Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! Your encouragement is what keeps me going. :)


After he had run off, her husband surely wanted to be left alone for a little while, and Narcissa respected that - for a short space of time. In the meantime she busied herself with mundane tasks, looking in on each room, having Pimmle go to the Manor and fetch at least some of their clothing - she doubted the Ministry would miss it. She tried to keep herself occupied, to avoid reflecting on the last twenty-four hours.

Eventually, though, Narcissa found Lucius in the master bedroom staring out the window. He barely acknowledged her presence, but she entered anyway and waited for him to speak. When it became clear that he had no intention of speaking, she sighed. "Draco loves you. And you love him."

Lucius didn't answer, but she knew he was listening.

"You have nothing to be ashamed of," she told him softly.

Her husband nodded, and Narcissa could sense that it was the end of the conversation. She doubted the topic would be broached again, but at least she had the satisfaction of knowing that she'd gotten the two of them to express some kind of mutual affection.

She leaned back against the window frame, watching Lucius' cool gray eyes stare out the window. "Tell me what you're thinking," she asked.

Lucius' eyes flicked away from the window and met hers. His expression remained quite serious. Silently, he took a step closer to her, and lifted his hand to trace her jawline. "Our days together may very well be limited," he said softly. "I could be sent back to Azkaban."

"Don't say that," Narcissa said severely, grabbing his hand and pulling it close to her chest. She could feel tears working their way into her eyes, and she blinked them back.

He looked at her intently. After a few moments he took his hand away from hers, and tucked her hair behind her ear. "But since it's true," he said, bringing his finger to her lips as she tried to protest again, "I believe I should make love to you as often as possible while I still can."

A smile managed to appear at the corners of her mouth, although she felt like crying. It seemed her husband was swiftly regaining his old brazen manner. Lucius leaned in and kissed her temple, and Narcissa was suddenly hyperaware of the heat emanating from his body. How long had it been..? Far too long, she concluded as her husband's lips found their way to her neck.

Lucius unclasped the front of her dress, and let his fingers linger on the fabric near her breasts before parting the outer layer of her clothes. The heat rose in Narcissa's face, and she leaned in to kiss him as she shrugged off the heavy outer layer. She tossed the dress over a nearby chair without looking and hoped that it hadn't landed on the floor.

Her husband's hands slid to her waist, holding her close to him. Narcissa fumbled with his belt and let it drop to the floor, tugged his robes off his shoulders and was rid of them in a similar fashion. Suddenly, almost aggressively, she began pulling his tunic up, and Lucius lifted his arms to allow her to remove it completely. She threw it aside carelessly.

Lucius gave her a slightly odd look as he returned his hands to her hips. She kicked his robes out of their path toward the bed. "You're never wearing them again," she said fiercely.

With a sudden look of comprehension, he pulled her close with an equal ferocity and kissed her. Of course. These were his Death Eater robes.

Lucius moved them closer to the bed and laid Narcissa down beneath him. His hands fingered the waistband of her underskirt, and untucked her camisole. He lifted the garment over her head, fingers gliding over the smooth skin of her raised arms as he removed it completely.

He kissed down her neck, down her chest... and he paused. He lifted his head slightly to look at her, and what he saw gave him such a jolt that he actually gasped.

Narcissa felt his change of demeanor even before he gasped, and she sat up slightly. "Lucius?"

Of course, he had noticed that she was a bit thinner. She'd felt tinier in his arms, more delicate perhaps, but he had not been prepared for this. She was positively gaunt. He ran his hand down over her sunken ribs, then raised his eyes to look into hers.

"Cissa..." He couldn't possibly think of how to put into words the many things he wanted to say: 'How could you have let this happen' being one of them; 'How could I have let this happen' being another.

She could see the worry in his eyes, mingled with disbelief. "I know," she said with a tired sigh. The last thing she had wanted was to cause her husband even more distress.

"Cissa, this is not all right," he said, more severely than he'd meant to.

"Yes, well, I have been under a bit of stress recently," Narcissa responded, not without irony. In truth, she'd hardly had an appetite at all for more than a year.

Lucius was still battling his astonishment. "But why didn't you tell me?"

Inwardly, she grimaced. What had he expected her to tell him? Lucius, I'm losing weight, please force me to eat even if I have no desire to? "I don't know," she answered him, faltering, "I suppose I thought you could see for yourself."

This only upset him further. "Narcissa, it's been months since I've seen you in anything less than a nightgown!"

She sat up the whole way and slid a hand to his cheek. "All the more reason to put aside this conversation for the moment," she murmured, and kissed him, trying to draw him back down to her.

Lucius, however, barely responded to her kiss, and resisted her hands. "Don't try to divert my attention, dearest. I'm not entirely sure this is something that I can 'put aside'."

The way he'd said that bothered her. Narcissa was looking him straight in the eye, but suddenly found that she could not bear another moment of it. She looked away, removed her hands from his shoulders, and pulled back from him, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm sorry to have dissatisfied you," she said after a moment.

Lucius figured he was more troubled than dissatisfied, but then he was quite unhappy with her lack of consideration for her own health. It made him even more unhappy, though, to see the look that had come over her face. Narcissa was trying to hide it by keeping her eyes on her lap, but Lucius had already seen her swallow the rising lump in her throat. She grabbed her camisole, quickly slipped it back on, and stood. Lucius grabbed her by the wrist. "Don't run off, Narcissa," he said. He found it interesting that the woman who had forced him to acknowledge his feelings only an hour ago was now trying to conceal her own.

"I'm not running off," she responded, but her voice came out as a croak.

Lucius took hold of her hands and pulled her around to face him. "I'm only worried about you, Cissa."

It frustrated her that she could not hold back her tears, but a strong mixture of disappointment, shame, and guilt was brewing inside her. She couldn't bear to think that Lucius regarded her body as anything but flawless. Her hair might be wind-blown, her face smudged, and these were things that in times past might have caused her some degree of mortification, but they were easily remedied. The condition of her figure, though, was something she could not change without some difficulty, and seemed to her to be a reflection of something more personal.

Her husband's hands seemed to be persuading her to sit next to him, and she reluctantly submitted. His arm wrapped around her shoulders, and she had a mind to shrug him off. She chose instead to stare at her lap.

Lucius leaned his head close to hers and murmured, "I have the distinct impression that you are angry with me."

Narcissa almost denied it, but then began to consider. She was a bit put out - he was being rather judgmental. Nevertheless, she wiped her eyes, and tried to keep her tone civil as she responded, "I can't deny I'm a bit disappointed that you're so repulsed by my current appearance."

He was taken aback by her response. "I am not at all 'repulsed' by you!"

She smiled wryly and turned her head to look up at him. "Oh, Lucius, come now. When have you ever turned me down?"

Lucius stammered, "Plenty of... Narcissa, that's not... I -"

But she cut him off, as a few tears dripped down her cheeks once more. "I should have paid more attention to my figure, to be sure, but given our circumstances for the past few months my mind has been occupied elsewhere."

"Dearest, I am not so shallow as you would make me," he countered.

He tried to turn her face toward him, but she wriggled out of his embrace, moving farther down the bed. "Of course you are," she retorted, "Though I should point out that most women gain weight as they grow older, so really you should consider yourself fortunate. Besides, you're not exactly ready for the cover of Witch Weekly yourself at the moment," she added flatly.

Lucius stared at her with his mouth agape. "You're mad, woman," he finally said.

Narcissa half-nodded, wiping the tears off her face. Then she stood once again, walking defeatedly to the armchair and picking up her dress. Lucius jumped up and, taking hold of her shoulders, steered her into the chair. "You're talking absolute rubbish, do you understand that? I am in no way repelled at all by your appearance; I merely wished to express my concern about your rather significant loss of weight."

He was hovering close to her face, and Narcissa suspected that she wouldn't be granted freedom until she acknowledged him. Therefore, she gave a slight nod to appease him, keeping her eyes fixed elsewhere. She stood, forcing him to take a step back, intending to step around him, but he took hold of her bare arms.

Narcissa was gazing unfocused at his chest, and felt him kiss her forehead. He kissed her temple, and began to travel down her cheek, but she felt none of the pleasure she'd previously experienced from his attentions. She shied away from him, but he determinedly leaned in and kissed her again on the cheek. He moved to kiss her on the mouth, and Narcissa firmly turned her head.

"Narcissa Malfoy," he said in a slow, imperious murmur, "You will let me kiss you."

She couldn't stop herself from muttering, "Why?"

She felt his hands on either side of her face, and they gently but assertively made her meet his cool gray eyes. His expression was not unkind.

"Because, I love you," he said plainly.

With a sigh, Narcissa relented, giving him a caring, though chaste, kiss. He wanted to linger, but she pulled back after a moment. She took a step away from him, unrolled the dress in her arms and shook it out so it hung properly. Lucius watched in defeat as she put her arms through the sleeves and began to refasten the bodice.

Humiliation was coursing through her veins, making her blush from head to foot. Trying to ease the awkwardness, she said quietly, "Perhaps you should, erm... go ahead and wash up, so you can change. I've had the elf fetch some of our clothes. ...You're certainly not putting these back on," she ended bluntly, nudging the robes on the floor with her foot.

Lucius stared at her as frustration boiled inside of him. She had nodded that she understood, but he knew she didn't believe him. Still, there was nothing he could do about it for the moment, and so he decided to comply with her wishes. He considered for a moment inviting her into the shower with him, but quickly decided that seeing dirt and soot run off his body would not likely entice her. "All right," he agreed, taking a step toward the adjoining bathroom.

"Perhaps you should have a nap," he suggested pointedly.


"Pimmle," Lucius said sharply as he entered the dining room, and the elf immediately appeared. "Take some dinner up to Narcissa." The elf bowed and disappeared again.

Draco looked up from his seat. "Why, what's wrong with mum?"

Lucius poured himself some wine. "Nothing." As he placed the decanter back on the table he muttered, "Just a raving lunatic is all."

His son was concerned. "She was fine a few hours ago."

"She's still fine. She's just exhausted. And stubborn." Lucius swirled the wine in his glass without looking at Draco.

"Why won't she come down?"

Lucius didn't answer; instead he took a long sip of wine.

"Dad." Draco's voice was insistent, and Lucius finally looked at him. His son was waiting anxiously for an explanation.

With a sigh, Lucius said, "Because your mother is the most stubborn creature on the face of the planet. And she's somehow gotten it into her head that I no longer find her attractive," he ended in a low voice, with a clenched jaw. He had surprised himself with how much he'd just shared, but there was no taking it back now.

An uncomfortable pause followed, in which Lucius took another swig of wine without looking at his son.

Draco finally said, "Don't know why she'd think that."

Lucius turned to look at him curiously. His son was blushing a bit, but he did not falter under his father's gaze.

"I mean, you did snog her not six inches from my face this morning," Draco said.

Lucius stared at him. He wasn't sure whether to be offended at his impudence or amused at his reasoning.

Draco shrugged, and Lucius finally cracked a smile. He couldn't remember the last time anyone had accused him of 'snogging' someone, but it certainly was a valid assessment. "I believe she just needs some rest," Lucius said, choosing not to acknowledge his son's comment.

Pimmle reappeared and placed their plates of supper on the table. Neither man paid much notice to the little creature, who almost immediately disappeared again.

Lucius seated himself at the end of the table. He set down his glass of wine, and glanced over at Draco, who had picked up his fork but was doing little more than poke at the food on his plate. To be honest, Lucius didn't have much of an appetite either, but felt that after his quarrel with Narcissa he should eat at least a little bit.

"Father," Draco began hesitantly. "May I ask you something?"

Lucius swallowed his bite of salmon, and nodded after a moment. "What would you like to know?"

His son seemed to consider his words before he spoke. "When the Dark Lord tried to kill Potter... I mean when he disappeared the first time... how did you and mum manage to avoid being arrested?"

Lucius' eyebrows raised involuntarily. He should have expected this question from Draco, but he often forgot how much his son did not know. "You must understand that circumstances were much different then," Lucius began slowly, setting down his silverware. How had they done it, he wondered to himself. "The Ministry had very little substantial evidence against anyone, only suspicions, accusations..."

He played with the stem of his wine glass, thinking. "We were both brought in for questioning, which was outrageous, really," he remembered with some anger. "Your mother was accused by someone anonymously, which of course was a false claim. She'd done nothing, she knew almost nothing, I'd been careful to ensure that from the beginning. They realized fairly quickly that she was innocent, and let her go."

Lucius paused and looked at Draco, who was hanging on every word. "It was a delicate situation, of course, but after the false accusations against your mother, they proceeded with more caution against me. Loads of people were claiming to have been under the Imperius Curse, and I went along with the trend. Not very original, but my story was better than most, and fortunately I had enough influence to convince the right people."

He paused again, and Draco interjected, "Did they not know about the Mark?"

Lucius was once again caught off-guard with how little his son knew. His response was to unbutton his left sleeve and push it up. "The Mark fades, you see," he explained, holding his arm out for Draco to see. The skull and snake were now a faint gray outline. His son stared with wide eyes, then yanked back his own sleeve, as if he could not believe it.

"Last time it disappeared completely," Lucius continued, watching his son, who seemed captivated with the sight of his own forearm. "I expect in a few days, it will again."

He pulled his sleeve back down and buttoned the cuff, all the while contemplating his son. The young man's look of subdued delight was not lost on his father, who inwardly wondered how long Draco had longed to be rid of the ugly symbol. Lucius was glad he had be able to give his son some good news, at least.

Draco finally looked up from his arm. "So you were acquitted."

Lucius nodded, and took a sip of wine. "You helped," he said with a hint of a smile. "It generated quite a bit of sympathy to have my beautiful, innocent young wife watching from the crowd, holding our infant son."

Draco nodded, gazing thoughtfully at the table. His lips quirked into a small grin. "So what you're saying is I should go get married in a hurry."

Lucius smiled slightly, but his heart was not in it. "No... I'm afraid the circumstances are a bit different this time," he sighed, sinking back into the present. "Our best strategy is likely the most dangerous one."

The younger man lifted his gaze to him questioningly. "I believe we must tell the truth," Lucius said, his voice heavy.

Draco remained silent, and did not shift his gaze. "They let us go home," he said slowly. "That's got to be a good sign." His father did not nod, and Draco continued, "And you showed them we're willing to cooperate."

Lucius tried to give his son a reassuring look, but could not muster one. "Yes," he agreed. "Let us hope it will be enough."


A/N: Don't forget to review! :)