The event had been - in her mind - a success. She rolled her head on relaxing shoulders, reflecting on the faces of the evening. The Notts, or what was left of them, with their unfortunately shaped noses. Mrs. Zabini and husband number...five? Six? Who bloody knew anymore. And of course all of Lucius'...mates?

Did Lucius have friends? She smirked. Not really certain. He'd disappeared two hours before the champagne was served, anyway, presumably off to discuss 'business' with said 'mates.' She honestly didn't want to even consider their topics of conversation. Probably too boring for breath.

Her feet hurt. On the second floor landing, she simply stepped from her spiked heels. The elf would collect them. She stifled a yawn. Rubbed a hand over hips she considered still shapely, loving the feel of exquisite elven embroidery beneath her fingers. People could accuse her of being a narcissist - she quirked a brow. But she found no fault in having a healthy self-esteem.

Scratching at her neck, she tugged free the elaborate clasp reigning in her hair. It spilled thick and curly over one bared shoulder and she fluffed it at her scalp. Could have moaned from the pleasure. She hated having her hair pulled back. Walking by Lucius' study she could smell the smoke from the veela rolled cigars. She rolled her eyes. They'd be up all night smoking, drinking, and talking about Merlin only knows what.

"..and that could easily be said about your wife, Lucius." Narcissa heard someone say as she turned the corner. She stopped and listened.

A glass clinked. "My wife?" She heard him say. "After this many years of marriage I dare say she's the definition of perfection."

Narcissa smirked. Of course I am. She had given him everything he had wanted. A son, his heir and one that was nearly a mirror image of him no less. She kept her figure and her beauty. The best dressed guest, the most kind and gracious hostess, even to the idiot wives of Lucius's 'mates'. He gave her everything that she wanted and she was, in her mind, the perfect complement to his very presence. She loved him and knew, undoubtedly, he felt the same in return.

There was a muffled comment which Narcissa couldn't make out but she heard her husband's response. "As you said, there is nothing money can't buy and I've bought the best. She does what I want and is at my beck and call. Better than any of your wives in every sense of the word and far better than any of Reginald's purebred hunting bitches in terms of quality."

They laughed. Narcissa swallowed. Hard.

"At least she is purebred," a voice echoed. "Isn't she, Lucius? You're certain of her lineage?" Laughter resounded. "After all, I bought a horse once only to discover the half-blood who sold it me flatly lied on those papers!"

The laughter only increased. She even recognised her husband's deep chuckle. "Are you suggesting my mount is muddy, Cropps? You're one to bloody talk!"

"Speaking of mount -"

But here Lucius seemed to take offense. "That's enough. You couldn't afford to mount her!"

"Oh, come now, Lucius!"

A glass slammed against one of the tables. "I would never share such a thing." He sighed loudly. "Unlike yours, mine was never shared and never will be as far as I'm concerned."

"Even if-"

"Even if nothing!" Lucius spat. "I made her father make the unbreakable vow she would remain untouched until I married her. Not even kissed by a boy in a dark corridor at Hogwarts." The was a pause. "She was mine for the taking. Mine."

"And I'm sure you took her well," another voice said.

"She screamed and cried a bit, yes," he said nonchalantly. "But she's used to it. Likes it even, I'm sure."

"I assume you tested your boy, then?" This voice was gruffer. Older. The respected one. "You know the spell. It's an ages old tradition."

"Of course, I did, you windy duffer." Lucius growled. "He was but an innocent bairn. Another proof positive my sow never strayed. She would never."

"And how do you know that, oh blonde one?" Someone asked. "Share your wisdom with us lesser mortals."

"Idiots." There was the sound of more drink pouring. The clink of more ice. The pregnant pause that precedes pandemonium. Lucius was indeed sharing. "She loves me. And thinks I love her." There was another pause - a pause of imbibing: the drink, the words, the truth. "And love is the ultimate control."

And against the wall outside her husband's study, the witch who thought she was loved lost all reason...and crumbled against the reverberating laughter.

AN: The MILF and I are back!