"Let me."
Although the statement was spoken softly Narcissa recognized it as a command. Even when he was trying his hardest to exhibit some form of softness, he was hard. Domineering. She placed the antique hairbrush on the vanity and delicately folded small, slender hands in her lap.
Voldemort sensed her nervousness. By the end of the night he was sure that would change.
In the year since they ventured down this path, it always did.
"Don't worry Narcissa," he took his wand and shortened his sleeves. Narcissa watched in the mirror as he prepared. The lines in his face were prominent as he mentally measured her head running his long fingers through golden and brunette tresses. His movements were fluid as he sectioned her hair parting with such concentration she would have sworn the items before her moved as if he was using wandless magic.
The curve of his lips made Narcissa smile.
If he wasn't the most violent and dangerous dark wizard on the planet she would have considered this moment tender. Him handsome. But the thought of him torturing that young boy this morning almost caused her to recoil from the light touch at the nape of her neck. However small it set her thoughts on fire. Her body followed suit. Pales thighs quivered in anticipation. In need. She was in want.
The curve of his thin lips only widened as he made quick work on her hair using his wand to place curls throughout giving it added volume. He rested his hands on her shoulders as he waited for a reaction.
Narcissa's gaze fell from his reflection to her own. Slowly she turned her head to each side taking in his work before she brought her hands up to touch her hair.
Her 'ah' was soft and Voldemort chuckled.
"I take it as you're surprised."
She was about to respond. Defend the unguarded display of emotion before she saw he was being playful. It was a rarity but it did happen.
"No. I mean, yes. But in a good way. You truly can do anything."
She smiled delivering the compliment with such affection that he had to draw in a shaky breath.
He looked away something in his heart clenched causing it to quiver. This rare moment of genuine unwelcomed praise stirred something in him. He should lash out. Wound her somehow. Threaten the life of her son. Promise harm to that cowardly, groveling husband she is so hellbent on remaining loyal to.
She wasn't done.
"It's beautiful. It really is," she cleared her throat looking down as her hands fell back to the former position in her lap, "but..." she trailed off her cheeks reddening.
"Yes? Continue. Please."
Her head snapped up, she had never heard him say the word please. From the way his Adam's apple bobbed he was just as uncomfortable with the utterance of the word as she was.
"I," she looked away again, Voldemort applied slight pressure on her shoulders causing her to look up at him.
"Please, continue." He said it with more authority he was quickly finding his footing she felt she should do the same.
Voldemort felt her shoulders fall. She was shrinking inward. Making herself small. It was a coping mechanism he recognized it from his time at the orphanage. The little girls that came from bad homes did this, and some of the boys.
"I know I have no place to ask, but...do you do this with my sister? Have you done this with Bella?"
It was silly. Petty. Childish to ask but she had to know. Bella always had something to offer. Her talent was undisputed. No one could question her power. Not even the man behind her. Narcissa needed to know her time with the Dark Lord was just as special. That she in some way however small was just as valuable as everyone else that occupied the Dark Lord's sphere.
He thought on her question. He could have answered immediately. The answer was no. Bellatrix had her purpose. He had never been intimate with the woman despite the speculations and rumors. She was his general. Nothing more. An act such as this would have been too tender for both him and Bellatrix. No. He gave his general what she needed and in return she gave him all of her devotion. Loyalty.
With Narcissa, he would require something different from her.
"No. Never." He spoke softly.
Narcissa searched his expression for any micro signs that he was lying. Toying with her like he had done with those two snatchers before dinner. She sighed relieved when she detected no deception on his part. Narcissa wasn't sure what she would have done or said had it proven to be a lie. She was at his mercy. He could tell her anything.
She was about to speak when he elaborated further. Giving her an unrequited explanation.
"No. I...you remind me of...an action."
"An action?" she was confused.
"Yes. Submissiveness. You hide. Shrink away. I suspect that years of abuse has taught you that it is safer to be small. To minimize being seen."
Tears were threatening to spill over wide lids. He always did this. Saw her. Read her like no other. She looked away trying to gather courage she didn't have.
"I saw a lot of it in the orphanage. Submissiveness. Fear. It's easy for me to recognize it in you." he stepped back watching her reflection. "Take off your dress." he spoke the command softly.
She closed her eyes shaking her head before letting slip a soft 'no'.
"Yes, Narcissa take off your dress. I want to see and I want you to tell me what he did. What they did." He was referring to the faded scars on her upper and lower back. Some were nearly gone others he had seen during their last encounter were more recent given the shading.
He deduced they were courtesy of her husband. She hid away more since her husband's release even refusing to seem him last week.
"I..." she trailed off having no words to protest. What could she say? He had given an order and she refused once. Narcissa wasn't confident enough to resist a second time.
She slowly stood using the vanity and the Dark Lord for support. Despite the slow movement her body was screaming at the disturbance from its seated position.
He led her near the bed and sat pulling her between his legs.
"Remove your dress. Please." He whispered. She searched his gaze for the powerful dark wizard and relaxed when she didn't find him. This man was caring; this man was giving her a choice.
She closed her eyes and did as instructed.
He watched her grimace as she reached behind her for the zipper. Slowly, the fabric was peeled from each shoulder revealing varying hues of purple. The shades just as violent as the acts Voldemort imagined were committed against the woman standing before him.
She jumped when she felt hands guide the dress down her arms, over her chest. He paused standing and guided her back slowly. A feather light kiss was placed on her chest, the bruise that hovered just above her breast. The man ventured further placing his lips against the bruise on her left side.
Narcissa would have never expected to receive such tenderness from the Dark Lord. She watched as he lowered himself to his knees his mouth never once leaving her body.
Voldemort ran his tongue over a taunt tummy and down to the apex between her thighs. He lapped as a man starved and Narcissa let her head loll to the side resting it on a raised shoulder.
He continued as she began to writhe against his tongue one hand firmly on the back of his head the other clawing at his shoulder. She climaxed with a loud cry shaking as he held her for support. She wasn't sure if she would have been able to stand on her own if Voldemort hadn't been holding onto her.
He rose from the floor walking them back toward the bed. Voldemort laid down pulling her on top of him. He would give her the power.
This was different. She had ridden him before just not after such a display of affection. So, this was different. She held his gaze as she took him in her hand guiding him inside her.
She was quickly gaining confidence. This he liked.
He attempted to maintain self control, to allow her deep blue eyes to hold him, but when she took his manhood and guided him inside her, he lost it.
Dark brown eyes rolled back and he relaxed into the mattress. He held onto her thighs caressing the firm healing flesh as he ran his thumbs over the faded bruises.
A second climax. Then another. Finally together. He tighten his hold on her thighs coming with a loud nearly thunderous roar inside of her.
She collapsed on top of him. An irregularity in their situation.
This was different. Voldemort thought as he felt her body tremor above him. She was still coming down from the precipice. He wasn't sure what possessed him to wrap his arms around her.
Narcissa stiffened before relaxing into him. Another discrepancy in what was their normal.
Once the awkwardness dissipated, they changed position and settled under the covers. It felt right as she scooted closer with Voldemort taking her in his arms puling her against him.
Another irregularity.
She had nearly fallen asleep when he decided to speak. After sex, he normally left. There was no small talk. Ever.
"I must confess I hate him. Envy him. Your husband. Lucius." He whispered into her hair. She shifted looking up at him.
She was curious, "why?"
He looked away bringing his chin to rest against her forehead. He felt raw. Exposed. Small. The little boy longing in the orphanage; it was a feeling he hated.
"He has everything I ever wanted. As a child, I wanted a family. More than anything." The revelation hung in the air shedding light on the man whose arms she was shrouded in.
"You shouldn't," she sat up pulling the sheet up over her breast. Voldemort stared at the dark hues that extended from her shoulders down to her midback.
"He doesn't have anything you should envy."
He smirked sitting up beside her, "he has you."
"I'm not that great. I...if I was I would be a better wife. More amendable to his wishes. This is my fault. I guess."
He placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder, "you're perfect and this," he ran a finger over her shoulder bring it down her chest, "is not your fault."
"You're kind."
"No. I'm not. I'm a monster, Narcissa." He looked toward the far wall before his head was gently directed back towards her. She wasn't sure what led her to touch his face. To turn his attention back to her.
"You're my monster." Narcissa ran her thumb across his bottom lip.
He wasn't sure how to respond. Not without revealing more. Revealing that he felt something for her. He wasn't sure if love would be the correct identification of the emotion but he was sure it was close. She parted her lips allowing his tongue to enter. Her umami taste mixed well with the savory meal and sweet wine they had hours before.
They went at it through the night. It was slow. Sensual. This was something she had only ever gotten with him. The Dark Lord. Lord Voldemort. The caring, tender lover. Who would have thought such was even possible?
Afterwards, he held her.
It felt right and he thought long after she had fallen asleep.
Narcissa rolled over to an empty bed. This wasn't a surprise. He didn't stay. Her shock came when she sat up to find the man in question seated across from her watching.
Voldemort was going to leave. He had dressed with every intention of vacating this woman's bed. Another man's wife's bed. He shuddered at what that meant. It angered him.
The expression only lasted a moment before her features returned to something akin to neutral.
"I have to ask you something," his voice sounded small, begging; it surprised them both as their eyebrows collectively rose toward thier foreheads.
"You need to stop sleeping with him. I don't want him touching you." It was silly to make such a demand. Out of character for him but after tonight she was his. Her marriage be damned. Her being married could easier be changed. One whispered spell and it was over. She was free. But he would lose order. Control. Respect. What did it do for one's reputation to kill a man over his own wife? But the idea did dance in his mind and he had fought against killing the man before she awoke.
She only looked on. This was something she couldn't agree to, not that she didn't want to, but it was something she couldn't guarantee. Lucius was not a man that asked and to deny him was to incur his wrath.
"You're not asking me, are you?" she hesitated to go further but he, the Dark Lord wasn't here everyday. Not even a full day. He had never seen how bad it can get. How bad it has gotten.
"I can't promise that Lucius he would-"
"Your hus-Lucius won't hurt you again," he didn't want to think of her belonging to anyone other than him, "you can count on that."
He stood leaving not bothering to wait for a response.
Initially, Voldemort had only wanted to watch her sleep. To be there when she awoke. It gave him a chance to imagine what waking up to her would have been like.
He had only wanted to deliver a promise. That man would never harm her again.