Author's Note: I...honestly have no idea if I can still continue this story.
First, it has been so long, I seriously doubt anyone is still following this. Hahaha! Second, it gets harder each day to remember where I wanted this to go. Third, a lot of things has happened... And life has been demanding my full attention lately...
So, you might be wondering, why don't I just mark this as "Discontinued" and move on? Well, I am not so sure myself, really...

Warning: This is a Lemon Chapter. Accordingly, the Rating has been changed from T to M.

Chapter Seventeen

The Epitome of Love

He gently pushed her against the stone wall of the tower. His hands were now on her arms, his lips pressed roughly on hers. She could feel him against her, burning with the intensity of his want for her.

"James…" she murmured, her voice quivering. "We mustn't…"

"Please…" he said, his lips trailing down to her neck.

He felt her hands on his chest push against him. It was a weak push, but he felt the pressure. He took half a step back and looked at her. Her lips, deep pink from his kisses, were shaking. Her chin was lowered, but her eyes were looking up at him, pleading in a way he could not decipher.

"What's the matter…?" he asked, lovingly taking her hands in his. "Are you afraid…?"

"Yes," she said.

"Is this…your first…?"

"No," she said, her gaze moving away from him in shame.

Unpleasant memories from the previous summer streamed through her mind. She remembered Lucius, always cruel and harsh with her. Forcing her and breaking her far beyond her limits. He was never afraid to hurt her, never troubled by her screams. She recalled her mother's words, telling her that this was what she was meant to do, that this was something she must never deny him. Her mother had slapped her when she came running and crying the first night. Her father had looked at her with pity, but could not stand against his wife, not even for the defense of his daughter. She was only fifteen, she had thought then, barely out of childhood. They were only engaged, not married, but she was already trapped. Her parents had given her up completely, watching at the sidelines while she was tortured night after night.

And now she turned her attention once more to James. Would he hurt her? Were all men the same? Was this the epitome of their love? "No, it isn't," she told him, unsure exactly what she meant by that, unsure whether she was still replying to his question or to her own. He tightened his hold on her hands and tenderly pressed his lips to her cheek, as if he understood what ran through her mind.

"I will never hurt you, Narcissa," he breathed softly in her ear, shutting his eyes tightly. The flame in him still grew but it had to wait a moment longer, until she was ready. He wouldn't hurt her. Not for the world. He drew back to look at her again. "I love you. Remember?"

"I know," she said. She placed her hands on his waist and drew him close. She was still afraid, but she loved him and she wanted him and she knew he was going to be different. She trusted him. She kissed his chin and nibbled at his lips, moaning softly as she did so.

He sighed against her and lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around him and leaned on the wall. It was cold, almost painfully cold, biting her skin beneath her robes. But in front of her stood James; and the cold only served to intensify his heat and intensify her desire for him as well.

She watched him tug at her robes, pushing them to the side so that only her bare legs clutched at him. He threw a quick glance at the short skirt and flimsy panties that separated him from her. Now he could feel heat emanating from her, too. He pushed his own robes away to unbutton the pants he wore underneath. It took hardly a moment, and soon she could feel him press against her; hot, hard, and wanting.

"James," she said, her arms around his shoulders. His hand was on her now, pushing away, what was to him, scraps of insignificant and bothersome cloth.

He smiled at her, charming her. "Narcissa…?" he said questioningly, and she nodded in answer. Both knew the severity of the passion that burned within them, both could hold out no longer.

It was quick, warm, and wonderful. He felt her leg muscles tense and her grip on his shoulders tighten as he entered her. And for a moment he stayed still, relishing in the sound of her gasp and the rush of blood and adrenaline through him. His desire strengthened further as he started to move slowly inside her. Her cheek was pressed against his neck and he could hear her soft moans and feel the mild tremors that coursed through her body.

Deftly, he supported her with one hand and with the other he lifted her gaze to him. He kissed her, playing his tongue over her lips, at the same time still thrusting deep into her. He felt her tears staining his cheeks but the hands that were now at the back of his neck and head holding him close told him that it was not because she was upset.

She heard a growl deep in his throat and knew he was close. He thrust harder now, and she felt the moisture between her legs increase. She felt beads of perspiration dot her forehead, despite the cold behind her and the chill air that surrounded them. She leaned her head on the cold wall and gasped for air. She could feel James' eyes on her, and she clung to him with every intention of never letting go.

And then in an explosion of what felt like fire, his hold on her relaxed. He withdrew from her gently and embraced her; aware of the sacredness of what she had just shared with him.

"Narcissa…" he said, laying her down carefully. "Thank you."

She looked at him, flaxen strands of hair sticking to her face from the perspiration. Her lips were slightly apart as she breathed in gulps of air. The window to their right was allowing in bright moonbeams that shone upon her like an ethereal spotlight. She looked so lovely, James choked on his own breaths as he watched her breathing, listened to her sighing.

"Thank you," he repeated, kissing her affectionately.

She smiled, beautiful and innocent, loving and utterly trusting. "I love you," she said in answer, reaching up to fix his glasses. "Very much..."

She almost didn't wake up the following morning. If her roommates had not had the decency to wake her, she would have stayed in bed all day. Still, she made it to the Great Hall in time for breakfast. As she headed for the Slytherin Table, she scanned the Gryffindors quickly. Before she could find James, however, she caught sight of Sirius walking towards her. He had a scowl on his face and Narcissa, face flushed, walked hurriedly to her friends in an effort to prevent him from going to her.

But just when she was about to take her seat, Sirius reached her. She bit her lip, knowing he would be berating her. "I need to talk to you, Cissa," he said through gritted teeth. She gulped, but followed him as he stalked off to a quiet corner of the Hall, a little way away from watching eyes.

"Listen to me, alright? If I could make it so that I couldn't care less about what sort of frolicking you do and with whom, I would. But since I can't, you better straighten yourself out," he said firmly. "I know what you did with James last night. I could tell by the look on his face when he got back." He paused. Then added, "No, he doesn't know I know…"

"Are you angry with me…?" She had her hands behind her back and was biting her lip.

He scratched the back of his head. "I worry about you."

She looked away from him, her hands still behind her back. "I am neither sorry nor ashamed of what I have done. I love him, Sirius…"

"You cannot love him!" he hissed. She flinched and stepped back, as if hurting to be near him. "Narcissa…" he murmured, taking her wrist with one hand and lifting her chin up with the other. "You're engaged. Or did you forget? Your letters, last summer, said you were in pain, that there was not a night you weren't crying. But you said this engagement was the greatest thing that has ever happened to you and you were not going to let anything ruin it."

"But I didn't know then, Sirius," she answered, "that I could be loved this way."