Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
A/N: This isn't properly British.
The doorbell rings, and Lucius tries to go answer it. But Narcissa snaps, "Not yet!" And he immediately reverts back to standing still as a statue, while she fiddles with his bow tie.
"Really, darling," he tries to tell her, "they're family—this is entirely unnecessa—"
"That's no excuse not to look good!" And he shuts up, because 'happy wife, happy life.'
When Narcissa's done straightening out his robes, she steps back and looks over him proudly. Lucius strikes a dignified pose, and she chuckles fondly at him. By that point, the doorbell has rung three more times, which, in Lestrange terms, is one ring away from the whole house burning down.
So Lucius asks, "May I?" And his lovely wife nods and lets him scoop her up in his arm. He ushers her across the hallway and unlocks the door, to his furiously glaring in-laws.
"About time," Bellatrix snaps as she sweeps inside. Narcissa is smiling genially, and neither Malfoy mentions her rudeness. Because that is Bellatrix for you, and they're used to it. Rodolphus steps in stiffly behind her, and Lucius closes the door behind them.
Bellatrix steps up to Narcissa, and Narcissa says, "Oh, let's be French about it," as she and Lucius just returned from Paris, and she hasn't quite gotten over the whole thing. Lucius chuckles indulgently, and Bellatrix rolls her dark eyes as Narcissa pulls her in for a light peck to either cheek. Narcissa actually kisses Bellatrix's strong cheekbones, but Bellatrix only pretends, scrunching up her face.
"French?" Rodolphus muses, watching curiously.
"It's a French kiss," Bellatrix grumbles.
Rodolphus scoffs. "That's not a French kiss!" He grabs Lucius' arm and tugs him forward a step, and Lucius stumbles into his brother-in-law in surprise. "This is a French kiss!" And he immediately lunges at Lucius, tilting his head to the side before Lucius can react.
Then Rodolphus is flattened into his face, and Lucius' eyes are wide and staring at Rodolphus' closed ones, and Lucius' kissing instincts take over and his eyes flutter closed too. Rodolphus' lips are strong and rough against his, slightly chapped, and a fair bit different than Narcissa's soft ones. With Narcissa, Lucius usually takes control. Here, Rodolphus' tongue presses insistently at his lips, and Lucius opens his mouth purely to protest. This, of course, proves to be a rather ineffective idea, because he promptly finds his mouth full of Rodolphus.
Rodolphus' tongue swipes across Lucius', and for a moment, Lucius battles it but quickly finds he can't win. Rodolphus explores him thoroughly, tasting of wine and salt. Rodolphus' teeth bump into Lucius', and the kiss is rough and un-careful. It isn't practiced, or refined, and it's harsh, and there's a certain part where Lucius feels his mouth is being brutishly fucked by Rodolphus' tongue. He feels both shamefully violated and confusingly turned on, and when Rodolphus finally pulls back, there's a thin trail of spittle that hangs between them.
"That," Rodolphus says proudly, as he turns to his wife, and Lucius wipes furiously at his mouth, "is a French kiss."
Narcissa's cheeks are a dusty pink, and Bellatrix looks an odd mix of gleefully excited and disgustedly disgruntled.
Lucius mumbles, "Um... dinner... er, right this way," and sweeps his guests off down the hall.