The day of the wedding arrived soon, far sooner than Narcissa had been prepared for. The ceremony was brief but beautiful; held outside at dusk in the more groomed of Malfoy's garden, with fairies and glow worms adorning the elegant topiary. Candles were charmed to hang about the air, their flames unflickering and pointing straight up in the stillness of the night air. Narcissa wondered if perhaps the garden was enchanted to be without breeze, as if the sky itself were holding its breath with anticipation. However, this feeling did not last for long as she felt a chill run up her body shortly after the ceremony began.
Lucius Malfoy entered the scene looking immaculate, and suddenly Narcissa began to panic. This was it, she was about to end her life as a child, though she feared that her new role as wife would be no less subordinate. Malfoy did not smile at all during the wedding, save when his mother greeted him. She cut a fine figure in purple silk robes, her white hair curled tightly around her sharp face. She had kissed Narcissa softly, and for a moment had made her feel safe, but looking closer into her eyes Narcissa had seen something unsettling and worryingly familiar: something steely and implacable which lay almost imperceptibly beneath the exquisite faces of all the Malfoy family. Narcissa wondered whether her children would have it too.
Narcissa looked at Malfoy from a distance. How funny that he is my husband, I hardly know him. I think I felt more comfortable talking to him when we were merely passing at the ministry. It was true that she had been flitting from joy to despair by the minute throughout the evening, but now, looking at her husband, she felt calm. She felt as if she was on some kind of quest. She felt special, and, though she would never admit it, brave. She went to sit down on a grand stone bench, which for the evening had been laced with soft ivory cushions. Her Godfather spotted her and came towards her.
"Now, my dear, isn't this a fine thing!" he said, beaming.
Narcissa smiled weakly.
"I expect its all a bit too much for you to take in, eh?" he said, giving her a nudge, "A good man Lucius, you'll go far with him." Fudge paused, "I know you may have heard rumours about him and Voldemort, no doubt exacerbated by your sister, but I can assure you, my dear, they are absolutely unfounded. Lucius is the last man on earth who would dream of doing anything to undermine the ministry, the place he supports with all his heart..." and his wallet thought Narcissa.
"I cannot imagine two better suited people!" Fudge chuckled to himself, "Yes, a fine match..."
Narcissa smiled at Fudge, but did not hear him prattle on about marriage and the like. She remembered her sister's parting premarital shots. Bellatrix may be a stirrer, but she was no fool. Well, she thought to herself, I have found out one more thing about my husband, she let a little smile creep on to her lips at the idea of calling him thus, apparently he is an exceptionally gifted liar.
Bellatrix had sat through the ceremony next to her parents and aunts and uncles. Her face seemed to bear such a smile that it looked as though if she were to stop, her face would crack. Her hair was tied in medusa-like braids on top of her head, and she wore robes of the deepest green. She had slipped into the house, deliberately catching Malfoy's eye before she did so.
Once inside, she made her way to the opposite door, sweeping through into the wild winds of the other garden. Not long after she had entered, the door opened again and Malfoy walked through. His cloak billowed in the winds exposing his tight black trousers and Bellatrix felt a pang of jealousy. She turned to him and smiled.
"My my, a married man, Lucius... I can virtually see all the fun fading from your life, like a sickness..." She still smiled but it was unmoving, and her eyes remained wide.
"It won't work, Bella," said Malfoy softly, approaching her.
"Won't it," snapped Bellatrix and marched over to him. She kissed him deeply on the lips, then pushed him away. "I can have you whenever I want, Lucius. You think that you are ending this? You couldn't even if you wanted to."
Malfoy looked up at her. "Ending it? My dear Bella... What exactly would you have me 'end'?" He walked over to her and stroked her cheek. "Our little liaisons... have never been more than...fun... I think you said?" He turned away from her.
Bellatrix called back to him, "So you are too enamoured with my spoiled little sister, is that it?" Her eyes flashed the colour of her gown, "I was right, you are turning into a lily-livered old man... settling down with a wife? Have you told her exactly when you wish her to bring you your pipe and slippers now... because I will warn you, she isn't the most punctual of girls."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes.
"And as for this idea you have to enter the inner circle of the death-eaters... you are not worthy to serve the Dark Lord."
Malfoy walked towards her so that he was very close indeed.
"And what makes you such an expert, Bellatrix?" His voice was deadly calm.
Bellatrix remained mute.
"For your information, no woman could ever turn me away from my aims in life. My ambition is prized more highly than traditions of marriage. If you think I chose your sister as a bride because of any feelings I have for her, or because she would be an obedient wife... you are mistaken. And if you think that I am discontinuing this... entanglement because I feel duty bound to honour my wife, you are mistaken. As it happens, I feel certain that I will receive the attentions from one if not several mistresses in the future, but for the present, none of them are you."
He leaned in closer so that even in whispering, his voice travelled, despite the fierce winds, "There are more things at stake here than even you realise, Bellatrix."
He turned away and began walking towards the door. "If you will excuse me, I have to return to my wedding."
Bellatrix stared after him. "She has something! What is it... why her?" But her voice was carried away into the misty air.
After all the guests had left, Narcissa found herself in her bedroom. It was late, and she could hear the buzzing of house elves at work downstairs. She had a separate bedroom to Lucius, this was the same as her parents and most aristocratic families in the wizarding world. Her bed was ebony and vast. The colour of the sheets and drapes were a pale pink, inter cut with the striking deep red of the drapes and curtains. Her bedroom was lit with a large candle by her bed. She was sure that one candle could not create such light, though evidently it did.
All her things had been put away. She somehow felt redundant. She looked to her pillow and saw a white satin robe; her night-dress, she supposed, which she slipped on after carefully removing her wedding gown. She sat on her bed and waited. She began to think on what was about to happen. The idea made her shiver with nerves. She paced the room on cold bare feet - the floor was made of stone - trying to calm herself down. She could feel her stomach knot and her hands begin to tingle. Finally, she sat down. Oh my goodness, I think I'm going to faint.
Suddenly the door opened. She looked up to see her new husband standing in the doorway, a perfect silhouette against the landing lights. Narcissa's heart began to beat faster, a strange combination of intense attraction and a desperate need to run as far away as possible from this formidable man. He walked through the door and it shut immediately behind him. He did not smile, merely looked at her as if, so she thought, in judgement, and yet betraying no sign of any feeling whatsoever. Narcissa was now too nervous to talk, or it would have been around about now that she would have started to gibber inanely about something or other in an attempt to cut the tension. Luckily for her, Malfoy had no need for talk.