February 1974
Narcissa was stood in the ballroom on Lucius' arm. These things were interminable, and she'd rather be dancing with her husband. They'd been married six months, and she admitted that her admiration for him might be growing into something more. It gave her a case of the butterflies wholly different to those she had before her wedding.
Then she'd been nervous, unsure of her role. Now she was sure, she was the consummate society wife. She came to these lacklustre parties, listened with interest to dull people, made intelligent conversation and collected gossip on anyone that could be added to Lucius' stable of contacts. She subtly guided the wives of her husband's peers, who had naturally deferred to her due to rank, and made nice with the battle axes of her mother's generation by never ever deviating from the proper pureblood mannerisms drilled into her from birth.
It was exhausting.
But at home in the time when they were alone. When it was just them, the formality they lived their lives by relaxed. Comfortable enough that Lucius would choose a seat on the sofa next to her without invitation. He would linger over his morning tea at breakfast until she was finished rather than sweep from the room and leave her as her father did to her mother. No, she thought, her relationship with Lucius was developing, and she liked it.
It was intense being the sole object of attention from a man like Lucius. He was a predator, and it was visible in his every movement. It spoke to her on a level so deep it was instinctual. She knew that he was hers and she was his, and she exulted in the feeling, the jealous looks and the respect it automatically demanded.
The man in front of her was burbling about a dragon breeding program, it tickled something in the back of her brain, but she couldn't think what it might be.
"…But the results if proved would be a great boon. We've seen a few problems in the wild herds, and this research could give us a way to correct it. Then we can strengthen the herds! It really would be a fascinating opportunity. Once the funding is in place, it would allow…."
Oh, there you go, she thought. That's why we're here. The 'I've had a good idea but no way to get it off the ground' speech. Honestly, these people acted like they didn't hear this from everyone at these events.
He was still talking, but she tuned him out again glancing round the ballroom. The Parkinson's were here somewhere, and she was keen to avoid Posey. The woman had no grace or subtlety about her. How she'd managed seven years in the Snake Pit without a little rubbing off on her, Narcissa would never know.
Lucius shifted subtly under her arm, he was getting tired of their companion. Time to step in then, she waited for a pause in the man's monologue mentally rolling her eyes at him. If they were going to invest, he'd have had the funds by now if only to shut him up.
"My Lord Husband," Narcissa said. "I do think Mr," she searched her memory. "Worth has an excellent proposal. I do so love my dragon skin boots you bought me while we were in Paris. If he can strengthen his herds and breed more dragons, why think of the variety that would afford you when shopping." Narcissa sent Mr Worth a dazzling smile.
He looked at her mouth gaping, before muttering a quiet confused. "Quite, Lady Malfoy. If you will excuse me I've just spotted …." he trailed off and with a short bow turned and disappeared into the crowd.
"Oh," she said guilelessly. "Well, shall we dance Lord Husband?"
Lucius led her to the dance floor with a smirk playing on his lips. He turned her into his arms and led her in the formal waltz. He looked down at her fondly. "My good Lady wife I believe you frightened the rabbits on purpose."
"Nonsense," she responded spiritedly. "I think Mr Worth had an excellent point. Unfortunately, it came in the first five minutes."
Lucius raised an eyebrow and spun her out away from him. "And the other fifteen minutes of his conversation?"
"Well, I wouldn't say he belaboured his point as he seemed to lose it quite quickly. But think my Lord husband, wouldn't Chinese red dragon skin make such a beautiful pair of dancing shoes."
He threw back his head and laughed in a rare showing of genuine emotion while never once deviating from the movement of the dance. She smiled a polite society smile but inside she was glowing. She did that. She made him laugh and look at her in that way, fondness in his eyes.
"Then Madame if it is what you wish I shall not rest until I can place a pair upon your feet."
Narcissa nodded demurely at him. "As my Lord husband says, so it shall be."
The rest of the evening passed pleasantly, they danced some more and spoke to more people than Narcissa cared to think about. All the while, when she caught his glance, it would be warm and soft. Making her insides melt, her breath catch, and her heart hope for something it hadn't dared hope for before.
Once home in the sitting room, they rested, enjoying a night cap together before they separated. But he sat next to her talking honeyed words, and she sat enraptured. Listening as he compared her hair to silk, her eyes to stars. He started pulling the pins out that had held her hair all night, and she blushed. As much at the impropriety of such a thing happening in the sitting room, as the flush on her face could be blamed for the curling warmth low in her stomach. Heating her blood, widening and darkening her eyes.
He'd led her to her chamber and had used all the power of his magnetism on her. It hadn't been like this on her wedding night. Then he'd been gentle, patient and kind. Treating her inexperience as a gift, she was bestowing and he the unworthy recipient.
In the times since they had come together, she'd never been sure that he wanted her. Not in the way described in the books her dorm mates had shared around. She had thought it might be a sense of duty. He'd been a gentle lover, considerate of her needs, making sure she enjoyed the act itself, but it hadn't been the heat of passion, the abandonment of wills and senses she'd read about.
This night, however, this night, her breath was short. Her heart beat was quick, and her brain was screaming that this, this, was why you had to be careful what you wished for. Because this man in front of her with the predatory gaze devouring her, and his voice whispering promises of sin, had her captivated.
Narcissa was yearning, aching in a way she didn't know she could and as the last wisps of her logic vanished into the roar of desire, she knew three things. She knew she loved him. She knew she never wanted the bland tepid lovemaking she'd had before, and she never ever wanted to leave this man's bed to sleep alone again.
A week later she walked into their shared bedchamber to find a gaily wrapped box on the bed addressed to her. Curious she pulled the ribbons free and lifted the lid. Nestled in the tissue were a pair of Chinese red dragon skin heels.
