The time was somewhere between the deepest dusk and beginning of dawn. Lucius Malfoy had been away since early evening, and Narcissa, just over four months into her pregnancy, did not have the energy to wait up for him. She hadn't felt terribly nauseous in recent days, but rather completely void of energy before a day could reach early evening. Lucius had put Dobby to work with a heavy load of tasks to ensure the lady Malfoy had her rest undisturbed, in the master bedchamber until he returned, apparating just outside the manor grounds, kept guard by a black, wrought-iron gate.
Lucius ever alert at such nightly hours, gave the grounds a quick, cursory glance and then, with a nonverbal spell known only to his family, he brush his hand upon the gate, ordering it to open for the master of the house. Narcissa, in a blessedly sound sleep, was peacefully oblivious to the sound of heavy manor doors opening and her husband's footsteps across the cold floors as he made his way up to their private quarters.
Pausing just outside their bedroom doors, Lucius Malfoy listened to see if his wife was awake. There was no shuffling or rush of movement that he could hear, so slowly, he opened the door, grimacing as it creaked loudly in protest.
"Dobby," he murmured to himself; he would have that door fixed as soon as he could.
With an even slower push to close the door, Lucius grated his teeth as it gave a louder screech, and looked over at his wife's sleeping form. Narcissa did not wake, but merely turned over in bed with her back to the door.
"Cissa," Lucius mouthed soundlessly, pacing over to a large window that overlooked the entire grounds. The evening was clear enough to see the stars. He could hear the chirps of the crickets outside, and sighed softly, shrugging out of his black traveling cloak, waving his wand casually at a wardrobe on the far left corner of the room. Its doors opened and with another flick, the cloak was neatly hung up inside.
The master continued to undress, summoning a robe from the wardrobe and wrapped it around his bare frame. Young, especially for an heir to his family, Lucius was nearly into his prime physique. He was tall, muscular, with well-defined shoulders, yet slender enough to deceive another of his physical capabilities. The white-blond hair he had inherited from his father was tied and wrapped tightly back, as was his preference when working.
A soft mew drew Lucius' attention from the window and back to the bed, where Narcissa lay. With a fleeting, affectionate smile, he padded quietly over to her side of the bed and bent low, gently tracing the outline of her jaw with his right forefinger.
"Milady," he murmured, gently kissing her forehead.
Narcissa turned to face him, still unconscious, and murmured in her slumber.
"Cissa," Lucius chuckled, kissing her cheek. "Cissa…"
Slowly, the lady opened her eyes and stared at him, momentarily disoriented.
"Lucius," she managed, still caught with sleep. "You're home early," she yawned and stretched, lengthening her body out over the bed.
"Not as early as I'd like," Lucius smirked, resting a hand on her hip as he moved onto the bed next to her. "It wouldn't be such a bother if the issues that kept me actually mattered," he explained. "The problem wasn't even in my department."
"Of course. It's never your problem," Narcissa teased.
"Never," Lucius echoed, leaning down to kiss his wife, savoring the feel of her body pressing against him as he leisurely brought a hand to her belly, feeling the swell through her silken black gown. Narcissa stared silently up at him, one arm crooked above her head and the other, relaxed at her side. It was a far cry from the vulnerability she had shown during their first evening together. She was teasing him, staring at him, daring him to lose his composure.
"Lucius," Narcissa murmured, watching her husband above her pressed to her, eager and ready. "Lucius," she repeated, tracing a line through the opening of his robe with her fingertip, from his neck to the middle of his chest, "You're making me wait."
The game was over; Lucius struggled partway out of his robe while Narcissa loosened the tie, freeing him from the garment. His breath caught sharply when she brushed his arm with her hand, and he leaned down to kiss her, tasting her with his tongue while she tangled her hands in his hair, pulling it from its plait.
Lucius pulled away, kissing a feather-light pathway from her throat to the neckline of her gown, and paused with a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
"Pregnancy suits you well, my dear," he teased as he slid the garment down and off her shoulders.
Narcissa frowned and crossed her arms over her exposed breasts.
"Lucius, it's cold," she said with a reproachful look.
"It is?" Lucius grinned and took her left breast in his mouth, suckling insistently on her.
Narcissa leaned her head back and sighed.
"Is it still cold?" her husband asked.
"Yes," she answered stubbornly.
Lucius continued to his ministrations, finishing with an unexpected bite that made his wife sit up so suddenly she almost threw him off.
"Lucius Malfoy, do warm and hurt mean the same thing to you?" she demanded.
"Well, in some situations…"
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Well that hurt."
Lucius smiled apologetically.
"Might I make it up to you?"
"Gently," Narcissa eased back on the bed. "You may have me gently."
