Chapter Forty-Two
The Worst of It
November 16, 1996
First Quarter
8 Days to the Full Moon
Lucius stood at the entrance to the small labyrinth that sat just East of Malfoy Manor, breathing shallowly, doing his best to still his mind.
"You certainly took your time," the Dark Lord wheezed from where he stood between the dense bushes, facing Lucius, wand in hand.
"Wormtail instructed me to meet you here at six, my Lord," Lucius responded, bowing his head slightly, trying desperately to get his heart to stop pounding out of his chest. "I apologise if I was misinformed."
"I see," Voldemort answered, face twitching. "No matter. We're here now, aren't we?"
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius nodded again, and the Dark Lord stared at Lucius for a moment before whirling around and turning right, heading into the maze. The Death Eater snapped to attention and followed behind his master as quickly and quietly as he could, leaving several steps between them.
"I'm surprised you've kept the maze, Lucius," Voldemort mused after a while, barely tilting his head to be heard over his shoulder. "How often do you get to walk it?"
"Not often, sir," Lucius answered, looking at the well-shorn, enchanted plants that surrounded him. It had been on the property for generations, first grown long before the Malfoys had been formally separated from the Muggle aristocracy. "Narcissa likes it."
"Ah. Your family's dramatics have worn off on her, then."
Lucius didn't answer that insult, just let his lips twist into a false smile as he continued to follow. As if you aren't well acquainted with the dramatic.
"What was that?"
Lucius's stomach dropped, and he missed a step, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"Pardon, my Lord?"
"Did you say something?" Voldemort's voice was light, casual.
"N-no, my Lord," Lucius replied, doing his best to keep his tone even. Usually he could feel when the Dark Lord was in his mind, knew when he was being dragged under—
"We can thank your forebears for a place to meet, at least," Voldemort continued, sounding decidedly smug. "Assuming that this is private enough for you?"
"It is, my Lord," Lucius quickly replied. "I hope you'll appreciate the discretion."
"Very few would be foolish enough to delay in giving me answers, Lucius. Why don't you tell me what you've been hiding, and then I can tell you how discrete I plan to be?"
The words send a chill down Lucius's spine, but they were to be expected. He swallowed, glancing up at the sky for a moment as they turned another corner.
The truth was on the tip of his tongue. His heart began to pound.
"The werewolf has been using an enchanted earring, my Lord."
The first declaration, done.
The Dark Lord stopped, then turned, grinning from ear to ear, an utterly humourless laugh escaping him.
"An earring?" he asked, leaning forward like a schoolgirl awaiting gossip. "The creature got a piercing for us?"
"So it would seem, my Lord," Lucius replied, offering a tense half-smile in return. "Though I can't say that I spent much time paying attention to his ears prior to his capture."
"Of course not," Voldemort smirked, flourishing his arms in a way that highlighted the wand still in his hand.
"This is why I didn't want to tell you in front of the others, my Lord," Lucius explained, trying not to focus on Voldemort brandishing his wand. "I don't know the exact charms, but I'm sure they could be duplicated."
"I understand," Voldemort rasped, still clearly entertained. "An unfortunately clever ploy."
"Indeed," Lucius pushed ahead, picking up his pace again once Voldemort renewed his trail. "I've had him remove it, my Lord, but I still have it. I think we can use it to our advantage."
"How so?" Voldemort asked, gesturing to his right side, clearly summoning Lucius to walk directly alongside him. Lucius felt his mouth go dry, but he followed the unspoken command, catching up within two long strides.
"Your plan to unleash him on the Muggles is perfect, my Lord," Lucius began, refusing to look over at his master, pretending to be focused on the path they were walking instead. "I've just thought of a way of… enhancing it, as I mentioned to you recently. Drawing the Order out."
"How so?" Voldemort sounded sceptical.
"The beast has turned away from the Order," Lucius continued, "as I predicted that he would. He's angry, now."
"A vengeful hound ready to turn on his master," Voldemort smiled.
"Indeed," Lucius breathed, a small spark of relief going off in his mind at the indication that he had not lost the Dark Lord, yet.
"And you plan to use that somehow?" Voldemort prompted.
"Yes. I presume that you plan to transport the creature to the townsite prior to his transformation?"
"Of course," the Dark Lord sneered. "Do you think I'd risk any of my men Disapparating with that thing?"
"No," Lucius corrected himself, "of course not. I only wanted to ensure that I hadn't missed anything. I've been distracted."
Voldemort sniffed, a reproachful and demeaning permission to continue.
"I propose that we tempt the Order; give the dog the earring back long enough to suggest the attack coming on the night of the 24th, and then again the day-of, revealing where we're taking him. Dumbledore's underlings will have to come; they won't be able to let dozens of Muggles be murdered in good conscience."
"They won't," the Dark Lord agreed.
"We can bring Death Eaters with us, have them lying in wait. Go earlier than we tell the blood traitors. Release the half-breed and your forces when they arrive. The wolf will head for the town, but not before attacking his former comrades."
The first time Lucius had said his plan aloud to anyone, including Remus. It sounded frighteningly logical.
Voldemort paused before another fork in the maze's path, hand tensing around his wand.
"And he will cooperate with this plan?" he asked, dubious.
"He's assured me, my Lord," Lucius doubled down, telling a half-truth. "Not that it would matter, once he mutates. He is powerless to the wolf's will."
Voldemort's face settled, became more pleased.
"The idea is stimulating, Lucius," he breathed. "I'm pleasantly surprised."
"I'm honoured, my Lord," Lucius bowed his head in response. Some part of him glowed with pride, a tiny and hidden piece of loyalty he had so recently bricked up behind layers of bitterness.
"And his death?" the Dark Lord asked, eyes narrowing.
"That brings us to my only other request of you, my Lord," Lucius replied, drawing himself up, doing his best to look confident and unaffected by the bluntness of Voldemort's question.
"Which is…?"
"I'd like to bring Narcissa with us, my Lord," Lucius answered, ignoring the way his palms started to sweat. "I'd like her to kill the mongrel once his work is done."
Voldemort's brow raised, bare forehead wrinkling as his eyes widened again.
"Narcissa? To do such petty work?"
"Exactly for that reason, my Lord," Lucius pressed, raising his pitch slightly. "I have tried to be gracious, to understand her stress, but she has become too bold in her anger."
A sick, pleased look crept over Voldemort's face.
"So you would punish her by leaving her to kill a broken, useless wretch? In front of everyone?"
"Yes, my Lord," Lucius nodded. "Put an end to all of this. Put it behind us."
The Dark Lord looked around the maze, at the sky, as though he was considering something very intently.
"That would certainly simplify things," he eventually said, refocusing on Lucius and raising his wand. Lucius felt a stress response rising in him, so fast and sudden that he nearly flinched, but he managed to catch it just in time. "And I do prefer when things are simple."
Lucius heard the spell before he felt it, the sound of snapping bark the only thing that helped him to dodge out of the way as a great arc of cutting wind blasted through the maze, straight from the entrance, through the bushes, into the very centre.
And there, suddenly revealed, was Narcissa. Eyes wide, arms crossed, hair more unkempt than usual. For a split second, Lucius could see that she was cold and upset. And then the blade-like wind stopped in front of her, throwing her hair and clothes back, and her face hardened.
"We've settled on Grasmere," the Dark Lord said, completely unaffected as he glanced at Narcissa and then back at Lucius. "The others will find a house on the edge of town and report back to you when it's been settled."
Lucius struggled to keep his focus on Voldemort, trying to understand what was happening while knowing full well that he could not fumble the next bit.
"Do—would you mind if I scouted it, sir?" Lucius asked, blinking his confusion away as he looked right at the Dark Lord, again. "Or if I placed a request?"
"You certainly won't be the one choosing it," the Dark Lord answered, still unfazed. "You have enough to focus on with your little pet. A request, I might entertain."
Lucius swallowed, eyes flickering back to where Narcissa was still standing, very obviously trying not to shiver.
"I need somewhere with a basement or a cellar, my Lord," Lucius asked, squeezing his hands into fists behind him.
"Why?" Voldemort grimaced.
"To keep us Death Eaters separate from the werewolf; we'll want a double element of surprise, between the beast and us."
Voldemort looked surprised again, looked Lucius up and down, considering.
"Fine," he eventually answered. "I will let the others know."
"Thank you, my Lord," Lucius bowed his head again. "It is my honour to serve you."
"You are lucky that you've entertained me, up to this point. Now I suggest that you speak with your wife. She's heard everything we've said. To keep things simple."
The words rushed into Lucius like a hammering spell to the gut, but he held his composure. Only a few more moments.
"Thank you, my Lord," he managed to wince, offering another twitch of a smile. "I will do exactly that."
The Dark Lord gave Lucius a nod and a twisted smirk before striding past him on his way back to the Manor.
Lucius waited until the Dark Lord was out of earshot before turning to Narcissa, eyes wide, cold autumn air burning his lungs. She looked furious.
"Cissy—" Lucius strode forward, fighting the urge to reach out to her. "Are you alright? How long have you been out here?"
"I was summoned at four," she answered, voice tight as Lucius got close enough to see that her cheeks had gone pink from the cold. "Though the Dark Lord suggested that I might want to hear what you had to say earlier today."
"Summoned? By whom?" Lucius asked, clinging onto the one part of the situation he might be able to do something about.
"Rowle."
"Rowle?" Lucius growled, stopping only a step or two away from his wife. She regarded him with distrusting eyes. "What's he doing here?"
"You'd like my input now, then? I thought I've been too bold to be respected, as of late."
"That's not—could we go back to the house? Get you warmed up? I can explain it all to you—"
"I'm not sure what else you could possibly want from me, Lucius," Narcissa hissed, leaning forward so that she could jab her husband's chest angrily with one pointed finger. "I extended the olive branch. I told you I believed in you."
"I know!" Lucius hissed, grabbing at her wrist to hold her in place. Her eyes widened in further anger when he touched her, but she didn't flinch away. A good sign. "It's not safe to talk about it here. We draw attention to ourselves the longer that we're here."
"And you so clearly despise attention," Narcissa snapped, trying to pull her hand away.
"Please just let me get us back to our bedroom? I promise you can berate me all you want, there—"
"Our bedroom?" Narcissa narrowed her eyes, but stepped closer to Lucius, enough that their bodies were touching. Close enough that Lucius could feel her shivering. "Of course, husband. It's your favourite place to be of late, anyway."
Lucius stared down at her bright hair, trying to stifle his frustration before holding her close and shutting his eyes. Not unlike the way he'd held Remus in the greenhouse the day before. Lucius winced, let out a long breath, and guided himself and Narcissa through time and space.
The warmth of the room was such a sharp contrast to the outdoors that Lucius hissed as the air hit him. Narcissa reacted too, with a small, sharp inhale as she burrowed her nose and cheeks into Lucius's chest. She had held onto him easily while they'd travelled, lightly and without effort, the same way they'd Apparated since they were teenagers. One body, one mind. Smoother than Remus.
"Why don't you have a shower?" Lucius suggested, quick to dismiss the thoughts of oneness when he'd been one with a werewolf less than a day earlier.
"So you can have time to think up an explanation for yourself?" Narcissa asked, stepping away from Lucius and crossing her arms again. He couldn't tell how much of the posture was from cold or from anger.
"There's nothing to make up, Cissy. What I said—" Lucius hung his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "It's not… the whole story."
"No? I'm not a burden to you, then?" she sneered.
"Cissy, I…" Lucius looked up again. "This is difficult for me to say, Narcissa."
Narcissa's eyes and nostrils widened in angered surprise.
"N-not because of you, my love," Lucius rushed to recover, putting his hands up in guilty surrender. "Because…"
He glanced up at the ceiling for a moment.
"Because I… Well, I told the Dark Lord what he wanted to hear. It's not the whole truth."
The confession rang out like a gong in the quiet room. An admission that Lucius might not be blindly following the Dark Lord.
Narcissa took a long, shaking breath in and a wary half-step back, as if Lucius might be a Blast-Ended Skrewt about to turn around.
"No?" she asked, voice shaking, too. "Then what is?"
"Well I—I do want you there, Cissy. And I do th—"
The words got stuck in Lucius's mouth, Remus's face flashing through his mind. The way the werewolf had looked when he'd proposed his own would-be murderer. The way he'd looked after they'd fucked.
Lucius felt colour rise in his neck, and he swallowed, letting out a small cough to clear his throat.
"I do think you have the right to kill him. The werewolf, I mean. Not because it's grunt work or shameful or any of what I said. Because you… well, you've been through enough. If it's anyone, it should be you."
"The right?" she asked, face becoming stormier.
"Y… you told him you'd end his life if I failed to, didn't you? And you'd have every reason, after what he's… he's done to your family. So if he's the last bastion of my failure—"
Narcissa reached a hand up to stop Lucius's rambling.
"Is it that you won't kill him yourself? Or that you can't? I know how you can get about your playthings."
"He's not a plaything, Narcissa," Lucius answered, sounding exactly as reproachful and hurt as he felt. "He's our redemption."
One of Narcissa's eyebrows shot up.
"Redemption?" she wondered.
Lucius felt a shot of adrenaline rush through him as he skirted up against the shores of disaster. He wasn't done twisting the truth for the day.
"My opportunity to succeed. To save us. You said it yourself, back when this all started, and I've managed to do it so far, despite the… the missteps."
"Missteps is an understatement."
"Of course it is," Lucius sighed, tugging his sleeves down in an effort to release his increasingly anxious energy. "I'm just saying… of course I will kill him if I have to, Cissy. I'm just saying that I believe you should have the opportunity, if you want it."
"So this is what? A… a peace offering? An apology? A delusion that this will undo everything that's happened?"
"No," Lucius breathed, looking Narcissa straight in the eyes. "Merlin, no. It will take me a lifetime to apologise to you."
A pit formed in Lucius's stomach as he watched his wife, expecting fury.
Instead, a softness.
"You think we have a lifetime ahead of us?" she asked, voice quieter, shoulders slumping.
"What?" Lucius blinked rapidly. "What do you mean? Why would you even ask that?"
"Because you've made me hate you Lucius, made me lose my trust before any of this, and now you're here and you're speaking like we actually have a chance and I want us to, I do, but—"
Lucius couldn't take it anymore, couldn't bear to see her anger and confusion and hurt and how hard she was fighting to stay strong. He crossed the space between them, placing his hands on her shoulders and squeezing gently. She curled her lip in annoyance, but she didn't pull away.
"Every sin I've committed, every idiot choice that I've made, I've made because there is no life without you. I promise I'll admit just how much of a bellend I've been in the very near future, I'll tell you what absolute stupidity I've enacted to get us to this point, but if it's not for you—"
Lucius paused, took a deep breath, staring into her eyes.
"If it's not for you, Cissy, and for that prick son of ours, I don't know what it is for. I have no reason to save myself."
Lucius fought nausea and shame as he stared at Narcissa, awaiting her response. Her face was a riot of emotions.
"You're not lying?" she asked, furrowing her brows.
"No," he laughed, a bit incredulous. "Why would I lie to you?"
"I'm not sure," she answered, shifting her stance so that her body was facing where Lucius had pointed her face. "It's been a long time since you've been this… honest with me."
"You think I've lied in the past?" Lucius asked, genuine.
"Withheld," Narcissa corrected, lips parting as she looked up at him.
Lucius was suddenly very aware of how close they were. Of how long it had been since they'd held such private space together.
"Mm," Lucius agreed, looking away. "That, I have done."
"Is that part of your sadism? The desire to make everyone suffer and second-guess themselves, whether or not they know why?"
Lucius's heart stopped.
"M—my what?"
"Your sadism," Narcissa pressed, words thick with innuendo. "The Dark Lord hasn't exactly made a secret of it, has he? Especially after Bellatrix's attack."
"Whatever he's made you think, Narcissa, I don't want—"
"Don't worry about what he's made me think, Lucius," Narcissa cut him off. "You've told him what he wants to hear. What should I hear?"
Lucius's eyes danced across her face, frantic as he tried to find the right thing to say.
"What I've already said," he half-whispered. "Whatever sins I've committed—"
"So there have been sins?" she recoiled, twisting out of Lucius's grasp and taking a step back.
Lucius ran his tongue along his teeth and looked away. "I'm not sure what you want from me, Narcissa—"
"I'm not sure what I want, either," she cut in again, reaching her hands up and rubbing her face for a moment. "Maybe I will have that shower. Collect myself."
"Of course," Lucius answered quickly. "I'll be here when you're done."
The words seemed to cause Narcissa further pause.
"You're certain?" she asked, dark brows lifting. "You won't need to run off to your mutt?"
"Not today," Lucius shook his head, trying to ignore how hard his heart was thudding now that it had restarted. "I'll be here."
She regarded him suspiciously for a moment before pressing her lips together and walking into their bathroom.
Their bathroom. Lucius paused, taking a moment to look around the room properly for the first time since they'd arrived. It was exceptionally normal and comforting, despite the circumstances. He glanced at the bed, felt his stomach drop. Hecate, he'd missed that bed.
He stared at the shut toilet door for a moment, considering what might happen if he crawled into the bed, if he let himself relax—and then the shower pipes began to creak as hot water came spewing out, and Lucius took it as a sign that he had just enough time.
He pulled his jacket off, tossed it over toward the silver chest by the door… the one where Remus's wand was still stored alongside Lucius's Death Eater hood. He froze, staring at the coat and the silver for a moment. He could take the wand. Right now, while Narcissa was occupied. No one would know. But then Remus might knock Lucius out and escape, condemning all three Malfoy lives in the place of one.
No matter how close Lucius felt to the werewolf, more every day, he knew he couldn't trust Remus with that temptation.
The idea made Lucius sick, so he walked over to the coat, used it to intentionally cover the chest, and then slid off his shoes before heading back to the bed. He felt bad sitting down on the soft covers, knowing that he smelled of rotting leaves and cold air, but he also knew that he might never leave the room alive if Narcissa found him undressed in her bed.
So he just sat. Enjoyed the softness of the mattress, eyes practically rolling back in his head at the sensation.
The shower curtain shifted as Narcissa got inside. The noise was enough to make him snap his eyes open again, and he looked around, trying to decide how to occupy himself while she showered—and then he spotted a small book on Narcissa's bedside table. He went over to it, sat back down on her side of the bed, flicking through the pages. It was some historical novel, but the content wasn't what interested Lucius. Instead, it was the way it smelled of her perfume. Every page turned, the perfect mixture of the ink on the page and the jasmine she always smelled of. He sighed and brought it to his nose, taking a deep breath.
What respite from the storm.
His eyes shut. He remembered what it was like to fall asleep next to her, to feel her skin against his, even on the nights when they wanted to scream at each other. The nights when they did scream. How calming it was to feel her, anyway.
He set the book down and headed back to the edge of the bed, trying desperately to guess what she might want once she came back into the room.
What he could say to convince her to come with him.
"Well you've made yourself comfortable, haven't you?"
Lucius jumped, startled as he looked over to the bathroom door. Narcissa looked annoyed, but no longer provoked. She was wrapped in a green satin housecoat, an expensively enchanted towel wrapped around her head to dry and smooth her hair all at once. Her skin was shining with body lotion, still red in spots from the hot water.
"I—well, yes," Lucius offered a sheepish smile as he turned to her. "We certainly did… save costs when furnishing the guest rooms."
"I don't think we even did those," Narcissa sighed, walking to her vanity and pulling out several creams. "Your parents must've."
"That would explain the dust."
She let out a small snort of unimpressed laughter as she gathered small dots of cream on her fingers and rubbed them, even and intentional, across her skin. Lucius could see her face in the mirror. She looked calm, but Lucius could also see how tightly she was holding her jaw.
"What do you expect me to do, Lucius?" Narcissa asked after a few quiet moments of Lucius watching her. "I don't want to know the details, but I know…"
She swallowed, set down a small jar of product and turned to face Lucius.
"I was there, when the Dark Lord ordered you to… get closer. You've changed, Lucius. I wouldn't be able to call myself your wife if I hadn't noticed. There is something in you that I don't recognize, and I swear, in Salazar's name, if he takes you from me too—"
"He can't, Narcissa," Lucius interrupted, lifting his hands up to emphasise his point. "Don't you see that? Don't you know that? If I wanted to ruin us, I could've a month ago."
"Does want have anything to do with it?" she asked, crossing her arms again. "I don't know what he does to people, but that creature is a poison, Lucius."
Lucius could almost feel Remus's hands on him. The way he'd burrowed into Lucius's psyche. The way Lucius had, without a doubt, been changed by their interactions.
"Then you're underestimating your power as an antivenom," Lucius retorted, clenching his jaw as he tried to send the werewolf out of his mind.
Narcissa softened again, letting out a frustrated sigh as she reached up and pulled the towel off of her head, hair falling down in perfect, dry waves.
"I believe that you believe all of it, Lucius. I believe that you're trying. But you know my allegiance. If you bring me out there with you, I will kill him, and you will be mine again. It ends with me—whatever twisted game you've been playing."
Lucius swallowed hard as he watched her. She crossed the room while he considered her words, satin fabric clinging to her curves, red nails standing out against her pale skin.
"I've never stopped being yours, Narcissa," he murmured, meeting her gaze. "And I mean it. If it's anyone, it should be you."
To kill Remus. To end their twisted game. Lucius was unable to stop himself from flinching.
Narcissa closed the space between them, reaching a finger under his chin and tilting it up toward her. Her face was dark.
"Have you betrayed me, Lucius?"
For a moment, Lucius felt as though he was outside of his body, watching the interaction. His wife, powerful and uncompromising, appearing to be all-seeing, very clearly offering him a final opportunity to tell her the truth. Him, sitting in awe of her, knowing that he could tell her the truth. He could let her clean up the mess, leave him to the Dark Lord while she found some way to save herself and Draco. It could be done.
But not without Remus's certain death. And his own, ultimately.
What he wanted: to fall apart, to bury his face into her stomach and beg her to understand, to forgive him, to save him, like she always had, by nature of existing.
What he had to do: take charge. Show her bravery and conviction, even if it was the greatest performance of his life.
So he let his breath catch one more time, licked his lips, and reached up to grab her wrist.
"No."
Narcissa frowned, clearly unsatisfied.
"And have you… gotten as close to him as the Dark Lord suggested?"
The worst of it. The terrifyingly frank question.
Lucius flared his nostrils, summoned up every ounce of confidence and surety that he'd ever felt in his life before he'd captured that foul, beautiful creature in the woods.
"And if I had? You've never had a problem with that before."
The story he'd been telling himself.
A story he had to hope Narcissa would believe, too.
Her mouth fell open, just the tiniest amount, showing the tips of her perfect teeth.
"Wh—excuse me?"
"That creature's nothing, Narcissa," Lucius continued, voice dropping lower as he wrapped his free hand around his wife's hips and drew her closer, so that she was standing between his two legs in front of the bed. "Don't you like it when I remind others of their place?"
Narcissa's eyes flickered, scanning Lucius's face, frenzied thoughts almost legible on her own features.
"He's a monster, Lucius," she whispered, voice dripping in her shock.
"A beast," Lucius agreed, moving so that both of his hands were on her hips, pressing tightly. "Pathetic. Despicable."
Show me the only thing I'm good for. Lucius winced at the memory, tried to hide it by twisting his head to gently kiss Narcissa's wrist.
"Pathetic?" she asked, voice getting more breathy. The tone flipped a switch in his mind, sent something low and burning through his gut and into his groin.
He looked up. She was staring down at him. Her chest had started to move differently. Her nipples were visible through her dressing gown.
It was working.
"His only use is facilitating our salvation, Cissy."
Lucius felt like acid was burning his mouth.
Narcissa's eyes sparked.
"And you…" she lifted a finger, tracing it along Lucius's overgrown stubble. The touch was so soft, so delicate, compared to the way Remus handled him. He gulped. "You want me to put an end to that use, when the time comes?"
Lucius swallowed, staring at his wife's lips, his own body and mind tearing in opposite directions. To tell the truth. To play the game. To save her and risk losing her in the end. To condemn them both. To fuck her the way he used to when she'd watched him bind and, consensually, torture others.
He knew he couldn't answer this particular question, about Remus's murder, with an outright lie. Not if there was any chance that he and Narcissa might stay alive and stay together past the next full moon.
"I want it to be over," he whispered, the closest thing to an affirmation he could give her. "I want you."
She bit her bottom lip, staring at him.
"I'm the only one who's worth anything, aren't I?" she asked, digging a perfect, sharp nail into his cheek. "The only thing that matters?"
"The only thing that's ever mattered."
He sounded desperate.
"Then fuck me."
He was desperate.
Lucius growled and leaned forward, pulling her gown open and kissing her warm skin hungrily. She yelped in pleasant surprise, and then reached both hands out and wrapped them around Lucius's head, digging her fingers into his hair.
He tilted his head up to look at her, between her perfect, pale breasts. She gazed down at him, narrowed her eyes. What are you waiting for?
A smile twitched across his lips.
In an instant, he was grabbing her by her ass and maneuvering both of them so that he was laying on his back and her perfect cunt was over his face. He could smell her, warm and earthy, a scent he hadn't smelled in months, and her thighs were still humid from the hot water in the shower.
He twisted his head and bit gently into her thigh. She let out a low, airy whimper and he growled in response, turning his head back and arching it at just the right angle that he could slip his tongue between her lips and feel gently for her clitoris.
He found it quickly, could've—had—found it in total darkness, and began tonguing it hungrily.
She bore down on him almost instantly, making it difficult for him to breathe, bucking her hips as he worked.
"Ohh Luci—" she groaned, grinding into his tongue, and he groaned back, slurping, not wanting to breathe as he dug his fingers into her ass and pushed her further onto him.
She let out another low, shuddering sound, hip rhythm changing slightly, and something like fireworks went off in Lucius's brain and cock. How badly had she wanted him? Waited for him?
He vocalised a questioning tone, doing his best to look up at her from where he was positioned.
"A little more," she answered, scooping her hips down. "A little more. I'm going to ride your face until I cum."
"MmMph," Lucius answered in enthusiastic consent, pulling her closer, working his tongue harder, shutting his eyes to focus. Eating her out hadn't been instinctive for Lucius. It had taken practice, and endless patience on her part. But they'd found it, eventually, and Lucius was fairly sure it would never get old. Better than any spell, feeling her get warmer and harder and wetter until—
"Yes!"
Narcissa didn't bother to muffle her cry, just pushed farther down into him, until he really couldn't breathe, nose completely covered. Her entire body contracted, going stiff and then shaking in a series of intense shivers, rocking her clit down and away from Lucius's tongue each time, until she was practically sobbing, falling onto the bed beside him, still making tiny, guttural whimpers as each wave of orgasm rolled through her.
"Cissy—" Lucius whispered, wiping his mouth, rolling onto his side to look at her.
"Don't," she whimpered, batting him off, still shaking. "Just fuck me, please—"
The plea sent Lucius rocketing back in time. Less than a day ago. A man shaking under him, begging to be pushed past his limits, begging to be fucked until he couldn't think anymore.
"Lucius," Narcissa called him back, an almost angry sound, and she was angry, pulling at his hair. He blinked several times at her, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. "Fuck me now."
The command forced his confusion to the back of his mind, because if he didn't satisfy her, didn't feel what it felt like to be inside of her again, he might lose his mind.
He pulled himself upright as quickly as he could, so that he was standing in front of her, and then he pulled her down by her hips until her ass was hanging off the end of the bed. She arched her back, breasts bouncing with each of her shallow, shaking breaths. He wanted to lose himself between them, too.
He propped her ankles up on his biceps and then he reached between his legs and lowered his underwear, allowing his hard cock to slip out. Another moment of cognitive dissonance—that he wouldn't need lubrication, that she wasn't Remus.
Narcissa made an angry, almost bratty sound.
Lucius grabbed his cock in hand, gazed down at her beautiful, sopping wet pussy, and slid into place.
A deep, full-body shudder passed through him while Narcissa moaned in relief.
"Fuck yes," she growled, another wave of post-orgasmic contraction pulling Lucius's dick into her perfect, warm interior.
"Oh, Narcissa," Lucius whispered, closing his eyes and thrusting into her for several seconds. She was already loosened and relaxed by her orgasm, so that he could sink deep inside of her—such a different sensation than he'd had in the last week.
He shook his head, let out an annoyed sound as he thrust deeper, and she moaned in return, surely unaware of his frustration. He grabbed her ankles, pulling them up from his biceps, closer to his neck, so that her legs were almost completely shut, and then he tilted forward. Her legs bent closer to her body, hips angled so that Lucius could hit at just the right angle, where he knew her g-spot was, and the sensation was so intense that she shoved a knuckle in her mouth to shut herself up.
Finally, that was enough—watching her try so desperately to control herself, feeling her pussy pulse every time he thrust in and out of her, holding her legs shut so that she couldn't writhe against him the way he knew she wanted to. She didn't ask permission to slip her hand between her legs, just did it, beginning to rub her clit while Lucius kept fucking her, and Lucius could feel how close she was to finishing herself off again within a matter of seconds.
He couldn't hold himself back.
His own orgasm came fast, and hard, with hers right behind it, the both of them letting out satisfied, exhausted sounds as his cum filled her.
"Fuck," he whispered, straightening out, kissing the inside of her foot affectionately.
"I don't—" Narcissa stopped speaking long enough to lower her legs, twitching and shivering as she did, like every movement still turned her on. "I don't remember the last time it felt like that."
Perhaps because I've been fucking a werewolf.
Lucius grimaced at himself, and he turned away from Narcissa, not sure if she'd been watching him.
"Well let's not wait so long again next time, shall we?" he managed, pulling off his underwear and using it to clean off his dick before he headed to the toilet.
"Let's," Narcissa smirked as she got up to clean herself up, too.
"Are you staying for the night?" she asked once he was back in the doorway, wearing only his white shirt.
Lucius froze.
"Do you… want me to?" he asked, tentatively, the memory of what he'd just disclosed crackling through him like hot embers.
"Do you think I'd ask if I didn't want you to?" Narcissa raised her eyebrow at him as she walked toward him, clearly headed to use the toilet as well. Her robe still hung limply around her, body fully exposed.
"I'm—well, no, I suppose not," Lucius conceded, moving out of his wife's way.
"Then?" she asked, trailing a hand along Lucius's bare thigh as she went. He shivered before glancing out the window to see how dark it had become outside.
"I won't be able to stay long, in the morning. But I can… I can stay tonight."
Narcissa regarded him for another moment, cogs clearly turning in her head, and then she offered him a small, accepting smile before turning away.
They didn't speak again until they were in bed together, Lucius laid on his back, Narcissa tucked under his arm, head on his chest. Their warm, naked bodies felt good together, and somehow Lucius remembered an exchange they'd had at the beginning of it all—Narcissa commenting that she missed when they used to sleep naked.
A dream come true.
Lucius grimaced at the idea, taking a deep breath and squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to wipe his mind.
"Think you'll be able to sleep?" Narcissa murmured, words already slurring from exhaustion.
"I think so," Lucius replied, brushing the back of his fingers along Narcissa's arm. "Will you?"
"Yes. It's been a… taxing day."
Lucius let out a small sniff of laughter, before a slow, sinking feeling settled into his stomach.
"Will you betray me, Narcissa?"
She laid still against him. Her breathing didn't change.
"Only if I have to," she began, before lifting her head to look at Lucius, "but you already know that."
Her face was fierce, but honest.
"That's true," he smirked, brushing a hand along her hair and guiding her head back onto his chest.
"We'll have to talk more about the plan," Narcissa mumbled. "If you want me to maintain what you told the Dark Lord."
The plan. The words made Lucius's stomach twist, but he did his best not to react outwardly.
"Of course," he nodded and squeezed her arm comfortingly. "We'll sort it out."
"And then?" She twisted her head up so that she could look at him from an odd angle. He stared down his nose at her, offering a crooked, close-lipped smile.
"And then it's over."
Another lie for the pile.