Her hand felt dainty and fragile in his, and he held it as delicately as he would a flower as he led her through the gardens of Malfoy Manor. He had a feeling she knew exactly what he was up to, but with her usual grace, she followed him without complaint.
"I grew up here, running through these grounds and learning my family history at my father's knee," he murmured as they walked slowly towards the bench he'd spent much of his younger years sitting on.
It had remained a sacred place for Lucius.
"The gardens are beautiful," Narcissa replied, and Lucius took a moment to admire the spark in her bright eyes, and the way her cerulean robes swept the grass as she walked. She was truly a vision.
"I thought they were the most beautiful sight I'd ever known, until I laid my eyes on you," he uttered, his heart fluttering when her lips tilted up into a charming smile.
He seated her on the bench, remaining standing himself as he looked around.
"Many of the most important conversations I've ever had have been here," he told her, his voice mingling with the sounds of birds chirping around him, the wind a mere gentle breeze against their skin, welcome in the warm heat of the summer.
Narcissa listened to him talk, never taking her eyes off him.
"I believe this is the most important question I've ever asked," he added, dropping to one knee in front of her as he took the ring from his robes. "Narcissa Black, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"
The affectionate smile on her face answered him before her words did, but the confirmation of "It would be my honour, Lucius," was still very welcome.
Lucius walked slowly through the gardens, watching the young boy running around as he himself once had, his robes flapping around his ankles.
"Draco, calm down, Son. Come, sit with me amongst the flowers. It's time I begun to teach you about your family history."
He saw the pout on the small face and hid his smile.
His son was very much the same as he'd been at that age. It left him wistful for the uncomplicated days of sitting at his father's knee.
The flowers had bloomed beautifully as always, and Lucius led his son carefully through the flower beds, the feeling of deja vu both sad and wonderful.
Settled on the bench, he looked down at his son, a small smile on his face. "We'll begin with Armand Malfoy…"