Gift for midnight_birth!

[hp_canon_fest]

Title: Love in Wartime
Author: tuawahine
Recipient: midnight_birth
Pairing: Lucius/Narcissa
Word Count: 11,900
Rating: R
Summary: He is a Death Eater; her sister has just turned blood traitor. Lucius knows what he wants. But can he convince Narcissa?
Warnings: pure-blood racism; mention of Death Eaters committing torture and murder
A/N: Midnight_birth, thank you for requesting getting-together fic! (I love them so much myself.) Sadly, it turns out that I am physically incapable of writing male-dom D/s for this pairing. I hope you like what I came up with instead.

~ Narcissa Black ~
summer 1973

"Yes, that's right, the middle one of the Black girls. I heard she eloped – with a Mudblood."

Narcissa stopped in her tracks, pretending to take a sip of wine to cover her reaction. It had been more than half a year, but the news that a Black witch of all people had turned blood traitor still kept the tongues wagging.

Fortunately, half a year had also been long enough for her to learn how to deal with it. She took a deep breath, raised her chin, arranged her face in an icily polite expression and continued her meandering journey through the crowd of elegantly dressed witches and wizards, giving no outward sign that she noticed the stares she drew from the two witches as she passed them.

As usual, the Yaxleys had invited everybody who was somebody in wizarding Britain. And the Blacks still counted as that - even if their only claim to fame these days was one eldest daughter in the Dark Lord's inner circle, Narcissa thought sourly. Back when the family had first realised just how deeply Bella was invested in current politics, they had reacted with a careful mix of outward pride and covert worry ("She is so high-strung; it will get her in trouble one day!"). But now that Meda had done the unthinkable and brought the taint of blood traitor on them all, the obvious passion of Bella's convictions had become a blessing, their strongest defence in the pool of sharks that was polite wizarding society.

"Narcissa."

The call came as she passed the tent set up to shade the selection of desserts and other refreshments set out for the guests. Not wanting to fall in with somebody else bound to rehash the recent Black family scandal, Narcissa sped up her steps.

"Cissy, hey."

Recognising the voice at last, Narcissa breathed a soft sigh of relief and turned.

"There you are, we've been looking for you everywhere."

Amy Flint and Melly Rosier, her friends from Hogwarts, fell into step next to her. Having passed their N.E.W.T.s and left school a month ago, they were all equally excited to be proper adults at last. They celebrated by attending as many of the numerous parties making up this summer's social schedule as they possibly could.

"Cake?" Melly offered her a tiny plate holding an even tinier cake covered in white sugar flowers and delicate sprinkles of glittering gold dust. The Yaxleys were gourmets, one more reason why nobody ever turned down one of their invitations.

"Thank you." Narcissa didn't have much of a sweet tooth, but she didn't want to offend Melly. The two other girls were best friends; she had never been as close to them as they were to each other, even before the scandal that had made her the butt of every joke in the Slytherin common room. It chafed to owe anybody anything, but Narcissa did appreciate that they had never joined in, and on one occasion had even threatened to hex her obnoxious little cousin Regulus when he had joined in the name calling. Wizarding society – the proper kind made up of the old pure-blood families, that is – was close-knit, and Narcissa was painfully aware that it would take time and effort to clear her family's reputation of the taint of her sister's actions.

"So, what's the score?" Amy asked, throwing her arms around the other two girls.

"Score?" Narcissa returned before taking a dainty nibble of cake. It was delicious, but then, at an event like this, that was a given.

Melly giggled. "Amy has decided it is high time we found ourselves some good-looking wizards."

"Yes indeed," Amy nodded. "You know, rich and pure-blood enough to look good on your arm, and," she winked, "easy on the eyes, because if they expect us to wait, the sex had better be good when it finally comes."

"Amy!" Narcissa exclaimed, horrified. She looked around quickly, but nobody was close enough to have heard.

It was a time-honoured tradition among the old families to reserve 'real' sex for the marriage bed, for witches and wizards alike; apart from proving desirable qualities like restraint and self-control, it guaranteed that any children born were of proper bloodline and parentage. While even the long-lived wizarding world was slowly bending on some of its traditions – it was tacitly acknowledged that most unmarried people were no strangers to other kinds of intimacy – it was still highly inappropriate to talk about it in public. Amy really could be incredibly tactless. Then again, she was a Flint, so what can you expect...

"Oh come on, Cissy," Amy drawled. "As if you didn't have a list of what exactly it is you want for a husband, and as if rich and good-looking were not top of the list."

Narcissa made a show of turning up her nose and sniffing. "I will have you know that top of the list is being from a respectable, old pure-blood family. I am a Black, I do not settle for somebody just for their purse or good looks." Then she spoiled the effect by giggling. "But I certainly wouldn't consider anybody who didn't have the other two as well."

After all, she would inherit a sizeable fortune herself one day, and the Blacks were one of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain. She didn't need her parents' hints to understand that she was expected to make a match worthy of the family name, even more so now that there was a smudge on the family honour that needed removing.

"Well, I am in no hurry to marry," Melly declared. "I want to make a name for myself as an expert on Security Charms." Melly had already been accepted into an apprenticeship at Gringotts, an achievement they had toasted with plenty of wine at the last garden party, at Avery House last week.

Narcissa grinned. Some of the richer families considered actual work to be beneath them, but the Rosiers had always had a refreshingly practical streak. She should know, her own mother was a Rosier after all.

"So, Amy," she asked, "you have your eyes on anybody in particular?" She had spent a considerable amount of time this summer making lists of eligible young wizards, and there were enough options that she would rather avoid playing tug-of-war with a friend.

Amy twirled the stem of her wine glass. The look she shot Narcissa said she had a fair idea why she was asking. "I considered Rufus Macmillan, but ultimately decided I can't take the risk of his looking like his father by the time he is sixty."

Narcissa took another bite of cake to hide her grin. Macmillan senior was a very nice, and very bald, wizard.

"And everyone knows Sebastian Parkinson did it with Geraldine Bulstrode back in sixth year, so he is out of the question as well. It's a real pity, but to take the leftovers of what is practically a Mudblood..." Amy shuddered.

Narcissa nodded in sympathy. Sebastian Parkinson was an incredibly good-looking young man, but his blatant indiscretions had permanently removed him from the number of wizards considered to be a 'good match'. Everyone knew that Geraldine's grandfather was a Mudblood, and that a wizard from such a good family as the Parkinsons would sully himself with that kind of person was more than anybody needed to know about his character.

"So I guess I'm going for either Gideon Yaxley or Nathaniel Avery. Or possibly Rabastan Lestrange; he looks like he'd be a lot of fun in bed."

Now it was Narcissa's turn to shudder. She had never understood what Bella found in Rodolphus Lestrange. The man was almost eerily quiet most of the time, and she was certain he leered at her when her back was turned. His brother was more lively, with a braying laugh she hated. They both liked to make her feel like a little girl, smiling those patronising smiles at her, making crude jokes in her presence and then pretending they hadn't realised she was there, laughing at her when she blushed.

"Then again, we all know Gideon has set his eyes on you," Amy teased, dragging her out of her unpleasant thoughts.

Narcissa smiled. Yes, Gideon Yaxley had made it clear that he was interested, if his behaviour last week was anything to go by. He had asked her to dance several times – and apologised profusely for stepping on her toes – and he had been almost annoying in his earnestness at keeping her goblet filled at all times.

He was certainly a good match. His family was almost as old and almost as rich as hers, his manners – unlike his dancing skills – were impeccable, and so what if she didn't find his dark, strong-jawed looks particularly attractive? Two out of three was more than enough. Unlike all the other girls, Narcissa had gone through Hogwarts with barely any silly crushes or experiments in dark corners. If sex with her husband would be limited to the traditional wedding night and whatever it took to provide an heir, that was just fine with her.

"I'll set my sights on Nathaniel Avery then," Amy declared, winking at Narcissa in a way that reassured her that Gideon was hers if she wanted him.

"If you two are done dividing up wizards between you, how about we go join the games down by the lake?" Melly asked. She was always eager to show off her skills with a wand.

"Good idea," Narcissa readily agreed. "I'll just return this plate, and then we can-"

She turned, still talking and looking back at Melly, and crashed straight into somebody, smearing the leftover icing on her plate over a set of very expensive dark robes.

"Oh, I am sorry," she exclaimed. "Merlin, I am so sorry. Here, let me clean that up..." She fumbled for her wand, a hasty cleaning charm taking care of the mess, and finally looked up to see who she had run into.

"No harm done," a smooth male voice said, grey eyes winking at her in gentle amusement. "If you ladies will excuse me?" He executed a flawless half-bow and turned, walking away across the lawn with his dark blue robes - cut in the latest style and made from finest cloth - swirling behind him in the summer breeze.

It took Narcissa a few seconds of staring after him before she connected the handsome face with its frame of shoulder-length white-blond hair to a name. He hadn't worn his hair this long when she had known him at Hogwarts. And he certainly had never smiled at her that way.

"Cissy, are you coming?" Melly's voice broke into her thoughts.

Amy giggled. "Seriously, Cissy? Lucius Malfoy? If that is your type, Gideon doesn't stand much of a chance, does he?" She nudged Narcissa with her shoulder. "So does that mean I can have him after all?"

Narcissa made a shushing motion. "Lower your voice, for Merlin's sake. And he is not 'my type'. I was just surprised." She looked in the direction Lucius Malfoy had disappeared in. "He's changed a lot since Hogwarts."

"Well, yes," Amy conceded, becoming more serious. "It's been two years for him, and with his father dying last year, he's had to shoulder a lot of responsibilities in a very short time." She sent a sly glance at Narcissa. "Of course, now that he's the head of the family, he's expected to marry soon."

Narcissa made a show of ignoring her. It annoyed her that her reaction was so obvious, but she told herself that she was simply considering all her options. The Malfoys were certainly rich and she couldn't deny that Lucius was good-looking enough, but by the standards of the Blacks they were new money. Abraxas Malfoy's father had built the family fortune and name practically from scratch, and while Abraxas had easily fit into the leisurely lifestyle of a well-to-do pure-blood, most people credited his wife with single-handedly keeping together the Malfoy money. Thanks to her the Malfoy fortune was now one of the greatest in wizarding Britain, and while some people (such as her Aunt Walburga) still sneered at the Malfoys for being upstarts, nobody could afford to ignore them, or be caught saying so to their faces. Besides, Mrs Malfoy had been a Nott, so Lucius could claim an old, respectable blood-line on the maternal side at least.

The rest of the party passed in a whirl of pleasant amusements, and she was not disappointed when she didn't see Lucius again, and she certainly didn't keep looking for him at every party and gathering she attended for the next two months.

*

~ Lucius Malfoy ~
autumn 1973

Lucius watched his friend Gideon waltz with Narcissa Black and tried not to feel jealous.

Gideon and Rabastan had insisted that he come and attend tonight's ball, no matter how many urgent things he had to reschedule. In a way, he had been glad to give in. One short year of being introduced to the family business had been a poor preparation for taking over after his father's death, and he was still busy undoing the damage his father's casual approach to finances had done to the family accounts since his mother's death seven years ago.

Besides, quite apart from these mundane daily worries, there was a war going on. Oh, the Ministry carefully avoided calling it that, but now, three years into the Dark Lord's campaign to gain power and overthrow the ineffectual, Muggle-coddling, weak rule of the current Ministry, first results were visible to those who knew where to look. As of this year, two of the Wizengamot's senior members bore the Dark Mark, there was a strong possibility of the latest Muggle-protection law being abolished before it could take hold, and Twilfitt and Tatting's had successfully defended its right to refuse service to Muggle-borns. Some might consider the latter a minor thing, but Lucius knew it was the small things that added up to real change.

And he was part of it. Almost from the first hour, thanks to excellent connections forged at Hogwarts. He brushed a finger against his left forearm, thrilled by the knowledge of what was hidden beneath the expensive fabric. His father hadn't much cared for the power that came with money, but Lucius was determined to not let it go to waste.

Usually, he had little patience for these social occasions. He much preferred backroom meetings were matters of actual importance were discussed. But as he watched Narcissa Black swirl around the room, he found that he didn't mind so much today.

He still had to stifle a grin when he thought of their last meeting and the mortified look on her face as she had cleaned up his robes. He remembered her from Hogwarts, of course. Two years below him, an unusually serious little girl. Not pretty like her sisters, but with a sharp tongue. There had been one memorable occasion on which she had told him off for claiming the last piece of chocolate cake at a Halloween feast when some timid first year had been about to take it (highly inappropriate, in her opinion - what with him being a prefect and all). Most Slytherins had a healthy respect for the older students in their house, and he had been impressed by her guts despite himself.

The serious little girl had grown up into a rather...intriguing...woman, he found. She still lacked the fiery, passionate kind of beauty her older sister had, but after two years of Death Eater meetings with Bellatrix – who had a tendency to get over-enthusiastic on a regular basis - he found that Narcissa's cool and collected poise was much more to his liking. Even now, when Gideon had just stepped on her toes for at least the fourth time, she graciously accepted his apologies and didn't betray so much as a wince.

Lucius frowned. He was aware that Gideon had an interest in Narcissa, of course. It was why he had not asked her to dance himself yet. But there was nothing in her behaviour that indicated that she returned the interest beyond the friendliness to be expected between people who moved in the same social circles. And as far as he knew, Gideon was not formally courting the young Miss Black. There really was no reason why he couldn't-

When Gideon stepped on her toes yet again, Lucius set aside his goblet of wine and strode across the dance floor with determination. He reached them just as the current dance ended.

Stepping forward with a subtle shift of his shoulders that put Gideon behind him, he took Narcissa's hand and offered an old-fashioned bow and hand kiss. It was the kind of gesture Gideon would never think to make, and from the faint blush staining her cheeks, it was the first point in his favour.

"Miss Black, may I be so bold as to ask for the next dance?"

There was a pause, and Gideon shifted beside him as if he wanted to interrupt, but then Narcissa said in her clear, precise voice, "You may, Mr Malfoy."

As he cautiously put his arm on her back and took hold of her hand, Lucius distantly thought that it shouldn't feel that good to touch her.

To distract himself, he said with a little smile, "So formal? One would think we had never met before."

She let herself be swept into the dance, following his lead with ease. At his remark, she looked at him and offered a small smile of her own. Being on the receiving end of it made something in Lucius's stomach jump. "You started it." A deliberate pause. "Lucius."

Sweet Merlin, he really hoped she didn't brush against his front during the dance. Else she would surely discover what, mercifully, the loose robes hid. And to think that it had taken nothing but his name from her lips.

"Yes, I did," he replied. "I did not want you to think I was raised without manners." He very briefly allowed his gaze to dip from her face to the swell of her breasts under the pale blue silk of her gown, and brought it back up with the faintest of appreciative smiles. "Narcissa."

The blush told him she had not missed his look, and - much more importantly - the tiny smile told him it had not been entirely unwelcome.

As he twirled her around the room, Lucius found himself seriously considering his intentions. Being left as the only Malfoy in his line, marriage was a foregone conclusion. Being as young as he was, there was no hurry, but on the other hand in these uncertain times it was better to be safe than sorry. Besides, Lucius thought he would enjoy having a wife to share his home, and bed, with. The thought of children didn't terrify him as it did so many of his former classmates from Hogwarts. He had lost his mother when he was thirteen, and his father at nineteen. He was determined to have his own children while he was young enough to enjoy them and to be there for them.

So why not Narcissa Black?

She was beautiful in her own way, she was obviously intelligent and well-bred, she came from a first rate family, and it seemed like she wasn't entirely indifferent towards him. There was, of course, the minor detail of her sister's unfortunate betrayal of family and blood. But given that Bellatrix Lestrange was her other sister – and no-one in their right mind would question Bellatrix's loyalty to the Dark Lord's cause – that didn't seem like much of an issue to him.

The other minor detail was Gideon, he supposed. But well, that was just a matter of winning the witch's affections, and really, given how obviously she enjoyed dancing with him, a wizard who kept stepping on her toes couldn't be much of a competition.

So far Lucius had never cared one bit for any of the pretty young witches people kept introducing him to ever since he had inherited his father's fortune. But by the time his dance with Narcissa Black ended, Lucius was determined to have her. Unfortunately, Gideon seemed to not have taken his interference well. He was waiting for them as they left the dance floor.

"Narcissa," he said as soon as they were in earshot, "would you like some refreshment? There are some lovely hors d'oeuvres, you must be exhausted from all the dancing." He gave Lucius a look that clearly communicated he was not invited along.

Friendship or not, Lucius wasn't about to just step aside. "I would call it invigorating rather than exhausting, myself," he drawled, inwardly gratified by the flush creeping up Gideon's neck. "It was a pleasure, Narcissa." He sketched another bow. "Should you wish for another dance later tonight, I will be entirely at your disposal." He dropped his voice on the last words, giving them a double meaning that made her eyes widen before her face reset in the polite mask he had seen her wear most of the evening.

He only realised that he had gone too far too fast when she drew herself up, took Gideon's arm with obvious deliberation and said in a voice as cool as ice, "Thank you, Lucius. I will keep in mind your eagerness to share your-" a minute pause, a tiny wrinkling of her aristocratic nose, "- dancing skills."

Lucius just barely caught his flinch and forced himself to graciously acknowledge the barb (at least, he hoped he looked gracious). Gideon smirked at him, but Narcissa didn't dignify him with another glance as the two disappeared in the direction of the buffet. Looking after them, still recovering from the unsettling discovery that the woman of his choice had teeth and was not afraid to use them, Lucius vowed that whatever it took, he would win Narcissa Black's heart. Malfoys did not give up that easily.

*

~ Narcissa Black ~
Christmas 1973

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor, Mr Black, Madam Black. And Narcissa, of course."

Narcissa graciously allowed Lucius to kiss her hand, after he had performed the same courtesy for her mother.

"Thank you, Mr Malfoy. We are glad to be here. My, what stunning Christmas decorations you have put up. I do believe your mother would have been proud."

"Thank you, Madam Black; that is very kind of you to say."

Lucius gave Narcissa's mother his most winning smile. He had spent the last months subtly wooing Narcissa, going out of his way to attend every single social gathering she attended herself. At first he had limited himself to dancing with her once or twice over the course of a night, but lately, ever since Gideon had started formally courting Amy, he had progressed to bringing her drinks and various tidbits to eat, and making small talk. He was good at it, too, not awkward like Gideon. Lucius always found something to talk about, and didn't even shy away from discussing the latest winter fashion with Amy and Melly.

His attentions had not gone unnoticed. Narcissa's friends considered it a foregone conclusion that she was the future Mrs Malfoy, and only last week her mother had taken her aside and cautiously inquired whether Lucius had made any declarations of intent yet.

It would all have been much easier if Narcissa had known her own mind on the subject. But she was torn between lingering outrage at Lucius's forwardness that first time, and grudging acknowledgement of the fact that the mere sight of him prompted feelings in her belly – and other body parts – that made her feel both deliciously alive and dangerously out of control at the same time.

The prospect of attending the Yule Ball at Malfoy Manor, where he would inevitably meet and interact with her parents, had given Narcissa a few sleepless nights. Her parents were not the sort to make a spectacle of themselves, but the fact was that everybody assumed she and Lucius had some sort of understanding, when in reality they had never gone beyond his flirting with her and her cautiously not encouraging him, but not telling him to stop either.

Fortunately, introductions went without a hitch, and the three of them – Bella had arrived separately with her husband and his brother – made their way into the ballroom. As Narcissa watched her parents greet friends and acquaintances, her mother casually holding her father's arm as she had done too many times to count, she wondered if she would ever have that kind of effortless intimacy with somebody. And if that somebody would - and more importantly, should - be Lucius.

"So how do you like Malfoy Manor?" a voice asked right behind her.

Narcissa turned and smiled politely at Lucius. "What I have seen so far certainly does justice to its reputation." At his sceptically raised eyebrow, she added a more heartfelt, "It is beautiful."

It was. A comparatively new building by wizarding standards, it had clearly been built to impress. The lavish Christmas decorations sparkled in the lights of hundreds of enchanted candles, refracted by polished mirrors with elaborate gilded frames.

She wondered if he ever got lonely. It seemed a large place to live in all alone, with nothing but house-elves for company and no neighbours nearby. Her own family preferred their residence in town. It was a Black family tradition, but Narcissa couldn't deny that she found the thought of living in the country, in an expansive mansion like Malfoy Manor, with sweeping grounds attached, more than attractive. Realising her train of thought, she blushed. She wasn't even sure she should return Lucius's interest; it was certainly uncalled for to think about what it would be like to live in his house.

Lucius's face crinkled in a smile that said he had an idea what she was thinking. "I am afraid my duties as a host will keep me busy most of the night, but will you reserve a dance for me?"

Narcissa promised that she would. Then a group of new arrivals filled the entrance behind them and he had to leave and greet them.

She didn't get another chance to talk to Lucius again until much later that night, when a few of the older guests had already left and the dance floor was filled with couples dancing a bit more closely than was strictly proper. Narcissa was standing on the side, watching Amy and Gideon more or less sway in place while taking occasional sips of wine from the crystal goblet in her hand.

"Ah, admiring the happy couple?" Lucius asked, coming to stand at her side and following her gaze.

"They are, aren't they?" Narcissa replied. "I think they make an excellent pair."

"They do indeed," Lucius nodded. "And of course," he winked at her, "this solution has the added benefit that I didn't have to duel a good friend over the affections of a witch."

Narcissa looked at him with wide eyes. Surely he wasn't serious...

Lucius grinned unrepentantly. "No, I didn't," he reassured her. Then his voice grew warm and serious again. "But I would have, if it had been the only way."

Narcissa tossed her hair back. "A bit foolish, don't you think? Duelling over a witch when you don't even know whether she wants you."

The raw, openly vulnerable look on his face startled her. She had meant it in jest, wanting to throw him off-balance and scratch at his cocky self-assurance a little.

For a moment they were both silent. Then Lucius set aside his goblet, took hers and also placed it on the little side table.

"You're right," he began, in a voice so devoid of his usual posturing that Narcissa couldn't have interrupted him if she'd wanted to. "I don't know that. So will you allow me to ask?"

The vulnerable look was still on his face, though he was trying hard to cover it up. It was a new side to Lucius Malfoy, one she hadn't thought existed, and it brought her close to a decision.

"Some would say I am not exactly the best match a wealthy bachelor could make," she began carefully. Because she needed to know, before she got too close to him, what he thought about the whole affair with Andromeda. Thanks to Bellatrix, she was well aware by now that Lucius moved in the innermost circles of the Dark Lord's followers, and she needed to know.

Lucius raised an eyebrow, his mask and armour back in place. "They must be rather enormous fools then," he said dryly, startling a laugh out of Narcissa.

"What happened with my- with Andromeda...," she forced herself to elaborate, trailing off, hoping he would not make her say it.

Lucius was silent for a few seconds, but then he spoke and saved her from having to go into details. "What is she to you now?" he asked, his voice flat and without clues as to his own feelings on the subject.

Narcissa did not hesitate. "Nothing," she said with vehemence. "She is nothing. I have only one sister, and her name is Bellatrix."

One year ago, shortly after Meda had arranged to meet her in Hogsmeade to tell her she was leaving home, and why, and to say goodbye to her little sister – and before the Christmas holidays ruined by the increasingly vicious exchange of howlers between Meda and the rest of her family - Narcissa might have hesitated to disown her this comprehensively. But now, having weathered all the taunts of cruel and tactless children at Hogwarts, and the more discreet whispers and insinuations of the adult wizarding world, she understood that there were two options: become an outcast like Andromeda and forever be 'the sister of that witch who ran off with a Mudblood', or make sure that Andromeda ceased to exist. Narcissa would not allow her sister to ruin her life as she had ruined her own.

Lucius nodded slowly. "Then there is nothing more to say. And if anybody sees fit to give you grief over it, my wand is in your service."

Narcissa flashed him a look of half-hearted indignation. He knew she was capable of holding her own. But she admitted to herself that she appreciated his show of support.

"If that is your only objection, can we agree that it has been overruled and get back to my original question?" Lucius asked, growing more tentative again.

It was a revelation to see him this insecure, and Narcissa decided that he deserved an honest answer. "I can't answer that, Lucius. Yet," she added quickly when his face tightened. "I have danced with you at a few balls, and made small talk at countless parties. Well, and I vaguely remember you tutoring me in Ancient Runes for a few months in fourth year."

He smiled at that, relaxing as he realised she was not refusing him outright. Then he took her hands in his, and she had to force herself to concentrate on his words instead of his firm but gentle grip.

"That is what courtship is, Narcissa: a chance to get to know one another beyond the empty small talk. Will you not give me that chance?"

When she didn't reply at once, he added with forced lightness, "And let me prove to you that I can make it through a conversation without inappropriate innuendo?"

She laughed. "Oh, very well. You shall have your chance, Lucius Malfoy. Even if I sincerely doubt your ability to provide that particular proof."

He was quick in regaining his self-control, but the momentary flash of undisguised joy and relief on his face made her want to hug him tight, and it made her wonder what it would feel like to kiss him. But of course they were still in public, and there were rules and customs to be obeyed. So they made do with dancing, and holding each other a little closer than was entirely appropriate.

Lucius's warm, strong guiding hand on her back had never felt this good, and with every glance and shared smile Narcissa was more certain that she had made the right decision.

*

~ Lucius Malfoy ~
Easter 1974

Courting Narcissa Black was an ongoing adventure for Lucius.

He still wasn't certain why she had hesitated, back when he had asked her permission to court her, and it worried him on some days. On other days, all he could think about was her smooth, soft skin, the subtle swell of her breasts under her robes, her pink lips and summer-sky blue eyes. The feel of her brushing against his side when they walked in the Manor gardens, her hand in his when he led her to the dance floor, the firmness of her breasts under his hands, that one time she had allowed him to touch, and the gentle caress of her hand on his face when she leaned in to kiss him.

They had agreed that, in keeping with tradition, they would not go all the way with somebody they were not married to, but that didn't keep them from kissing and exploring with their hands. In fact, it had become a real challenge to stop before things got out of hand. To his chagrin, Narcissa was the one who could always be counted upon to step back and make them both cool down before they went further than they meant to. So far, they had progressed to having had their hands underneath each other's robes, and it was driving him crazy.

He had heard enough – often snide – remarks from people that had been in Narcissa's year at Hogwarts to gather that she had substantially less practical experience than he did. The last time somebody had called her frigid in his hearing, he had not bothered to hold back. If Rabastan went around calling his brother's sister-in-law foul names, he should expect worse than the well-aimed Babbling Curse Lucius had restrained himself to.

Besides, while she undeniably had remarkable self-control, there was nothing cold in the way she kissed him. Lucius had dallied with his fair share of witches, mostly at Hogwarts, but a few afterwards as well. And while he was certain that Narcissa always held herself back that final little bit, he was equally certain that she was never dishonest in her reactions. So when she told him that she would rather not come to the Manor for dinner without further dining companions because she didn't trust herself if they were alone in his home at night, he took it as confirmation that she did want him – and not just above the belt.

In a reasonable frame of mind, Lucius acknowledged that her sense and restraint were all that were keeping him from breaking down and begging her to touch his cock already. He fervently hoped she hadn't noticed that one time when he had come under his robes, just from her kissing him and stroking his hair. (She had told him once that she liked how he was letting it grow; he hadn't cut it since.) But on days like this one, when he grew hard just thinking about her – and he had to stop, because the meeting still wasn't over, and he was in a room with five other Death Eaters, damn it – he badly wished he knew how to make her lose her composure and reduce her to the same burning irrational physical need.

The unexpected entrance of the Dark Lord himself brought his musings to an end, and when he left the meeting two hours later, Lucius wanted nothing more than a bath and a stiff drink. He was now under orders to place the head of the Department of Magical Transportation under an Imperius Curse, and the implication had been strong that his failure or success would decide his admission into the innermost circle of Death Eaters. It was what he had been working for ever since hearing the first whispers of the Dark Lord's power back at Hogwarts, and the thought that it was within his grasp at last was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. He had been a Death Eater long enough to know the Dark Lord did not deal kindly with those that failed him.

Lucius had just settled down in his library with a generous shot of Firewhiskey – who cared if it was barely past noon – when the wards on the Floo rang out. With a curse he sprang to his feet. Nothing, not even the Dark Lord himself, should be enough to make him forget a date with Narcissa, damn it.

Rushing into the entrance hall just as she left the Floo and patted her hair to make sure everything was in place, he made up for it by stepping right up to her, brushing a stray lock of hair out of her face and greeting her with a long, gentle kiss. He felt her melt against him, and subtly shifted his hips away as certain parts of him did the opposite of melting in response.

"Do you think it will make me run in fright if I notice it, or something?" Narcissa asked tartly after she broke the kiss, her lips still almost touching his.

"What?" He stepped back, startled.

Narcissa's lips curled and she directed a surprisingly frank look at his groin. Lucius felt himself blush at the same time as he felt his cock grow harder. "I, erm..." He was, very uncharacteristically, lost for words.

"I could...touch it." There were two bright red spots on Narcissa's cheeks. "If you, uh, wanted."

Lucius forcefully cleared his throat. "Would you like some refreshment?" Hopefully, that would keep them busy long enough that he could figure out how to deal with this new, forward Narcissa without loosing his mind or his self-control.

By the time Narcissa was settled in one of the plush armchairs in the drawing room overlooking the southern lawn, sipping tea from one of his mother's delicate china cups, he had calmed himself, and his wayward body, enough to say, "No, I do not think it will make you run in fright."

The rattle of cup against saucer betrayed her surprise at his bringing it up, but her voice was steady, and still a bit tart. "Well, you act like it."

Lucius turned to face her, hands clasped behind his back. "At what was practically our first meeting, I offended you by being too forward. I didn't want to repeat the offence."

She took that in, thought about it for a minute, and then shook her head. "We barely knew each other then, and by that count, you were too forward. But now-" She hesitated, but then plunged on. "There is a difference between respecting boundaries and acting like the confirmation that you want me will make me break into hysterics." Her eyes narrowed. "I may not have made my way through every available partner at Hogwarts, but I am not an innocent."

Lucius bristled. "I didn't-"

Narcissa pursed her lips. "No, maybe not quite. But," she set her cup down, stood up and walked over to him, "yes, you have more experience than I have. Doesn't mean I have none, Lucius." She stopped in front of him, running her hands down his chest. "I don't mind your being protective. I even like it at times. But stop trying to protect me from you."

Lucius's mouth went dry as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it down his shoulders, exposing his bare chest. He might have made a tiny sound in the back of his throat when she started rubbing circles on his skin with her hands, sending sparks to his groin when she brushed against his nipples, but other than that he was afraid to say anything. It might make her stop.

Then she pulled off his sleeves, first the right, then the left. He held his breath as the Dark Mark was exposed in all its stark glory.

For all that he had been courting her for months, he was not entirely certain what she thought of this part of him. Sure, the Black family was known as staunch supporters of the Dark Lord's cause, but he couldn't recall Narcissa ever voicing so much as a single opinion on politics in his hearing.

Narcissa drew a deep breath. Just as he was starting to worry that the Mark might frighten or unsettle her, she reached out with one tentative finger and stroked it, feather light, with something like awe, as if uncertain she was allowed to.

She looked up at him, her eyes luminous and sincere. "You won't break me, Lucius."

The low timbre of her voice, the utter openness on her face and the tingle on the soft skin of his forearm where she had touched him broke his composure. With a low growl, he took hold of her, pulled her up against him and pressed his lips against hers. She melted against him without resistance, the smooth fabric of her robes cool against his bare chest. Her soft lips parted eagerly for his probing tongue, her hands came up around him, and she was clinging to him, giving him everything he asked, and more.

This time, he made no attempt to shift when his erection made itself known, pressing hard against her hip. And she showed neither surprise nor displeasure. Instead, she shifted against him, making him groan in desperate pleasure at the delicious friction.

After a few moments of this, he broke the kiss and croaked, "Don't- you have to stop, or I'll-"

And she, with a wicked gleam in her eyes he had never seen before, nipped at his lower lip and replied, "So? That's what cleaning charms are for, aren't they?"

The sheer surprise at her playfulness tipped him right over the edge.

*

~ Narcissa Black ~
summer 1974

Narcissa dragged her feet as she made her way up the gravel path to the imposing main entrance of Malfoy Manor. She couldn't believe her bad luck.

Today was supposed to be a good day, a happy day. There had been something in Lucius's voice and eyes yesterday, when he had issued the invitation, that made her think he was ready to ask the all-important question, and she should be excited and happy. Not uncertain, ashamed and worried.

Stupid cousin Sirius. It was all his fault. First Andromeda, and now him. It was as if there was a curse on the Black family.

Loyalty to family and blood was one of the main qualities expected in children of good breeding. And the Black family tree now sported two traitors in the same generation. She would be lucky if Lucius was still willing to receive her, once he found out. All right, so maybe she was exaggerating; but it was bound to make him think twice about allying himself with her.

Lucius took one look at her as he greeted her at the door, took her hands and led her to a chair, making her sit. "What's wrong, Narcissa?" He sounded worried, and Narcissa had to smile despite her inner turmoil. It was nice to know that he cared.

She took a fortifying breath. "We've had some...bad news," she began. At the look on Lucius's face she hurried to add, "It's not that bad. Nobody is dead or anything."

There had been an altercation between Death Eaters and Aurors recently, resulting in a few nasty injuries on both sides. As far as she knew, Lucius had not been part of it, but from some of his remarks she gathered a friend of his had almost been killed.

Lucius conjured a glass of water and handed it to her, relaxing somewhat.

"It's my stupid cousin Sirius."

Lucius cocked his head. "Walburga's eldest?" he asked. "The Gryffindor?"

"That's the one," Narcissa confirmed bitterly. "He only went and ran away. Never even returned home after the Hogwarts year ended last week."

Lucius's lips twitched. "Oh, don't worry. From what I hear, he always enjoyed playing the family rebel. Give it a few weeks and he'll be back, begging to be allowed to go back to Hogwarts, if nothing else."

Narcissa made a face. "I doubt it. Apparently he's been taken in by the Potters." She met Lucius's eyes. "Dorea Potter sent an owl to Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion saying that he was well, and that they would take care of his Hogwarts fees and things."

Lucius mirrored her grimace. "Well," he said, "the Potters were careful so far to not end up with the label of blood traitor, but it seems they have changed their tune. If they openly defy the Black family like this, that certainly shows where their loyalties lie."

Narcissa just nodded, defeated. "I'm sorry," she said softly.

There was a loud silence during which she carefully did not look up. Then Lucius was on his knees before her, his hand on her chin forcing her to meet his eyes. He didn't look angry, but he did look upset.

"Narcissa, this is not your fault," he said gently.

"Of course it's not," Narcissa bristled, her temper making a return. "It's Aunt Walburga's fault for never figuring out how to deal with him. But-" she looked away, "-it's another stain on the name of Black, and-"

"Do you know," Lucius said conversationally, "that your sister Bellatrix was recently called one of the Dark Lord's most loyal followers in front of almost the entire inner circle?"

Narcissa looked up, surprised. She had been under the impression that Bella mostly tagged along with her husband and his brother, not that she herself was the driving force behind their political involvement.

Lucius grinned at her reaction. "And what's more, apparently she mentioned to him that I was courting her sister. He told me, and I quote, that he was very pleased to hear I had chosen a woman of such superior breeding for the continuation of the Malf-" he broke off and looked almost sheepish. She had, after all, taught him the hard way to not make assumptions about her choices before she actually made them.

Relieved beyond words at what she was hearing, Narcissa found she couldn’t begrudge him the little presumption. Composing herself, she patted down her hair, stood and straightened her robes. "In that case, is there any chance of some of those fresh strawberries you mentioned yesterday?"

And when Lucius went to his knees again a few hours later, on the patio leading to the Manor's beautiful flower garden, and asked the question she had been hoping to hear, Narcissa said yes with all her heart, and without reservations.

*

~ Lucius Malfoy ~
Christmas 1974

Lucius waved his wand at the hem of his mud-splattered robes. It had been a long, gruelling night and day, but they had been successful. Caradoc Dearborn had held out a surprisingly long time, but in the end the combination of the Cruciatus and Imperius Curses had worn him down and broken his defences against Veritaserum. At long last, he had given them the names and identities of more than ten of the witches and wizards that Mudblood-lover Dumbledore had gathered around him to fight the increasing influence of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters.

Apparently they called themselves the Order of the Phoenix. Lucius's lips curled in a humourless smile. Dearborn had had no trouble with the burning, but Lucius had a feeling he would not be rising from the ashes any time soon.

The Dark Lord had been most pleased.

As exhausted and cold as he was after the day's exertions, Lucius felt energized and exhilarated. The war was going very well. The number of witches and wizards in influential positions that supported their cause willingly – or did so unwillingly under an Imperius Curse – was growing weekly. If things progressed as planned, they should be ready to openly take over the Ministry in a couple of years. And when that happened, it was not entirely unreasonable to think that a promising young wizard like himself might eventually end up as Minister for Magic.

He was about to invite his comrades in for a cup of mulled wine in celebration of the day's achievements when he noticed Narcissa enter the hall from the dining room. Her vivid red robe was a spot of brightness in the dim hall, and it sparked another kind of happiness and satisfaction.

Narcissa and her mother had finally settled on a date for the wedding. Lucius had been happy to leave them to it, figuring that it was a very agreeable way to stay in his future mother-in-law's good graces. And damn, now he remembered, he had been supposed to meet with them today to settle on the design for the invitations.

She waited patiently while he bid his fellow Death Eaters goodbye, nodding in polite greeting to the ones she knew. The moment the door had closed behind the last wizard, Lucius turned. "I am sorry, Narcissa; there was no way to let you know I couldn't make it." He had been far too busy to think about things like owls to his intended.

Narcissa just nodded. "I understand," she said calmly. "Your house-elf told us you were away on official business for the Dark Lord." She didn't move from her spot near the door. "Mother and I finished the invitations, and we only need your approval before they are ready to be sent out. I thought I'd wait for you."

Now that he thought about it, it was decidedly unusual for her to be this restrained. At the very least, he would have expected a kiss once they were alone. Instead she was still standing there as if her feet were glued to the marble floor, her eyes fixed on his dirty robes.

Merlin's balls, he was the first person to dislike dirty clothes, but that was no reason to be this distant.

Then he took a good look at his robes himself. They were stained and splattered with mud, yes, but the reddish stains on the silver buckles looked exactly like what they were: spatters of Dearborn's blood.

Oh.

Lucius quickly waved his wand and muttered an incantation that returned his robes to their proper pristine state. He cleared his throat. "I am in the mood for a cup of strong, hot mulled wine. Care to join me?" Said in an offhand manner, hoping to distract her and keep her from asking questions. His work for the Dark Lord was distasteful at times. Dwelling on it unnecessarily would achieve nothing.

Narcissa acquiesced without another word, but even when they settled down in the library, the mulled wine and the roaring fire providing him with much-needed warmth, she sat on the chair opposite his instead of next to him.

She left him to enjoy the drink for a while, then she asked quietly, "Was that blood?"

Lucius clenched his teeth. She should know better than to ask. Narcissa was not a Death Eater; she had no business asking him for details.

"I don't want to know whose it was," Narcissa said, so softly he almost didn't catch it. "I just-" She twisted her hands in her lap. "It's dangerous, isn't it? What you do for- for him."

It wasn't like her to fret like this. Lucius frowned. "Yes," he said curtly, "it is dangerous at times. Surely that isn't news to you." The last thing he needed was for her to come out now and say she couldn't deal with having a husband who was on the front lines in the war they were fighting.

Narcissa's head flew up at his tone of voice. "No," she said, a little louder and a lot more icily, "it isn't news. And it's not that I can't stand the thought of your doing what must be done." She raised an eyebrow, her self-assurance returning. "I chose you, did I not?" With a rustle of fabric she left her seat and dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands coming to rest on his forearms. "I chose you, Lucius. All of you. Even that." Her right hand caressed his left forearm at the exact spot where the Dark Mark was. "I want you to know that I am all right with this. With what you are. What you do. You don't have to protect me from the reality of it."

Before he could say anything in response, she added, "Well, as I said, I don't need to know the details." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "But it can't be easy for you, and I want you to know that I'm here if you need me."

Lucius drew her up into his lap and kissed her. Hungrily, with none of the gentle finesse he usually employed. Right now, he needed to possess, to replace the memory of that stinking little room with her soft lips and tongue and hands and body.

When he had sated his initial hunger – and heroically refrained from ripping her gown off and taking her right here in front of the fire (sweet Merlin, why had she insisted on a summer wedding?) – he brought up something that had been on his mind lately. "He expects to meet you one of these days," he said, playing absent-mindedly with a lock of Narcissa's long golden hair that had escaped the confinement of her braid.

Narcissa sat up. "He? You mean-" Her breath caught.

Lucius gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. "Yes, the Dark Lord. I am not just anybody among his followers." He knew he was bragging, but damn it, he had earned it. "It is only proper that he meet the woman who will be my wife."

Narcissa chewed on her lower lip, a very uncharacteristic sign of nervousness that prompted Lucius to add, "He will make an appearance at this year's Yule Ball at the Manor. It'll be an excellent opportunity, and your sister will be there as well."

Narcissa didn't look very reassured. "Lucius," she began hesitantly, "does he- I mean..." She trailed off uncertainly.

Lucius kissed her hand, then each finger in turn. "There is nothing to be nervous about, Narcissa. Yes, he is an incredibly powerful and dangerous wizard, but we are on his side. Nobody expects anything from you other than to be there and to show off your best manners. Which you always do, anyway."

He felt her relax at last.

"So he doesn't expect me to..."

"Expect you to what?" And then, at last, the Knut dropped. "Merlin, no, Narcissa. Nobody expects you to join the Death Eaters." He shifted so he could look at her properly. "Is that what you are worried about?"

Narcissa had the grace to look a little ashamed. "I just thought...I mean, you are, and...maybe you wanted your wife to-"

"No," Lucius said firmly. "I would support you all the way if that was what you wanted, but to be honest," he smiled warmly, "I like you exactly the way you are. I want a wife who will host balls and parties at the Manor, and revive the reputation of the Malfoy Yule Ball as the event to attend. Besides, you don't strike me as the type to get invested in politics the way your sister does."

Narcissa made a face. "Nobody gets invested in politics the way Bella does."

They both had to laugh at the truth of that statement.

Lucius kept playing with her hair, still thinking. "You know," he said at last, "I can see why you would worry about that, seeing as Bellatrix is your sister. But to be honest, she is the exception rather than the rule. We Death Eaters are traditionally a wizards-only organisation, and," he tugged the lock he had been playing with, "we rather like it that way."

Narcissa slapped his hands away in mock indignation. "Just as well," she huffed. "If that means you won't interfere with my running of the household, we'll get along just fine."

When Lucius's answering laugh was interrupted by a yawn, she started to climb off his lap. "Poor Lucius, you've had a hard day, haven't you?"

Giving in to a sudden mood, and the desire to not let the evening end on a note as dull as the division of work in marriage, Lucius grabbed her round the waist and dragged her back. "Yes, very," he growled into her ear. "If I promise to only undress you above the waist, will you stay and make it better?"

She twisted around so she could look at him. "Hm, maybe." She pretended to think it over. "I will if you promise me two more things."

"Done," Lucius replied promptly, already reaching for her robe.

"One," she batted his hand away, "I get to undress you exactly as much, and I get to do it first; and two," she grabbed his right hand and placed it between her breasts, "at some point, this hand will be busy under my robes, at a certain spot a bit lower than this."

Lucius grinned, his weariness all but vanished. There wasn't much they hadn't done yet, short of 'proper' sex and actually seeing each other undressed. Narcissa had no trouble asking for what she wanted, and was generous in giving him what he wanted, and Merlin, that was her hand between his legs, and oh, if she kept at it like this, he would come embarrassingly fast, and oh hell, how long again until the wedding night?

*

~ Narcissa Malfoy ~
summer 1975

Narcissa nervously tugged on the neckline of her dressing gown. It was ridiculous to be nervous, she thought. It was only Lucius, and the fact that they had never been intimate in an actual bedroom before shouldn't make that much of a difference.

The wedding had been everything she had hoped for, a grand feast and party that people would be talking about for months. Due to the present political situation a real honeymoon was out of the question, but they had an arrangement with friends and family that guaranteed them at least a few undisturbed days at the Manor.

So here she was, Mrs Malfoy at last.

Mrs Malfoy.

Lucius's wife.

Narcissa hugged herself and looked at her reflection in the mirror. The new name would take some getting used to, but she liked the sound of it.

So really, there was no reason why the imminent wedding night should make her this nervous.

She spun around when the door opened and pressed a hand against her wildly beating heart, willing it to calm down when it turned out to be Lucius. He had undressed as well, and wore nothing more than a tasteful dressing gown, same as her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," Narcissa lied. After all, who was startled by coming across their husband in their mutual bedroom?

For a moment they just stood there, on opposite ends of the room, both trying to not look at the bed, both unable to keep their eyes off it.

When their eyes met, Narcissa ducked her head. She hated feeling this awkward, especially around Lucius. She was well aware of what people said about her, that she was icy, incapable of being passionate. Often enough, she had wondered if there was something wrong with her, that she was so indifferent towards most men when all her friends at Hogwarts had had one crush after the other.

But it had never been that way with Lucius. From their first dance, he had inspired a side of her that she had barely known existed before. It had scared her at times, how easily he could make her forget reason with just one simple touch. But with time, she had come to realise that there was no danger in losing control around him. Just as he allowed her to see a side of him that few people were aware of, with his teasing and jokes and his moments of incredible gentleness.

And now, for some indecipherable reason, she felt as off-balance as she had at their first meeting.

Just as he had then, Lucius took charge of the situation. He crossed the room in a few long strides, tipped her chin up and gave her a slow, gentle kiss.

"So how does it feel to be Mrs Malfoy?" he asked when he drew back.

Narcissa smiled at the way the question mirrored her earlier thoughts. "It feels good," she said. "Very good."

"Well then, Mrs Malfoy, allow me to make you comfortable."

Lucius offered his arm, as if he was about to lead her to a formal reception, not to a bed. She smiled warmly. He always knew how to put her at ease.

Once she was settled on the bed, feet tucked neatly under the covers, Lucius placed himself next to the bed where she could see him.

"So," he said, taking a deep breath, "the moment of truth at last." His hands rested on the belt holding the dressing gown together, but he didn't untie it yet. "Since I pestered you for three months before you allowed me to even court you, it seems fair that I go first."

He grinned, but Narcissa wasn't fooled. She saw the tension in his neck, his hands, the whole way he held himself. Lucius would never admit to it, but he was at least as nervous as she was. Somehow, that realisation calmed her down more thoroughly than all the kisses and reassurances in the world could have done.

She stopped fidgeting with her own gown, and leaned forward. "So let's see it, Mr Malfoy," she challenged. "And then, if you ask nicely, I'll show you mine."

As intended, the banter lightened the atmosphere, and Lucius quickly untied the belt and shrugged off his dressing gown. He slipped under the covers next to her, but not before she got a good look at what she had only felt but never seen so far.

He nuzzled her neck and asked in a voice like a boy begging for more dessert, "Pretty please?"

She laughed. Sitting down in bed it was harder, but with Lucius's help she eventually untangled herself from the clinging fabric and found herself bared to his gaze.

The blush was back, as was the uncertainty. What if he didn't like-

"Beautiful," Lucius murmured hoarsely, placing a reverent kiss between her bare breasts.

She brushed her fingertips over his smooth hair, grateful for the reassurance. Belatedly, it occurred to her that he might be in need of some himself.

"So are you," she whispered, placing a kiss on top of his head. He was, too. Smooth and tall and beautiful. Her beautiful husband.

Lucius stretched out beside her, and for a while they fell back on familiar territory, petting and kissing and whispering nonsensical endearments. Narcissa was so used to the building tension that it took her a while to notice the different quality of it. Tonight, they would not have to step back, regain control and rearrange their robes. Tonight, they would get to go all the way. She shivered in anxious excitement.

For all that she had never had a wizard inside her, Narcissa was not ignorant. A little experimenting with anatomically correct drawings and a creative bit of Transfiguration had assured her of the physical possibility of the act, and she had already gone through the awkward procedure of showing Lucius what he should do with his hands to achieve the best possible results. But she wanted to be perfect for Lucius tonight, and she didn't know if she would be, and part of her just wanted it over with already.

"All right?" Lucius asked as he carefully stretched out on top of her, his knees slowly parting her legs.

"Yes," Narcissa whispered. "I love you, Lucius."

"Love you too," he replied, kissing her in a rather haphazard fashion.

She could feel his erection poking the inside of her legs, searching, saw him bite his lip, and realised with fond amusement that he was nervous to the point of distraction himself.

"Here, I'll help you," she said, reaching down with the intention of guiding him into place.

Before she could even get a good hold, she felt him jerk and shudder, and when she did find him a moment later, her hand met sticky wetness. With a low huffing sound of disappointment Lucius rolled off her and turned on his side, his back towards her.

It took Narcissa a moment to piece together what had just happened, and another to surreptitiously wipe her hand on the bed sheets. Then she sat up and looked at her husband.

"Lucius?" she asked cautiously.

When she put a tentative hand on his shoulder, he tensed further and didn't move.

"Lucius, don't be silly."

He resolutely stayed turned away from her, his hair hiding his face.

"You do realise that is a rather big compliment you just paid me?" she said in her best tart voice, hoping to startle him out of this strange sulk.

He slowly turned around, still not meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispered, looking absolutely mortified.

Biting her cheek to not betray the laughter bubbling up inside her at the sight of his red face, Narcissa leaned down to kiss him, slowly and patiently coaxing him back to her side.

Once his equilibrium and dignity had mostly been restored, Lucius propped himself up on one elbow. "You know," he said, brushing a tendril of hair out of her face, "you deserve a reward for being so forbearing."

He boldly slipped his other hand under the covers, tracing a tickling line between her breasts, down her stomach, through the curls of hair, and stopped when he was cupping her. His eyes never left her face, and Narcissa knew there were red spots on her cheeks. He had had his hand down there more than once since their engagement, but she discovered now that furtive touches stolen under clothes were a far cry from this deliberate seduction. Today they had all the time in the world, and nobody would disturb them.

All that went through her mind as she watched him watch her, and felt the heat of his hand against her. As she felt him flex his fingers, grip and relax, setting up a rhythm that teased but didn't satisfy. And through it all, his grey eyes never left hers.

The rush of heat and wetness between her legs produced a lazy smile on his face, and if she could have, she would have averted her eyes. But she was trapped by the look on his face.

Possessive. Seductive. And just a tiny bit dangerous.

"Please," she moaned, arching up against his hand.

His gaze never wavered. "You want more?" he asked, in a voice that slid over her like silk.

Then his hand stilled, the rhythm broken.

"Yes," she gasped, willing him to keep moving. "Yes, please, Lucius."

"You know," he said, still not moving his hand, "I always thought that you were holding back before. You don't like the thought of being heard or watched, do you?"

She glared at him. As if he was any different. That was what made tonight so special. That they were finally in a space that was private, all theirs.

"Will you scream for me, Narcissa?"

She would have glared at him some more for that, but at that precise moment, his fingers shifted, curled, and brushed against her clit. Again. And again. Oh, Merlin. Please don't let him stop.

Narcissa forgot about her surroundings, she forgot about Lucius teasing her. All that mattered was the pleasure he wrung out of her body with nothing more than his curling, twisting flexing fingers. She arched off the bed, into his hand, distantly aware that she was sobbing.

The first orgasm crashed over her, her thighs clamping shut over his arm, trying to hold on to the moment of bliss.

He kept right on, never faltering in his rhythm. There was a moment when she thought it was too intense, too much. But then another wave of pleasure took her away, and she threw her arms around him, holding on for dear life as he brought her to a second climax that was every bit as good as the first one.

"Oh, oh my- Oh Lucius, that was-" It took some time for her to regain her breath, and before she had quite managed it, Lucius rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her.

"Good? Incredible? Mind-blowing?" he asked with obvious satisfaction.

She managed a weak nod and a shaky but sincere smile.

"So does that mean it's my turn again?"

His smile broadened, and she realised that he had recovered, if the hard length she could feel poking her damp thighs was anything to go by.

Still too relaxed and out of breath to form a response, Narcissa just spread her knees, placed her heels behind his back and pulled him in. This time there was no hitch. He slid in smoothly, and before she could even process it, she found that Lucius was sheathed deep inside her.

The wait had been worth it for the look on his face alone. He looked as stunned as she felt, and there was something else mixed with the surprise. Something almost like awe, like he couldn't believe he finally had the right to do this, and they were really here, really married and in bed together.

When he moved – tentatively at first, as if worried he might hurt her – he brushed against Narcissa's still over-sensitised clit, and she gasped. "Ohh, that's good. Do that again."

It took some more encouragement to convince him that he was far from hurting her – on the contrary – but when he finally got the message, she found that his cock moving inside her was almost as good as the fingers. Better, in some ways.

One of the best ways was watching him as he came inside her, his face scrunching up, his mouth opening in a hoarse, incoherent shout, his hands digging into her shoulders where he was holding her. To know that he trusted her with that, with his deepest unrestrained emotions, and that it was she who provoked them, was exhilarating and humbling at the same time.

He made to pull out when he was done, but Narcissa quickly closed her legs around him, holding him in place.

"Don't. Not just yet." At his baffled look, she smiled a bit sheepishly. "I want to feel you inside me a little longer," she explained, looking away in embarrassment, but digging in her heels to emphasize her point.

"Hmm," he replied, nuzzling her neck and grinding his hips against hers. "I can do that." He sounded half asleep already, and Narcissa reached up to fondly stroke his hair, revelling in the feeling of his warm, heavy body in her arms and his softening cock inside her.

At this moment, she felt that together they could conquer the world, that nothing could ever stand against them. With a content little sigh she closed her eyes and settled in for her first night as mistress of Malfoy Manor.
 


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