoy!_

_I only want sympathy in the form of you crawling into bed with me._

_Dance Dance._

_Fallout Boy._

"I'll be home at tea" her husband bent at the waist to kiss her and then lower to touch baby Draco's crown with his lips.

"What would you like to eat?" She covered her mouth to stifle a yawn as she nursed the child in her arms.

"I can see to that on my own," he laughed gently, "I want to see you here, nice and awake. No unnecessary activity - you are tired."

"I am," she moved to the window and to where the baby's basin was, "Still, I should make some effort to be presentable for my husband, don't you think?"

She lay the flaxen haired infant down and was hard pressed to remember the last time in the few weeks he had been on the earth that he had slept more than an hour. She sighed gently, motherhood was playing havoc with her health and she had yet to recover from the tremendously hard labour she had endured. She prayed hard that he might find the wonders of long sleep and bask in it any time soon.

"Well," Lucius turned to kiss the side of her head, "I shall see you later?"

"Yes," she yawned again as she made her way to the bed and lay down, "I will see you, have a pleasant Lunch with your associates."

"I highly doubt it," he raised his eye brow, smiled then turned on the spot and disappeared.

She was grateful for the quiet of the cool house, of basking in the freshness of the chamber which she had barely left since Draco had come into the world when she flung open all the sashes and let the air in. She was exhausted and all she wanted was to lie down and sleep for hours. But she decided -after lying and not finding sleep for over an hour- that she would lie in the bath for a long while then dress up and try and make herself feel awake.

She ran the bath, warm and bubbly and languished in it, ears now continuously listening for a murmur or cry of an infant. She liked the cry of him, just to remind her of how much she loved him and how this little vessel was hers to fill with everything. Or sometimes, she was suddenly so aware, to ruin.

She smiled to herself and getting out of the bath, took time luxuriating in the routines she had become lax of in the last few weeks. Creams and lotions and the usual potions which she employed she relished in, and enjoyed the feel of the glamorous clothes which she hadn't worn against her skin.

Just as she finished, as if on cue Draco set up a wakening wail from where he lay, his tiny arms flailing and waving as his little face reddened.

"Oh," she scooped him up with fluidity, "Oh, my little darling, hush."

The child calmed, but clicking her fingers she sent the elf to warm the milk and feed him anyway, for he was due to eat.

"Hello, Draco," she nursed him softly, "Good afternoon."

She sat herself down on the rocking chair and began feeding him from the silver lidded bottle Lucius had as a child. The Malfoy's even Lucius, insisted on this type of tradition. She decided she should like to walk in the gardens with her son in the perambulator Lucius had bought in Diagon Alley that was still new for she had been so tired of late she hadn't energy to go outside for a walk never mind with the new baby. But today, she decided as she carried him down stairs and ordered the elf to fetch her cloak and the perambulator, she would.

Setting the child and wrapping him up, she found herself rather excited that she was about to do this. The Autumn sun was shining and the leaves had gathered in the basin of the huge fountain, so the water was coated with a sheet of bright orange and brown as she walked past, kicking the leaves at her feet as she went. The air was crisp and just right to feel fresh in, just enough to want to walk for hours and so, that was exactly what she did.

By the time she began skirting the edges of the grounds and walking back to the manor, darkness was encroaching on the light and she was hugely aware of what night brought with it - the prolonged absence of Lucius. She sighed slightly to herself and looked down at the sleeping child, who was so frighteningly like his father she often wondered if she had had any part in his creation at all. And then she was crudely reminded of the labour she had endured three months before and was very aware of how she had been part of him. She smiled comfortingly to herself and leaving the perambulator at the foot of the porch for the elves, lifted Draco out and closed the door behind her. An elf greeted her at the foot of the stairs.

"Mistress," the elf's voice seemed copiously nervous, "There is being a visitor."

"A visitor?" Narcissa looked at the elf with contempt.

"Yes Madame! He be in the Drawing Room."

"I see," she handed Draco to the Elf and sweeping up her skirts, and hastening in curiosity made her way to the Drawing Room.

The sight that welcomed her was, oddly enough not unexpected. She had assumed that this would eventually come but she had no idea how swiftly, or indeed how abruptly.

"So," Abraxas stood up as she entered the room, her heart thudding as she closed the door behind her, "I finally meet my daughter-in-law."

"Indeed," she brushed down the front of her robes and stood erectly poised before him, "Can I offer you anything? A drink perhaps. Something to eat?"

"No Thank you," he waved his hand and moved to rest on the mantle, staring at the pictures. She found herself watching how similar his son was to him, how they moved with that same arrogant fluidity and how their bodies were austere and regal but languid all at the same time. She found herself wondering if Draco would be so symmetrical with Lucius' characteristics. If he would hold his hands the same way, if he would sneer with that utter contempt.

"Well," her uncomfortable feeling was rising and his silence was irking her, "How can I be of assistance to you?"

"Do you continually speak like that?" Abraxas looked at her with condescending eyes and she could not help but feel he was mocking her.

"I beg your pardon?" She found herself snapping at him, then realised she must reign in her temper for Lucius was not here to defend her against what she knew only as evil, as an animal.

"You are entirely formal," Abraxas merely shrugged and smiled nastily, "I imagine Lucius likes that, though. Where is he?"

"He has business," she answered shortly, still keeping well at a distance and near the door. She felt she were facing a Dragon, from which unless she was on her up most guard there was no escape.

"I see," Abraxas answered, "I shall stay until he returns, of course I might have had the manners to ask you if that is alright?"

"I doubt he will be any long-" but already, her words were swallowed with shouts of her husband heralding his return. He always shouted when he came home, usually so she would greet him,

"Narcissa! Darling?" she could hear him coming nearer the door and dreaded what was to happen next " In here, Lucius," she found herself weakly replying. He came through the door a moment later and smiled at her, kissing her softly on the nose.

"How are you to-"

"Lucius," his father wasted no time and Lucius seemed not to react to his presence, merely to stare at the person before him that had addressed him. She could see in his eyes anger but not the light of it inflaming, it was simply abated by a blank stare.

"Hello, Father," he nodded his head strangely, "I assume you are here to see my son."

"Indeed," Abraxas smiled and Narcissa found herself momentarily dumbfounded, why hadn't he shouted? Why wasn't he angry like she had expected. Then it suddenly occurred to her that he simply might not care.

"Narcissa, darling," he reached out and touched her arm, all the while his eyes boring into the lined face of his father, "Fetch Draco, will you?"

"Yes," she nodded her head and left the room swiftly, her skirts sweeping behind her.

She returned with the baby a few minutes later, settled in her arms. The room was still tensely silent, though now Lucius had asserted himself by removing his cloak and making his way to the window. He turned and opened his arms to take the child when she neared him.

"Good afternoon, Draco," he addressed his son and then his Father, "Father, this is your Grandson. My Heir."

"I see," Abraxas looked on the boy with feigned interest, though this was only a formality anyway, "He is very small."

Narcissa took that as an insult and she knew Lucius would too; she seen the not-so-discreet vein on his neck throb as he offered up his child for scrutiny.

"He looks like you when you were born," Abraxas commented, "You were scrawny too, I never thought you'd amount too much."

"And did I?" Lucius question through gritted teeth, turning to her and silently handing back the baby.

"I don't know," Abraxas shrugged, "Your Mother commandeered you, I never seen you."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Father?" Lucius questioned, making his way to the door, "Otherwise, I have business to attend to, as does my wife. We are busy."

"And what a charming wife you have, Lucius," Abraxas nodded at her, and laughed "Nice and compliant I wager? Eh?"

"I shall see you soon Father," Lucius held open the Drawing Room door for his own Father, "Goodbye."

"Yes, goodbye."

Abraxas left with a shadow of tension behind him and when Lucius slammed the door unceremoniously behind, the room was filled with an awful silence.

"I best return Draco to the nursery," she bustled to the door.

"Narcissa," he stopped her in her tracks by stilling her as she went. She turned to him and looked expectantly. He simply reached out and touched her cheek gently. She smiled for she knew he would not lose his temper with her. She came back soon and there was nothing but note, telling her he would be home tomorrow. She resisted tears and retired for the night to that torturous chamber.

That night she watched him creep into the room, heralded by the squeaking of the door. She wondered if he didn't fix that just so he could wake her, so she would wake and sit with him until his tiredness overrode his conscience. She wanted to be angry t him but she lacked the energy.

"Hello," she sat up and watched him removing his boots.

"Go back to sleep, Bliss."

"Bliss?" She raised an eye brow and laughed slightly, "In this state?"

"Is that not what you are?"

"No!" She giggled slightly and lay back down.

"I am going to bathe," he said from somewhere in the darkness.

"Lucius, sleep…"

"Later," she heard him close the door behind himself. Dragging her own body out of bed, she realised that the room was cold - the fire must have died hours ago. She followed him into the bathroom. He was standing, in all his glorious nudity at the mirror, running his hands over a fresh laceration on his stomach. He was slumped over, his body bruised.

"Darling," she tried hard not to sound too shocked by his physical state. He looked at her reflection in the mirror and smiled.

"Nothing 'Essence of Dittany' wont solve," he said softly, moving to the bath and turning off the taps with a flick of his wand. It had filled up, deep and bubbly and warm.

"Join me?" he smiled a lopsided grin, which was almost too shy to be Lucius Malfoy as he motioned to the bath where he had settled in the steamy water.

She grinned, then walked towards him slipping down the straps of her nightgown as she went.

"It has been a while," she let her night gown drop to the marble floor.

"It has, hasn't it?" He smiled gallantly, as he did often and offering his hand, assisted her in climbing the steps to the bath.

"Hmm," she settled into his lap in the water, her arms tangling round his neck and in his damp hair. She kissed his mouth, then settled her head in the crook of his neck. She decided that this was the best of it, that this was the only way she could have him. His service to the cause was more now and she had taken a seat in the shadows.

"You have lost weight quickly, Narcissa?" He squeezed her already flat stomach.

"Indeed," she kissed the side of his neck, "Oh but aren't you glad of that?"

"Of course!" He laughed slightly, "But only if is natural. You haven't been eating."

"Oh, stop! You will ruin this evening. And anyway, I haven't been hungry!"

"You are very gorgeous, still" he kissed her cheek, "You are stunning, beautiful."

"I know," she looked at herself in the opposite mirror, "We make a fine pair, don't we? You know, I wonder how you felt earlier on with your Father…" She looked for a reaction, his face was blank.

"Don't you want to speak?"

"Hmm," he pulled her to him, so she was forced to lie flush against his body as he sunk them both into the water and kissed her.

"That's a 'no'," he answered, in between kisses.

Later as they lay in bed he held her in an entanglement if the silk sheets. The only light cam from the fire, the only sound his calm breathing.

"I m sorry I left," he rubbed her stomach gently.

"It matters not," she looked at him in the darkness.

"Don't lie," he said sternly, "I had to go but I wanted to speak to you."

"It's what is needed Lucius," she was tired of telling herself this, "It doesn't matter."

"I don't want to anymore but…" he kissed her neck, "I have no cho -"

"You don't have to explain yourself," she interrupted stiffly, "I have heard this. It doesn't stop me wanting you to be at home, it doesn't stop me hating how this takes you away."

"I know," he suddenly tightened his grip on her, "But you are stuck with me, promise you won-"

"Don't even suggest such a thing," she felt indiscernibly attached to him, part of him, trapped in this with him, "I would never go."

"I know," his tone suddenly changed to that of bravado, "I was silly to think it. You have everything you want here."

"This isn't what I want," she turned away from him, "But it is what has to happen."

"Narcissa," he sounded pained as if her words had wounded him. She felt a surge of glee that they had then utter contempt for what she had made him feel, "I love you."

She couldn't say anything, she wanted it all to disappear and for them both to never wake up. The loneliness in his absence was too much and how lonely her days were. She felt the tears, hot and angry and tried to fight them - it was no use.

"Don't cry," he muttered. But she couldn't help herself.

_Yours,_

_M_

_Xx_


	15. Licentia Libertas

Something felt amiss, there was part of her that was hugely uncomfortable; but this was her usual feeling anyway. Again, Draco began wailing from the nursery and she had to truly force herself to drag her body out of bed, for crying had made her feel so fatigued. Lucius had not been home all night or all day and there had been no correspondence or word of him and this made it all the worse. And now Draco was really sobbing as she nursed him while returning to her own chamber from the adjoining nursery. Even though he was a year and some, he was still relatively small and obviously though thoroughly dependant on her, was starting to develop little words. She smiled down at the gurgling, quieting face and kissed his forehead as she hoisted him onto her hip. He wriggled with the intent of freedom after he had calmed.

"Missing Father?" She muttered and he smiled at her, putting his thumb in his mouth, "So am I."

He laughed childishly, clapping his hands and she giggled back. She couldn't sleep now, so she carried him over to the fire side, where he eagerly wriggled to get to the Persian rug of the hearth where he had left a toy dragon earlier that evening. She set him down and watching him, sat herself down on the seat with her novel. The fire crackled and danced and she was grateful for its warmth that it cast to the room, golden and comforting in this place that seemed so lonely without a companion. Her husband absence voided her of her concentration and so she could barely understand the words on the page.

Her son clambered up onto her lap, pulling on her skirt, offering her the toy dragon.

"Thank you," she smiled, taking the toy from him and making little puffs of noise to give a character to the inanimate object for to make him laugh was lovely, he was her only company. He laughed and yawned, falling against her chest- he had tired already. She held him close to her, his body warm and felt a restless fatigue overtake her also.

She drifted in and out, Draco sleeping soundly, a solid little weight on her lap for over an hour.

The door creaked open heralding the arrival of her husband what seemed like hours later. Usually she knew he would sneak in, ridden with guilt at coming in so late and curl up in bed with her, muttering an apology and promising it wouldn't happen again. She sighed. But this time it was different, he clattered about and opening her eyes slowly she wondered if he had seen them sitting there at all. He was ripping of his cloak and waving his wand around the room simultaneously. He looked thoroughly dishevelled and agitated and she noticed a huge gash in his shirt. She sighed again as she watched him strip down to his leather trousers and boots.

"Lucius?" She sounded more weary than she had expected and was surprised at the weakness in her own voice.

"Narcissa I-" he looked oddly at her as if suddenly realising he had a wife, then continued to wave the wand about and mutter incantations. He made his way to the bedside cabinet where he kept his dark arts books for reading and tapping them once made them vanish. He did the same thing with his robes, discarded on the bedroom floor.

"Lucius?" Lifting Draco she stood up, he fussed a little and settled, "What is wrong?"

"I-" he looked into her face, shock on his own as he stripped himself of his clothes. He thrust his arm at her and for the first time in recent memory, she could see nothing but a faint white mark above his wrist watch. Her gasp caught in her throat and suddenly, she realised the gravity of the situation. And she knew he had no words, she could see only fear in his eyes.

"He's gone," he continued and he frantically turned and studied the room, beginning to raise his voice, "Narcissa, we must hide everything! He's gone, Potter - he.."

He collapsed onto the seat, head in his hands and he seemed lost of all energy. Suddenly, Draco had stirred and he began to cry again in her arms. Lucius held out his hands for his child, beckoning her to come nearer him. She handed the boy over and immediately in the safe arms of his father he calmed - Lucius had that kindly domineering affect on him. He bounced the sleepy Draco on his lap, looking at her then their son, then back again. She could see fear in his eyes, but not just fear. Somewhere, there shined a glimmer of relief.

"Hello, Dragon," Lucius looked at him after moments of silence, then addressed her more calmly, coldly, "We need to get rid of everything, Narcissa. We need to get rid of all the evidence, they will be here in the morning. I am sure of it."

"Ok," she bent to kiss his forehead and felt him slump slightly, "Let's not worry, we will not be beaten." The relief she felt was unbelievable, he would no longer be in such danger and he would no longer be away from her.

"Indeed," he smiled slightly though his anguish was still evident, he recomposed well and was suddenly arrogant, "Indeed, my darling."

"You are not so upset?" She looked at him sagely, raising an eye brow. She would not allow these feelings to disappear under an ocean of propriety.

"I was getting to old darling," he simply replied - inducing her to say no more as he hoisted Draco up into the air and the boy giggled. Deciding to leave it at that for the moment, she left the room to go and seal the drawing room cellar but he looked at her with a significant look as she turned to go.

She returned an hour later, having made sure everything was entirely out of sight. Well, certainly things that could prove embarrassing for the Malfoy family. The sun was nearly up and she felt herself relieved of some tremendous burden with the news that Lucius had brought. Though she knew it was not right, though she knew she should not want to see the Dark Lord fail she held it against him that he had so much power over her husband. She hated those nights, so frequent without Lucius when she found herself in an empty home and an empty bed. And Bellatrix, what her sister had become was monstrous. So bad in fact she hadn't seen her in nearly a year for she could not bear to be in Bella's company. She had become an animal, more cruel and sadistic and talented than she had ever been under the charge of the Dark Lord and had grown so far from Narcissa that they were entirely different people. Narcissa was momentarily reminded of the fact that her family no longer spoke, that they had fallen apart. But she had Lucius and Draco and sadly, genuinely had no need for anyone else.

Lucius and Draco were settled on the bed, Lucius lying awake but Draco snoozing softly in baby dreams. He sat up as she entered and motioned her over, moving so he could accommodate for her on the bed. Even at that , the bed was huge and there was no need but he really done it to insure himself a comfortable position from which he could hold her tightly.

"They will come for me, or send for me," he said matter-of-fact as soon as she had settled in his arms, "I want you to denounce me."

She looked at him horrified by the very thought, "Never!"

"You will," he retorted sternly but held her so tightly she felt she could never do such a thing no matter how angry she had been at him over this last year or so, "I want you to. I will not have you suffering the indignity if I am to be found guilty."

"But," she turned her head to stare at him, illuminated by the dawning of the sun as she insisted in her worry, "You will not be found guilty. We will walk away from this, unscathed. They have no proof and I will never, ever denounce you." She waved a dismissive hand.

"I shall never denounce you, I would rather die. You should not ask me to do that."

"True. I suppose I cannot ask this of you," he rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked beaten, " But all the same, some of them will push for a case. And of course, there are those of us who will do anything to save our skin. And you will be looked at as second-class if I am…imprisoned."

"I know, and don't let yourself be the one who is loyal," she warned, "It would be entirely out of character. And I will only be second-class if you fail to deceive."

He snorted derisively, "Not a chance. I have you both to think of."

"And you have a fortune of billions at your disposal," she kissed his neck, "Use it wisely."

"Clever woman," he smiled at her, "Clever, conniving wife. I am glad I have you. I would feel a breed all of my own if you weren't around to remind me to be better than others and to be my equal."

"Is that all I am good for?" She cocked an eyebrow. They hadn't flirted like this in months for he had never been home in order for them to have time to do silly little things like this.

"No," he smiled suggestively, "I could be doing with some light relief."

"Darling, Draco is here," she answered silkily, scooping up her son as Lucius attempted to kiss her. Her son was so tired she imagined, he did not stir as she laid him in his cot in the nursery. Lucius followed behind her, his hands on her slender hips as they stared at their son.

"It will be alright," he whispered gently, kissing her neck as they stood over the cot. She reached behind, cradling his head in her hands. Tangling his hair in her fingers.

"Narcissa," he dragged her backwards and she felt suddenly very wanted, more than she had in these last few months, "I am sorry."

She turned to face him as they entered the own chamber, looking slightly puzzled. He leaned forward and kissed her nose, "I am sorry I put you through this and for what I am about to put you through."

"I know," she leaned into him, groping for the laces of his trousers. She didn't care for words just now. Right now she wanted to forget what all of this meant, all of the pain that she had suffered. She wanted to feel him under her hands, to feel him inside her.

"I am sorry," he reached down and guided her hands to where he wanted them, his voice desperate and pleading "I truly am."

"I know," she pulled down the soft leather and silk of his underwear, dropping to her knees and the plush carpet as she went.

"Narcissa," he hissed out after mere moments, pulling her up again and crushing her mouth to his, "Not right now - I can't…well- I want to give you…"

"It has been a while since I have did that," she whispered in between kisses, "I want to."

He laughed throatily and kissed her again, feeling for the belt of her dressing gown as he stripped her. He guided them backwards, onto the bed and climbed on top of her. He kissed her neck, her shoulders, her face.

"Lucius," she smiled gently at him, "How I love you."

"And I," he smiled and then forced into her, she groaned with the immediacy of pain and then the onslaught of pleasure, "Darling."

She couldn't help but feel relieved, that after nearly a year of this lonely estrangement between them she had begun to feel after Draco was born, dispelled in the space of an evening. She had never realised all of the pain, all of the horrible anger she had toward him. And she knew, in the way he held her that he was different. She wondered if he was happy about the Dark Lords failure - she wondered if he was pleased that he had failed.

The next morning he left to be questioned and the loneliness flooded back tenfold as well as all the worry.

Please review,

Yours

M

xx


	16. Salutor

_**Ok, so this is Part 3. We are now back at Christmas Day, in Draco's older years.**_

She looked at the bath in the bathroom and was sorely tempted to soak in it for hours. But she had to do things, like oversee Christmas lunch and she resisted the temptation to climb in - a shower would have to suffice.

"Narcissa," Lucius followed her into the bathroom, hair tied in a queue, bedecked in flying robes, "We'll only be a while but after, I'll get some wood for the fire."

"You don't have to," she smiled slightly, lifting her night gown over her head. He paused momentarily and she still marvelled at the fact that her somewhat older body could rob him so callously of speech.

"I know," he licked his lips, "But we will, it saves sending off that infernal elf and him returning with sticks."

"True," she shut the shower door behind her, "Be careful."

"I will be, dear," he answered, closing the bathroom door behind himself. She watched him go and then realised the silence in the Manor house was sometimes too much to bear. She turned on the shower and tried to drown out the feeling of discomfort.

She dressed, a red dress Lucius had bought her a few years ago - for a reason she could not remember, and that most probably indicated there existed no reason and he just wanted to spoil her. She put on her necklace, which rested on a velvet bustier display model on her dresser. She took as much care, perhaps even more than usual getting dressed - she wanted to look special for some odd reason.

She watched Lucius and Draco on the pitch for a moment from the iced windows of their huge bedroom and then, heals clicking on the marble and wood of the floors, made her way downstairs.

She fidgeted idly for a while and after visiting the kitchen, settled herself in the Den with a book about Wizarding Fashion that her son had purchased for her. It was, if she was to admit the rather shallow purpose, very interesting.

"Mistress?" An elf, one she very rarely used pooped up next to her. She removed her glasses from the bridge of her nose and looked disdainfully at the pathetic creature - this hate of Elfs' had developed primarily due to her husband's dislike of them.

"Yes?"

"A visitor, Mistress."

Narcissa stared at the Elf incredulously, "A visitor, on Christmas day?"

"Yes, madam," the Elf almost quaked in it's mottled skin.

"Fine," Narcissa stood up, still exceptionally sceptical but unbelievably uncomfortable, "Show whoever it is in."

She watched the door, swing on its hinges and the guest entered. She had not aged, Narcissa conjectured as she tried to contemplate exactly what was happening and the woman standing, before her. She could not quite control the panic rising in her heart at the thought of what this would do to her husband.

"You must be Narcissa," Ira stepped forward and offered a gloved hand but Narcissa recoiled in horror.

"What are you doing here?" She made a rather vain attempt to regain her icy composure as she supported herself on the back of one of the Queen Anne's.

"I," the woman before her seemed stunted at that question, "I'm here to see my son."

"He is not here," the words tumbled from Narcissa's mouth before she could possibly help herself.

"Can I wait?" Ira, quiet and dark motioned to the overstuffed chaise in the corner.

"No, no" Narcissa answered coldly, keeping her distance and retaining her horror that this woman had turned up on Christmas day.

"I see," Ira's eyes took on a look of darkness so tangible Narcissa felt afraid, "You hate me."

Narcissa had to prevent herself from laughing at that, "I have no reason to feel to the contrary. I have been married to your son for 15 years and this is our first introduction." She sneered coldly to enhance her ill feeling.

"I understand," Ira answered, "You have made your own assumptions. But I shall stay her," she sat down on the chaise defiantly, "Until I see my son."

"You will not," Narcissa hissed, "You will leave. He does not need-"

She prevented herself from saying any more, for fear she might display her true feelings to this woman. She did not want to see her husband hurt or crumble, she did not want to see him have to face this demon.

"You must think I am a monster," Ira stared at her strangely, "Does Lucius?"

"It is none of your business," Narcissa nearly cried, "I think you should leave."

"No," Ira answered with the defiance often present in her son.

"I see," Narcissa drummed her fingers on the back of the chair, for she could do nothing about this, "Can I get you a drink?"

"No," Ira waived an airy hand as her eyes skimmed the photographs in the room, "But you are quite the hostess. And beautiful."

Narcissa stared icily, "Thank you, but I still do not want you in my home."

"It was my home once," Ira answered, any sweetness in her tone evaporating.

"You singed that right away when you left," Narcissa bit out, staring the older woman down, "My husband made me Mistress of this Manor."

And if he's anything like his Father," Ira's eyes clouded with bitterness, "He'll make you his slave."

Narcissa stared blankly at her, "No. You do not know him."

"How right you are," Ira blinked, "But I knew Abraxas, that was enough."

"I do not want to know this," panic was building inside her and she felt the overriding sensation of betraying her husband by listening to this.

"Of course you don't," Ira answered, "Perhaps knowing Abraxas has meant it makes it easier for you to believe I was the evil in this."

"I have met Abraxas once," she said hotly, denying this, "After Draco was born."

"Of course," Ira smiled slightly, "My Grandson."

Narcissa wanted to correct her, she wanted to say that you were only a Grandmother if the child knew you, but she bit her tongue.

"I don't know Abraxas and neither does Lucius and it would do you better to leave," she plowed on relentlessly, "You have made a mistake coming here."

"Probably," Ira answered defiantly, "But still I have come all this way, and I am here-"

"Narcissa!" A voice interrupted from the hall and a panic rose in her that she had never felt before, "Those brooms are so amazing that I want to fuck you as a thank you gift. Undress! Draco's staying out to fly some more. I've got enough time to thank you in very way you want…Bliss. I am jesting of course, unless…"

Her husband came into the room, a caddish smile and laugh on his face as he removed his gloves and made towards her. She didn't speak, for fear her voice would not come out; she simply shook her head as an answer to her husband's highly inappropriate suggestion. He seemed not to have notice but the smile faded from his face when he seen her palour and the dread in her eyes. Why was it that his parents had surprised him in this way both times; when she was the only person in the house and he was in a good mood.

"Darling, what is wrong?" He set his broom against the wall and gripped her shoulders softly.

"We have a guest Lucius," she stared into the grey eyes but they turned from her at the sound of Ira's voice;

"Hello, Lucius."

He still gripped her shoulders but she seen his face change, his body rear up in anger. His voice did not reflect his rage. With his Father it had been different but with his Mother he had seen red, he was furious.

"I think you should leave," he said, painfully cold and quiet, his fingers digging into her shoulder still.

"I think you should hear me out," Ira stood up and made towards her son.

"No," he shook his head, "I won't."

"Lucius…"

"No!" He growled, "I care not what he did to you, it doesn't matter what he did. If you cared, you would have stayed!"

"Lucius," Narcissa placed a restraining hand on his arm, "Stop."

"Leave," he commanded of his Mother, "I have a life now. A child, a wife…I have a family. I'm not him."

"And what of your youth Lucius?" Ira was suddenly far more aggressive, "What about what you have did in the name of purity. The people you…murdered."

"Leave," Narcissa suddenly demanded, "You have no right to band your morals around here after such a long absence!" She couldn't bear to hear what Lucius had done as a Deatheater, what he had condemned himself too but neither did this woman have the right to condemn him.

"And I assume you are everything to him, I hope he doesn't treat you like his father did me. Do you know what Abraxas did, _Mrs. _Malfoy?"

"Leave, go! How dare you come here and tell her this," Lucius turned away in a fit of rage, "She is my wife, she is mine and you will not do this!"

Narcissa was entirely lost, entirely confused as to what she was not supposed to know. She wanted to know, she wanted to understand why he was so afraid sometimes - why he battled within himself.

"I wanted to see you, son," Ira pleaded but it seemed to lack conviction, "I used Drakakas's as a way to get out, I left him months afterwards. I set up home in Paris on my own and I tried to get in contact with you!"

"I don't want to see you, I don't believe you!" Lucius turned dark eyes on his own Mother, "You will leave here and you will never come back, you will never do this to my wife, to me, to my family."

"I'm glad you have a family," Ira was dispassionate, "I thought you, of all people would understand why I went. I thought we would reconcile, I was much mistaken."

"You were," Lucius answered, pouring himself a fire-whiskey, "And now you are done and now you will go."

Ira nodded, a final accepting nod of austere quiet. She turned to go, "I didn't forget you, Lucius."

"Good show," he sneered, "Perhaps you should like to indulge your parenting techniques. Goodnight."

Ira made for the door, quicker than she came, "It was pleasant to meet you Narcissa."

Narcissa merely nodded, her eyes on her husbands back.

"She should never have came," Lucius whispered after the door had banged closed what seemed hours before, his back still to her, "You are my family."

"Lucius," she whispered, her hand on his shoulder, "What is it I'm not to know?"

"Cissy," his voice was thick, "Not today. Never. Please. Don't make me." Suddenly he had lost all aristocratic arrogance and was like a pleading child.

"Lucius, don't you trust me?" She did not accuse him, she simply asked as she pressed her head to his back.

"Narcissa, it is not you," he turned to her, his eyes dark with pain, "I do not trust myself."

He bent to kiss her cheek and then left the Den and her, perplexed.

Please review,

Yours,

M

Xx


	17. Verum, Veritas, Fides

_Sorry it's so short and took so long, I've had course work. Also, this is the end of Part 2._

_Enjoy!! _

Draco returned so late that Christmas Lunch was spoiled and Lucius did not come back at all, so she served her son some dry turkey and other sides and let him be with the piles of presents.

"I'm going to bed," she smiled gently at her son and he was far too engrossed in a new book to pay attention to the pain in her eyes, "I'll see you tomorrow, darling."

"Goodnight Mother," he turned to her and smiled, "I can stay up as late as I wish?"

"Indeed," she sighed as she bent at the waist to kiss his forehead, "It is Christmas, after all."

"Where's Father? " Draco added as she pulled the door behind her. She popped her head round.

"Out," she smiled at him slowly, "He had business to deal with."

Draco rolled his eyes, "He always has business."

Narcissa laughed slightly, to prevent herself from crying and made her way upstairs. Because she would never let her son, or for that matter, her husband see her cry and being kept in the dark from Lucius made her want to weep.

She sat, back against the ornately carved head board, book in hand but nothing would dispel the emptiness next to her - where his head usually lay. She sighed slightly, tipped her head back and closed her eyes but she knew well that sleep would not come, not until she knew where he was. She was silly and she scolded herself for letting images of him murdering a Muggle in his anger, or drinking himself into a stupor at the Wizards' Club and lying somewhere in Knockturn Alley. But, she comforted herself with the thin notion that he was not so careless. But deep down, she knew he could be.

The door creaked open, heralding his arrival what seemed like hours after she had snuffed out the candles and punched the pillows too hard in her discomfort. She watched him with tired eyes, stalk into the room as quietly as possible and begin undressing.

"No need to be quiet," she whispered as she sat up "I am awake."

"I thought you would be asleep," he answered, sitting on the edge of the bed and unlacing his shoes.

"I couldn't," she answered dryly and he turned disapproving eyes on her.

"Where did you go?"

"Out," he turned to face her, and said gently "Go back to sleep, Narcissa."

She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned, "You think I will go to sleep without an explanation. Surely I deserve that."

"I don't know what I was expecting," he bit out, clearly agitated as he pulled his shirt over his head.

"Neither do I," she leaned over and touched his shoulder softly. He turned his head and divested a kiss on her fingers.

"I am sorry."

"I know," she moved up and resting on her knees, began to rub his shoulders, "I can feel it in your skin."

"Clever woman," he answered sincerely.

"Will you tell me?" She kissed the back of his hair.

He slumped under her touch, even though his words were cold, "I am not like him. I don't want to."

"Like who, Lucius?" Sometimes his enigmatic sentences irritated her.

"My father!" His irritation was clear in the way he spat the words from his mouth.

"Your father?" She had the distinct feeling that she would need to prise this out of him. But he pulled away from her grasp, and standing clad only in his trousers made his way to the window to stare out into the snow covered grounds.

"he had- has, a fowl temper. He used to…" he trailed off, and turned to her eyes blazing with a passion she had never seen in 15 years of marriage, "I would never hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course," she left the bed, but did not near him.

"He hurt her," he turned away, "He had affairs all the time. He used to hit her, he used to do it on front of me and I always knew what he did. His temper, such a terrible temper, such a horrible, terrible temper."

She did not know what to say to him for she hadn't expected this to be the reason. She hadn't imagined that Lucius would be so secretive about this, because she had always had doubts about the ways of Abraxas.

"I am not him," he turned to her, "I am not going to do that to you."

"I know," she said, backing away from the rage in his eyes.

He stared at her, "I am always so aware that my temper is terrible, that I could do it. If I wanted too."

"But you wouldn't," she answered coolly, "You wouldn't to me."

"No?" He looked at her desperately, "How can you trust that?"

"I just do," she said simply, "I think I judged your character well when we married, don't you think?"

"I don't know," he smiled slightly, "I imagine you are not so dumb as to pick a bastard, not like my Mother."

"No," she grinned slightly, "I know you too well Lucius."

"Perhaps that is what I fear, Narcissa."

"Indeed?" She laughed gently and watched as the indignity in his eyes dispersed and his grin joined hers, "Was it so bad telling me?"

"No," he shook his head slightly, "Not hugely."

"Not at all," she corrected, walking towards him, "I am your equal Lucius, never forget that."

"As if you would let me," he answered dryly, settling her in his arms.

_I know it was really very short, there's a reason for this as it is the end of part2. And again, I apologise profusely for the tardiness._

_Please review, _

_yours_

_M_

_xx_


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Harry Potter, Romance