#A/N: I figured, as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, the families of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black arranged their marriage. Here's my interpretation.

A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.

Narcissa Black did not want to be there, at the dinner table. She hated the itchy collar of her itchy dress and the itchy pantyhose that here mother told her to wear underneath. She hated her heels and Ho they made her slightly taller than Bella because Bella never liked to be outdone by anyone. She hated the way the man across the table was looking at her and give her sister was silently resenting her for the attention. She hated her dark red lipstick and he fact that her white dress made her look like a bride rather than a sixteen-year-old girl.

"Yes, she's quite the beauty," stated the man. The son on his left, a platinum-blonde haired boy with a face of stone, sat beside him, his jaw clenching.

Narcissa smiled like her mother had told her to.

"Oh, but those teeth..." complained the man, his tone revealing that he was disgusted. Cissy zipped her mouth shut. She knew her teeth were crooked, but they were white and clean, and they did not affect her jaw, so she did not understand why it mattered. "There are solutions for that, you know. I had my son's done at St. Mungo's when he turned twelve. It's only around five hundred Galleons for it; show them your teeth, Lucius."

The boy was clearly annoyed. He bared his teeth in a kind of bearlike snarl that his father glares at him for.

"Good boy," said the man, and the boy shut his mouth.

Narcissa was shocked by the way Lucius's father was treating him; as if he was an object rather than a teenager. But there was nothing she could do. Father had told her to sit still and keep her mouth shut, and that was what she was going to.

Her father spoke. "So which one would you like?"

This dinner was for the Malfoys to select one of the Black daughters for Lucius or his older brother, Titus, to take as his wife. They were only sixteen, but as their father repeatedly reminded them, sixteen was nearly seventeen and seventeen meant adulthood and adults must be married.

"For Titus..." The father licked his lips. Narcissa did not like him. "The blonde one is the prettiest. You like her, yes?" He turned to his son.

Titus was obviously the eldest son. He had the swagger of a boy who knew that he could get anything he wanted. He nodded, confirming his father's wishes. "How much?" asked the mother.

"We were thinking" —her father glanced at her mother— "a thousand Galleons?"

The son let out a "humph". The younger son stared at his plate absently. The father complained, "But the teeth."

"Nine seventy-five," her mother compromised.

"Eight hundred."

"Nine sixty."

"Eight fifty." Every time they bantered for her price like this, Narcissa wanted to clap her hands over her ears.

"Nine—"

"Druella, no one will marry a girl with crooked teeth. I need a discount just for that. And she's gained a little weight since we last saw her..."

Narcissa wrapped her arms around her waist.

"She has not!"

"What was she last week? One hundred and eight pounds?"

"One hundred and ten, Abe. Don't lie about my daughter."

"Well, let's see what she is now, yes? Lucius!" The younger son's head snapped up. "Go weigh your brother's wife. You have a scale upstairs, yes?"

"Yes, but—" my mother began, but Abraxas Malfoy cut her off with a wave of his hand. He had all the power here. Narcissa's family craved money, and Abraxas had loads of it.

Lucius reluctantly stood and beckoned to her. She nearly tripped over her chair as she exited, thinking guiltily about the extra slice of cake she'd had the night before after dinner. How many pounds could she get rid of while walking up the stairs? She gulped. Her parents were going to receive less payment for her because of her foolish selfishness.

"Are you coming?" The platinum-blonde haired boy's grey eyes met hers. He was already halfway up the stairs. Narcissa nodded, following. Once they met in the bathroom, Narcissa slid off her high heels (oh, was she grateful for the release of her poor toes) and stared at the boy, waiting for further instruction from Lucius. She did not plan on weighing herself until the last possible minute. Lucius was leaning up against the off-white wall, totally apathetic. He was holding a Galleon, flipping it over his knuckles, making it look like a bit of silly, Muggle magic. The gold coin danced over his knuckles and she watched it go back and forth, back and forth— "What?" he snapped, noticing her stare.

"Er—do you want me to—I don't—if you—I—"

"This is stupid," Lucius interrupted. Narcissa jerked her head up, shocked. She's never heard a Malfoy use language so colloquial as 'stupid', let alone against his own family and their actions.

"Well—I don't know about stupid. I mean—"

"What, Black? You wanna get up on this scale so we can see how many Galleons to shave off your price for every pound you've gained?"

"No, but I—"

"You want to sit at the dinner table while they discuss how messed up your teeth are?"

"That's not what I—"

"You like being auctioned off to the highest bidder like a slave?"

"No—I mean—"

"You like being worth nine hundred Galleons, Black? Do you?"

Finally, he stopped speaking so that she could answer him, but by then she was exhausted of any reasonable protest. "Nine hundred and sixty," she whispered, and she stared at her bruised feet. She fell to her knees on the cold tile, wringing her hands. This boy... He was making her think like the way her parents didn't want her to.

"You idiot," he said, and Narcissa suffered internally through his insult. "I see you at school. I know what you're like. I know that you hate that dress and that collar and your parents... I know you never wear heels. Narcissa" —she was surprised by his use of her first name— "what are you doing here?"

She was here because she was sixteen, and, like her father always told her, sixteen was nearly seventeen and seventeen meant adulthood and adults must be married. "Well, my parents decided that—"

"No, Narcissa," was his quick answer, redundant and blunt. "It doesn't matter what they decided. Do you want to be stuck with my stuck-up, jerk of a brother for the rest of your life where he'll ask you, 'How many have you eaten?' after every meal? Do you?"

"No, but—"

"But what?"

She sighed. "I'm not... I'm not worth that."

"You idiot," he repeated, but this time his voice was softer, and his hand was on her shoulder, then on her face. "Of course you're worth it. You can't define the worth of a person through Galleons, Narcissa." His lips parted. "You're priceless."

Narcissa barely had to ask Lucius what he meant by that before he was pressing his lips against hers so passionately that she could scarcely breathe and his Galleon was clattering against the floor. Then her back was all the way against the floor and his arm was wrapping around her waist; when her head accidentally hit the cold, metal scale in the midst of their passion, she reached her right arm up and pushed it all the way under the bathroom sink and then pulled Lucius closer.

A/N: Thanks for reading! Let me know what you think.

Challenges used:

Fanfiction Writing Month: December [1243]

365 Prompts - #308 (time) dinnertime

Character Diversity - #31 (redundant), Narcissa Malfoy