Uriel Belle's hand shook as she looked down at the letter she was holding. The paper was a pristine ivory parchment with an elegant M on the top. The writing was long and crisp, perfectly legible to anyone who could read. But the words that the letter held, those...those were what made her delicate hand shake so.

"Jensen, you can't be serious? Not her. We can't give him Tabitha," she said, trying to keep her voice strong and unwavering but it was breaking down despite her attempts. Her sea-foam green eyes roamed over to her husband, a tall man with black hair cut fashionably short and swept back. He stood with his hands behind his back, staring out the window at his four daughters, handsome features drawn tight in concern. All of his daughters, the youngest being only 12, had stark black hair like himself, except for the eldest, Tabitha, at 26, who had the dark blonde hair of her mother. He was reminded of another factor, a family secret they had kept secret for many years.

Tabitha was the eldest and the second most striking, next only to the second eldest, Victoria. Her features were decidedly more of her mother's; the laughing sea-foam eyes, the long, wild burnished curls and the constantly smiling mouth. And as she sat outside with her sisters, the smile was there but the twin of the smile that was in the room with him was nowhere in sight.

"I've tried to negotiate with him, Uriel," he said, his voice quiet with sadness and worry that clawed at him, "But there is no negotiating with the Malfoys. You know this as well as I. We've been lucky to not have to hear from them since we moved to America all those years ago. We've been lucky not to hear from any of the other pure-blood families."

Jensen moved from the window with a sigh, his fingers rubbing softly at his forehead as he knelt in front of his wife, taking her small hands in his and feeling the overwhelming love for her that he always felt. His blue eyes looked up into her own, full of love.

"I tried, darling, I did. I told him Victoria was only a year younger than Tabitha, that she was more beautiful and would gladly accept an arranged marriage to a pure-blood family as powerful as the Malfoys whether their name was slightly stained by Death Eaters or not but he wouldn't hear it! He demanded the eldest because of his own age," he said quietly, fighting back the sting behind his eyes.

"But what if he finds out, Jensen?! If he found out that she was-"

"He won't find out! The only ones that know are ourselves and Tabitha and she wouldn't tell a soul. She wouldn't do anything that she to hurt you, Darling. Shush now, Malfoy doesn't ever have to know," he soothed her, stroking his pale hand through her hair. Uriel was crying. Tabitha was her baby, the only one of the girls that was like her. Wild and unruly but always knowing when it was time to stop the games and buckle down. She'd shown the most reluctance when they told the girls that arranged marriages were in all their futures but she excepted it like a soldier, her cheerful face in a grim setting.

Mrs. Belle had always hoped that the others girls would get married and Tabitha would be able to run free and wild like the wind spirits she always talked about, and when Jensen had informed her that one of the most powerful pure-blood families had come calling on their American equals for a bride, she knew somewhere deep inside that her angel was leaving her.

They'd yet to tell Tabitha but the girls had known for days that something was going on. From the moment their father had gotten a letters from that strange owl and they saw the color slowly drain from his face, they knew. However, the only ones who were actually concerned were Tabitha and Victoria who had begun to talk about it in private at night before falling asleep. But now, as she sat in the shade of the willow tree in their backyard, the back of Tabitha's neck prickled, forcing her to rub her hand over it as a sudden feeling of dread filled her stomach. She looked up, her eyes finding Victoria's and holding them for a moment before their father stepped out into the backyard and called to the girls, motioning for them to come back inside the house for a few moments.

...

An ocean away, in his study, Lucius Malfoy sat at his desk signing the usual business papers. Over the past two years since the War ended, Lucius had struggled to keep the Malfoy name afloat. The beginning had been hard and after the first year, Narcissa had left him, taking with her half of what he had managed to pull back into the family vaults. The divorce hadn't taken him by surprise, but it was his pride that took the hit more than it was his emotions. His marriage had been on the rocks since he'd failed the Dark Lord and thus thrown their son into the man's hands. Narcissa had hated him for it. Hated him for the constant worry, the constant pain and stress their son had to go through at Voldemort's hands. And she'd seen it as all his fault. Rightly so, he thought soberly.

They could have fled when they knew he'd returned, she argued, but he wouldn't let them, wouldn't let them dirty his precious name and pride. Lucius had had a change of heart towards the end of the war, only wanting his son to come out of it alive but the damage to his and Narcissa's relationship was already done. The marriage that had been so preciously arranged was terminated. In the beginning of the divorce, there had been a flood of media and women from other, lesser, pure-blood families that had thrown themselves at him, hungry for the respect and power that came from the name Malfoy. But Lucius wasn't in the best shape at that moment and, in his anger and embarrassment, had politely told the women and reporters where exactly he thought they should go and how to get there.

Now, a year after the divorce, a year of careful decisions to build up the fortune and fame the Malfoys once had, Lucius was once again forced to admit that being inside Malfoy Manor by himself, his son and Narcissa now gone, was strange. Desolate. Lonely. So, just last month, he'd decided. He was still in his prime and to stay single and pure-blood was unheard of. After many hours of research, he found a family just as prestigious and high-ranking as the Malfoys.

The American pure-blood wizarding family known as Belle. Upon further research he'd found the head of the family to be one Jensen Belle. The name sounded familiar to Lucius and, as he thought about it, he seemed to remember a man by that name in his years in Hogwarts. He was tall and regal and held himself apart from the rest of the crowds, too shy for friends and already promised to another pure-blood family. His pitch hair had been short and his blue eyes sharp. Lucius never had a problem with the man and he saw no problem with sending a letter requesting the hand of one of his daughters. After all, it was an unspoken agreement among the powerful pure-blood families that they give their daughters for good matches to strengthen the families. So, with this in mind, he was shocked to discover that the reply he'd gotten in return was that of Mr. Belle offering up the second oldest daughter.

This, having been an insult to Lucius, only pushed him to refuse it. He vehemently refused to be tied to anyone but the oldest, the one that held the most power of the girls. For over a week the two refused one another until finally Jensen gave in. Now, Lucius sat in his study, glancing up at the clock for the fifth time. Two hours, he still had two hours before he had to go to Diagon alley to pick her up. Instead of taking the train or a plane, Jensen had insisted letting Tabitha, Lucius' bride-to-be, take the Floo. The platinum-haired man sat back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting his mind wander. He wasn't sure what his bride would look like but both Jensen and his wife were rather attractive people so it was only natural for Lucius to assume she was to be beautiful as well. Jensen had mentioned in the letters that another reason for him to pick Victoria over Tabitha was not only was Victoria the more beautiful of the two, but because Tabitha was known to have the same unpredictable streak her mother had.

After Lucius said he would have none other than the oldest, Mr. Belle had felt the need to caution Lucius that it would be better to embrace the spirit of the girl for, as her father could see, there was no way to calm it or break it and who would want to do that anyway?

Well, Lucius would.

He needed a Lady Malfoy, not a wild dragon-girl. Of course, he wouldn't raise a hand to her but would find other ways to calm a girl. His mind went, as it always did, to the age difference. He had chosen a woman of her age because she was also in her prime. If Lucius fancied it, they would be able to produce another heir to the Malfoy fortune since Draco had obviously sided with his mother and decided that they would no longer need Lucius seeing as Narcissa had her own fortune from her family.

Swiveling his chair around, Lucius looked out at the light gray sky and the light but persistent sheet of rain that was falling. In two hours, he'd meet his betrothed. He knew how to spot her though, for she would be wearing her mother's green coat. Or so Jensen had said.

...

"'Cuse me!" a large man bellowed, nearly plowing the blond over. Tabitha let out a laugh and latched on to the wall nearest her as the man gave a smile and hurried past, towering over the rest of the crowd, his hair a long, bushy mass of brown. Tab returned the smile, looking around at the rushing crowd of people on the street.

She'd arrived an hour early so that she might be able to look around before being carted away to some mansion in the hills. She knew very little about the man that she was marrying. She knew his name: Lucius Malfoy. The name itself made her shiver slightly. It had a dark, slippery ring too it; a foreboding feeling that seemed to slip around her in a silky but hard as steel grip. She didn't like it. Not one bit.

She was also told that he had long, nearly white hair and gray eyes. She knew he was a man in his forties. He had only one child. Her father had told her that in any crowd, Lucius Malfoy would stand out. Tabitha was born in America and knew no one in Britain so she had no way of researching him a bit before coming here. Her large ivory trunk floated behind her as she continued down the alley.

She spotted a bookstore, Flourish and Blotts, only a second before pain exploded in her eye socket. "Jesus," she gasped, looking up from her newly acquired seat on the ground.

...

Xenophilius Lovegood was walking with no real sense of direction, his light eyes roaming over the shop windows as he did.

Since Luna had moved out to pursue the life every young person wants after they finish school, Xeno had spent a lot of his time here or roaming the banks of the stream behind his house.

The Quibbler editor was in town this day to pick himself up a new pair of socks. These weren't just any socks though. No, the kept the Frost Mites for latching to your skin and freezing it. He'd ordered them three days ago and was now there to take his treasure home. He was rounding a corner when he lifted his arms to stretch, trying to get rid of the stiff feeling in his arm, when his elbow was hit, causing him to punch himself in the face.

"Ach!" the blonde cried as he stumbled back against the concrete wall of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"You punched me in the eye!" came a cry from the ground. Nearly flailing, Xenophilius turned about. Looking down at the accusing voice. Seated on the ground in front of him in a sea-foam green coat was a ghost of his past. The wild gold hair, the light green eyes...he took a step back. It couldn't be her. It's impossible. A flood of relief and disappointment filled him as she lowered her hand and revealed her face. She had the hair and eye color of his deceased wife but the young woman's facial proportions where not the same as Claudia's. He shook his head in an aggressive manner before holding his hand out to her.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't see you. I was on my way to pick up something and I guess I wasn't paying attention in my excitement," Xeno stuttered, pulling the young woman to her feet. Tabitha's mouth dropped open. The man in front of her was her betrothed! Lucius Malfoy! He had to be. He had the long, platinum hair, the light eyes, the ability to stand out in the crowd (no one could miss that bright yellow cloak and the rather odd clothing), mid-forties AND he was coming to pick up something! She was a little angry that he'd described her as a "thing" instead of his betrothed but she held her tongue.

As she studied him, she noticed that he was good-looking but in a different, odd kind of way. She placed her hand back over her eye and let him help her up. Lucius fidgeted and reached into his lemon-yellow robe, pulling out his wand and gently moving her hand away.

"Here, dear, look at me. I can fix that in a jiffy," he said softly, his voice carrying a light Scottish, maybe Irish, accent. Tabitha lowered her hand reluctantly and closed her eyes as he voiced the spell to heal the quickly materializing bruise.

"I didn't think you would be coming to pick me up for another half an hour or so," she said as a warmth spread over her face. Lucius stayed silent.

"I mean," she started again as she opened her newly healed eye and looked up into his face, "it's OK that you came early but I was hoping to do a little shopping before hand. Would you like to join me?" Her words were rushed from nerves of meeting the person she was supposed to marry soon. Lucius looked at her for a moment, his gray eyes wide before nodding.

"Ehm...s-sure. Where shall we go first?" He asked, not knowing whether to offer his arm or not. This woman was supposed to be picked up by him? Surely he wouldn't forget something like that...would he?

"Forgive me, the Wrackspurts must have gotten to me," he said suddenly, smiling down at her. Tabitha took his arm a little reluctantly, forcing herself to admit it could be a lot worse. He only seems a little off in the head but weren't most the pure bloods like that? Her sister seemed to be from another century at times.

"Yes, the Wrackspurts... As for the shop, I was heading to that bookstore before you bashed me in the face," she replied, a small smile on her face. Lucius flushed and returned the smile shyly, unsure how to respond. He almost looked sweetly adorable with a flush to his face, despite all the yellow that surrounded him. She realized that they were getting several strange looks from the people they passed. Lucius Malfoy drew attention everywhere he went! She felt a little self-conscious, walking with such a watched man and was pondering if she should take her hand off his arm when she noticed the crowd part.

Slipping through the sea of people at a quick pace was a tall figure in all black, his platinum hair pushed back from his forehead in a smooth sweep. A glint of silver caught her eye and she noticed the snake-headed cane he was holding. Cold and almost a cruel look to his light eyes, he instantly inspired wariness and a general "run away" notion in Tabitha's stomach. Lucius seemed to be almost completely unaffected by the man, save for the slight darkened look to his features.

The man came to stand in front of them, the other shoppers deeming it in their best interest to avoid the scenario and keep on with their business. Neither man spoke for a long moment before Tabitha piped up.

"May we help you? Is there something you wish to discuss with my fiancé?" she asked politely, feeling the tangible power that seemed to roll off this man. It frightened her, the hair on her arms standing on end despite the warm coat she wore.

He was too intense; too dangerous. The man snorted, but did not look at her.

"Lovegood, would you please explain to me why you are walking arm-in-arm with my betrothed?" the man asked, his voice low and smooth. Cold metal sliding around her. She shivered, standing frozen for a moment before shaking her head. Lovegood?

"No, no, you're wrong," she said before Lucius could answer, "This is Lucius Malfoy. I'm afraid you have the wrong man, sir." The man looked at her now, those ice-gray eyes feeling like a crisp wind down her back.

"My dear, I am Lucius Malfoy. The man you're holding onto is Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of a magazine of complete rubbish and nonsense," the new Lucius replied. Tabitha's eyes grew big as she looked between the two. They could pass as brothers but seemed wildly different at the same time. It was like the sun meeting the moon.

"You-You're not Lucius Malfoy?" She asked the man she had assumed to be her betrothed. He shook his head almost violently and looked insulted.

"Heavens no! I would rather die than be called a Malfoy," he spat, glaring at the other man. "My name is Xenophilius, like he stated, but the Quibbler is not rubbish! It is filled with insightful facts on how to protect yourself from uncommon magical creatures and objects!" He now had his chest puffed out in pride and one finger held in the air. Lucius looked as if he would rather be anywhere but here, talking to this obviously cracked-in-the-head man.

"You may be pureblood, Lovegood, but you would never deserve the Malfoy name," Lucius replied before reaching out and taking Tabitha's arm in his leather-clad hand.

"Now, Ms. Belle, if you would, I would like for us to return to your new home," Lucius stated, steering her away from Xeno. His hand pinched at the skin beneath the soft fabric, causing a small surprised yelp from the young woman.

"I can walk by myself, you know," she grumbled, yanking her arm from him and straightening her long coat. She turned to Xeno and smiled, shaken from the sudden contrast of the two men and slightly alarmed that the real Lucius was nearly terrifying.

"It was lovely meeting you and thank you for not embarrassing me by revealing my mistake. Although, if it were my choice, I'd gladly stay here with you," she clipped. Silver eyes snapped and she grimaced once again as Lucius pulled her away and pushed her in front of him, marching her off to her new life. She could already tell this was not going to be easy.

Xeno couldn't even manage a laugh as they walked away. His stomach knotted and a part of him was massively worried for the pretty young woman. The Malfoys were bad. And Lucius was the worst of them all.

...

The Floo had brought them home quickly. Standing in front of him was the woman to whom he was going to be wed.

Brassy gold curls fell around pale green eyes. Her features reminded him of Botticelli's Venus; not glamorous or stunning but classically beautiful. Lucius waved the house elves towards her trunk, the small creatures instantly taking it to her room. "Do you like it? My family personally designed most of the rooms in the manor," he said, his voice its usual low timbre as he circled around Tabitha, reminding her of a wolf circling in on its prey. She kept her back straight and her head high as she fought not to move away from him even though every part of her mind was telling her to run.

"It's a bit dark," she said as she moved to the windows and, with a flick of her rosewood wand, slid open the curtains, bathing the room in sunlight that danced off the dark marble and silver. She visibly jumped as the curtains snapped shut, Lucius suddenly right beside her.

"Let me make this perfectly clear, Ms. Belle; you are my betrothed. That stunt you pulled back there in Diagon Alley with Lovegood? Those disgusting words about how you'd rather be with him? You will never, ever, speak them again. Do you hear me?" He demanded, his voice low and dangerous as he grasped her upper arm again, backing her against the covered window. The hold didn't hurt but it sure held the promise of potential pain if she were to disobey. Tabitha, eyes wide in shock, just looked at him for a moment before trying to pull away.

"L-let go!" She demanded, struggling against his grip but failing to get away. Instead, Lucius yanked her against his chest and grinned wickedly down at her.

"You're afraid, aren't you? Don't be, I won't strike you. I will, however, strike Lovegood should you ever seek him out again, do you understand me?" he said coolly, refusing to acknowledge her demand. She struggled still, her green eyes on fire with anger and, as he said, a slight fear.

"The man did nothing but be kind to me, more then you can claim so far," she hissed, "Now. Let. Me. Go."

Lucius lowered his face until it was right next to hers, his silver-gray eyes looking straight into her soft green ones, a threatening sheet of ice looming over a fresh spring grass. He stayed there, his inches from hers, her body seeming to lock as she watched him, wondering what he was going to do, anxiety making her heart pound.

"Say please," was the only thing he said, not moving from his place in front of her. Struggling to find her voice, Tabitha cleared her throat and set her mouth in a grim line.

"Please let go of me," she said quietly and, like magic, his hand and face were gone. He smiled at her though, as he stepped over to a coat rack and slipped off his voluminous cloak. Beneath it he wore black suit pants and a snug ivory vest over a black linen shirt, the sleeves loose around his gloved hands, which he promptly made bare.

She could tell he took pride in how he looked. He knew he was handsome. Tabitha wanted to tell him he had a face only a mother could love.

She ignored it and focused on not touching him as he came over to take her coat, letting him do so but moving away quickly. Lucius watched her with an intrigued expression on his cold features.

"I expect you to be down for dinner," he called after her as she ascended the stairs, following a house elf that had come down to direct her to her room.

"I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you," she said stiffly, not looking back as she disappeared onto the second floor.

...

At six in the evening, Lucius sat down at the large dining table and waited for Tabitha to join in the silver dinner gown he had sent up to her. The table was set lavishly, candle and firelight bouncing off the marble and silver. The clock ticked behind him.

At nine-thirty, she still made no appearance and a furious Lucius shoved his plate off the table, the precious crystal shattering on the floor, and retired angrily to his rooms. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. But that was OK. He was a patient man. He could wait her out.

Tabitha's stomach growled loudly the next morning, causing her to wake. She'd slept fitfully, the unfamiliar surroundings keeping her on edge even in sleep. Her mouth was dry and had a strange taste to it. As she opened her eyes and looked out the window, she noticed the sky was still dark, her surroundings still bathed in a inky-purple blackness.

Her stomach growled loudly again. She got up quietly, her hair in wild tangles about her face, the long off-the-shoulder night dress wrinkled and in disarray. She stretched as she walked, heading for the door to get breakfast before her mind alerted her that she wasn't home. She was in the Malfoy Mansion, far away from everyone she loved and everything she knew.

Involuntarily, she shivered in the thin night dress as she reached to grasp the antique handle and press it down, opening the heavy door only enough to peek out. The hall was dark and almost ominous, the windows along it that overlooked the back yard and garden open and the heavy drapes stirring restlessly as the lace curtains blew out across the floor with each gust of autumn wind.

The chilly air flowed seamlessly around her bare feet, causing another shiver as she slipped out into the hallway.

The cold stone stung her bare feet as she slowly moved to close her door as quietly as she could.