Lol ... this chapter is pretty sucky. I've been drifting in and out of Writers Block (or just general loss of muse, so yeah, you've been warned it's not good. And hell, this has got to be one of the shortest chapters I've wrote in a while. Ughhh :x I am soooo sorry D But I really want to get this chapter "out of the way" to continue with the rest of the chapters, which I have heaps of imagination for. It's just, I'm not too good at wedding stuff. Especially difficult weddings such as these... sigh. Ah well, enjoy.

"You look like a whore."

Narcissa turned around, her eyes narrowed at the comment that was being thrown so distatefully towards her appearance. Lucius Malfoy was standing in the door way, a cocky expression on his aging face. He was looking her up and down with unmistakeable desire, but with a hint of lust. He had pointedly said this wedding dress looked good on her, but now it was 'too slutty.'

"So I can't wear it now?" she snapped, rubbing her cold bare arms.

He smiled. "Do you WANT to look like a whore in your wedding pictures? I will appriceate them, no doubt, but future predicament would judge differently, my dear ..."

She made a rude gesture at him and wriggled out of the dress, discarding it in a heap on the tiled floor. She instead selected a ruby-coloured one, which was complimentary to her figure. It was as vibrant as the colours of Gryffindor; and oh, how she wanted that to show in "future predicament!" The dress was perfect, there was no denying it. Lucius scowled, and scuttled off out of the room. It was going to be the smallest wedding in Malfoy/Black history - Narcissa wanted it private, Lucius wanted it public. Narcissa had won - thanks to a few hexes and threats. The wedding was going to take place in the grand hall - a quick ceremony, and bam, Merlin was your uncle. Lucius was yelling at her to hurry up, and glancing at her reflection one more time, she left the room in a flourish, dress twirling. The ceremony was indeed fast; she wondered how much Lucius had had to bribe for the wedding to be simple and meaningless.

"You take her?"

"I do."

"You take him?"

She paused. "I do."

"You are hereby married ... can I go now?" The little fat man conducting the service looked anxiously around the superior building, wondering why two rich people should want such a poor wedding. His eyes kept darting to Lucius's wand, that was shooting off red sparks occasionally.

"Yes," snarled Lucius, "Get out of our sight." The man gave a sort of yelp, before turning and running out of the door, without bothering to close it. Lucius sighed pointedly, turned his head to kiss Narcissa. She turned her head away, and let him kiss her cheek. That was all he would be allowed to do. Suddenly, the blinking image of a black dog appeared for a nano-second, and glanced unconvincingly at them, before dissapearing into the shadows. She knew it was Sirius ... it had to be.

"Weird dog," muttered Lucius, "Doesn't act like one."

"Shut up," Narcissa said, jabbing him in the chest with a polished finger. She made her way towards the door, and glanced out. No-one was there, waiting for her. "Perhaps it was a trigger of light," she heard Lucius say, but she knew better.

Suddenly, Luicus cried out in shock as a swirl of dark, clouding smoke appeared in the centre of the hall. Voldemort had arrived. He swept a glance over them, sneering. "I see the ceremony is over. Didn't go for a fancy one, I see, Lucius?"

"No, my lord." Lucius indicated to the lounge, "Shall we?"

"Yes," replied Voldemort crisply, "And, I am need of a liquid refreshment." He followed Lucius into the lounge, without glancing at Narcissa. He stopped at the doorway to the lounge, and looked at her, with those dead eyes. "Are you not joining us, Narcissa?"

She hesitated.

"I would prefer it if you did," he snapped. He seemed to realise the tone of his voice wasn't appriceated, and so he lowered it to his usual, sleek voice. "Come on, Narcissa, dear. We have things to discuss."

She followed him obliginly into the lounge, and hestitantly perched on the end of the couch by Lucius. Voldemort took a seat opposite, his eyes boring into hers. Lucius waved his wand murmuring the usual retrieval charms, and soon the three of them were drinking Firewhisky.

"So," begun Voldemort, drumming his long, snake like fingers on the couch, "You are both married now." They did not need to answer him, for he merely took another loud gulp of his drink, before continuing, as if playing for time. "You're too thin," he told Narcissa, a frown creasing inbetween his eyebrows. She raised an eyebrow. "I don't like a woman who's too thin ..." he trailed off, but continued to rap on the couch in a slow rythm.

"My lord ... what has desired you to visit?" Lucius enquired, his eyes glittering. Voldemort smiled.

"A request that you once agreed to, old friend."

"I ... what request would that be, my lord?"

"Narcissa," said Voldemort, now ignoring Lucius completely, "You are to produce an heir, remember? It must be a boy. I don't want a girl to carry on where I'll be leaving off, tempomarily, mind ... understood?"

Narcissa nodded, looking stunned. Voldemort's expression relaxed, and he stood, running a hand through his neat hair. Pulling his cloak around him more, he inclined his head to them both, before disappearing with a faint pop.