A/N: Certainly not as fluffy or cute as what I usually write for these two, but I thought I'd try something new... Please enjoy!
Disclaimer: As always, I do not own these characters, etc.

Rain pounded against the bedroom's sole window and thunder crashed in the distance. At long last, the storm was finally showing signs of letting up. Narcissa Malfoy lay nearly atop her husband, her bare chest pressed against his and her head buried against his neck. He was glad she managed to fall asleep easily despite the weather, though he himself had not been so lucky. Lucius couldn't get his thoughts away from Narcissa, no matter how much he may have wanted to, or how intimate the pair had gotten not an hour previous. From the way her hand rested so lightly on his arm to her soft breathing against his skin, he found it so difficult to turn his thoughts away. He could do nothing but accept it, and he cherished every moment of it while he still could.

Lucius knew full well that the only reason he was broken out of Azkaban was to serve as another expendable warrior in Lord Voldemort's army. Keeping Narcissa consoled and less miserable than she had been in months was simply an added benefit where the Dark Lord was concerned. The Dark Mark upon his left arm was now darker and more sinister than it had been since the first war so many years ago. He hated the fact that it marked him as just another faceless soldier in the Death Eater army, and he thought himself foolish that he used to be so proud of it. When he accepted the mark at eighteen his father, the illustrious Abraxas Malfoy, had been proud of him, and in his naiveté and youthful arrogance, he thought the Dark Lord would be proud to have him as a servant as well. How stupid he had been, he thought.

Narcissa, however, had warned him against it from the beginning. "Please," she had begged," just wait. Just wait another year and I'll be branded as his servant in your place. Bella is already one of them, and I know she'll help me...!" Time and time again he refused her. Narcissa was fragile. He knew that the Dark Mark would break her, just as it was now slowly but surely breaking him. His gaze lowered until it reached her own left forearm, her porcelain skin left unmarred and unscathed. When he imagined the possibilities, had he accepted her offer to take his place, he couldn't do anything but thank any gods that may have existed that he had been wise enough not to.

His hands entwined in her hair and he breathed in her scent. He wanted so much to say her name and hear his name on her soft lips, assuring him that everything would turn out all right just like the first time they found themselves embroiled in a war. But Lucius wouldn't wake her; not after all the sleepless nights he knew she had spent while he was locked away in Azkaban just days ago and not when he knew of the many, many more days and nights he would have to spend away from her in the coming months. Lucius held her tighter. Knowing Narcissa as he did, he was certain that she was much more concerned for him than she was for herself, a sentiment he appreciated but at the same time found incredibly foolish. During the First Wizarding War, she had their infant son to take care of, who provided her with both a distraction from the events that surrounded her family, as well as a reason to keep living, even if the unlikely were to happen and Lucius were to fall in combat, leaving Narcissa and Draco behind. This time would be different. This time, that very same boy would be fighting alongside the other Death Eaters, in just as much danger as Lucius was. They would both be leaving her alone, a queen trapped in her cold, unfeeling castle. This as well could break her so, so easily, Lucius knew.

One look at his sleeping beauty was enough to make him certain. She was delicate right now; to be handled with caution, and there were so many things in their future that had the potential to simply shatter the woman beyond hope of repair. That wasn't something Lucius was going to let happen. He would do everything in his power to make sure they made it out of the war alive, together. A bit damaged, to be sure, but together nonetheless. As his gaze focused down on her, he noticed Narcissa stir in her sleep ever so slightly.

"Lucius..." came her tired, barely audible whisper. His eyes widened in surprise. Could he have upset her and awakened her? But no more words were spoken, and no more movements made. Upon realizing she must have simply called his name in a dream, he smiled. There was no way he could possibly let her go, not at that moment and not ever. They would be strong, and by the time it was all over, he would lead her once more to the same happiness he had promised her long ago; the happiness they had shared in the none-too-distant past.

They would succeed. They were Malfoys, after all, he reasoned.

And Malfoys always got what they desired.