Intercourse (300 words)
)O(
Narcissa lay upon her and Lucius's marriage bed, stiff and silent and feeling terribly vulnerable in her state of undress, unwilling to even look at him. He had removed her wedding gown with all the reverence that one would expect from a husband taking his wife to bed for the first time, but Narcissa had loathed every second of his touch. It sickened her to have his hands upon her body.
"Is something wrong, Narcissa?" he asked, sounding quite genuinely concerned, and she spared him a glance, watching him for a moment as he slipped out of his dress robes before she resumed staring at the ceiling.
"No," she said, without so much as a touch of emotion. "Nothing is wrong."
"You do not seem eager…"
"I'm… just a little nervous," she told him, and that silenced him. Of course a bride would be nervous on her wedding night. All brides were nervous on their wedding nights; that was what all men thought.
Narcissa was not nervous. She was merely unhappy.
Lucius climbed into the bed with her, taking her in his arms and kissing her deeply, and as much as Narcissa tried to respond as a wife should, her whole body was screaming for escape.
He lay her on her back again and moved between her legs, parting them and running his hands up her inner thighs while he pressed oh-so-sweet kisses onto her breasts, and Narcissa resisted the urge to kick him away.
She allowed him to consummate the marriage, nothing more. She did not respond, she did not give so much as a single kiss or embrace, but simply turned her head and stared at the bouquets of flowers from the wedding that decorated their room, counting the petals on each until Lucius was done with her.