18.
Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy
Classical music, dark poems and the bittersweet blood lines
and those who were forced into it.
These were my beauties in life.
My magnificent glimpses of her in her private bedroom
twirling to the classical tones of Bach while quoting a poem
written by our ancestors were a sight I never let myself enjoy too much,
simply because the delicacy of the situation.
She was mine by blood, not by love.
"How dare you?" she bellow spotting me sneaking behind her massive oak door.
I didn't dare; but I stepped in, ice-cold and grabbed her tightly.
"You are my wife"
*