Chapter One: A Marriage Agreement

Narcissa Black-Malfoy was not happy.

Her father had promised her that marriage would grant her everything she could ever imagine. Comfort. Luxury. Power.

The first two she certainly had. Anyone who stepped foot in Malfoy Manor was hit in the face with it's opulence. She had the galleons to do anything she dreamed on the weekends, as long as she kept her dreams material.

No, it wasn't comfort or luxury she wanted, it was Power. Lucius had promised it to her, had strived for it, had colluded with forces darker than anything she had imagined-

And now the idiot was dead, and Narcissa felt her life slipping between her fingers.

She wanted more than to be a war widow raising an orphan in the hollow mausoleum of the Manor. She wanted to matter- to shape the world. She wanted her great-great-granddaughters to puff up their chests and say, "Well my grandmother was Narcissa Black!"

For a few weeks she gave up. She lived in bed, Draco tucked under one arm as she stared listlessly at the Prophet and watched the Wizarding World rebuild itself.

Strangely, it was Draco who gave her the idea.

They were sitting at a conjured table in the kitchen (Narcissa couldn't bear to be in the dining room where her sister and husband had once been) and the prophet was shoved up against a bottle of milk.

Draco, wearing the same pajamas he'd been in all week, pointed a pudgy finger at the Prophet. "Whub?"

Narcissa had taken to pretending that his babbles were proper speech, as there was no one else to talk to. No one would come within a hundred yards of the Manor since Lucius' death at the hands of the Aurors, and when she went out in public the celebratory atmosphere made her stomach curdle. "That's the newspaper, darling. It tells Mummy about her shortcomings."

Draco did not react to this with sympathy, but with another jab of his sticky finger, "Whub?"

With a long suffering sigh, Narcissa pulled the paper towards her, and straightened it. "It's another article about that wretched boy," she said, her gritty eyes skimming over the headline. "It says Where is The-Boy-Who-Lived?" Her lip curled, "They want to find him so that they can heap honors upon him," she said to Draco.

Draco's grey eyes stared up at her. "Bah?"

"Oh, I suppose he'll get toys and things," Narcissa said, propping her chin on her hand. "Photo opportunities, royalties for things, the ancestral seat in the Wizengamot. Really it's his guardian who will get the honors. Everyone will want to influence them."

Draco blinked, and gurgled.

"Oh, I don't know who," Narcissa said, shaking the paper, "That's precisely the point. The boy's disappeared. Everyone suspects Dumbledore had something to do with it, but the old goat won't say a word."

"Dum-Dum."

"Precisely," Narcissa said, nodding. "Dumbledore has his hand in every pot, and since the magical society is so close, I'm willing to bet he's stowed the boy with some muggle family. A squib offshoot of the Potters, perhaps. Or one of the mother's relatives."

"Mama do?" Well, the boy knew some words.

"Mama do what, darling?" Narcissa ran a hand through her hair, and winced at the snarls there. It had been a while since she'd performed more than a rudimentary hygiene spell on herself. It was lucky the elves were so attentive to Draco.

"Mama do!"

Narcissa let out a sarcastic laugh, "What, you think I should find the muggle relatives and ingratiate myself into their lives? What would that do?"

Draco smacked his hands on the table top.

Something began to form in Narcissa's mind. "Well, I suppose the boy will need a friend to show him the ways of the magical world. Especially if he's being raised by muggles."

Draco let out a delighted giggle, and Narcissa's lips quirked into a smile, "I guess there's no harm in looking, is there?"

Draco shook his body from side to side, and Narcissa began to scheme.

XX

At twenty one, Petunia had felt herself mature and wise beyond her years as she stood in front of a vicar with Vernon and dreamed of her future.

Now, at twenty three, Petunia felt too young to be saddled with so much responsibility.

Her husband was dead- died in a car crash after a night of too much celebration- and she had two boys to look after with no job, no family to support her, and soon no house.

She stared at the eviction letter in her hand as Dudley and Harry screamed in their high chairs. Vernon had insisted they invest their life savings into the house, and now Petunia was going to lose it.

"Duddy hungry!" Dudley screamed, pounding his fists on the tray of his high chair. Beside him, Harry screamed louder, his eyes tightly closed.

Petunia pushed the plate of pasta closer to her son, "It's good, Duddykins, try it."

"Nooooooo!" Dudley wailed, pushing the plate so hard that it clattered to the floor.

"Dudley!" Petunia yelled, unable to control herself, "That's all we have!" In a quieter voice, she repeated, "That's all we have." Vernon's life insurance had given her enough to bury him and buy a few scant groceries. She hadn't looked into government assistance yet, in truth she barely knew where to begin.

A knock came at the door, startling a scream from both boys, and Petunia turned wary eyes towards the front hall. Who could it possibly be? The bill collectors didn't come around on Sundays, and she had thirty days before they would forcibly remove her from the house.

The knock came again, more insistent.

Heart thumping, Petunia rose from her chair, tightened the sash around her house coat, and slunk towards the door. With a silent prayer she eased it open, and her eyes narrowed.

A woman stood there, and it only took Petunia a moment to realize that she was one of them. She wasn't dressed in those ridiculous robes, at least, but her immaculately tailored dress would have looked more at home in an Edwardian period piece. The woman was very pretty, Petunia noticed, with the kind of shining gold hair and crystal blue eyes that would have looked at home on a princess, but there was something about the hollows of her cheeks and the red rimmed eyes that would have made a more tender hearted person sympathetic.

Petunia merely tightened her lip, scrunched her nose and said, "Yes?"

The woman looked surprised at the hostile tone, but she effected a charming smile and said, "Hello, I'm sorry for dropping by unannounced. I didn't know how else to get in touch. My name is Narcissa Black-Malfoy. I went to the same school as your sister."

Petunia closed the door a bit, so that only her face was visible through the gap. "What do you want?"

"I was hoping we could speak about Harry."

The letter had warned Petunia about this, had said that people would seek out Harry, but Petunia hadn't expected anyone to actually come. "There is no Harry here," she said, blurting out the first thing she could think of. "Please leave," she made to close the door, but a soft hand wrapped around the door, just under her own, and blocked her.

"I heard about your husband," the woman- Narcissa- said. Her voice wavered just a bit, "I-I recently lost my husband too, and I know what it's like to be alone with a baby."

Petunia felt something hot and sharp fill her chest, "Two babies," she said without thinking.

Narcissa's blue eyes never wavered from her own, "I can imagine what you're going through," she said quietly. "Please, I just want to talk."

There was a quiet moment in which the two women stared at each other.

Then, Petunia slumped. She was too tired to fight. "Fine," she said, "Come in."

It was hardly a warm welcome, but she released her hold on the door so that Narcissa could enter the dark house.

"Oh my," Narcissa said quietly, "someone's upset."

The two boys were still screaming, and Petunia didn't feel anything except quiet defeat as she led the woman into her kitchen. "There now," she said, picking up Dudley and cuddling him. Her boy immediately buried his face in her neck.

Harry pounded his fists on the plastic tray and said, "Harry too! Harry too!"

The only thing that kept Petunia from snapping at him was the woman's presence beside her.

"Oh," Narcissa said, bending to capture Harry's hands in her own, "None of that now," she crooned. "You'll make your hands hurt."

Harry held his arms up to the stranger, and Petunia felt the tiniest pang of guilt as the woman gave him the first bit of affection he'd received in the three months since he'd been there.

Narcissa scooped him up, and smiled brightly. Slowly, the cries lessened, then turned to hiccups.

For a long moment the two women stood in silence. Petunia opened her mouth to offer water or tea, and noticed that something had captured Narcissa's eye. She traced her gaze to the table, to the letter that was stamped in red "Notice of Eviction."

"I haven't been able to keep up," she explained dully. "It's a miracle that the power is still on, but we ran out of the grocery money last week, and…"

She watched Narcissa think, and then the witch said, "Let me take Harry, I can offer compensation that would take care of you in exchange. I have plenty of money."

For a moment Petunia's chest eased in hope. She could get rid of the boy and take care of their money issue in the same move. Then she remembered the letter that had come with Harry, and her face fell.

"No," she said in a flat voice, "There's a protection or something- he… he has to stay with me."

"With you?"

"Dumbledore said so," Petunia said, fighting to get the words past the lump in her throat, "As long as he stays with me he's safe."

"You spoke to Dumbledore?" The woman's eyebrows lifted.

"No, he-he left a letter." Petunia said, feeling sick.

"May I see it?"

Petunia briefly considered saying no, but desperation made her move to the living room where she kept her important papers. She rummaged through her things, and retrieved the letter. Wordlessly, she returned to the kitchen and handed over the piece of parchment.

Narcissa sat down, Harry still in her arms, and read the letter. Her brows creased, and Petunia felt a grudging hope that perhaps there would be a loophole. Perhaps she could be free…

All that hope died when Narcissa put the letter down and said, "He's right. Blood magic is the strongest there is. Harry must stay with you."

Petunia felt like screaming. She sat down heavily, her arms tightening around Dudley until her son let out a painful whimper. "So that's it then. I'll be on the streets with two babies in a month."

Narcissa shook her head, her gaze distant. "No," she said slowly. Her gaze hardened, and she repeated, "No. I have an idea. Why don't you come with me?"

Petunia scoffed, "What, me in the magical world?"

"Why not?" Narcissa said, "My house is big enough for all of us. You, me, and the boys."

"Of course not," Petunia said coldly, "I've heard what your kind like to do to normal people. I think I'd do better on the streets."

"I can arrange for no one to bother you," Narcissa said, thinking quickly. A plan had begun to form, and the more it solidified the more determined she became. "I can give you every comfort and protection you can imagine. You'd be secure in my world, I promise."

Petunia let out another scoff, "How?"

Narcissa met her gaze, blue eyes earnest, "By marrying me."

For a moment there was only silence. Then Petunia let out a low breath and said angrily, "You must be joking."

Narcissa's gaze didn't waver, "I'm quite serious. I'm a member of the House of Black. I'm the only one not dead or imprisoned, and my son is the only Malfoy there is in Britain. We're a powerful family, and you'd have standing beyond your wildest dreams."

"I don't see why marriage is important," Petunia said, eyes wide with shock.

"Marriage would keep anyone from separating us." Narcissa meant, of course, that marriage would keep anyone from separating her from Harry. The moment Petunia agreed to be in the magical world a hundred hands would reach for her, desperate to have a claim on the boy who lived. Narcissa needed to solidify her grip before that could happen.

Petunia shook her head, "My son isn't like you," she said, "What life could he have?"

"A good one," Narcissa said, "I'll give him the best education as a youth, and when the time comes I can send him to the best school. If you accept I promise I will treat your son as my own, and I will make sure he has a good life."

At her words something shifted in the air, as if an older force had begun to pay attention.

Petunia licked her lips, and said, "And me? What kind of life would I have?"

"The best one I can give you."

"You're a woman."

Narcissa arched a brow, "Yes. Do you require proof?"

"No, I-" Petunia's cheeks pinked, "I mean, can we even get married? It's not legal."

Narcissa blinked, and then said, "It's perfectly legal in my world, I assure you."

"But-but I'm not- I only ever-" Petunia looked around, as if the words she wanted to say were written on the linoleum.

Narcissa reached out a hand, "It's a marriage in name only," she said, "I don't need you to have feelings for me."

Petunia's eyes were grave, "I'll never love you," she warned.

"Is that a yes?"

Petunia hesitated, and then said, "Tell me more about- about your home."

So Narcissa did. She told Petunia about the Manor, and the gardens that surrounded it. She told her about the elves that took care of her and Draco, and the society functions that she had attended before the worst parts of the war. She told her all this, and tried to paint as alluring a picture as she could.

Finally, after tea had been made and drunk and Narcissa had helped feed the boys, Petunia let out a long sigh and said-

"In name only?"

Narcissa nodded.

Petunia sighed, and then nodded. "Alright then. I'll do it."