Inell's Fanfiction Archive

The house was too silent.


You'd have thought she'd be used to that after nearly twenty years, but there were some things in which one did not be accustomed. Narcissa Black Malfoy had lived at Malfoy Manor for nineteen years and she was still not comfortable with the silence. When she had first arrived at her husband's foreboding family estate, she had had dreams of making it a home for them, of chasing away the shadows and darkness that seemed to have lingered for centuries, of creating a place where she and her husband could be happy together. She'd been young and in love and foolish. For the first time in her eighteen years, she had acted with her heart and allowed her emotions to get the better of her. The blonde witch sighed softly as she entered her bedroom, closing the door behind her.


There was a sense of melancholy in her pale blue eyes, a wry smile crossing her lips as she thought of how silly she had been all those years ago, believing that love would change everything, that life would be happy and had endless possibilities merely because she and Lucius were in love. She now found it hard to believe she had been so optimistic and hopeful, those not being qualities that many people she knew possessed. It might have been foolish, she might have been love's fool, but she found herself missing the person she had once been more and more with each passing day. She missed Lucius, the Lucius she had fallen in love with, rarely seeing any signs of that man as they got older. For once, Narcissa allowed the memories to enter her mind, her loneliness and sadness causing her guard to go down as she found herself lost in the past, in what had been. A soft smile crossed her lips as she sat in the chair beside the fireplace, thinking about Lucius and the moment she had first realized she loved him.


It was a lovely day in late summer, before her fourth term at Hogwarts, and she had wanted to be anywhere but where she was. You see, she had realized she loved Lucius Malfoy when she had seen him during one of her parents' many dull parties. She had been fourteen and, much to her mother's disapproval, seemed to have no interest in boys. She had preferred spending time with her younger cousin Sirius, despite the year difference in their ages, having grand adventures and acting childish than spending her time fawning over boys and constantly worrying about her reputation and status like her older sister Bellatrix. Of course, ever respectful of her family's image and reputation, she never allowed anyone but Sirius to see her behaving in such an unbecoming manner. He was a year younger than she and had shockingly been sorted into Gryffindor, but they got along well and never failed to find mischief to be gotten into when together. Narcissa's smile turned sad at the memories of her beautiful cousin whom she had loved so dearly, regret flashing in her pale blue eyes as she remembered them drifting apart and everything that had happened in the years since. He was gone now, killed by her own sister, and Narcissa couldn't help feeling as if she had somehow let him down, as if she had disappointed him by not being there when he had needed her throughout the years.


Narcissa sighed softly as she again became lost in memories, the silence of the house surrounding her as she recalled the party that changed her life. Her Mum had insisted she attend the party so Narcissa had worn the chosen robes and allowed Lonty, her house elf, to fix her hair in such a way that she looked older than her fourteen years. She knew she was classically beautiful, even at that age, her features noble and her figure willowy. She had begun to develop in other ways, the bodice of her robes now clinging to soft curves that were growing more pronounced with each passing day. She knew that she was growing up, that soon her silly games with Sirius would no longer be acceptable, that she would be expected to marry a husband of her Father's choosing, but she had vowed to maintain her spirit, to continue enjoying life in the smallest of ways, to love with every fiber of her being. She had never wanted to become like her Mum, a hollow shell of a person with no thoughts or feelings of her own, no love for her husband, resenting her children. No, Narcissa had sworn she would never become like her Mum. She had been so foolish to believe she would be an exception.


Narcissa had gone downstairs to the party, fully expecting to spend the evening bored to tears and avoiding the lecherous looks and groping from her Father's associates. When she had entered the room, she had been surprised to find Bellatrix talking to Lucius Malfoy, attempting to flirt with the older wizard who had a bored expression on his handsome face. Their eyes had met across the distance of the room and Narcissa had felt as if her very breath had been sucked out of her body. She knew Lucius, of course. Everyone knew the Malfoys. They were among the most elite of the Purebloods, the wealthiest, the most powerful. Along with her family, the Blacks, they occupied positions of importance at the Ministry of Magic as well as other various wizarding ventures. Lucius was seventeen at the time, a seventh year at Hogwarts, the school they both attended. He was the captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, one of the brightest wizards at their school, and the object of many of the female students' adoration. They had spoken only a handful of times, merely polite conversation expected from a Black and a Malfoy, but he fascinated her.


She had watched him since she had begun attending Hogwarts, finding herself drawn to him. He was very attractive, hair an even more pale blond than her own that fell just below his shoulders, eyes the color of slate, an aura of confidence and power. He commanded respect even from his enemies, his intelligence and cunning were widely known, and he was the epitome of a Pureblood heir. During her observations of him, she had noticed various things about him that others did not. She had seen his interest in the Dark Arts, noticed that he was rather cold and aloof when surrounded by others, had witnessed a beautiful smile on rare occasion when he was alone and unaware he was being watched, had even heard his laughter, husky and pleasant, during his unguarded moments. Some might have suggested that she had been infatuated with the handsome wizard, but she chose to see her interest in Lucius as merely curiosity.


She had convinced herself that it meant nothing more, the way her eyes would seek him out during meals, the way she listened for his voice, the way she watched him when no one was looking. He was older by a few years and had his choice of witches so the situation was pointless to dwell upon. He was merely a curiosity, a way to occupy her time during the boring days of school. The instant their eyes met, though, she was unable to deny the truth. She had acknowledged to herself why she had been so captivated by him. It was there, at her parents' dull party, that she realized she loved Lucius Malfoy. Even now, Narcissa could remember that party in vivid detail. Lucius had excused himself from Bellatrix and made his way to her. His lips had brushed against her hand in greeting, his eyes never leaving hers. He had felt it, too. They'd gone outside, to the gardens, finding a bench beneath her Mum's flowers, and they'd spent hours talking. He acknowledged that he had noticed her before, charming her, flirting with her, his eyes rarely straying from her own.


When school had begun, he had made his interest known, sitting with her at meals, studying with her, opening up to her in a way he had never done with anyone before. He had let his guard down, allowed her inside the shell he had built to protect himself amongst the Slytherins and Purebloods who saw emotion as weakness, confessing his hopes and desires and thoughts to her. He had graduated and taken a position at the Ministry while she had finished her years at Hogwarts. The world around them had begun to change, the dark wizard whom her Father and Uncle revered had begun to grow in power, sides were being chosen for a War that seemed inevitable. Narcissa, contrary to her upbringing, had no hatred for Muggles or Muggleborns, not believing that Purebloods were superior merely because of blood. Her family, however, wanted power and prestige, believing that they were just in aligning themselves to Voldemort and pledging loyalty to a wizard that wanted nothing more than ultimate power of the entire wizarding community. She had thought the entire idea foolish and had believed that Voldemort would quickly be destroyed because he was obviously insane. She had been focused on finishing her studies and planning a future with Lucius, she had given little thought to the whispers she heard regarding Voldemort and his growing threat.


During her seventh year, Lucius had arranged with her Father for them to marry upon her graduation from Hogwarts, Father having no objection to uniting the Blacks and the Malfoys. Narcissa had been extremely happy, knowing that Lucius loved her just as she loved him. Neither of them allowed their emotions to get the better of them in public, fully aware of the expectations their positions and families had of them, but, in private, they were passionate and loving. Lucius would laugh and smile and embrace life, holding her in his arms as they talked for hours. She had been convinced that a love like theirs was special, that it would be enough for them, that they could survive anything so long as they were together.


Stupid, foolish child, she thought crossly, wondering all these years later how she could have been so bloody optimistic and romantic. She had always had a fondness for life, enjoying getting into mischief with Sirius, and she'd always been spirited, that being one of her qualities that her parents' had disliked the most. A proper Pureblood was not wild and untamed, they did not feel so intensely, they did not have fanciful notions of romantic love. It was Lucius' fault, really. In every other aspect of her life, she had become the perfect and proper Pureblood as she had gotten older. She was an Ice Queen, unemotional and distant, cunning and thoughtful, intelligent and clever. He was the only one that could melt her, that could make her feel as if she were flying through the air without a care in the world, that could cause such ridiculous notions of romance and love and happiness. Even now, all these years later, she loved him so much, wanted him just as badly. She had lost him, though. She rarely saw glimpses of the man she had fallen in love with, hadn't heard him really laugh since before Draco was born, wondered if he had forgotten how to smile. They'd been so happy once, so in love, and now it was silent and cold, drifting apart, never talking anymore.


Voldemort had ruined them. She had no hesitation in blaming that bastard for most of what had happened during the last nineteen years. She and Lucius had married the summer after her graduation from Hogwarts, their wedding being the social event of the year. After a blissful honeymoon, they had returned and moved into Malfoy Manor. The estate was dark and gloomy and she'd hated it, practically able to feel the dark magics used within its confines. It was Lucius' home, though, and it was a lovely old property. Over time, she had adjusted, though the silence still bothered her. She had never been able to change the atmosphere of the house, never really made it a true home. Their first years together had been wonderful. He had continued at his position at the Ministry as well as running the various Malfoy interests and she had assumed the role of wife, which was unchallenging and quite boring but she had little choice since there was very little available for someone in her social position. She attended the very parties she had loathed as a child and shopped and busied herself with her garden. They had laughed and loved and just enjoyed being around one another, the house not so silent and dreary.


Things began to change over the years. Lucius began to attend meetings with her Father and her Uncle, began to embrace Voldemort's rantings about Pureblood supremacy, began to spend more of his time perfecting his knowledge and practice of the dark arts. Narcissa could still remember finding the dark mark on his arm, her horror at the realization that the man she loved had become a Deatheater. Their closeness began to dispel as he became more involved with Voldemort, keeping secrets from her, becoming more distant and focused on politics and power. She had come close to leaving him after finding the mark, having been suspicious and worried that he was getting mixed into the same foolish nonsense as her Father, but hoping he was smart enough to avoid it all, the mark confirming her suspicions. She loved him, though, even then, knowing he was leaving at night to do horrible things that frightened and disgusted her. Had she left, he would have found her and forced her back, of that she had no doubt. He still loved her, just as she loved him, and even the growing distance between them did not change how they felt. So, she had done what she had vowed she would never do. She had slowly become her Mum, keeping her opinions to herself and being the perfect Pureblood wife, acting as was expected and slowly becoming a pale imitation of the person she had once been.


When she had found out she was pregnant, she had been delighted. She had always wanted children, as had Lucius, and a part of her had hoped that maybe a new child would open his eyes to what he was doing with his life. She had been disappointed, to say the least. He had expressed happiness about having an heir, not a son but an heir, though, for a brief moment, she had seen a hint of the man she had loved in his eyes. During her pregnancy, she didn't leave the estate. The War was becoming worse, the wizarding world a dangerous place, especially for the daughter of a Black and the wife of a Malfoy. She watched as her family fell apart. Her parents died, Mother caught in the midst of a battle while shopping and her Father struck down by a curse during a Deatheater raid. Bellatrix had become one of Voldemort's most loyal followers, disgusted with her for refusing to pledge her loyalty by receiving the mark, eventually finding herself at Azkaban for over a decade. She was now crazed and dangerous, pathetic, a murderer who killed their cousin without hesitation, a former beauty that had given up everything for power and prestige. She was back at Azkaban, recently recaptured and sentenced to die for her actions. Narcissa couldn't even feel remorse for her sister, believing the woman to be nearly as much of a monster as Voldemort himself.


After Voldemort's first defeat, Lucius had evaded capture, charming and bribing his way out of trouble. It had taken some time, but they'd eventually begun to rebuild their relationship. He had taken an interest in Draco, somewhat fascinated by their son. He was too harsh, too cold, not a loving Father even though she knew he did love Draco. Lucius had no idea how to show his love for their son, following his own Father's example by pushing the boy to be the best, by never giving him a kind smile or praise, by bullying him to be a proper Pureblood. Narcissa loved her son more than anyone in this world, even Lucius. Draco was hers, a product of the love she had once shared with Lucius, and she would do anything for him.


She could not change Lucius' behavior towards their son, knowing it was his way and being the recipient of similar coldness since shortly after their marriage, but she made sure that she told Draco often how proud she was of him, hugging him whenever possible, trying her best to let him know he was loved so he would not turn into his Father. She would sooner die than see Draco become what Lucius ended up becoming. She wanted a happy life for her son, wanted him to fall in love and marry someone that made him happy, wanted only the best for him. She had little doubt that Lucius was preparing to bring Draco into Voldemort's folds when he was old enough, but she refused to allow that to happen. Draco would not be tarnished by that bastard, he would not sacrifice his chances at living a happy life because of some stupid belief about blood and superiority, he would not risk his life for something she knew he did not believe in despite Lucius' constant preaching about Mudbloods and Muggles. She had been unable to save her parents, Bellatrix, Sirius, or Lucius, but she would save Draco, or die trying.


Narcissa sighed as moved to her wardrobe, removing her nightgown. Her eyes noticed a scarf hanging in the back of the wardrobe, her hands moving to brush against the soft material of the torn scarf. Her mind flashed to an afternoon shortly after their marriage. They'd gone flying, Lucius laughing and so full of life, not yet corrupted by Voldemort. She'd been wearing this scarf, the material flying out behind her as they flew, Lucius' soft hair against her cheek. When they'd landed, they'd shagged right then and there, their passion and love so overwhelming, intense and needy. She removed the scarf from the hook, bringing it against her cheek. She closed her eyes, remembering that afternoon and how wonderful life had once been, able to recall Lucius' face in detail. The smile on his lips, the love and desire in his pale gray eyes, the need in his voice as he'd huskily said her name, the feel of his body against hers.


They never made love anymore. They'd have sex occasionally, the blonde witch certainly knowing the difference after spending years making love with Lucius before he'd changed, before they'd both changed. She missed that, missed laying in his arms, missed his lips on her body, missed tasting and touching him, missed spending hours simply being together, content and happy and in love. She still loved him so much but she was so tired of being scared every time he went out, of being worried that this time he would be caught and unable to charm his way out of it, of knowing that one day he might not return. She knew it was foolish to still love him after everything that had happened during the two decades they'd been together, but she loved him now just as much as she had loved him during her parents' party all those years ago. She could see her Lucius at times, deep beneath the man he had become. She knew he was still there, buried under the hatred and disgust and heartlessness he projected so well.


Narcissa changed and moved to the bed, laying down, her hand still holding the scarf. She brought the material against her cheek as she laid her head on the pillow. She was tired of being someone she was not. Half of her life had been spent playing a part, being the perfect Pureblood wife, hostess, charming yet distant, unemotional and uncaring. She had turned her back on everything she believed, had lost so much, but no more. Sirius' death had forced her to think, to examine her life and reflect on the choices she had made. Lucius had been caught and sent to Azkaban following the fight at the Ministry, once again charming his way out of it, but she knew that there would be no third chance. The next time, he would either be dead or imprisoned. She could no longer sit idly by and watch her world crumbling around her, watch Voldemort ruin everything for a second time.


She loved Lucius with every breath in her body, had loved him since she'd first seen him at Hogwarts when she was eleven and unaware what love was, but she had lost him to power and greed and anger. Even if she saw her Lucius at times, he no longer cared. She believed he still loved her, he just didn't love her enough. She had sacrificed the last twenty years to be with him, to love him, to make a life and family with him, and she had no regrets about giving her heart and her love to him, even if he had failed to live up to her ideals, but she was no longer able to simply think of herself. She had been selfish for so long, turning her back on Sirius, letting him down, losing Lucius, wondering if there was something she could have done to prevent him from choosing to follow Voldemort, but she had Draco to think about now. As much as it hurt her to even think about it, she was going to have to make a change. Only something drastic would prevent Draco from following in Lucius' footsteps, her beautiful son so eager for his Father's approval that he'd join Voldemort despite his own doubts about the dark wizard's plans. She wished she could talk to Lucius, that they were able to talk as they once had, wishing she could simply lay in his arms as she told him her fears and worries and expressed her concern about his decisions and discussed their future and their son's future.


She loved him and would always love him with every fiber of her being, but she was going to leave him. It was the only chance that Draco had, an opportunity for him to make his own choices and stand up for what he honestly believed, to avoid becoming the cold and empty shell that Lucius had become. She didn't want to leave Lucius, but it was the only choice. She had hoped that he might have changed after his recent trip to Azkaban, that he might have decided he was following the wrong path, that he might have decided to turn against Voldemort and join the Headmaster in fighting against the dark Lord, but it had been foolish optimism on her part. She couldn't wait any longer, couldn't keep hoping that he'd open his eyes and realize what he was doing was dangerous and wrong, couldn't hope that he'd gradually become her Lucius again. Living in hope had kept her there all these years and she was still alone and unhappy despite loving him so very much. The foolish girl in love that she tended to be regarding the subject of her husband wondered if her leaving would make him realize what he had become, what he was doing, but the pessimistic Pureblood that she had been forced to become doubted he'd even notice she was gone.


Silent tears fell down her cheeks as she laid in the empty bed, the scarf still firmly clutched in her hands. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not even notice Lucius’ return. The blond wizard enter his bedroom, not surprised to find Narcissa already in bed. It was early in the morning, the meeting with Voldemort running several hours. The dark Lord was nervous after the last raid that had resulted in Bellatrix’s capture and the deaths of several of his followers, becoming even more paranoid than normal, convinced that there were spies everywhere and that everyone was betraying him. To be honest, Lucius was tired of it all. He no longer believed in the cause, had no desire to lose everything he had, to ruin his family’s name merely to rid the world of Muggles and Mudbloods. True, he despised the wretched creatures and believed that they partially responsible for the weakening of the wizarding community, but his hatred of them paled in comparison to his love for Narcissa and Draco. He had spent a month at Azkaban after the raid at the Ministry, confined to a small room with no windows, separated from Narcissa for the first time since they married.


With nothing but time to think, he had realized that he had become a cruel and hateful bastard, treating his son as his own Father had treated him, something he had vowed never to do, and neglecting the most important person in his life, Narcissa. He had loved the blonde witch for longer than he cared to admit and it had taken a month in prison to realize how close he was to losing her. Upon his release, he had begun trying to find a way out of the mess he had created. He had not spoken a word of his decision to do whatever it took to keep his family safe to Narcissa, knowing he was to blame for their involvement with Voldemort, allowing things to progress farther than he had ever imagined, knowing that it was his responsibility to resolve everything, not wanting to involve her in his plans in case everything went terribly wrong.


Besides, he and Narcissa rarely spoke anymore. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last serious conversation that they had had. She had tried to talk to him various times during their marriage, but he had not been receptive to hearing of her dislike of Voldemort nor had he cared how she felt about the direction he was taking their lives. Over time, she’d finally stopped trying to talk to him. He had watched her fade away, the light in her eyes diminishing as her family’s name lost its respect and became synonymous with Voldemort, her spirit lost as she became a shell of the woman he loved. He had not noticed it happening, hadn’t realized she was unhappy, had been blind to the fact that his selfishness had caused pain to the person he loved so dearly. Focused on maintaining his position at the Ministry, concentrating on molding Draco into a proper Pureblood, working towards the return and rise of Voldemort, everything except paying attention to his wife and noticing how she had changed, acknowledging how he had changed.


Lucius ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking every year of his forty-one years. He no longer recognized the man he saw when he looked in the mirror. There was no humor in his smile, no happiness in his eyes, no enjoyment of the life he lived. He had wealth, respect, prestige, power, a handsome son that was not only intelligent but absolutely amazing in so many ways, a beautiful wife that loved him completely and remained at his side throughout the good and the bad, and he was not able to take pleasure in any of it. Too worried about his reputation, about the status of Purebloods in the wizarding community, about Voldemort’s War against Potter and the Muggle-lovers. He had never liked Muggles, but had honestly never entertained the idea of actually ridding the world of the irritating creatures. When he had heard of a dark wizard gathering an army to do just that, he’d found the idea amusing but ridiculous.


It wasn’t until he had asked for Narcissa’s hand in marriage, one of the conditions of her Father’s agreement being that he join him at the meetings for Voldemort, that he had begun to see the idea as being viable and possible. Voldemort was nothing if not a motivational speaker, saying exactly what he knew needed to be heard to gain loyalty and having enough power and knowledge to remove any threat. He had listened but hadn’t committed because he’d still found it all rather foolish. Besides, he’d been working and spending time with Narcissa. Then they were married and had a wonderful year together. He’d continued attending the meetings as he’d promised her Father, and, over time, he had begun to believe what Voldemort promised.


Looking back now, that had been the beginning of the end. He had become so focused on Voldemort’s plans that he’d neglected Narcissa and then Draco. After Voldemort’s defeat and his evasion of Azkaban, he had turned his attention to his family, but it had been too late. He’d been lost to ambition and greed and power, taking them for granted and ignoring them for the most part. After Voldemort’s return, it had been all too easy to step back into his position as Deatheater without reservation. He had thought of nothing except his desire to for power and control, nearly losing his life during the raid at the Ministry. In the months since his release from Azkaban, he had begun to make the necessary changes to protect his family and guarantee that they would have a future together. Once Voldemort was defeated, he would be in a position to seek a second chance from Narcissa, hoping that she loved him enough to give him that chance, even if he didn’t bloody well deserve it after the way he had behaved over the last two decades.


With a wistful sigh, he quietly undressed. Not bothering with pajamas, he slid into the bed, careful not to disturb Narcissa. She was laying on her side, the sheet around her waist, her back uncovered, her long blonde hair nearly as long as his own. He didn’t lay down, instead leaning on his left arm and studying his wife, something he did often when he couldn’t sleep. Even nearing forty, she was just as beautiful as the day he’d first realized he could love her. A party, if he recalled, some boring affair that his parents had insisted he attend. She’d entered the room and he’d been unable to look away. He knew her, attended the same school as her, but he had never really noticed her as anything other than Bellatrix Black’s younger sister, the rather cute blonde that he would sometimes catch looking at him. That moment, when their eyes met across a crowded room, his lips curved as he realized how cliché that sounded, he had realized she was the one. They had been so very happy in the beginning, could have had everything, but he’d ruined it all with his ambition and thirst for power.


Gray eyes moved over her form, remembering a time when he would have felt no hesitation at waking her from her sleep by moving his lips against her skin, spending hours making love to her. She used to be so passionate, coming apart in his arms, one touch would have her begging for him just as he begged for her. He missed having her in his arms, talking to her, loving her. Merlin, he missed her. His eyes moved along the contours of her face, narrowing as he noticed wetness on her cheeks. She had been crying, the tear stains evident, still fresh. He adjusted his position, realizing that she was awake, her eyes open and staring at the wall.


Lucius hesitated, deciding that he should just act as if he believed she was asleep. Had she wanted to talk, she would have said something or indicated to him that she was awake. He made the decision and was about to lay down when he noticed the scarf in her hands. Memories of a wonderful afternoon flying and making love in the summer sun went through his mind, his eyes moving along her cheek as he realized why she had been crying. It was his fault, once again. Instead of ignoring it, as he normally would have done, he found his right hand moving along her arm. She stiffened when he touched her, inhaling sharply as his fingers touched her bare flesh. She turned her head and looked at him, her blue eyes so sad and still full of tears, red from crying.


Lucius was unable to look away from her eyes. He was transported back twenty-three years to the first time he’d looked directly into those beautiful blue eyes and again he felt that same connection, the sense that they were meant to be. His fingers brushed against her cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear. Looking into her eyes, he saw her fear, her worry, her love. He felt his breath leave him as he realized suddenly that he had almost lost her. No words were necessary, he could see it in her eyes. She was going to leave him. His eyes flashed with remorse and guilt at the way he had treated her over their years together. He didn’t deserve her, but, damn it, he was a selfish bastard and had no intention of losing the person he loved the most. He couldn’t lose her, couldn’t imagine life without her.


Narcissa stared into his eyes, surprised that he was touching her, shocked by the emotions she saw in his eyes. For so long, they had been dull and empty, now they reminded her of a time long past. She watched him lower his head, his lips claiming hers in a fiery kiss. His fingers moved from her cheek to tangle in her hair, the kiss deepening as she met it with equal ferocity and passion. There was such emotion in the kiss, his eyes stormy with regret, need, and love. Narcissa moved against him, her hands moving to the back of his head, her surprise fading as she began to kiss him back, putting everything she had never said into the kiss. He moved on the bed, allowing her to lay on her back. His lips left hers, his eyes looking into hers, letting her see how he felt, no words necessary. Her Lucius was there, still a bit lost but determined to come back. Narcissa smiled softly, her hand moving along his cheek, her eyes on his as she raised her head and caught his lips.


She was giving him another chance. Her lips were soft and inviting, her hands moving over his body, the kiss explorative as they reminded themselves how it had once been and how it could be. His hand moved along her side until he reached the end of her nightgown, their kisses fierce and intense, neither needing words to convey how they felt or what they wanted. So much wasted time, so many years spent drifting apart, forgetting the love they shared, spent in silence and loneliness. He couldn’t believe how close he had come to losing her, the kiss deepening as his hand moved beneath her nightgown. Tomorrow, they would talk. He would tell her what he had been doing since leaving Azkaban, he would tell her about his arrangement with Dumbledore and how he was going to insure that she and Draco were safe and had a future without Voldemort. Lucius moved his hand along her leg, caressing her pale flesh, moving it between her thighs to find that she was responding to him. His fingers teased her as his lips moved over her face, his eyes looking into hers whenever possible.


Narcissa couldn’t recall the last time she had felt like this, knowing it had been at least a decade. This wasn’t about sex, it wasn’t about a quick shag, it was about them loving one another and both realizing what they had almost lost. She didn’t understand everything she had seen his eyes, but she was confident that they would finally talk, finally have a conversation, and that she would receive answers then. He wasn’t her Lucius, but there were more signs of the man she loved present now than since shortly after they married. She loved him so much, this beautiful man who brought her to life, and she was so happy to be in his arms again, to know that he was still hers. His lips caught her soft moan as he entered her, her leg moving behind his as she adjusted her position, making them both more comfortable. His strokes were deep and penetrating, his hands moving over her body, ripping the nightgown to free her breasts from its confines.


He released her lips, moving his head so that he was staring at her, his eyes on hers as they moved together. His eyes were a dark gray that she remembered fondly from their many passionate trysts during the early years of their marriage, blazing with desire and love for her. She felt tension building, her breathing ragged, her eyes unable to look away from his. She had missed him so much, missed sharing herself with him, missed holding him like this, missed tasting him and touching him. His hands moved over her slender body, caressing her curves, touching her in the places he knew brought her the most pleasure, teasing her even as he thrust deep inside her, his strokes increasing in speed and becoming more intense. She came with a soft cry, her body trembling with pleasure, arching towards him as she found her release.


She looked into his eyes and saw that he was crying, silent tears falling down his cheeks as he watched her come. With a groan, he spilled himself inside her, his lips meetings hers in a tender kiss, his face wet from his tears. They remained that way for a while, kissing and snuggling, his body still resting against hers. He continued to cry, holding her desperately against him, seemingly afraid to let her go. His head moved to rest on her shoulder, her hands gently moving through his hair as he cried, her own tears joining his. Her lips curved into a soft smile as she held the man she had loved for over twenty years, her eyes flashing with determination, resolve and happiness. They had lost so much in their lives but their love remained, stronger now than ever before. She knew that life was not a fairy tale, knew that they had many obstacles ahead of them, some very dangerous, but she also knew that they were stronger when they were together, that their love made them stronger. Narcissa knew that, in the end, they would survive and her family would be okay. Draco would have the future she wanted for him, and, hopefully, would have a real relationship with his father, finally meeting the man she had fallen in love with. Life might not be a fairy tale, but, damn it, she was going to make sure they had a happy ending! That resolution in mind, backed with the determined and Black stubbornness she had inherited from her Father, Narcissa snuggled against Lucius, holding him as they eventually drifted off to sleep.


**THE END***