Late Fic: The Inconvenient Bride - Part 2
Title: The Inconvenient Bride
Username: heartsignite
Pairing: Narcissa/Lucius
Type: Het
Prompt #: 4
Rating: mild R
Word Count: 8,976
Warnings/content: mild language, sex (non-explicit)
Summary: This is the tale of a young boy, a young girl, and a young love that has yet to unfold.
Notes: So, this is extremely and inexcusably late for this fest. Suffice is to say that this story did not want to happen (I rewrote large chunks of it twice) and RL got very chaotic very quickly. Thank you to prettysophist for the fun prompt (I hope it’s sortakinda what you wanted), to my beta InuGrrrl for your always-stellar input, and to shy_of_reality for hosting this wonderful fest (and for putting up with my crap; you’re a saint, and I don’t say that lightly). =) It’s late, and it’s long, but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
Read Part 1
The Inconvenient Bride
Year Six
September 23, 1969: The Dungeons
“Cissa! Where are you, love?”
A harried Lucius Malfoy called from outside the girl’s dormitories. He had been looking for his girlfriend for the past five minutes and had had zero luck.
He felt rather put out. He had a small present that he wanted to give her before they went to the Great Hall for dinner.
I swear, that girl is going to make my hair turn white before its time, he mused.
Sighing, he gave up and walked out of the common room and into the hallway. He would just have to give her the present after dinner.
As he made his way to the Great Hall, he reflected on the past year he’d spent properly courting Narcissa. It had been a whirlwind romance, practically. (Well, perhaps not quite that dramatic, but he liked to imagine that it had been something of a fairytale for her. Or at least, he hoped so. He strived to make it so, anyway.)
He had kept to his word and had done his best to convince her that he was a wonderful boyfriend, and that he could treat her like the princess she was. He had schemed, bribed, and persuaded others to partake in his plans, leading to some rather clever surprises for her.
One night, he had convinced her other three roommates to vacate their dorm for the evening, leaving room for his little surprise. He’d also convinced one of them, Angelica Thomas, who was arguably the most brilliant witch in their year, to alter the wards just slightly so that he could enter the girls’ dorms without suffering any heinous jinxes. He’d then proceeded to transfigure her bed into a luxurious bathtub where she had lounged for several hours that night. He’d even charmed aromatic bubbles to drift lazily around the room for the duration of her bath, and had enlisted the help of two house-elves who had prepared a large tray with sweets and hot chocolate for her enjoyment. Then, like a gentleman, he’d waited patiently outside her door until she finished her bath, and when she’d soaked her fill, he had transfigured everything back to normal and had wiped all traces of her impromptu bubble bath from the room. She had been most delighted with him for weeks afterward.
On another occasion, he had bought several decadent bouquets filled with her favorite flowers and had sent them to her during breakfast. The delivery had taken no less than twelve owls, and the messengers had dropped the flowers overhead, resulting in a literal shower of petals and stems over her person for a full two minutes. Narcissa had been the envy of every girl in the Great Hall that morning, and she had grinned brightly at him, kissing his cheeks in thanks every chance she got.
Halloween had also been a spectacular affair. He had instructed her not to plan a costume that year, saying that he already had something in mind for them. Through his father’s connections at both Madam Malkin’s and Gladrag’s Wizardwear, he was able to custom-order a couple’s costume that was sure to make every other attendee to the Hogwarts Halloween Ball envious. Remembering Narcissa’s love of fairies from her costume in their second year, he had designed and ordered a rather eye-catching Fairy Queen and Fairy King’s costume, inspired by Renaissance fashion, particularly the costumes from the Muggle playwright Shakepeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Narcissa had been awed by the intricate detail in the wings and the regal exquisiteness of her fairy gown. She had also blushed prettily when she saw him in his getup (which made him look quite ravishing, he had to admit), the colors of his costume a perfect match to hers. They had both turned heads that night, but she had taken his breath away with her beauty.
There had been other, smaller gestures as well: a regular bouquet of red roses, sweet notes tucked into her textbooks, hot chocolate waiting at her bedside table before she retired for the night, walking her to class and carrying her books for her. Lucius had been the quintessential boyfriend, and he knew it.
The best part, however, was how she never expected his romantic gestures, and how she never indicated that she had grown accustomed to them. She was always innocently surprised, immensely pleased, and granted him the most beatific, enchanting smile of thanks. Her happiness led to his happiness, and pleasing her was quickly becoming addictive.
However, there was one line he had not yet crossed.
He hadn’t kissed her.
Lucius could not pinpoint a specific reason as to why he hadn’t kissed his girlfriend yet. Of course, they exchanged affectionate cheek-kisses, and he often kissed her forehead or her hair as a sign of his adoration. But he had not yet touched his lips to hers. And the only justification he could give was that the time had never felt right.
He was waiting for the right moment, and if Lucius was anything, he was patient. To her credit, Narcissa had not pressed him, had not even hinted that she was upset by the fact that they had not yet truly kissed. She accepted each gesture he offered her and did not press for more. It was one of the many things he appreciated about her: the way she never pressured him. He knew his reasons were not that he didn’t want to kiss her; he truly did. He was just biding his time.
Voices down the corridor broke into his thoughts, and his heart beat a little faster as he recognized his girlfriend’s sweet tones. He walked swiftly, determined to get to her and capture her in an embrace before they went to dinner. It had been hours since he’d seen her, and he already missed her presence at his side.
“-stupid witch, Narcissa Black. It’s obvious he doesn’t want you enough. Or maybe you’re merely not attractive enough to tempt him. I know my boyfriend can’t keep his hands off me, and yours won’t even kiss you?”
The cutting voice stopped him in his tracks, and his breath hitched as anger overtook him.
How dare anyone speak to his witch that way?!
Enraged, he walked even quicker, but stopped again as he heard Narcissa’s cool voice respond, a biting edge to her tone.
“Don’t compare your ponce of a lover to my Lucius, Annette. He couldn’t hold a candle to my boyfriend. And, if anything, I prefer my Lucius romancing me, courting me like he would a proper lady to the ungainly way your idiot paws at you. You’re nothing but a common slag.”
“Why, you!” The rage in her voice was obvious, and Lucius held his breath in anticipation, waiting for the shrill screams of anger that he just knew was coming.
He was surprised, then, when he heard Annette utter a dark curse.
At his Cissa.
He leapt into action, sprinting the twenty feet to the end of the corridor and swiftly turning the corner. His wand was out and ready, poised to strike at the first sign that his woman was hurt, but instead-
“S-s-stop! You b-bitch, get y-your hands off m-m-me!”
His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.
Narcissa had the smaller girl by the throat, pinned against the wall with her wand digging into the other girl’s temple. Annette looked absolutely horrified. Her face was a ghostly white, and sweat glittered on her forehead. She was obviously choking, her painted nails clawing at Narcissa’s hands, attempting vainly to force the witch’s grip to loosen.
In complete contrast to Annette’s panic, Narcissa was a picture of serenity. Her face was impassive, her eyes hard, but her stance was as strong and as graceful as a panther. In that moment, Lucius felt a small tremor of fear. He had a sudden realization that he should never piss his girlfriend off because it might very well be the last thing he did.
“Hmm,” Narcissa began in a calm voice. “I’m not quite sure you’ve learned your lesson, yet. You see, Annette,” she pressed the tip of her wand more firmly into the soft skin of Annette’s temple, “words are one thing. You can say whatever you want to me, really, because I don’t quite give a fuck.”
Lucius cringed. Narcissa was rarely angry enough to profane. He almost stepped forward to interfere.
Almost.
By now, the commotion had drawn a crowd, and several students emerging from Potions or walking along the corridors were gathering around them. Dimly, Lucius heard a voice calling for a professor.
“But when you threaten my person,” his woman continued, “when you dare try to physically harm me, sweet Annette…” Narcissa laughed lightly, leaning in closer and speaking so softly that Lucius had to strain to hear her final words. “I will not hesitate to end you. Do not attempt to touch me again.”
“Narcissa Black! Get your hands off her this instant!” Professor Ambrose’s voice echoed forebodingly against the stone walls. He looked livid.
She didn’t move, however. Narcissa waited calmly for just a moment, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the now-crying girl’s neck, before releasing her with a rough shove. Annette coughed, her hands clutching her throat and her breath coming in panting gasps. Narcissa calmly tucked her wand back into her robe pocket and turned away, ignoring the professor completely as he rushed to Annette’s side. Lucius’ eyes were wide as he watched his girlfriend walk toward him. Rather than looking ruffled, she appeared as quiescent as ever, and even a little bit pleased.
He would be lying if he said he weren’t scared of his Cissa at that moment.
With a self-satisfied grin, she slipped her hand into his, ignoring the whispers that were quickly cresting around them. She kissed his cheek, whispering something affectionate in his ear that he didn’t register, and shifted her attention to Ambrose, who had turned his loud yelling in her direction. She didn’t appear the least bit phased.
As Lucius watched the Potions professor scream louder than a Howler, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug. And proud. Yes, he was definitely proud of his witch.
He was also completely turned on, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her and steal the very breath from her body.
So, there, in the middle of the Slytherin dungeons, amongst their schoolmates, a crying girl, and a screaming professor, Lucius Malfoy kissed Narcissa Black until they both saw stars.
Year Seven
May 20, 1972: Head Girl’s rooms
“I guess I just don’t understand why, Cissa,” he complained. Lucius was staring imploringly at her from his perch atop her window seat. He just couldn’t understand her reasoning at all, and it was frustrating him to near tears. “We’re both consenting adults. We’re betrothed, for Merlin’s sake, so you know I’m not going to just run off and leave you for another witch. And I love you! What more reason do you need?”
Narcissa’s cheeks flushed a bright red, and she clutched her pillow tighter to her. “It’s just not proper, Luc! We’re supposed to wait until marriage. That’s what mother’s always taught me.” She turned her stunning eyes, bright with emotion, to his, and he felt his heart leap within his chest. Her eyes always undid him. “Pressuring me is not the answer, you know. I still think we should wait. And don’t get any ideas, Mister Malfoy, because I’m just as Slytherin as you are, and I can out-manipulate you any day of the week.”
He laughed at her feistiness. With a sigh of defeat and a soft kiss to her hair, he collapsed on the bed next to her. “I know, love, I know. And I’m not trying to pressure you.” He gripped her firmly by the waist. When she didn’t protest, he pulled her down to lie next to him, spooning her so that her bum pressed enticingly against the front of his pants. He embraced her round her midsection, enjoying the soft gasp she emitted when he pressed his lips into her neck. He tangled their legs, bringing her as close to him as physically possible without undressing her (although he desperately wanted to do that, too). “I’m just a randy bugger,” he whispered against her neck. He was delighted when she shivered in response and pressed even closer to him.
“You’re manipulating me, Lucius Malfoy,” she said warningly. Her voice was so breathy, though, that he couldn’t be arsed to take her seriously.
“I’m doing my very best,” he chuckled. “Is it working?” He moved her hair away and pressed another kiss to the skin behind her ear, another to the back of her neck, and yet another to her pulse point. “You’re barely breathing, so I’d have to say it’s working.” He gave a soft lick to her pulse point, which, he knew from their frequent snogging sessions, was one of her favorite spots.
As predicted, she gasped loudly, and her hand clutched his arm. “You prat,” she muttered. She turned over, eyes flashing as she glared at him. “I said stop manipulating me, Lucius, you utter git.” Then, she kissed him fiercely, her hands cradling his face with a gentle touch that contrasted with the firmness of her lips.
He groaned, relishing in the sweet taste of her. He kissed her back frantically, and he savored her answering moan. His hands roamed her body, caressing, fondling, stroking everywhere he could reach, and before long, he had her gasping into his mouth. Her hands were in his hair, stroking his scalp in that way that lit his nerves afire. One of her legs had traveled around his waist somehow, while her other leg was still tangled up with his. The new position brought her even closer to him, and he could feel her delicious heat even through their clothes. It made him impossibly more desperate for her.
His lips left hers and traveled south, tracing her soft cheek, the firm line of her jaw, and reached for the sensitive skin of her neck. He found her pulse point quickly and attached his lips, sucking in the gentle, but insistent motion that he knew drove her wild. Sure enough, she was gasping and bucking against him, her hips rocking insistently against his pelvis, innocently reaching for a relief that she had no idea how to achieve on her own. Her hands gripped his head as her own head fell back, unconsciously allowing more room for his ministrations. His name left her lips in a soft gasp, a plea for more, a prayer for a release she had not yet experienced.
He couldn’t deny her. He didn’t want to.
Gently, he rolled them over so he lay mostly on top, readjusting their position so that his pelvis was fully between her legs. His lips attacked the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone, nibbling, sucking, licking, and she cried softly into his hair at the sensations. Her hips bucked gently against him again, and, unable to stop himself, he grinded into her wet heat. She gasped at the feeling, eyes flying open in shock at the fire that had ignited. Trying to bring herself closer, she wrapped her legs around him, her stocking-covered feet digging into his bum, pressing his clothed hardness firmly against her. He moaned against her neck, bucking against her instinctively, and delighted in the soft cry that fell from her lips.
He took control then, rocking relentlessly against her heat and delighting in the guttural moans that left her throat. His lips found hers again, his tongue snaking into her mouth as they kissed fiercely. Her soft cries encouraged him as he ground against her faster and faster, reaching for that moment when they could finally fly off the cliff together.
Her scream of release was the most breath-taking symphony, and he allowed the tension to snap. Light exploded behind his eyelids as he cried his love into her mouth.
It was many moments later, when they both had regained their breathing, when their hearts had stopped racing, and when Lucius had spelled away their messes, that they lay together, relishing the sleepy tranquility of their afterglow.
He kissed her forehead gently, sweet nothings falling from his lips as he cuddled her against him. He felt her smile against the skin of his neck, and she nuzzled deeper into his embrace. She was snoring softly now, exhausted and spent, but before she fell asleep, Lucius distinctly heard her murmur her love into his hair. His heart clenched in response.
The love that he felt for her in that moment had never felt so simple, so unvarnished, and yet so utterly all-consuming that he found himself breathless and giddy.
At that moment, he realized that she was everything.
He silently prayed that she always would be.
Epilogue
July 5, 1973: The Gardens of Malfoy Manor
He was astonishingly nervous, embarrassingly so. And his sweat glands were being quite unforgiving.
His palms were sweaty, and no matter how many times he wiped them dry against his dress robes, they seemed to re-moisturize within moments. His forehead was sweaty, his hair felt damp, and his robes were unbearably warm. His best man, Gregory Goyle, was trying to relax him, joking and goofing at his side, but Lucius registered none of it.
In mere moments, he would be a married man.
It wasn’t that he was scared, not really. He loved Cissa, and he couldn’t be happier that she was finally going to be his wife. He looked forward to their future together, to the children they would have together, to the ways he would completely spoil her as the Lady of Malfoy Manor. Deep down, he was excited for it all.
He was just inexplicably nervous.
Being inept was not something that Lucius was overly accustomed to, but as he stood at the end of the lush blue carpet, waiting for his bride to appear at the other end of the row, he was struck with the sudden realization that he just might really be inept at marriage.
What if he completely cocked it all up?
He might be a terrible father and an even worse husband. What if she was miserable being married to him? What if their children hated him? What if something happened to their fortune, and he suddenly couldn’t provide for his family? Cissa had never held a job a day in her life; she had no idea how to make money. What if he couldn’t make enough money to sustain them? What if she grew tired of him? What if he couldn’t please her in bed? Since that first night they had sought pleasure in each other their seventh year, she had allowed him more liberties, but they had still not truly made love. What if he wasn’t enough for her? What if-
At that moment, processional music swelled from the orchestra, and Lucius’ breath caught in his throat.
It was time.
Sweet Circe, this was really happening!
Desperate to stem the rising panic, he exhaled in a rush and inhaled slowly, determined that he would not pass out at his own wedding. He was a right pansy, honestly. It was revolting. Wasn’t it supposed to be the bride who was the blithering, blubbering spaz?
Apparently, grooms were not exempt.
The procession started, and Lucius did his best to continue breathing deeply in and out, knowing the importance of feeding oxygen to his brain. Thank goodness he planned on only getting married once. He didn’t think he could stomach this experience twice.
Ages passed, and members of the wedding party continued to process luxuriously down the aisle. By now, his toes were numb, and he surreptitiously wiggled his knees in an attempt to keep his blood flowing.
He would not pass out. He wouldn’t.
To distract himself, he thought back to when he and Cissa had first met. He had been barely ten years old, then, and, quite frankly, girls had been made of troll bogeys. It was not just his dislike for girls at that age, either; he just had not liked Narcissa. Merlin, how he had despised her as a child. He had questioned, then, how he would ever be happy with her as his wife. She had seemed such an inconvenient choice to be his life’s mate. He had questioned his father’s judgment, his mother’s acquiescence, and her family’s sanity. And for the better part of his early teenage years, he had believed that she would never make him happy.
How wrong he had been. Now, this witch was his entire world.
Finally, Narcissa appeared in the doorway. For all his bravado and determination that he would not faint in front of three hundred people, one look at his bride-to-be made his knees buckle. He swayed on his feet, and it took Gregory’s firm grip on his shoulder to steady him.
She was resplendent.
Her gown was a glowing white, shimmering so brilliantly with gems and sparkle that Lucius almost wanted to turn away. He was riveted, though, and he couldn’t have turned away if he tried. Narcissa’s smile was almost as blinding as her gown. Her happiness radiated off her in tidal waves, seeping through every pore of her being and coating every guest present in joy. Her elation was contagious, and as she smiled confidently at him, Lucius felt his anxiety melt away.
She would be his in just a few moments. Finally.
He could hardly wait.
Username: heartsignite
Pairing: Narcissa/Lucius
Type: Het
Prompt #: 4
Rating: mild R
Word Count: 8,976
Warnings/content: mild language, sex (non-explicit)
Summary: This is the tale of a young boy, a young girl, and a young love that has yet to unfold.
Notes: So, this is extremely and inexcusably late for this fest. Suffice is to say that this story did not want to happen (I rewrote large chunks of it twice) and RL got very chaotic very quickly. Thank you to prettysophist for the fun prompt (I hope it’s sortakinda what you wanted), to my beta InuGrrrl for your always-stellar input, and to shy_of_reality for hosting this wonderful fest (and for putting up with my crap; you’re a saint, and I don’t say that lightly). =) It’s late, and it’s long, but I hope you enjoy reading it anyway.
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
Read Part 1
The Inconvenient Bride
Year Six
September 23, 1969: The Dungeons
“Cissa! Where are you, love?”
A harried Lucius Malfoy called from outside the girl’s dormitories. He had been looking for his girlfriend for the past five minutes and had had zero luck.
He felt rather put out. He had a small present that he wanted to give her before they went to the Great Hall for dinner.
I swear, that girl is going to make my hair turn white before its time, he mused.
Sighing, he gave up and walked out of the common room and into the hallway. He would just have to give her the present after dinner.
As he made his way to the Great Hall, he reflected on the past year he’d spent properly courting Narcissa. It had been a whirlwind romance, practically. (Well, perhaps not quite that dramatic, but he liked to imagine that it had been something of a fairytale for her. Or at least, he hoped so. He strived to make it so, anyway.)
He had kept to his word and had done his best to convince her that he was a wonderful boyfriend, and that he could treat her like the princess she was. He had schemed, bribed, and persuaded others to partake in his plans, leading to some rather clever surprises for her.
One night, he had convinced her other three roommates to vacate their dorm for the evening, leaving room for his little surprise. He’d also convinced one of them, Angelica Thomas, who was arguably the most brilliant witch in their year, to alter the wards just slightly so that he could enter the girls’ dorms without suffering any heinous jinxes. He’d then proceeded to transfigure her bed into a luxurious bathtub where she had lounged for several hours that night. He’d even charmed aromatic bubbles to drift lazily around the room for the duration of her bath, and had enlisted the help of two house-elves who had prepared a large tray with sweets and hot chocolate for her enjoyment. Then, like a gentleman, he’d waited patiently outside her door until she finished her bath, and when she’d soaked her fill, he had transfigured everything back to normal and had wiped all traces of her impromptu bubble bath from the room. She had been most delighted with him for weeks afterward.
On another occasion, he had bought several decadent bouquets filled with her favorite flowers and had sent them to her during breakfast. The delivery had taken no less than twelve owls, and the messengers had dropped the flowers overhead, resulting in a literal shower of petals and stems over her person for a full two minutes. Narcissa had been the envy of every girl in the Great Hall that morning, and she had grinned brightly at him, kissing his cheeks in thanks every chance she got.
Halloween had also been a spectacular affair. He had instructed her not to plan a costume that year, saying that he already had something in mind for them. Through his father’s connections at both Madam Malkin’s and Gladrag’s Wizardwear, he was able to custom-order a couple’s costume that was sure to make every other attendee to the Hogwarts Halloween Ball envious. Remembering Narcissa’s love of fairies from her costume in their second year, he had designed and ordered a rather eye-catching Fairy Queen and Fairy King’s costume, inspired by Renaissance fashion, particularly the costumes from the Muggle playwright Shakepeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Narcissa had been awed by the intricate detail in the wings and the regal exquisiteness of her fairy gown. She had also blushed prettily when she saw him in his getup (which made him look quite ravishing, he had to admit), the colors of his costume a perfect match to hers. They had both turned heads that night, but she had taken his breath away with her beauty.
There had been other, smaller gestures as well: a regular bouquet of red roses, sweet notes tucked into her textbooks, hot chocolate waiting at her bedside table before she retired for the night, walking her to class and carrying her books for her. Lucius had been the quintessential boyfriend, and he knew it.
The best part, however, was how she never expected his romantic gestures, and how she never indicated that she had grown accustomed to them. She was always innocently surprised, immensely pleased, and granted him the most beatific, enchanting smile of thanks. Her happiness led to his happiness, and pleasing her was quickly becoming addictive.
However, there was one line he had not yet crossed.
He hadn’t kissed her.
Lucius could not pinpoint a specific reason as to why he hadn’t kissed his girlfriend yet. Of course, they exchanged affectionate cheek-kisses, and he often kissed her forehead or her hair as a sign of his adoration. But he had not yet touched his lips to hers. And the only justification he could give was that the time had never felt right.
He was waiting for the right moment, and if Lucius was anything, he was patient. To her credit, Narcissa had not pressed him, had not even hinted that she was upset by the fact that they had not yet truly kissed. She accepted each gesture he offered her and did not press for more. It was one of the many things he appreciated about her: the way she never pressured him. He knew his reasons were not that he didn’t want to kiss her; he truly did. He was just biding his time.
Voices down the corridor broke into his thoughts, and his heart beat a little faster as he recognized his girlfriend’s sweet tones. He walked swiftly, determined to get to her and capture her in an embrace before they went to dinner. It had been hours since he’d seen her, and he already missed her presence at his side.
“-stupid witch, Narcissa Black. It’s obvious he doesn’t want you enough. Or maybe you’re merely not attractive enough to tempt him. I know my boyfriend can’t keep his hands off me, and yours won’t even kiss you?”
The cutting voice stopped him in his tracks, and his breath hitched as anger overtook him.
How dare anyone speak to his witch that way?!
Enraged, he walked even quicker, but stopped again as he heard Narcissa’s cool voice respond, a biting edge to her tone.
“Don’t compare your ponce of a lover to my Lucius, Annette. He couldn’t hold a candle to my boyfriend. And, if anything, I prefer my Lucius romancing me, courting me like he would a proper lady to the ungainly way your idiot paws at you. You’re nothing but a common slag.”
“Why, you!” The rage in her voice was obvious, and Lucius held his breath in anticipation, waiting for the shrill screams of anger that he just knew was coming.
He was surprised, then, when he heard Annette utter a dark curse.
At his Cissa.
He leapt into action, sprinting the twenty feet to the end of the corridor and swiftly turning the corner. His wand was out and ready, poised to strike at the first sign that his woman was hurt, but instead-
“S-s-stop! You b-bitch, get y-your hands off m-m-me!”
His eyes widened as he took in the sight before him.
Narcissa had the smaller girl by the throat, pinned against the wall with her wand digging into the other girl’s temple. Annette looked absolutely horrified. Her face was a ghostly white, and sweat glittered on her forehead. She was obviously choking, her painted nails clawing at Narcissa’s hands, attempting vainly to force the witch’s grip to loosen.
In complete contrast to Annette’s panic, Narcissa was a picture of serenity. Her face was impassive, her eyes hard, but her stance was as strong and as graceful as a panther. In that moment, Lucius felt a small tremor of fear. He had a sudden realization that he should never piss his girlfriend off because it might very well be the last thing he did.
“Hmm,” Narcissa began in a calm voice. “I’m not quite sure you’ve learned your lesson, yet. You see, Annette,” she pressed the tip of her wand more firmly into the soft skin of Annette’s temple, “words are one thing. You can say whatever you want to me, really, because I don’t quite give a fuck.”
Lucius cringed. Narcissa was rarely angry enough to profane. He almost stepped forward to interfere.
Almost.
By now, the commotion had drawn a crowd, and several students emerging from Potions or walking along the corridors were gathering around them. Dimly, Lucius heard a voice calling for a professor.
“But when you threaten my person,” his woman continued, “when you dare try to physically harm me, sweet Annette…” Narcissa laughed lightly, leaning in closer and speaking so softly that Lucius had to strain to hear her final words. “I will not hesitate to end you. Do not attempt to touch me again.”
“Narcissa Black! Get your hands off her this instant!” Professor Ambrose’s voice echoed forebodingly against the stone walls. He looked livid.
She didn’t move, however. Narcissa waited calmly for just a moment, her fingers tightening ever so slightly around the now-crying girl’s neck, before releasing her with a rough shove. Annette coughed, her hands clutching her throat and her breath coming in panting gasps. Narcissa calmly tucked her wand back into her robe pocket and turned away, ignoring the professor completely as he rushed to Annette’s side. Lucius’ eyes were wide as he watched his girlfriend walk toward him. Rather than looking ruffled, she appeared as quiescent as ever, and even a little bit pleased.
He would be lying if he said he weren’t scared of his Cissa at that moment.
With a self-satisfied grin, she slipped her hand into his, ignoring the whispers that were quickly cresting around them. She kissed his cheek, whispering something affectionate in his ear that he didn’t register, and shifted her attention to Ambrose, who had turned his loud yelling in her direction. She didn’t appear the least bit phased.
As Lucius watched the Potions professor scream louder than a Howler, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat smug. And proud. Yes, he was definitely proud of his witch.
He was also completely turned on, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss her and steal the very breath from her body.
So, there, in the middle of the Slytherin dungeons, amongst their schoolmates, a crying girl, and a screaming professor, Lucius Malfoy kissed Narcissa Black until they both saw stars.
Year Seven
May 20, 1972: Head Girl’s rooms
“I guess I just don’t understand why, Cissa,” he complained. Lucius was staring imploringly at her from his perch atop her window seat. He just couldn’t understand her reasoning at all, and it was frustrating him to near tears. “We’re both consenting adults. We’re betrothed, for Merlin’s sake, so you know I’m not going to just run off and leave you for another witch. And I love you! What more reason do you need?”
Narcissa’s cheeks flushed a bright red, and she clutched her pillow tighter to her. “It’s just not proper, Luc! We’re supposed to wait until marriage. That’s what mother’s always taught me.” She turned her stunning eyes, bright with emotion, to his, and he felt his heart leap within his chest. Her eyes always undid him. “Pressuring me is not the answer, you know. I still think we should wait. And don’t get any ideas, Mister Malfoy, because I’m just as Slytherin as you are, and I can out-manipulate you any day of the week.”
He laughed at her feistiness. With a sigh of defeat and a soft kiss to her hair, he collapsed on the bed next to her. “I know, love, I know. And I’m not trying to pressure you.” He gripped her firmly by the waist. When she didn’t protest, he pulled her down to lie next to him, spooning her so that her bum pressed enticingly against the front of his pants. He embraced her round her midsection, enjoying the soft gasp she emitted when he pressed his lips into her neck. He tangled their legs, bringing her as close to him as physically possible without undressing her (although he desperately wanted to do that, too). “I’m just a randy bugger,” he whispered against her neck. He was delighted when she shivered in response and pressed even closer to him.
“You’re manipulating me, Lucius Malfoy,” she said warningly. Her voice was so breathy, though, that he couldn’t be arsed to take her seriously.
“I’m doing my very best,” he chuckled. “Is it working?” He moved her hair away and pressed another kiss to the skin behind her ear, another to the back of her neck, and yet another to her pulse point. “You’re barely breathing, so I’d have to say it’s working.” He gave a soft lick to her pulse point, which, he knew from their frequent snogging sessions, was one of her favorite spots.
As predicted, she gasped loudly, and her hand clutched his arm. “You prat,” she muttered. She turned over, eyes flashing as she glared at him. “I said stop manipulating me, Lucius, you utter git.” Then, she kissed him fiercely, her hands cradling his face with a gentle touch that contrasted with the firmness of her lips.
He groaned, relishing in the sweet taste of her. He kissed her back frantically, and he savored her answering moan. His hands roamed her body, caressing, fondling, stroking everywhere he could reach, and before long, he had her gasping into his mouth. Her hands were in his hair, stroking his scalp in that way that lit his nerves afire. One of her legs had traveled around his waist somehow, while her other leg was still tangled up with his. The new position brought her even closer to him, and he could feel her delicious heat even through their clothes. It made him impossibly more desperate for her.
His lips left hers and traveled south, tracing her soft cheek, the firm line of her jaw, and reached for the sensitive skin of her neck. He found her pulse point quickly and attached his lips, sucking in the gentle, but insistent motion that he knew drove her wild. Sure enough, she was gasping and bucking against him, her hips rocking insistently against his pelvis, innocently reaching for a relief that she had no idea how to achieve on her own. Her hands gripped his head as her own head fell back, unconsciously allowing more room for his ministrations. His name left her lips in a soft gasp, a plea for more, a prayer for a release she had not yet experienced.
He couldn’t deny her. He didn’t want to.
Gently, he rolled them over so he lay mostly on top, readjusting their position so that his pelvis was fully between her legs. His lips attacked the exposed skin of her neck and collarbone, nibbling, sucking, licking, and she cried softly into his hair at the sensations. Her hips bucked gently against him again, and, unable to stop himself, he grinded into her wet heat. She gasped at the feeling, eyes flying open in shock at the fire that had ignited. Trying to bring herself closer, she wrapped her legs around him, her stocking-covered feet digging into his bum, pressing his clothed hardness firmly against her. He moaned against her neck, bucking against her instinctively, and delighted in the soft cry that fell from her lips.
He took control then, rocking relentlessly against her heat and delighting in the guttural moans that left her throat. His lips found hers again, his tongue snaking into her mouth as they kissed fiercely. Her soft cries encouraged him as he ground against her faster and faster, reaching for that moment when they could finally fly off the cliff together.
Her scream of release was the most breath-taking symphony, and he allowed the tension to snap. Light exploded behind his eyelids as he cried his love into her mouth.
It was many moments later, when they both had regained their breathing, when their hearts had stopped racing, and when Lucius had spelled away their messes, that they lay together, relishing the sleepy tranquility of their afterglow.
He kissed her forehead gently, sweet nothings falling from his lips as he cuddled her against him. He felt her smile against the skin of his neck, and she nuzzled deeper into his embrace. She was snoring softly now, exhausted and spent, but before she fell asleep, Lucius distinctly heard her murmur her love into his hair. His heart clenched in response.
The love that he felt for her in that moment had never felt so simple, so unvarnished, and yet so utterly all-consuming that he found himself breathless and giddy.
At that moment, he realized that she was everything.
He silently prayed that she always would be.
Epilogue
July 5, 1973: The Gardens of Malfoy Manor
He was astonishingly nervous, embarrassingly so. And his sweat glands were being quite unforgiving.
His palms were sweaty, and no matter how many times he wiped them dry against his dress robes, they seemed to re-moisturize within moments. His forehead was sweaty, his hair felt damp, and his robes were unbearably warm. His best man, Gregory Goyle, was trying to relax him, joking and goofing at his side, but Lucius registered none of it.
In mere moments, he would be a married man.
It wasn’t that he was scared, not really. He loved Cissa, and he couldn’t be happier that she was finally going to be his wife. He looked forward to their future together, to the children they would have together, to the ways he would completely spoil her as the Lady of Malfoy Manor. Deep down, he was excited for it all.
He was just inexplicably nervous.
Being inept was not something that Lucius was overly accustomed to, but as he stood at the end of the lush blue carpet, waiting for his bride to appear at the other end of the row, he was struck with the sudden realization that he just might really be inept at marriage.
What if he completely cocked it all up?
He might be a terrible father and an even worse husband. What if she was miserable being married to him? What if their children hated him? What if something happened to their fortune, and he suddenly couldn’t provide for his family? Cissa had never held a job a day in her life; she had no idea how to make money. What if he couldn’t make enough money to sustain them? What if she grew tired of him? What if he couldn’t please her in bed? Since that first night they had sought pleasure in each other their seventh year, she had allowed him more liberties, but they had still not truly made love. What if he wasn’t enough for her? What if-
At that moment, processional music swelled from the orchestra, and Lucius’ breath caught in his throat.
It was time.
Sweet Circe, this was really happening!
Desperate to stem the rising panic, he exhaled in a rush and inhaled slowly, determined that he would not pass out at his own wedding. He was a right pansy, honestly. It was revolting. Wasn’t it supposed to be the bride who was the blithering, blubbering spaz?
Apparently, grooms were not exempt.
The procession started, and Lucius did his best to continue breathing deeply in and out, knowing the importance of feeding oxygen to his brain. Thank goodness he planned on only getting married once. He didn’t think he could stomach this experience twice.
Ages passed, and members of the wedding party continued to process luxuriously down the aisle. By now, his toes were numb, and he surreptitiously wiggled his knees in an attempt to keep his blood flowing.
He would not pass out. He wouldn’t.
To distract himself, he thought back to when he and Cissa had first met. He had been barely ten years old, then, and, quite frankly, girls had been made of troll bogeys. It was not just his dislike for girls at that age, either; he just had not liked Narcissa. Merlin, how he had despised her as a child. He had questioned, then, how he would ever be happy with her as his wife. She had seemed such an inconvenient choice to be his life’s mate. He had questioned his father’s judgment, his mother’s acquiescence, and her family’s sanity. And for the better part of his early teenage years, he had believed that she would never make him happy.
How wrong he had been. Now, this witch was his entire world.
Finally, Narcissa appeared in the doorway. For all his bravado and determination that he would not faint in front of three hundred people, one look at his bride-to-be made his knees buckle. He swayed on his feet, and it took Gregory’s firm grip on his shoulder to steady him.
She was resplendent.
Her gown was a glowing white, shimmering so brilliantly with gems and sparkle that Lucius almost wanted to turn away. He was riveted, though, and he couldn’t have turned away if he tried. Narcissa’s smile was almost as blinding as her gown. Her happiness radiated off her in tidal waves, seeping through every pore of her being and coating every guest present in joy. Her elation was contagious, and as she smiled confidently at him, Lucius felt his anxiety melt away.
She would be his in just a few moments. Finally.
He could hardly wait.