Introduction-Where it all Began

It is a common misconception that a man of my stature and position could not possibly love his wife, let alone remain faithful to her, and yet, in the last sixteen years, not another woman has been able to detract my attention from her physically, mentally, or emotionally (not that my emotions are anyone's business but my own.) Perhaps these petty rumors began in the social circles my wife keeps, for I will not deny that more than half a dozen witches, all of whom at one time called themselves her friends, threw themselves at me in fits of passion and begged for me to grace their offspring with my pure and noble blood. Denial makes for bitter witches, and it is this bitterness I blame for the scandalous gossip surrounding our family relations.

Rumor has also surfaced to suggest she takes on lovers just to spite me, and that she has even consorted with half my friends, including, of course, the Potions Master at Hogwarts. Come now, you've seen the man; brilliant as he may be, he is certainly no Casanova, and though they do indeed share a love of unusual potions, I know for a fact that she would never sully our marriage bed with him, or any other man unless, of course, there were something to be gained from it that I was unable to give her. Call me arrogant, overconfident if you will, but there is nothing I couldn't or wouldn't give the woman if she asked it of me, and so I worry very little about her interactions with other men.

Another widespread delusion is that our marriage was arranged by our families without our consent to strengthen pureblood, family ties. I will never personally deny that marrying Narcissa Black was an alliance to be not only envied, but reckoned with, so perhaps it was arranged by fate, for 'tis my own belief that she was born for me and I for her. There were no contracts, no prior matches made. I chose her because to simply see the woman is to fall instantly in love with her, and so my fate was sealed the very first time I laid eyes upon her in the guise of the blushing maiden. In cunning I was strong and wickedness divine, and these were the tools that wooed her to my side before the end, but alas where did it begin?

I had known of her nearly all our lives because our families were acquainted, but I, being older, went off to school more than four years before she did, and truth be told she never once crossed my mind. When she arrived at Hogwarts during my sixth year, I couldn't be bothered with her, and by the time I graduated, the words 'Narcissa who?' most definitely would have come from me were she brought up in conversation. I was too busy trying to secure a place for myself in the world without my father's influence to think of what last I knew to be a pale and rather prepubescent little girl, but Narcissa had her sights on me, or so the stories circulated back to me sometime later.

It was Christmas Eve, and she was in her seventh year when first, or shall I say next, I saw her. Every year the Malfoys held a Yule Ball, and all the richest pureblood families in the wizarding world were invited. I say that it was here that I first saw her because never before that night had I seen her for what she truly was, a woman. She and her younger sister Bella were gossiping in the corner by the fire, their quaint and girlish laughter reaching only those with attentive ears, but their beauty was the envy of the ball and there was scarce a witch or wizard in attendance who was able to keep their eyes from the Black Sisters. I remember that her lips were stained dark red with pomegranate juice, and this alone was contrast enough to the iridescence of her moon-pale complexion to begin a simmer in my blood. Her honey-hued hair was piled high upon her head and fell in a frame of ringlet tendrils around her oval face. Dear Merlin, I know not how I remember to this day the way she looked when first I spied her, and even then I couldn't believe that I had noticed those details, but I had, and she had noticed me noticing her.

I was sure she was making eyes at me, and so I played the game, smiling handsomely, but pulling back to business every time my father drug me into some politically important and influential conversation that could help me on my way to financial independence and freedom. It wasn't until my own sister intervened to steal his attention that I found myself free enough to make my way toward reacquaintance with Narcissa.

In naming her Narcissa her parents were no fools, for the woman knew her beauty and her place even then, and she certainly had no shame in using one or the other, and sometimes both to her advantage in the most lethal fashion. Better men than I had died in search of nothing more than her sweet, affectionate smile, and I was prepared myself to take on death as my punishment for making that smile mine. When she flashed it at me, it was hard for me to find my voice, "Narcissa," I held a hand to her, "it's been so long since last I saw you, I almost didn't recognize you. You've certainly grown since last we spoke."

Bellatrix sneered over her shoulder at me like a demoness, her cornflower-blue eyes scanning me with almost as much interest as her fair-haired sister, "Spoke? I think the last time we saw you, Malfoy, you hexed us both with chicken pox and sent us on our way."

"I did?" I astounded. "Surely there must be some mistake," I insisted. "I wouldn't have."

Narcissa laughed and held her dainty hand to me. It was the most heavenly sound I'd ever heard, and I felt a certain sense of pride that it had come on my behalf, "Actually, you did hex us with chicken pox." I could feel my face falling a little, the pride I'd carried myself over to her with waning in the light of her perfect scrutiny. She was outshining me and all because of that little brat Bellatrix, "But that was so long ago, Lucius. Never trust a lady who holds a grudge," and then she smiled. Ensnared, I could feel my heart racing wildly inside me. She'd smiled at me, for me, and it made her sister antsy.

"A grudge?" I asked, "Why hold a grudge when you can have revenge?"

Again, she laughed, not at me, but in appreciation and agreement, "Exactly!" she chimed. I hadn't noticed until then, but I was still holding her hand in the customary position. Her hand was soft inside my own, "Though I hardly think I have it in me to exact revenge for a hex more than six years in the past."

"I might," Bellatrix glowered.

I watched as the older, and more regal of the sisters exerted dominance; Narcissa pushed herself between her sister and myself and stole the conversation. She charmed me with her intellect, enamored me with her smile and it wasn't long before bored, Bella wandered off in search of someone who might give her the attention she desired. In Narcissa's company alone, I plotted out my future with her in silent anticipation of our certain glory.

I absolutely had to have her.

I hadn't given much though to a permanent mate before that night. That isn't to say I didn't have my share of fun with nearly every young, available witch in western Europe (as well as a few who were older, and probably not so available,) but interacting with Narcissa that night had inspired a different motivation in me. Don't get me wrong, I would be inhuman if I tried to claim I didn't want to chase her giggling around the bedchamber before I had my way with her and she with me, but she gave me nothing more than a smile that night, and the implied promise that were I to pursue her, she might grant me a kiss. A kiss! Imagine; just a kiss.

The woman had infuriated me with desire and hadn't even kissed me, let alone allowed me to touch any other part of her than her hand. She was a coy one, that Narcissa Black, but I knew that night I had to have her for my own. There was only way that was going to happen. I'd have to court her like a proper lady.