Chapter 9 Unfaithful

Mrs. Malfoy sat at her desk, in the office that she had personally picked out and carefully decorated several years back. It was pretty late in the day already, but she has not been up too long. After several minutes of checking over her papers and other various correspondence, she sighed satisfactorily and grabbing a blank peace of parchment wrote a short note. Bringing the note to her lips quickly, she summoned her son's barn owl sent it on its way, while humming a cheery tune under her breath.

Lucius has now been gone for many hours and Narcissa was beginning to relax once again. She was sick of the puppy eyes that he normally made at her in bed, so very sick of his incessant fussing over her when she was looking overly thin and unhealthy, sick of him constantly criticizing her last season wardrobe, insisting that she buy herself more and more new clothes; all the while showering her with money, thinking that it solved absolutely everything. She was literally sick of it all. Her husband was smothering her, and she did not want to be smothered. For he was never there when she actually needed him, when she felt lonely or bored. He didn't even know that he was personally making his wife's life sinfully miserable and boring. He honestly thought that she was happy, which only went to prove how little he actually knew her.

All he truly cared about was money, fitting his family in between the days at the ministry, evenings at his rented properties, and mornings with his discrete business partners.

In fact Lucius only came home often enough to make himself feel good about his own life, pretending to be a caring and protective husband, but not to make his wife feel significant and wanted. She had told him a million times that they didn't need any more money; she told him that they were fine exactly as they were, and yet he argued that there could never be too much wealth and that business always came first in this materialistic world. Lucius thought that by buying his wife expensive things and providing her with life long security, he could also earn her love and her affection. But what she needed was not security and not the monetary protection. What she needed was his closeness and he couldn't give it to her. He wasted all of his efforts and energy on various dark dealings and corrupted business meetings, thinking that she was just fine being at home alone. Thinking that she would understand, hoping that she was happy.

But she wasn't. She really wasn't. When Narcissa Black agreed to marry Lucius Malfoy all those years ago, she was saying yes to a man who loved her, a man who truly worshipped the very ground that she walked on, not a man who was in love with his work and his family's social position. She needed someone in her life. She wanted to be loved and wanted, like Lucius used to want her when they were in their teens. The way that he wanted her no more…

Narcissa needed to be close to somebody, and right now the only person she was truly close to was her only son. Her child was the only thing in this world that she still loved unconditionally.

That is why when Draco almost caught her the other day, Narcissa's heart nearly stopped. She knew that what she was doing was wrong, and she knew that it was very likely she would burn in hell for it, but she couldn't help herself. She couldn't stop.

After all, a bored-out-of-her-mind housewife would hardly be able to resist a young, successful, gorgeous aristocrat who was willing to hide their relationship from the rest of the world and content himself with sporadic get-togethers when the husband was out of the house.

It had started nearly eight months ago, when she was sitting alone at a café in Cannes, sipping espresso and eating a butter croissant in place of her usual breakfast. She was upset over her husband's late night contract drawing, which he has taken to doing while laying in bed at the time, staying glued to the documents for hours and hours and then expecting her to still be awake and turn it on whenever he was finished. Sex between the two of them has become a loveless routine that Lucius has come to accept as something that eventually dies off in every marriage, but Narcissa knew could still have been quite good if things between them stayed the way they used to be. If only they could still know how to share the old passion.

But unfortunately Narcissa had virtually no feelings left for the husband that she loved and respected unconditionally once upon a time. Many years have passed since she stopped loving him, and the respect she felt also dissolved itself with time.

She thought with a pang about those contracts and sorely regretted the foreplay, which they have so cruelly replaced. Poring over his business documents, instead of flirty kissing, jotting down work ideas instead of playing with her clothes… Narcissa made an attempt to put it out of her mind and took a sip of coffee. But it was no good. She could not get rid of that empty feeling inside just by willing herself to.

Such torturous routine was exactly what has happened in her bedroom the night before, and now she sat there fuming with rage, the displeasure she was feeling etched in every single line of her delicate features.

At that very same moment a waiter approached her with a flower and a note that, as he promptly informed her, came from the gentleman sitting near the door, who wished that such a beautiful woman's flawless face would never again take on such an ugly, miserable expression.

Having skimmed the note, Narcissa looked around and stared at the young man who wrote it. Biting her lower lip, she considered it for a moment and then turned away. The gentleman was young, too young - at least ten years her junior; he was immaculately dressed and wore a rather "knowing" smile on his attractive face. Narcissa refused to believe that he did not have an ulterior motive.

Thus, giving in to her cynical self, she immediately tore the note apart, stuck the rose into her empty water glass and pointedly stormed right out of the place. But the handsome stranger came back the very next day and the day after that and another day after that, always looking at her, always hoping that she would finally consent to talk to him. She had to admit she was intrigued, for there could be no other reason that explained exactly why she continued going back there.

She stopped eating her meals at home, and for several weeks had aparrated to the tiny little street on the outskirts of Cannes every morning, just so she could do some silent "window-shopping". After all, there was no harm in looking and imagining the beautiful young fellow being on top of her, instead of Lucius, her husband. The thoughts of the stranger consumed her entire existence and for weeks she could not get his image out of her mind and the daydreams of him out of her everyday life. But she was determined not to give in…
And then finally, one day, she broke her code.

The overly exhausted Mrs. Malfoy came into the café that morning and instead of going to her usual table, made straight for the place where this guy was sitting, and plumped herself down into a chair right across from him, wearing a flirtatious smile on her smooth and glossy lips.

"Hi." She breathed in her low, melodic voice and waited for a reaction.

"…Hi!" His tone of voice showed that he was startled, but recovering quickly, the young man went on-"Hello. Hello at last! I never thought you would actually consider talking to me, after spending all this time ignoring all of my attempts at introduction…" He was certainly taken aback, but anyone could tell that the surprise was more than pleasant. He waved the waiter over, indicating that they were in need of more espresso without taking his eyes away from her.

"Well, I figured late was always better than never. To tell the truth, I have been wanting to for ages. I just needed to get up my nerve. You know..." She told him cheerfully, while lifting her left hand and pointing at the enormous diamond wedding ring, glimmering dangerously in the early morning light.

"I knew you did, that is why I have been coming back here every day for over a month now. I had to at least see you, to watch your figure and admire you from faraway, if not be able to physically enjoy your presence. I don't know exactly why, but I simply couldn't get my mind off you.

And I don't care that you're married, Mrs. Malfoy, I really want to get to know you anyway." He said this with such simplicity, such ease and happiness in his young but truly confident voice, that Narcissa couldn't help but smile right back at him.

So he knew her. Who in the world could he possibly be? He looked no older than about twenty-eight, tall with dark and messy hair, he had gentle chocolate brown eyes and the most charming smile that she had seen in years. She didn't know of any wizards that could match such a description, no older woman and no man who could possibly turn out to be his parent.

At seeing the confusion on her otherwise completely flawless face, he hastily went on to clarify - "Yes, I know who you are Narcissa. May I call you that? Narcissa? You have such a beautiful name.

I don't actually know your husband, but I know of him, and after seeing you here that time when you were nearly in tears, I couldn't help but think that you looked rather familiar. That is why, as soon as I got home, I pulled up all the archives that I had of last year's Daily Prophet and sure enough several issues back there was a photo of the two of you out and about on a Friday night in London. I have to admit, I was completely jealous. Such a pompous, callous man does not deserve a wife like you… Forgive me, I hope that you don't find my words too glib or corny. Or offensive, certainly not offensive, I would never want to seem officious or condescending!"

He was getting rather nervous; his words were beginning to sound jittery and the confidence she heard in his tone earlier was all but gone. Oh my, he must really be interested... Who would have thought that at my age of almost forty, I could still attract a twenty something, not even fully man but almost boy… He was talking like a gibbering young fool! Oh if only I could disallow myself to find his words romantic…! She almost moaned with burning longing and desire - looking at his gorgeous face and rippling muscles made her want to jump at him right there and then. She knew she shouldn't do this, but the carelessness that she adopted earlier that morning and already displayed by sitting down with him in the first place, had pushed Narcissa farther than it ever has before.

Ah, who cares, a woman needs to indulge herself once in a while… And without so much as a preamble, following the intense impulse, which came from somewhere around her pelvic region, she immediately said –

"Want to come back to my place? We have a flat in central London… You know to get to know each other better."

Narcissa didn't even blush. She heard herself say the words and had to admit that they sounded cheap, but her appearance didn't show it.

Even if she did come off like a high-class prostitute, she realized a second later that she truly didn't care; men have been having casual sex for ages, it was time for the women of this world to catch right up.She was worn and exhausted, confused and unhappy, so what did she really have to lose?

Deciding not to worry about it any further, Narcissa simply waited for him to speak.

He grinned and leaned back in his chair, surveying her appearance carefully, before whispering sarcastically - "Don't you want to finish your coffee first?"

The relaxed, matter-of-fact tone of voice, made Narcissa laugh, and for first time in a really long time, she let herself throw back the long locks of her blonde and wavy hair while giggling uninhibitedly, not much unlike a schoolgirl in front of a crush.

"Well, yes, I suppose I do." She considered him carefully one more time, before shouting – " Waiter, could I get more sugar over here!"

She chuckled again before deciding go on – "On the second thought, let's do this properly." She grinned, moved forward in her chair and gracefully extended her right hand in his direction. "I'm Narcissa. It is very nice to meet you."

He smiled happily -

"No, no. It is entirely my pleasure, I assure you! I'm Anton, nice to meet you too, Narcissa. No, scratch that, not nice – amazing is a better word." His grin could not be any wider; he positively glowed with warmth and happiness, still staring at her as if he has been mesmerized.

"Well then, now that that's settled, shall we order some dessert to go with those espressos?" The genuine expression on her face extended far beyond the lips; her eyes were also smiling; her posture and her countenance were shining bright at last.