A year...

One solid year had passed since Lucius was arrested, and it was one of the most tiring, depressing, and downright horrible years Narcissa had ever experienced. Although she had nearly gotten down on her knees and pleaded with the Minister, she held her sense of pride and dignity when she asked if she was allowed to visit her husband. Each and every time she went in, she was denied. Dejected, she would return home in tears, collapsing on anything soft enough to cushion her. She felt weak... She was weak. Lucius would be disgusted with how she had let herself slip into this pathetic submission of sadness, but she couldn't help it.

Draco was getting older, and looking more and more like his father as the days passed. Even though he was only three, he had the same startling grey tint in his orbs, along with the pointed face, and hair identical in colour to her imprisoned husband.

The letters used to come once a week. Lucius would grumble and complain about the food, the lack of sanity amongst his prisoner mates after a week, the dreadful chill in the air, and the poor toilet facilities. In return, Narcissa would send loving words of comfort, knowing that was all she could do until she was in his arms again. Soon, however, the letters stopped.

The trial was supposed to be quick - hastened under Fudge's watchful, and bribed, eye. However, it was only that day, a year and a week after Lucius had been lugged out of the house, that Narcissa received the invite to his trial date. She was permitted to bring Draco, she was told, if he could sit quiet, and if she knew how to control him. He was slightly difficult to control sometimes, and when she had the strength, she would tell him off. However, most of the time she simply let him have his way, which had turned him a little spoilt, as Severus so wonderfully commented the last time he was round for dinner.

Severus Snape was one of the only people who came to see her anymore. Her sister was locked away in Azkaban with a life sentence, as was Rodolphus, and her old school friends rarely wanted anything to do with her. Severus, however, was there as often as he could be. Draco was fond of him, but Narcissa fretted that the little boy would forget Lucius completely if Severus acted too fatherly around him (despite the fact they had named him Godfather of the boy), and Narcissa shyly asked one evening if Severus could keep his visits to once every two weeks. To ensure Draco wouldn't forget Lucius, she talked about him as much as she could, reread his letters to the boy, and went through old photos once a week with him. Naturally, Draco became a little bored of this tradition, and was always so antsy when waiting for the ritual to be finished.

It was two days before Lucius' trial when she found out Dumbledore had spoken to the Minister. Apparently he and Snape had discussed Narcissa's wellbeing, and the old man was a little annoyed that she had not been allowed to see her husband. Most women were permitted in, and he couldn't understand why she wasn't. So, he managed to persuade the Minister to grant her a quick visit in with Lucius. They would not allow her into the prisoners' bay, simply because that was restricted to only the people who lived and worked there. Instead, she had been given a small room on one of the upper floors, which was where she had been waiting for her husband for over an hour. Granted, she had gotten there quite a bit earlier than the scheduled time, but that didn't matter. She was just so excited that she was allowed to see her husband.

The prison, however, was a place she would hate to spend great periods of time within. The walls were made completely out of stone, screaming was heard frequently from the lower levels, and she could actually feel the presence of Dementors.

Everything was going to be perfect. Although Lucius had expressed several times he did not want her down in the prison, she figured he would be so happy that he wouldn't care. Draco was with her mother for the day, even though the woman was a bad influence on him, but at that moment, she could care less.

Footsteps were heard marching along the dark corridor she had been in some time ago, and she rose off the tiny couch, which was terribly uncomfortable, and walked toward the half-open door. Within a moment, it was thrust open, and a gruff man with distasteful tattoos all up his arms shoved her husband, who was currently blindfolded, into the room.

"You have an hour with him."

She nodded her head as he slammed the door shut, and she bit her lip as she looked Lucius over. His garment was filthy, with the numbers 4423671 branded on his chest. His hair, usually quite smooth and presentable, was in tangles, slightly brown, and much longer than she remembered. The skin that was visible on his neck, hands and arms was bruised, dirty, and almost too unpleasant for her to look upon in silence.

"Well?" he snapped irritably, "First I get dragged out of a peaceful sleep, and then no one tells me what the bloody Hell is going on, and now you're not talking... My hands are still free, you know, so-"

Narcissa quickly stepped forward and removed the white piece of cloth covering his eyes, tears in her own as she stared up at them for the first time in a year. Silence moved across the couple instantly, and Lucius brought a hand up, gently caressing her cheek, "I told you not to come."

"Is that all you have to say to me?" she asked, chuckling slightly when a tear rolled down, "You... You don't know how..."

Despite the fact he was filthy, Lucius leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against hers, causing her to sigh contently as she wrapped her arms around his thin neck. It wasn't the passionate, hot steamy kiss she had fantasized about getting when they saw each other for the first time, but she found it was just so much better. He expressed enough in it; his longing, his sadness, and a hint of repressed desire.

Well... More than just a hint.

In an instant, Narcissa found herself being picked up as Lucius moved them over to the only piece of furniture in the room; the couch. She sat up on his lap, and then broke away for a moment, "Gods, you have no idea how much I've missed you... How much Draco's missed you... Why did you stop writing?"

"They wouldn't let me send letters anymore." he croaked, his voice wavering slightly as he stroked her hair, clearly enjoying how soft it was. "Prisoners are only allowed to send one letter a month, and as you recall, I was sending them weekly. People got annoyed that I received special treatment, and it ended soon after that."

"Oh, Lucius..." she murmured, gently touching the bruises on his face, the broken skin on his knuckles, and the lengthy lines of red along his arms, "What have you been doing to yourself?"

"I've done nothing," he laughed coldly, rolling his eyes, "It's the other prisoners that do it..."

He paused for a moment, looking at his knuckles, "Actually, the one on my index finger is from some bloke's jaw... He wouldn't give me my food, so I punched him in the face."

"Lucius!" she gasped, leaning back slightly, "How long have you accepted Muggle violence?"

"I'm not pleased that I need to resort to it, dearest," he cooed, "but it gets the job done."

She sniffled loudly, and he brushed a watery tear away, a grim expression on his face, "How have you been?"

"Been better," she laughed, a little embarrassed. "Draco thinks I'm losing my mind, but that's all right."

"Why does-"

"I cry sometimes," she explained carefully, watching for his reaction, "and Draco sees it."

"Ah."

"But only sometimes!"

She wasn't too sure how exactly he was reacting, but his silence was a clear signal that he wasn't completely happy with the fact she was sobbing in front of his son.

"And how is my boy?"

"Getting bigger and looking like you every second of the day," she laughed, readjusting herself on his lap so she could cuddle up under his chin, her hand resting on his chest, "I think I'll bring him to your trial... Would you mind?"

"I suppose not," he muttered, kissing her hair softly, "I doubt he'll see anything horrific... I'll be getting released."

"How can you be sure?" she whispered, almost afraid to ask it. His chest shook as he laughed, and she knew he wasn't upset that she inquired it.

"How can I... Cissa, do you know how many men I've paid off while I've been in here? I'll be out for sure, even if Fudge thinks I'm guilty, which I have my doubts on."

"It's Crouch you'll need to sway," she muttered, glancing up at his face. "He'll be trying you."

"I've paid him off," Lucius mused, his hand suddenly massaging her skull lightly. "Though I still have my doubts with him... He's nearly broken."

"Will he be by the time the trial comes around?"

"Of course... I have no doubt about it."

Narcissa frowned; he shouldn't be overconfident with this. Of course, it was great to have a positive attitude, and ensure that his freedom was purchased, but he still had to be careful. Deep down, Lucius knew that, she was sure, and this was just an act to make her feel better.

"I love you," she murmured against his skin, her hand clutching the ratty garment he wore. "I love you so much."

Her husband was silent for quite some time, and she could feel his breathing become irregular; was he crying? After the silence passed, his arms tightened around her hips, "I love you, too."