Chapter 1-Narcissa's POV

The look in his cold silver eyes was what I first saw when I looked at the boy on the train. I knew immediately that he was a Malfoy, with his white- blond hair and his aristocratically long fingers, the way his expensive robes draped to his feet. He looked nothing like a first year should have, and that was enough to make me give him a second glance, much to the disapproval of Sirius, my cousin.

Never would I have dreamed what this man would bring to me in the following years. Not when he introduced himself as Lucius Malfoy, son of Xavilliar Malfoy, could I bring myself to see him bow to anyone, to cower beneath anyone. But cower he does now, beneath the Dark Lords feet, kissing the filthy robes of a dirty mudblood.

And I took his hand then; or rather he took mine and kissed it when I said I was Narcissa Black in my proud regal voice. I cannot describe the shivers that ran through me at his touch. When I sat perched by the windowsill on the train I listened to Lucius and Sirius argue, the shame I felt then when Sirius questioned Mother's beliefs.

But now I question it. I question the day my cousin left the Noble House of Black; I question whether it was really HE who brought shame to my family.

Now the Dark Lord resides in my home, eats from the food made by my house elves, and fucks my love till he lies crumpled beneath his feet. A pureblood at the mercy of a mudblood. Lucius cries out at the touch of his monstrous fingers, but still I feel love for him.

Why? I ask myself in the darkness of my room, hidden deep away in the Manor in the night. My mind brings back the memories of 5th year, when Lucius loved me like no other, how he twirled me beneath the mistletoe and the students of Hogwarts were awed that a Malfoy could smile. I wonder what happened to our love. When did Lucius slip into bed careful not to touch me, when did he tell me not to care?

On my finger, is a silver band, forged during the Binding Spell cast at my marriage. Though darkness surrounds me now, the band still shines silver, the color of his eyes that now cease to give me a second glance.

The world is all about how you look at someone. I cannot bring to tell you how I regret the way I glared at Sirius when he spat at Mother's feet, renouncing our name and everything the family had ever believed him. How he cursed the name of the Blacks and the ways of Slytherins. Even as the fire of a wand was aimed at his name on the family tree, my heart turned blacker. Then I was foolish, I believed our name lasted forever, but as his name burnt some part of my heart wondered if he was right. And that part of my heart has grown throughout the years. Now I do not deserve to speak his name, it should have been I in his place. It should have been I who died. Does Bellatrix feel no remorse for laughing as Sirius' body arched as he fell through the curtain?

The tides are changing, I can feel it trough my blood, but still my love for Lucius does not waver. And I am weak.

"Narcissa!" Lucius' voice wakes me from my thoughts, "Our Lord wishes to speak to you. I cannot imagine why."

His voice betrays how weak he thinks I am, and I believe him.

"Of course." I rise gracefully from the silk bed, setting the diary down on the dresser, not forgetting to put a Locking charm on it. I see him stare at it suspiciously as I walk out the bedroom door without a second glance at him. He follows at a distance, I can hear his light footsteps through my elvish ears.

Lord Voldemort is waiting in a black leather chair in one of the many grand sitting rooms. Several Death eaters stand by the walls around him, Draco leans casually against the left wall as I walk in. He scarcely looks at me, his eyes fixed on the Dark lord.

"Ah Narcissa! We've been waiting for you my dear." Voldemort purrs. I surpress a shudder. "Such loyalty you hold for your husband, will you not entertain his guests?"

I stare at him, wondering what the fuck he means. I almost sigh in relief when he hands me a shinning silver flute. "Why don't you play us a couple songs, while I pleasure myself with your son?"

My eyes widen involuntarily but I take the flute with shuddering hands. I told you I am weak. My elegant fingers drape delicately over the keys of the silver instrument. Perfectly manicured nails drift quickly over the metal. The high voice sores through the closed room.

Draco rocks sexually in Voldemort's lap, rocking his pelvis, grinding himself into the monster. His face is contorted with pleasure.

My fingers fly even faster, taking out all my pain and anger on the poor instrument. A high B splinters in agony. Voldemort grabs my son into a brutal kiss, erupting in moans from the men in the room. A noise from my husband I haven't brought since Draco's birth.

I can't take it anymore, tears are dripping down my face as my fingers slow, no louder taking the shaking of my body.

Voldemort changes patterns, biting down on my son's neck, causing blood to flow from his pale flesh. He moans and more tears fall from my bleu eyes.

I can't bear it anymore and I stop, drop the instrument in heartbreak. The metal hits the floor in a clanging dong before Voldemort turns on me a flying rage.

"Crucio!" I wither in pain, collapsing on the ground in agony. Distantly I take in the flash of anger on Lucius' face before I shut my eyes, begging the curse to stop.

"Let that teach you a lesson," Voldermort says when he lifts the curse, "Do not defy me, now go!"

Numb with pain I stumble from the room and make my way up to my chambers.