Narcissa crept silently into the bedroom adjoining hers. She could hear water running and knew Lucius wouldn't be out for a while, but decided against returning to her room. After all, his was absolutely fascinating.

It was a vast, dark chamber, with massive glass doors leading to a balcony. These doors, which encompassed most of the eastern wall, were draped in heavy velvet, though Narcissa could not tell if the hangings were black of deep emerald. She imagined watching the sun rise from this room would be breathtaking. Her eyes continued to rove. Another whole wall was covered by bookshelves, with many books crammed haphazardly in, along with other mementos she was sure he'd placed there and forgotten about long ago. There was a small reading area and desk here as well, piled high with parchment, quills, and half-empty ink bottles. A sock perched atop the entire jumble, undoubtedly tossed there when Lucius was shedding the rest of his clothing, which littered the floor. She smiled at the inherent messiness of the room; while house elves could prevent any sort of uncleanliness, they were no match for Lucius and his natural, boyish sloppiness. On the wall with his wardrobe and numerous dressers, Quidditch posters were plastered to the polished stone. While the images of the best players in the league had been there for some time, the team posters changed every season, depending on which seemed most likely to win the Cup that year. This year, the Tornadoes zipped along contentedly on the wall of their fickle fan. Narcissa approached the posters, laughing softly to herself. Lucius Malfoy would never declare allegiance to a losing team.

She glanced down. The gleaming wooden surface of the low, long drawers had been used as a home for more knickknacks. Many publications all but drowned the rest of its contents, from old Daily Prophets to more Quidditch magazines than she could count and, as she lifted some others out of the way, a Play Wizard hidden towards the bottom (she quickly dropped this in disgust). A pack of Exploding Snap cards was visible, as well as empty chocolate frog wrappers, their cards nearby. And then, a photograph caught her attention. It was the only frame amid the rubbish, and with a sickened feeling, she read the inscription: My darling Lucius, I will love you always. ~Francesca. The photograph was somewhat old, showing Lucius and Francesca lying together in what appeared to be some sort of grassy meadow. Lucius lay with one hand tucked behind his head, and Francesca's head rested on his arm. He was smiling lazily at the camera and Francesca was giggling, occasionally pressing her lips to his cheek.

For a moment, Narcissa felt an irrational flash of anger. Then, quite calmly, she drew her wand, stowed in the pocket of her bathrobe. "Incendio." The picture burst into flame, and she watched it burn contentedly until it was nothing but a pile of ashes. At last, she turned to his bed.

It was absolutely enormous, and could have comfortably fit at least four. Narcissa, however, refused to be intimidated by it, and shrugged her robe off delicately before perching patiently on the edge.

She didn't have to wait long.

The bathroom door swung open and Lucius emerged wearing only a towel around his waist. He didn't see her at first, but Narcissa was pleased to see he appeared far more relaxed than he'd been earlier as he began shuffling through his drawer for something to wear to sleep. Narcissa was momentarily captivated by a drop of water sliding down the nape of his neck, between his shoulder blades and down his spine, so she didn't immediately notice him freeze.

"Narcissa," he turned around slowly. His eyes had not deceived him, after all. "What..." he broke off, seeming confused. "Narcissa, what are you doing in here?" he managed at last.

This is it. Narcissa sucked in a deep breath. "I think you know."

"Er... Do I?" he looked guardedly hopeful. "Perhaps... you can clarify?"

Narcissa's hands were trembling, but she rose slowly. "Why don't you guess?"

He approached her with caution, but reached down to take the hem of her nightdress in both hands. Eyes locked with his, Narcissa raised her arms. He dragged it garment upwards with aching slowness, knuckles brushing over her hips, waist, and the sides of her breasts before she was freed and he tossed the gown aside. He kissed her once, briefly and tenderly, before lowering himself to his knees. His gaze remained one her face, measuring her reaction, looking for any flicker of hesitation.

There was none.

He pressed his lips to her navel, eyes sliding shut as he inhaled deeply. His hands drifted up along her legs, teasing the sensitive skin at the back of her knees, running along her thighs until his fingers hooked onto the band of her knickers.

"Narcissa," he breathed her name quietly, reverently, but also questioningly. There would be no going back this time.

"Lucius," she replied, caressing his name in her throat, letting her chin tilt back and her fingers tangle in his wet hair. He sighed in relief, and pulled downwards slowly, lifting her delicate ankle to encourage her to step away from this last bit of clothing, her last shred of virtue. Then, he rose to his feet. She was shaking slightly, and he placed his hands reassuringly on her shoulders, pressing a soft peck to her forehead.

"Are you frightened?" he asked with such candid warmth and concern that Narcissa replied with stark honesty.

"Yes. Terrified."

He pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a surprisingly tender gesture. "I wish I could tell you that it would be completely painless, but Narcissa," he paused. She was staring as an indistinct point past his shoulder. "Narcissa," he captured her chin in his hand, forcing her to meet his eye. "You know I would never intentionally hurt you." His thumb brushed over her lips as he spoke, and her eyes were wide and trusting. "I'll be gentle," he promised, wishing that final bit of fear would leave her gaze.

"I know," she replied, tongue darting over the lower lip to moisten it. "Lucius... I love you."

"I love you too," he replied automatically, brushing her hair back.

"Alright, then. I'm ready." Her words were clipped and stout, full of determination. He almost chuckled at her resolve; this was, after all, mean to be an enjoyable, romantic thing, not an unpleasant pact.

"You sure?"

"I'm ready," she repeated, softly this time, but still with conviction. Hands steady now, she unwound the the towel from around his waist and let it fall to the floor. "I am."

Narcissa couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. And she never wanted it to end. The swirling blackness around her was warm, lush velvet, and her mind still couldn't quite come to terms with the pleasure her body had just experienced. But light was beginning to leak back, soft and flickering from the sconces Lucius had lit around the room. Her breath was still coming in quick gasps, and she turned her head to ascertain that Lucius was still nearby. His eyes were closed and Narcissa was certain she'd never seen anything so gratifying as the absolute bliss etched into his features- in that moment, he was unquestionably the most relaxed she'd ever seen him. A lazy, sated smirk toyed with the corner of his lips, and his chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths. Narcissa sighed, rolling over to run her hand over the aforementioned chest, still slick with perspiration. One eye flickered open, grey and glowing with smug satisfaction. His smirk widened into a wolfish grin, and Narcissa blushed, pulling the blankets to her chin even as she cuddled up to him, twining their bare legs together. He propped himself up on one elbow, and dipped his head to kiss her with a tenderness that did not match his expression.

"You alright, sweetheart?"

"Oh, yes," she breathed, and then laughed somewhat giddily.

"What so funny?" he asked, smiling as well as he stroked damp tendrils of hair away from her face and neck.

"It's me. Bella used to make fun of me for being cold and prim and proper and I didn't care, I didn't think I was missing anything, but now..." she beamed up at him. "Now I'm happy. You make me so happy."

"I aim to please," he replied with a wink, flopping onto his back with a soft groan. "Narcissa, that was... better than I could have imagined," he told her, aware she probably had no idea what a compliment this was. "Speaking of imagination... when we go back to Hogwarts, we're going to need to go have sex in all the places I fantasized about having sex with you in."

She raised one eyebrow, amused and curious. "And that would be...?"

"The Prefect's bathroom, the library, and the Great Hall."

Narcissa laughed. "I don't think the Great Hall-"

But Lucius wasn't finished. "My bed, your bed, a random classroom in the fourth floor East corridor, on the Grounds by the Lake, the kitchens, Hogsmeade, the Quidditch stands, Sompteaux - actually, that one might be easier while we're still on break- near the Common Room fire, the table where you study in the Common Room, the entryway to the girls' dormitories-"

"Lucius!" she exclaimed at last. "You're not serious! The Prefect's bathroom... Why, that's where we met! Surely you weren't thinking, all the way back then, about-"

"This? Yes. I was. Are you surprised?"

"You... you were still with Francesca at that point," she reminded him.

"I broke up with her because she was clingy and boring and you were interesting, you were captivating, Narcissa, and you were all I could think of from the moment I laid eyes on you. You still are."

Content with this explanation, Narcissa settled back into her pillows. "Well. I still don't think the Great Hall is an option."

"But you'll consider the rest?"

"We'll see," she laughed.

"Let go take a bath," he suggested brightly. "It'll make you less sore in the morning," he informed her knowledgeably.

"Just a bath?" She fluttered her lashes in playful coquetry.

"Ah, give me ten minutes and some pumpkin juice, darling, and I can make it much more than that."

"Abraxas Malfoy." The voice was low and dangerous, cutting through the soft silence. "You get back in bed this instant."

Hand frozen over the handle to his bedroom door, Abraxas exhaled in exasperation. "Rose. I was just going to get a glass of water."

"Call an elf," she supplied instantly. "You haven't set foot in the kitchens for over a year."

"Is it illegal for a man to walk about his own home?" he demanded with bravado.

"You leave those two alone," Rosalind snapped icily.

"Rosie-"

"No, don't you dare! Come here."

"She's a Black, Rosalind. A Black. I never expected he'd pick out a good girl on his own... I mean, Francesca was decent enough, I did like her, but she wasn't a Black, for Merlin's sake! I don't want him ruining his chances." Even as he defended his argument, he was crossing the room towards the large bed they shared.

"I think he's doing fine on his own," she cooed, soft and sweet now that she knew she'd won.

Abraxas grumbled under his breath as he climbed back beneath the sheets, something about 'purity of blood and body' but Rosalind ignored him, leaning over for a kiss that he gladly gave.

"I want him to marry this one."

"Well, don't tell him that, or he'll break up with her on the spot just to spite you," his wife warned wisely.

Abraxas chuckled softly, pulling her into his arms. "He's so difficult."

"He takes after his father."

"Yes, also where he gets his stunning good looks."

"And vanity."

"And intelligence."

"And arrogance."

"And his wit."

"And his vanity."

"You already said that one!"

"Yes, well, I thought it needed repeating."

"Lucius?"

"Hm?"

He was only half listening, and she knew it. He was dragging a soft, sudsy cloth over her body with relish and she knew his delight in finally having her entirely far outweighed his interest in her words at the moment.

"Never mind." She let her eyes drift shut in contentment, sinking deeper into the steaming water and settling against him. She felt strangely aware and yet disconnected; as if every nerve in her body was suddenly alert in ways she hadn't known to be possible, but with such exaggeration that she felt separated from her body.

Lucius leaned forward to press a tiny peck to the nape of her neck, then the tender spot beneath her year, and then suddenly, they were warm, open-mouthed kisses across her shoulders and throat.

"Oh, Merlin," he groaned, abandoning the washcloth in favor of letting his bare hands slide over her spine. "Sweetheart, this may be a problem."

Concerned, she turned to glance back at him. "What is?"

"I... I don't think I'll be able to stop touching you now."

Narcissa laughed, clumsily shifting so she could face him fully. She drew herself up onto her knees, with one on either side of him, and scooped up handfuls of water to pour over his neck and chest. "So don't," she suggested, running her fingertips over his slick skin. "Why should you have to?"

Lucius needed no more encouragement.

"Lucius. Love, you need to wake up."

"Hmmfgh."

"It's eight thirty, and you mum asked that we be ready by ten."

"Nghmm."

"Lucius," Narcissa sat up, stroking his hair. His face was buried in his pillow, and he groaned something incoherently before flinging out an arm, curling it around her waist, and pulling her snugly against his nude body.

"Oh, sweetheart, shut up and go back to sleep," he mumbled into her neck. His free hand wandered aimlessly over her but he eventually wrapped the other arm around her shoulders and sighed heavily, contentedly. Narcissa wriggled and pushed at his arms, trying in vain to free herself.

"Lucius, we have to get ready!"

"Stay still," he begged, and for a moment Narcissa paused in concern, but immediately realized that her squirming was making him hard, and that this could work to her advantage. She twisted her hips again, and he groaned, grip loosening as his hands moved to her waist. His movements were lethargic and slow, however, and she was able to dart away and hover just out of reach by the edge of the bed.

"You're so mean," he moaned pitifully, blinking up at her sleepily.

"Come take a shower with me," she suggested, grinning.

"Why? We have a perfectly cozy bed... I don't like shower sex." He pulled the blankets up to his chin, eyeing her hopefully.

"You prefer no sex to shower sex?"

Lucius grinned at how she blushed when she said 'sex.' "Now, that's not what I meant. C'mere, sweetheart." He held out a hand, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"We have to get ready-"

"Narcissa, when my mother says 'ten', she knows that means I won't get out of be until eleven, and we won't be doing anything until one. She plans ahead with the knowledge that I do not, under any circumstances, leave bed before ten thirty on holidays."

"I'm going to go take a shower," she announced, and flounced off to the bathroom.

Lucius pulled a pillow over his face, made a loud sound of protest, and sat up, tossing the pillow aside.

"Glad you could join me," Narcissa looked up with a smile when Lucius appeared around the marble outcropping that sectioned the shower off from the rest of the lavatory.

Lucius ignored her, brushing by to changed the dial on the faucet. Immediately, the water changed from a jet to a heavy downpour from the entire ceiling over the shower, creating an all encompassing warmth for them both. Lucius turned back to her and kissed her hastily, backing her against the marble.

"Why do you torment me?" he inquired helplessly. Narcissa laughed, reaching for his shampoo. He allowed her to massage his scalp for several moments, but was too impatient to permit much more.

"Bend over, sweetheart," he purred in her ear, "and put your hands on the wall."

He smirked in satisfaction when she obeyed, sliding his hands over her waist and taking a firm hold on her hips. He wondered for a moment if he should wait, take his time and be gentle, but she turned her head so he could see her lips parted and eyes closed in blissful anticipation. The water streamed over her flawless features, and he watched a drop slide luxuriously over shoulder. He couldn't wait any longer; he let his own eyes drift shut and thrust into her.

"Oh!" Narcissa gave a tiny yelp of alarm as she lost purchase against the tile. Her hands slipped and she tipped forward, scrambling for something to hold on to. Lucius overbalanced, arm swinging outward and smashing against the wall.

"Fuck!" he cried, grasping his throbbing elbow and therefore forgetting to break his fall. "Damn it! This is why I don't have shower sex," he groaned. "I'm going to be bruised and- are you alright?"

Narcissa glanced down at him guiltily; she had easily found her balance and was entirely unscathed.

"Er... Yes."

Lucius shook his head mournfully, but quickly clambered back to his feet. "C'mere, you..."

Narcissa shrieked as he playfully grabbed her around the waist and hauled her out of the shower and onto the fluffy white carpet. "I didn't get out of bed to give up that easily, beautiful," he whispered, nudging her legs apart and sliding into her once more.

"Lucius," she gasped, placing a hand on his chest to indicate that he should stop.

"What's wrong?" he asked quickly, attempting to kiss away her concerned little frown.

"No... It's just..." she winced and shifted against him, stealing his breath. "I wasn't expecting to be so... I didn't think that I would..." she broke off, before finally blurting in a rush, "Lucius you have to get off me. Now."

"I... what?" He withdrew, staring at her blankly.

"It's just, I didn't think it would hurt today. But it does. I... I'm sorry," she said hurriedly; he looked crushed.

Lucius rolled over onto his back, slinging an arm over his face so she would not see his dissappointment. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It's fine." The words fell flat.

Narcissa bit her lip as she slowly sat up, glancing down at him. She appreciated that he did not force the issue, but she did feel rather bad for dragging him from bed with the promise of sex and then denying him. Again. If only there was some way...

Suddenly, she had a very vivid memory of a night, over a year ago, when Rodolphus had come to visit Bellatrix in the country. Narcissa had been sent to fetch them, and, blissfully innocent at the time, had opened the door of Bellatrix's room, unannounced and uninvited.

Bella had threatened to kill Cissy for barging in, and Rodolphus had dissuaded her. But that wasn't what Narcissa was recalling now. At the time, she had been utterly repulsed, but... well, Rodolphus seemed to have been enjoying himself, and Bella was in no way visibly scarred by it...

Lucius's eyes flew open in disbelief and he sucked in a quick gasp of air as her warm, damp mouth closed around the head of his swollen cock. Startled, Narcissa drew back quickly, flushing deep red.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Fuck, sweetheart, don't stop," he blurted, sitting up to give her a brief kiss, resting his thumb in the hollow beneath her ear and lacing his other fingers through her hair. Without removing his hand, he eased back down slowly, pressing his lips to her throat as he went. Her eyes slid down his shoulders and abdomen, and then back up to meet his. She looked nervous.

"You don't have to if you don't want-"

"I do!" she insisted. "I just, I don't know... how." She blushed again, and Lucius guided her so she was lying half on top of him, chin resting on his shoulder. He pressed his lips to her temple.

"Work your way down," he suggested.

"Lucius, darling!" Rosalind glanced up in surprise as Lucius stroke in, looking resplendent. He shot her a wide grin as he settled himself into a wicker chair, looking out affectionately over the grounds through the expansive windows of his mother's conservatory.

"Gorgeous days, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically, holding his hand out to Narcissa as she slipped into the room behind him. Rosalind looked curiously at the grey skies and relentless drizzle with a small shrug, but turned to the more pressing question at hand.

"Why are you awake so early, dear?"

"You said we were doing something at ten, didn't you?"

"Well, yes... but I never imagined you'd actually... Narcissa, dear, feel free to help yourself to anything for breakfast."

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy."

Rosalind continued. "I actually wasn't planning on going until noon-" Lucius shot Narcissa a victorious look, "-but if you two are ready to leave, then we can certainly head out earlier."

"Where're we going?" Lucius asked lazily, slinging his feet up and covertly pointing his wand at Narcissa's chair, so it zipped closer to his. Rosalind took a sip of tea to hide her smile.

"London. I thought I'd take you two shopping today. I'd like to get to know Narcissa a bit better."

For a moment, Lucius's grin flickered. "Mum... can't we stay in today? I... er... hurt my ankle playing Quidditch, and all that walking... yes, I think it's best if I just stay in bed today." He shot a suggestive smirk at Narcissa with these words, and she flushed a faint pink.

"Mrs. Malfoy, if Lucius isn't feeling well, I'd still love to go in to town."

Mrs. Malfoy smiled at Narcissa. She'd had her doubts about the girl's age, but she was already beginning to prefer this tiny little blonde who could outwit her spoiled son to Francesca.

"Alright, it'll be a girls' day then," Rosalind agreed with a conspiritorial grin. "Shall we head out now?"

Lucius scowled, sitting upright. "Wait a minute, what are you doing?" he demanded.

"Shopping, dear, I thought I'd mentioned?" Rosalind replied innocently, rising to her feet. Narcissa rose as well, and Lucius sprang to his feet, looking betrayed.

"But, Lucius, your ankle-" Narcissa began with falsified concern. He rolled his eyes and curled an arm around his waist and, while his mother's back was turned, nipped her earlobe and dropped his hand to her bottom.

"Shut up, sweetheart. It feels better now."

She grinned in a cheeky, triumphant way that made him pause, startled. Something had changed. She was still her same, sweet self, but some reserve, some last barrier, had melted away. It wasn't the sex. It was the intimacy.

The thought made him uncomfortable for a beat. Intimate emotions were not his strong point, and he wasn't entirely sure how to sufficiently deals with hers towards him. But she took his hand and lightly, playfully kissed the tip of his nose, and his reservations dissolved. She was his Narcissa, not some emotional wreck with a penchant for talking about feelings. And today- if they could manage to shake off his mother- could turn out to be a good deal of fun.

"... and tell me about your family, dear."

"Well, I have two sisters, Bella and Andromeda, they're in their seventh and sixth years."

"I've met Bella..." Rosalind said, unable to entire hide the note of trepidation in her tone. "She's quite, er..."

Narcissa laughed; a clear, bright sound. "Oh, Mrs. Malfoy, I do love my sister, but we're nothing alike. Don't worry."

Rosalind laughed as well, surprised but delighted by her frankness. "Are you two getting hungry? There's a darling little place to eat on the street down from Ambrosi Alley."

"That sounds nice," Narcissa offered, though Lucius, lagging a step behind, did not reply.

"Lucius?" his mother prompted. He glanced up, startled, clearly having been pulled from a reverie.

"What?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not."

"You've been quiet, dear. Is there anything wrong?"

"No, Mum," Lucius sighed, eyes sliding longingly back to Narcissa once she turned away. The girls resumed chatting, and Lucius' gaze roved over Narcissa's pale blue robes hungrily. She ran a hand carelessly through her hair, and Lucius grit his teeth. He had to get them out of the street and away from his mother.

"And here we are," Rosalind said with a smile.

"It's quite busy," Narcissa commented, seeing no empty tables.

"Yes, but they know us here, dear. Jeanne, darling!"

"Rosalind Malfoy! Why, I haven't seen you here in months! How have you been?" The restaurant's own was a middle aged, cheerful witch, who kissed Rosalind on each cheek before greeting Lucius. "And you I haven't seen in years! Goodness, Lucius, look at you!" she beamed, undeterred by Lucius's somewhat sullen expression. "But you I've never seen before," she finished, observing Narcissa curiously.

"This is Narcissa Black. She's a friend of my son's."

Jeanne's face split into the widest grin yet. "Oh, are you now? Well, come along you three, I have a lovely table for you on the patio."

The patio was a secluded little spot in the back garden, where the spring blossoms were in full bloom and the sun shone. They settled at a small, white linen covered table, and were immediately served drinks. "You just look of the menu and tell Ella what you'd like, and I'll be back in a bit."

"This is beautiful," Narcissa gushed with sincerity, looking around. "What a sweet place."

"I'm glad you like it. I actually came here for the first time when I-"

Lucius toned her out, instead lowering his head to covertly steal glances at Narcissa. He wondered how angry she might be if he pulled her aside, and if she would forgive him if he coaxed her into another orgasm. He frowned slightly, considering her words that morning. Precisely how sore was she? And how long would it last?

"Is everything alright, Lucius?" Narcissa asked gently, concerned by his vague scowl in her direction. He blinked quickly.

"Yes, of course. Everything's fine," he assured her with a brief smile. Beneath the table, he rested his hand on her thigh. She patiently nudged it down to her knee, as she continued to chat idly with Rosalind. Lucius unconsciously pushed out his lower lip as his brow creased, unaware of his comical expression until his mother burst into laughter.

"Heavens, dear, whatever are you pouting about? I haven't seen that expression since you were about six years old." She shot Narcissa a conspiritorial grin. "It didn't work on Rodolphus, so he gave up on it."

In actuality, Rodolphus had rudely announced that it made him look "even girlier than usual, you stupid queer," but he didn't think his mother or Narcissa needed to hear that part.

"Nothing, Mum," he sighed. "Is our food here yet?"

"Well, seeing as we have yet to order, I'd say probably not."

"Thank you so much Mrs. Malfoy, I had such a wonderful time today!"

"Dearest, it was my pleasure. You can send those bags up to your room with the elves, and I'll let you and Lucius freshen before dinner. We'll eat in an hour."

As soon as she was out of sight, Lucius pushed Narcissa against the wall, kissing her eagerly. She laughed and permitted his heavy-handed caresses for a moment, but placed her fingertips lightly on his chest to indicate that he should stop.

Lucius felt a nasty wrenching in his midsection. He had a sudden, fervent terror that she was going to tease him. What if she withheld sex? What if the fact that she was no longer a virgin meant nothing, and she'd still only let him have her on special occasions? What if she taunted him with the idea of sleeping with her, now that he knew what he'd be missing? Lucius knew himself well enough to be aware of the fact that he would jump through hoops for her, and felt a strong, swift resentment towards the young woman in his arms. Conniving little-

"Darling, not here," she whispered, eyes moving self-consciously about the foyer. "Should we go up to your room? Or is there somewhere closer?"

Immediately, Lucius was flooded with shame. He needed to stop ascribing such manipulative plots to his Narcissa; she was sweet and naive, and he realized it would never even occur to her to use sex to get her way.

"Why don't we got sit in the parlour for a while, beautiful?" he asked, slipping an apologetic arm around her waist. She seemed surprised by this suggestion but nodded agreeably.

"I think your mother's quite nice," she told him as she settled onto a fainting couch.

"She like you too," Lucius replied distractedly.

"How did your parents meet?"

"They've known each other forever. Since they were kids."

"Family friends?"

Lucius nodded. "Yeah, their parents, my grandparents, always wanted them to get married. My father's three years older, so they used to bring my mother to the Manor all the time and tell him that he needed to look after her. In fact..." he moved over to a large bookshelf, and pulled down an old photo album. Narcissa sat up curiously as he settle beside her, flipping it open to the first page. "That's them when my mother was first born."

In the picture, a small blonde boy peered with shy curiosity at a tiny baby in a bassinet. The infant stared back frankly, and the pair never moved except to blink. Lucius chuckled softly, shaking his head. "They were odd kids."

He flipped to the next shot, about a year later, young Abraxas grinning as his future wife crawled haltingly in his direction. He was holding out his hands in encouragement, and a babyish smile was plastered on her face.

"He more or less taught her to walk, because he wanted her to be able to play outside with him. Tried to put her on a broomstick when she was two, but she didn't like that so much." He turned a few more pages, to a photograph of Rosalind swimming and splashing delightedly, and Abraxas fretting on the pier over the pond, watching her nervously. He looked to be about eight.

"He doesn't like the water much, my father, but he never could keep my mum away from it. They did everything together, except my mother would watch him fly, and he watched her swim. They were always convinced that the other was going to die at any moment. This is from when my father left for Hogwarts for the first time..." he turned a few more pages. "Mum cried for days. He wrote to her all the time though- she's still got the letters somewhere. When she finally started, he was starting his fourth year, and she was terrified that her wouldn't want to be seen with her in school. Turned out that wasn't the case at all, but he wouldn't ask her on a date until after she'd graduated. Wouldn't ask anyone else out, either. He told her later that he needed to wait until it was socially acceptable for him to be in love with her, but here's one from when she was sixteen and he was nineteen..." he rifled through the book to find a picture from Christmas time. They were both seated on the floor, exchanging presents amid a pile of gifts, but they were carefully not touching, and the was a sort of awkward hesitation that had been absent in the earlier snapshots. Narcissa could see, without explanation, that they were trying too hard to appear comfortable with friendship, but both of them clearly were ready for their relationship to progress past that point.

"Two years they acted like they were merely old friends, but her asked her, unofficially, of course, to marry him on the night of her graduation."

Narcissa smiled, "I assume she said yes?"

"Actually, she said no. She was so frustrated with him at that point that, while she'd always wanted to marry him, she told him he'd waited too long to show any romantic interest in her, even though she knew perfectly well why he hadn't. The next time he asked, though, she said yes."

"And when was that?"

"The next day."

Narcissa laughed. "And I suppose that night they-"

"I like to think they stayed up discussing the nature of their relationship."

She laughed again, closing the book and taking it from him. "I think that's a wonderful love story. They're so happy. I hope I'm that happy after, what, twenty years of marriage?"

Lucius made a sound of vague agreement, ignoring the knot of guilt in the pit of his stomach.

"But for now," she continued, putting her arms around his shoulders, "I'm as happy as I could possibly dream of being."