"I miss my sister."

Lucius glanced up, slightly startled, with his fork halfway to his mouth. "Why?" The question came out sounding ruder than he'd intended.

"She's been gone for such a long time. What are she and Roddy doing?"

"Travelling. They've been sent abroad. I overheard Rodolphus saying something about vaults back before they left—that was two months ago, but I think they're investigating the security of global banks."

"Isn't Gringotts the safest one on earth?"

Lucius shrugged. "Maybe that's just an assumption. If something truly important needs to be hidden, one can't trust local bias."

"Will she be back soon?" she persisted, poking listlessly at her plate. Lucius shrugged again.

"I wouldn't know."

They lapsed into silence once more. Draco squirmed restlessly in his highchair, seeming distressed by the coldness between the two people he most adored. Narcissa mulled over Lysandra's words as they ate, wondering if her friend really could procure more solid evidence. Her eyes moved mournfully to Lucius's wrist; there was a smear of lipstick on the white fabric. He didn't seem to notice.

Narcissa sighed into her goblet. If Lysandra didn't give her something new tomorrow, she might just be able to forget. She had been so much happier before she'd had any idea about this whole mess. Lucius had been, too. He didn't sleep anymore. At least, not in their bed, to her knowledge. He was awake when she fell asleep and awake in the morning by the time she rose, and occasionally his restless stirring would keep her up at night. She wondered, fleetingly, if he was finding respite elsewhere, but the exhaustion emanating from the set of his shoulders and dull eyes told her otherwise. He had stopped questioning her, which should have been a relief, but he now seemed unable to look at her.

Narcissa took at deep gulp of her wine, and practice prevented her from making a face. She had never really enjoyed alcohol. She felt strongly that it was a rather pointless thing to anyone who did not wish to make a fool of themselves or have relaxed inhibitions, and as a proper girl, she'd never been more than carelessly tipsy. But it was the adult beverage of choice, so she drank wine regularly.

However, as she finished off the dregs in her goblet, a new thought occurred to her. Why not? Lucius would be retiring to his study, and then bed, without a word to her, and he wouldn't have too much... Getting drunk alone should have been a repulsive thought, but if it made her not care, even for the evening... It wasn't as if she was trying illegal potions or drugs, after all. Just a bit of wine. Which was practically grape juice anyway, right?

An elf appeared to refill her goblet, and she sipped it steadily as she watched Lucius out of the corner of her eye. Beautiful man, she thought sadly. Too beautiful for his own bloody good. She didn't want other women to have him, she couldn't accept that, but she would forgive him if only he'd stop.

The meal finished in silence. Lucius cleared his plate long before she did, but good breeding and proper manners preventing him from leaving her alone to pick at her food. Certainly, Narcissa mused bitterly, he doesn't want to be sitting here with me. Was he thinking about other women, she wondered? His gaze was glassy, flicking alternately between Draco and, for long periods of time, his empty dish. She hated to think how stunningly beautiful the other women might be. She played no role in the Manor's finances; in all likelihood, he was buying mistresses fabulously ostentatious presents, perhaps setting them up for his convenience in stylish suites in London and Paris and every city he visited on business. She would scarcely know where to look for evidence. She was already the laughingstock of all the women in the circle they associated themselves with— Lysandra never failed to reminder her that, as Narcissa's closest friend, she could shield her from their hateful mocking words, but she couldn't still their bitter, gossiping tongues; only Narcissa had that power, and she could exert that power by leaving her unfaithful husband. Her Lucius.

As soon as Narcissa slid back to rise, Lucius was on his feet.

"Will you put Draco to bed?" she asked softly, fingering the ornate carving on the high back of the dining chair. She saw his curt nod out of the corner of her eye, and she drifted from the room as he lifted their son. She wished suddenly, fervently, that Draco was not their only child—if she had retained the ability to give him the daughter he'd confessed that he'd always wanted, perhaps he would have found sufficient affection at home? Would it had made a difference? With stabbing horror, a new thought occurred to her: what if Lucius did have a daughter that he saw regularly? A pretty little girl with his shining, straight blonde hair, perhaps the mother's eyes- she shoved the thought violently away, and called for an elf to bring he a bottle of pinot grigio. As she sat staring into the hearth, sipping absently, she let her mind instead wander to happier times. Whenever an unpleasant thought threatened to emerge, she recalled the vivid memory of the first time they had embraced, after he'd read the announcement of Mort's wedding. Remembering the way they would endlessly play games to entertain Draco made her smile, and she couldn't help but to think of the sound of his laughter. She let the memory of the rich sound caress and sooth her aching mind, and her eyes slid closed. She thought with longing of the first time they'd really made love, in the middle of the day like two teenagers unable to control themselves for a moment longer, the bliss that followed...

The room was too dark to be spinning, but Narcissa knew her way through it well enough, and Lucius never left anything about that might trip her. She made it safely, if clumsily, to the bathroom, and flicked her wand to illuminate it only after closing the door behind her. She studied her reflection carefully in the large gilded mirror above the marble countertop, frowning slightly. Something about her face looked oddly numb and unfocused, but she ignored this fact and began shedding her robes. Outside, she knew her husband had probably been awoken by her arrival- assuming he'd ever actually fallen asleep- and she felt a tremor of excitement. She was tired of being strong, she wanted him, badly. Finally undressed, Narcissa grinned at her slightly goofy-looking reflection, and extinguished the lights as she re-entered the sleeping chamber.

"Lucius..." she giggled, dragging out the syllables. He turned over as she stumbled, naked, onto the bed beside him.

"Are you drunk?" In a clearer state of mind, she might have been deterred by the derisive tone. However, she merely grinned and shrugged goofily.

"Might be." She winked and wriggled closer, running her hands over his chest and shoulders. He seemed too startled to react. She laughed again, burying her face in his neck and twisting her hips against his.

"Lucius, c'mon," she begged, rolling over onto her back and tugging his arm. "I want you to do that thing with your tongue. You know, where you sort of flick it along my neck and then nibble at my ear? Merlin, I love it when you do that."

He still seemed uncertain of how to respond, she Narcissa continued. "Or, when you put your hand on the inside of my thigh, and sort of tickle your way up, and you start out with these light little playful touches and then go faster and it feels so good I just want to die."

He was not doing as she asked, merely staring down at her in torn bewilderment, and Narcissa hazily wondered if he didn't know what she was talking about. Keeping her eyes on his, her own hand began to trace the path she'd just described to demonstrate. "You know, like..." her eyes fluttered shut, and she sighed. "But I like it better when you do it," she explained, "because I rather love the texture of your fingers."

She opened her eyes. "Lucius, please?"

"You said... Narcissa, you said you weren't attracted to me anymore. What-"

"Well, that was just silly of me!" She craned her neck to kiss his cheek briefly. "You're quite the most gorgeous man I know, and I love you so, so much."

"Narcissa-"

"No, no, no I won't talk about it. I just want you to kiss me. Won't you, please?"

His breathing was coming quicker, and his eyes had a faintly panicked look. She watched curiously as the tip of his tongue moistened his lips, and then she beamed once more.

"Lucius," she climbed on top of him clumsily, spreading her fingers and pressing her hands against his chest. Smirking wickedly, she ground her lower body against him, and as if on their own volition, his hips rose to meet hers, and his hands moved to her waist. However, he rapidly shook his head, jerking back.

"Then why would you say that?" Narcissa was already shaking her head before he'd completed the inquiry."No, Narcissa, you can't just-"

"Do you not want me?" she breathed into his ear, sucking on the lobe and then running her tongue delicately along the outer edge. "Say you don't want me, and I'll stop."

"I- I don't-" he was flushed and bewildered and undeniably aroused, and Narcissa reveled in her victory.

"Say," she challenged slowly, "you don't want..." Emboldened by the alcohol, she grasped his hand and drew it between her legs. "This. C'mon. Say it."

"Of course I do," he rasped. "But that doesn't matter; what I want has never mattered in this bloody relationship. What's going on?"

Though in a more sober state it would have been impossible, Narcissa ignored his harsh words and focused solely on his omission.

"You want me," she purred, leaning over so their lips brushed, but she did not kiss him.

"That's never been in question," he snarled, pushing her off of him with more force than she had anticipated. She landed with a small 'oof!' on her back, and Lucius sat up abruptly, swinging his feet to the floor, but not rising.

"Hasn't it?" she demanded, sitting up as well.

"What do you mean?" His tone was tortured, and Narcissa crept forward to wind her bare legs around his waist. "You know I love you, of course I'm attracted to you- I don't understand what you're trying to say, Narcissa."

She shook her head; she'd already said too much. Instead, she let her fingers skate lightly down his back and across his abdomen and chest, pleased that the simple, tickling movement over his skin had the power to raise goose bumps.

"Lucius," she breathed softly against his neck. The hands that had been wandering aimlessly over his torso slid downwards, and she stifled a giggle against his shoulder as she playfully stroked his knees and thighs, pushing his shorts up to feel the skin of his legs, and just barely allowing her fingertips graze, through the silk, the evidence that he did indeed love her, and did indeed find her very appealing. However, at the sound of her delight in the misery she was causing him, his head snapped to the side, eyes narrowed and flashing.

"You think you're the only one who can be a tease, is that it?" He rose and whirled to face her, grasping both wrists in one hand and pinning her back against the mattress, though she wasn't resisting. "It this all a game to you?" he hissed, bringing his lips close to her ear as his free hand slid down her side and over her hip. "They say your sister's a sadist, but do you love torturing people just as much, Narcissa? She doesn't hide her sick proclivities, but you veil your desire to see people hurting with those big blue eyes and that innocent smile. Tell me, Narcissa," he panted softly, fingers skating over her inner thigh, "Do you get pleasure from watching me suffer? Do you enjoy knowing you have the power to break me?"

In her drunken haze, Narcissa wasn't really listening to his words- she instead focused on the hot breath on her neck, and the hand between her legs. She lifted her hips impatiently, pressing their bodies together and squirming against him with a dissatisfied whimper. A groan caught in Lucius's throat, but he refused to give in quite yet.

"Do you love me, Narcissa?"

"Yes," she whispered back, freeing her wrists from his grasp and twining them around his neck to pull him closer still.

"And do you want me? Want this?" he demanded, rubbing gently between her legs at a pace that did not match his harsh tone, but caused a moan to slip from her lips.

"Oh, Merlin, Lucius. Yes."

And at last, as she knew it would, his willful determination crumbled, and he crushed his mouth to hers.

The first thing Narcissa became aware of was the horrible pounding in her head. Next, she noticed the sticky dryness in her mouth. Sensation worked its way down to her midsection, where her stomach churned uneasily. Furthermore, her inner thighs ached, though not in an entirely unpleasant way, although that wasn't from the wine, that was from-

Narcissa sat bolt upright, then slumped back with a low groan, cradling her head. The bed was empty, which meant that Lucius had already left for work. Lucius at work- wasn't that meant to remind her of something?

Lysandra. Lyssa was going to give her new evidence today. Something about Lucius at work and possibly his secretary? She rose more slowly this time, a tremor running through her as she recalled the previous night. Maybe she didn't want to know.

She rubbed her eyes vigorously, and slipped out of bed. She needed to shower and sort out her thoughts. Last night had been- well. Wonderful. She'd almost forgotten how good it felt to have Lucius touch her, or the peace of falling asleep in his arms. How could a man, she wondered as she turned on the stream of steamy water, who loved her- who adored her- so very much, possibly carry on with other women as well?

She scrubbed her scalp vigorously, as though she could will an answer to materialize that would solve all her problems. Finding none, she let the stream from overhead wash away the shampoo, and switched off the water. She reached for a towel, savoring its warmth and comfort as she wrapped it around her dripping body and emerged into the bedroom. A dark owl was perched in the window, a letter tied neatly to its leg. It politely waited for her to let it in, and held out its leg patiently. The message it carried was brief:

Cissy, you won't believe it unless you see it. Meet me on the Muggle side of the Leaky Cauldron at noon. Don't be late. Don't bring Draco.

-Lyssa

Narcissa swallowed hard, and replied with simply "I'll be there."

"Narcissa." Lysandra had enfolded her in a hug before she could even manage a greeting. "Come, we're going to the Ministry. I just wanted to meet up somewhere safe first. I have from a trusted source that he's been having company on his lunch hour; that's why you couldn't be late, we have a limited window. Here, let's use the public floo." She ushered Narcissa inside the dingy pub, glancing around furtively. "Now, when we get there- Narcissa, you mustn't cause a scene. I know you've every right to call the whore out, but it'll put me in a bit of a bad spot... y'know what I mean?"

"Er... not really," Narcissa confessed.

"Well you see, the girl's a sister of a friend of one of my dearest friends, and I don't want to cause family drama and I'm doing this as a favor to you, the friend who clued me in made me swear not to breathe a word about it to you. But I felt that you ought to have proof, just for your own personal vindication." She stopped in front of the hearth. "If you think you'll yell and call them out while we're there, I simply can't take you."

"Yes, alright," Narcissa agreed warily. "I suppose I shan't say a word. Where are they within the ministry, precisely?"

Lysandra tossed a handful of floo powder into the flames and pulled Narcissa in beside her.

"Ministry of Magic, Atrium!" she called clearly. "Oh, you won't believe the brazen bastard," she continued as they headed over to have their wands examined. "Doesn't even try to sneak around as he ought. Oh, no, we'll find him up in his office."

Narcissa's heart was beginning to thud uncomfortably in her chest, and she felt an uneasy squirming in her stomach.

"Maybe we shouldn't, Lys," she whispered, hesitating after they'd been cleared for entrance. "Maybe-"

"Maybe what? Maybe you don't want to know? You want to be that woman who turns a blind eye to her ungrateful husband's philandering? Everyone will pity you anyway, but if you just accept it... Well, I don't know how you can respect yourself. It's bad enough that you won't leave him, but there are questions of honor there, and what's best for Draco, so that's at least understandable, but for Merlin's sake Narcissa, I thought you were more than a sniveling shadow, willing to lay down your self-worth at the feet of a man who treats you terribly. At least your feelings for Rodtimer were understandable; he was wonderful and devoted like he is to Jen now."

Lysandra grasped her arm firmly and led her to the nearest lift. "I've tried playing nice, Narcissa, but you need to see for yourself."

"Listen to me," Narcissa voice was cold, and she wrenched her arm from her friend's grip as the grate slid closed and the lift began to move. "I love him. And I realize," she continued loudly, as Lysandra tried to cut in, "that that may be a mistake. But even if I did not love him, divorce is not a viable option. Not for me, not for my family's name, but most of all, not for Draco. If you're right, if he is here with... someone else, I'm hoping it will be the evidence that I need to stop caring for him so deeply. If I could live with him and not love him- well, it's certainly not ideal, but it would be easier than suffering each day, worrying every night. If I could just... fall out of love with him, then we might be able to live compatibly until Draco goes off to school. After that... well, that's years away. If I didn't love him anymore, then I could separate myself from him more completely, until he grows cold to me as well." She took a deep breath, then continued more softly. "I do think he loves me, though. I don't understand why he would do this. I simply can't bring myself to ask... I can't bear it if the answer is because there is something in me that is lacking... I wouldn't be able to live with myself if this is somehow my fault," she finished quietly.

"Men are beasts. Perhaps he does blame you, but it's undoubtedly by sick logic, Cissy. Come, we get off here."

With a sick feeling in her stomach, Narcissa followed. They entered the same office as before, and the same pretty Roseanne Clarence sat at a desk outside of Lucius private room. The brunette couldn't quite hide a flash of recognition as the two women arrived, but she asked coolly, "May I help you?"

"Yes. We're here to see Mr. Malfoy."

"I'm afraid that will be quite impossible," Roseanne drawled in a bored voice, glancing at her watch.

"Oh, I don't think it will be," Narcissa countered in a saccharine tone. "You could please let him know that his wife is here."

"I can't do that, Mrs. Malfoy," she sneered. The disrespect in her voice was highly unsettling... perhaps the confidence of a woman that had been with her husband?"

"Very well. Then I shall." She started for the door.

"You can't go in there!" the secretary told them shrilly, panicked. She rose as if to block their entrance. "Mr. Malfoy is quite busy and he-"

"Will take the time to see his wife," Narcissa cut in coolly. However, when she reached for the handle, this time it was Lysandra who halted her.

"You're sure this is what you want, Cissy? Whatever's behind this door... you can't un-see it." As she spoke, her eyes flicked to some point behind Narcissa's head, perhaps in the direction of the clock on the far wall? Before Narcissa could reply indignantly, Lysandra drew her hand away. "Yes, go on then."

Narcissa drew the door open silently, but the sight that met her eyes was enough to make her want to cry out in rage, despite her preparation. The woman with her arms around Lucius was entirely unfamiliar. Since Lucius was quite engaged in kissing her throat, she could clearly see the exotic features of the woman, her long dark hair, and eyes closed in bliss. But she only saw the scene for a moment before Lysandra was pulling her back, and shutting the door. Roseanne was talking very loudly and quickly, but the words seemed to run together, and even Lysandra's soothing voice was lost in the buzzing that filled her ears. Without a word, Narcissa swept from the office.

Narcissa tensed as she heard the front door open, and concentrated on her plate. Lucius's footsteps headed directly for the dining room, but she did not acknowledge his arrival.

"Hello, beautiful," he murmured warmly, approaching the spot where she sat. "You've started eating already? That's alright, I suppose I am a bit late, I wanted to pick up these."

He rested a large bouquet of flowers on the table next to her, and leaned in to peck her cheek. Narcissa didn't push him away, though she longed too; she wanted to scream at him, throw her plate at his lying, unfaithful face, tell him to leave and go live with his whore instead. But she didn't. A lady didn't do such things. However, she also refused to react to the kiss. She stared straight ahead, fork and knife in hand, and concentrated on breathing until he drew back uncertainly.

"Narcissa?"

"Yes?" she replied coolly. She didn't look up, but she was certain she could hear the bewilderment in his silence.

Lucius couldn't speak. He couldn't understand, couldn't comprehend, her frosty behavior. Last night, less than twenty four hours ago, she'd fallen into his arms and told him she loved him. And now? he wondered desperately. She wouldn't look at him. Why wouldn't she look at him?

"Is something wrong?" he asked carefully, above the ringing in his ears. She merely shook her head, though her lips were pressed tightly and her shoulders were stiff. "Narcissa, please," he whispered, reaching out to touch her, needing her reassurance.

"Don't." The word was low and dangerous, and slid though her teeth before he made contact with her arm. With it, something inside of Lucius snapped.

"Excuse me?" he hissed, fighting and failing to keep the simmering rage from his voice. His anger, however, did not stir his frigid wife.

"I said don't," she repeated clearly, calmly. "Don't touch me. Sit down and the elves will serve you."

"Are you fucking serious?" he roared, slamming his hand down on the ebony table, causing the delicate dishes and crystal goblets to clatter. Draco began to cry.

"Now look what you've done," Narcissa sighed irritably, making to rise from her seat to comfort their son.

"Do not move," Lucius snarled dangerously. For the first time, she hesitated, though she still refused to meet his eye.

"For Merlin's sake Lucius, you're upsetting the baby-"

"You listen to me," he snarled, leaning in close, sliding the hand already on the gleaming wooden surface nearer to Narcissa, and gripping the back of her chair with the other, yanking the seat around to an angle that effectively trapped her. She became immobile once more, staring at an indistinct point somewhere on the wall beneath his arm.

"We are going to stay here until you tell me exactly what the hell is going on," he told her quietly over Draco's increasingly vocal wails.

"Nothing is going on. Step back."

"I will do not such thing. Last night you undress and get into bed and demand that I profess my love and devotion to you, and today you act as though nothing happened? As though you hate me? Resent me?"

"You're behavior is reprehensible, Draco is-"

"Answer me, Narcissa."

Draco, used to immediate attention, was quickly becoming distraught; his cries were morphing into shrieks. Narcissa's heart was beginning to beat more quickly, though she skillfully masked her nervousness. It was just Lucius, after all. Lucius wouldn't hurt her, wouldn't dare. Although, such knowledge was implicit in his unwavering love for her, a love that she couldn't help but to doubt now. Still, she remained stiff and silent.

"Do you?" he pressed. "Is this some sort of... of elaborate scheme to slowly drive me mad? Did you ever love me, Narcissa, or care for me at all? Try for the truth, this time." When she didn't respond, he commanded in a low growl, "Look at me."

Slowly, painfully, she turned her face up to his. "Yes, Lucius. I did love you." Her eye shone with tears, but she would be damned if she left them fall before him.

The finality of her statement struck him like a blow. Did. Did love. Past tense. "And..." he was fumbling now, drawing back slightly as if from impact. "And then... last night?"

"Last night I was drunk, Lucius. Which you should have know. Perhaps I should not fault you, I was careless to let myself fall into such a state, but it was... it was vile of you to take advantage of me in such a moment. I have lucidly made my wishes known to you, and for you to... when I was in such a mind... I clearly couldn't coherently consent..."

At last, Lucius staggered back, as she'd hoped he would. Narcissa swept to her feet and hurried over to her son, scooping him into her arms and rushing from the room. Lucius collapsed into the seat he'd refused to take earlier, reeling. Unbidden, her words echoed in his head, and other words, ones he'd hoped to forget, from a time in their marriage he'd hoped to forget had ever happened. He felt physically sickened as he replayed the events of the previous night in his mind. Had he been blinded by his own desires, had her projected motives upon her that weren't actually there? No, he did not think so, but then, he'd known that she was drunk.

So consumed by the turmoil in his mind, he did not hear the owl tapping impatiently at his window. However, Dobby, watching his master's shock and grief nervously from the corner of the room, did. Hoping to be of some assistance in the matter, he let the bird in, and it fluttered over to where Lucius sat. He stared blankly at the creature, as though unsure of what it might be, but at long last he took the parchment it offered. His eyes moved once over the short note, then again to ascertain the meaning. It was not regarding a matter he wished to deal with at the moment, but the other option was to sit alone with his thoughts.

"Dobby, cloak," he snapped brusquely, tossing the parchment down and rubbing his face vigorously.

Sometime after he'd Disapparated, Narcissa returned to the dining room to find the following brief letter lying creased on the table:

Lucius,

It's been a long, long time. I haven't asked you for much, and I wouldn't ask you now if it wasn't an emergency. But I must see you. It can't wait any longer.

Chelsea

(A/N: If I told you'd I'd been really busy for the past year and three months... would you believe me? It's true :( But your reviews and PM's were so sweet, and so encouraging, that I knew I wasn't going to give up on this. And I haven't. I can't say that this was worth the wait... I can't imagine anything short of the 8th Harry Potter book would be would THAT long of a wait, but hope you enjoyed the chapter anyway, and can accept my humble apologies. )