The time was well past late, but the exact hour she could not tell. A deep blue sky had grown and changed to a black so dark the stars themselves could barely shine in its blanketing wake. She might have felt chilled, were it not for the lit sconces and ornate candles surrounding her.

"Milady..."

Her breath caught and her heart raced in momentary panic.

"Sir-" her voice quavered and drew quiet.

"I did not mean to frighten you, Narcissa..."

The woman released a sigh, shaking off her feelings off flighty anxiety, and mewed in protest when she felt him hovering near the side of her ear; his warm breath made the hair on her neck stand on end.

"Lucius," Narcissa barely voiced before she leaned back against him, nearly swallowed by his by his frame and the black dress-robes he wore.

"Narcissa," Lucius repeated, brushing a kiss into the back of her neck.

Her heartbeat quickened and she found herself holding her breath. It may have been their wedding night, but privacy was not an allotted privilege. Narcissa Black was practically bred for such a night but even then, she was wary. She had been fortunate that her parents had agreed to a match with the Malfoy clan, to Abraxas Malfoy's heir, Lucius; the two had met many times, but beyond formality, she knew little of the younger Malfoy. Even during their Hogwarts years, Narcissa, ever the 'good' Black sister, took care to raise suspicious inklings among her peers. It was enough that her elder sister, Andromeda, went flitting about with a common muggle.

"Lucius," Narcissa spoke, her voice catching horribly from her growing nervousness; her husband had his hands on her hips and was pulling her against him as he trailed more intimate kisses from her neck to her shoulder. "Lucius, stop." She pled, instantly regretting her childish outburst.

The young master Malfoy paused, his mouth lingering near her left ear.

"I can't do this," she cried. "I...can't."

"Cissa," he implored softly, reaching up to touch her shoulder.

"I'm not ready," she cut in with a hollow voice. "I... what if it doesn't work?"

Lucius Malfoy knitted his brow in confusion and then smiled, chuckling teasingly.

"And why wouldn't it work?" He asked, brushing his fingers through his new bride's hair, relishing the feel of her cool, sleek, shiny blonde locks.

Narcissa reached up to touch his hand, and brought it down to the side of her face, pressing her cheek into his palm.

"Is this only to be a formal union?" The worry was palpable in her voice.

Lucius exhaled in relief, happy that that was the only concern Narcissa had for their first evening.

"It will be what you want," he answered gently, moving around to face her.

"That is not what I need to hear," Narcissa replied sternly. "You are no help at all."

The young master Malfoy could only laugh at his wife's reproach and bent down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"If it pleases you, Missus Malfoy, let's not worry about what must be done. There is time for that soon enough. This night is ours."