average human’s Reviews > Birth Right > Status Update

"We're quite done, actually. Bella excused herself to attend the Lestrange gathering."

Narcissa hummed, squeezing the bannister. "And you aren't going to accompany her?"

Lucius took the last stair up, arriving on the platform and watching her with a haunted gaze. "You never answered my letters."

"There was no point." She took a slow breath. "You are marrying into my family. There is no reason for us to correspond or meet in private—"

"No reason, no." He laughed lightly. "Reason has nothing to do with it."

She had no reply to that.

He turned his eyes toward the sun, watching as it lowered to the treetops. Narcissa tore her eyes away from the way it lit up his hair, like an angel's crown. Her hands were shaking, and she quickly smoothed out her dress.

"I should find my parents so we can be off."

She crossed to the stairs, the only exit behind him, but he didn't move. Reluctantly, she dragged her gaze to his.

"Just tell me, please," he said quietly, "if you hesitated even a second before destroying my letters. Was there a moment's indecision?"

His eyes bored into her, and she barricaded her mind, shutting the doorways to those delicately folded notes with the elegant scrawl of her name at the top.

"Why would that matter?"

"Give me a scrap of something to hold onto, Cissa." He moved closer, and she held her ground. "Anything to dull the pain of seeing you for the next hundred years at holidays and family events."

He lifted his hand, but his fingers curled before he reached for her. Her throat clicked, and he must have seen something in her face, because he stood taller and stepped forward.

"Don't—" She twisted away, pacing to the far side of the gazebo. "Stop it. I can't breathe when you stand so close to me."

"And I can't when you're far from me." His voice floated to her on the wind. She squeezed her eyes closed, wishing away his perfect words. "This past year has been agony without you—"

"What do you want from me?" She whipped around, and found him less than an arm's length away. "What good will this do? I won't be your mistress, Lucius. I won't sully myself just to satisfy you in ways my sister cannot."

"There is an option you're not considering." He studied her face slowly, as if committing each line to memory. "I don't want you as my mistress."

She stared at him. And then her lungs caught. "That isn't an option. The match has been made, the date has been set—"

"Well, the date we could keep—"

"And what about Bella? You would discard her? Toss her away, and subject her to gossip and disgrace?"

"You know better, Cissa." His voice was low. "It would surprise no one. Things have shifted between us. Most in our circles consider Bellatrix and I an unconventional match. Our interests have grown apart for some time—"

"Is that so? The last I checked, you both attend the same gatherings and worship the same 'Dark Lord'—"

"I support him only as long as it serves the interest of my family. Both our families."

Narcissa's head spun. She blinked at him, her tongue useless in her mouth.

"Rodolphus Lestrange is in love with her. He has been since school," he said coolly. "She wouldn't face any disgrace. It could be very clean, actually."

Narcissa dug her fingers into her palms. "This is preposterous."

"Politically, they're far more aligned than she and I—"

"You can't just swap us out, Lucius—"

"And you'd rather condemn three people to misery? Four, counting Lestrange?"

"My father would never allow it."

It had been the wrong thing to say. Her mouth opened wordlessly as something sparked in his eyes. A glimmer that had been absent all day.

"Would you? Allow it?"

"That's—that's not what I—"

"If there was a way"—he stepped into her—"If your father agreed, if your sister agreed—"

"Lucius, don't. They'll never—" She choked on the words as she spun away, struggling to draw air. But he only closed in.

She could feel the heat from his chest between her shoulders as his hand ghosted across her arm, trailing just above her skin. Her lip caught between her teeth, and she wanted to cry from the rightness of it all. How perfect it felt for him to hold her.

"This is madness."

"Is it?" His breath caressed her ear. "Narcissa, I've thought of no one but you for years. Marrying your sister won't put an end to this. It will just burn brighter until we're both consumed."

Her eyes moved quickly over the sunset, searching for something to hold onto. But her world was already spinning, his words seeping beneath her skin and whispering in her bloodstream.

It might be impossible, but they had to try. She had nothing to lose. She'd lost both of her sisters, but she might have him — this one chance at happiness.

His lips pressed under her ear, and her body felt like it was floating in thick, luscious water.

Slowly, she turned to him, letting her gaze drift over his face.

"I read every letter." She struggled to keep her voice even. "I memorized them before I burned them. I couldn't bear having a piece of you if I couldn't have all of you."

His eyes were dark, and his knuckles brushed her cheeks.

Her heart was fluttering so fast she thought she might have been running for lifetimes before finally standing still. Perhaps she had.

"You may have all of me, Narcissa Black. I'm offering it to you."

"You can't promise that yet—"

"I can."

She laughed even as a tear escaped, shaking her head. "True gentlemen offer on one knee, Lucius Malfoy."

"I have never claimed to be a true gentleman." He smiled down at her, radiant.

"Pity, because I have no interest in—"

He descended, slipping down to one knee before her as he caught her hand. She couldn't tear her eyes from him as he brought her knuckles to his mouth, brushing them softly with his lips.

"I can promise you easy things, like wealth and comfort," he said. "But the harder things — loyalty, equality, and adoration — those are the things I want to give you. I want you to take them from me."

Narcissa's vision blurred as she nodded. "Yes. If there's a way out of this—"

He stood, cutting her off with his lips, his hand in her hair and his arm around her waist. She gasped into his mouth, and he slanted her head to the side. Her fingers curled against his elbows.

Lucius's tongue was teasing her lips open before she'd taken a second to ground herself, and then he was in her mouth, her head, her heart. He groaned when she dared to press her tongue forward, and then his arms were crushing her to him, caging her to his chest. She should have felt trapped, but she'd never felt more free.

The years of heartache and solitude melted away as the sun dipped low over the Manor. She didn't have to walk through this life alone.

~*~

75%

She found Bella in her bedroom that evening, just before midnight. Narcissa stood in the doorway, watching her remove the ring from her finger, and the pins from her hair.

"Are you going to stare at me all night, Cissy?"

Narcissa's pulse began to race. "How are the Lestranges?"

"Fine, I suppose. I hardly noticed them there." Bella swiveled around. "Don't tell me you're finally interested in coming next week."

"I was curious about Rodolphus," Narcissa rushed out. "The eldest. What—what do you think of him?"

Shrugging, Bella turned back to the mirror. "He's tolerable, I suppose. Not the smartest, but he's devoted enough."

Narcissa stepped inside, and Bella's dark eyes flicked to her. "Why do you ask?"

Closing her eyes, she breathed through her nostrils. There was no easy way to do this. "I have something to confess to you." Her lips felt dry and cracked, and she wet them. "I have feelings for Lucius."

Bella snorted before removing another pin. "Of course you do. I've seen the way you look at him."

Narcissa legs wobbled, as if she'd been shoved. She leaned against the doorframe to steady herself. "Oh."

Bella spun to her with bright eyes. "Cissy, please don't tell me you've come to ask me to give him up, like a spare dress I could pass down to you." She smirked, clucking her tongue as she retrieved her brush from her nightstand.

"I… not exactly, no." Narcissa's head pounded. "Bella, I never would have come to you if I thought you had feelings for him. Or if he didn't have feelings for me, too. But you don't care for him. And he does — for me." Bella arched a brow, and Narcissa gathered all of her mother's composure to continue. "We love each other, and I've come to have a conversation with you about what we can do."

"Hmm." Bella sat before her vanity again, fussing with her hair before meeting Narcissa's eyes in the mirror. "Well, you're right that I don't care for him much. I suppose you can have him."

Narcissa gaped at her. "Truly?"

"If you want each other, then have at it. I don't have much use for him in that way." She began brushing out her curls, grimacing through a snag. "But I insist you inform your own husband of the arrangement, whenever he comes into existence. You'd have to explain any fistfights or murder attempts to Father."

Placing a hand on the nearest surface, Narcissa braced herself. "That's not what I'm suggesting, Bella. Lucius doesn't make you happy, and he never will." She drew a shaky inhale. "And I'm asking if, as a sister, you'd be open to pursuing a more suitable match. For all three of our sakes."

Bella's lips tightened as she continued brushing, but gave no other indication that she'd heard her.

"I've spoken to Lucius, and he is ready to speak to Father. He's also ready to speak to Rodolphus Lestrange, who he says is quite taken with you. But I wouldn't feel right without your blessing. And if I'm wrong, and if you do care for Lucius, then..." Narcissa couldn't bring herself to continue.

Bella gazed at her hairbrush, ripping the black curls from its teeth. "You're in love with him," she said, almost to no one.

"Yes."

"You want nothing more than to marry him."

"Yes. I know you don't care much for marriage, but there has to be someone who might stand a better chance of securing your—"

"Oh yes, Narcissa," Bella whispered. "Do think of me and what I want in all of this."

Narcissa held her breath, watching her sister's reflection. "Bella, please. If I'm wrong, tell me. I don't want to hurt you, or make you angry—"

"Angry?" Bella slammed down the hairbrush. "I'm disgusted by you. Letting yourself be so taken with a man that you forget who you are. What you are. All just so you can become his property."

There was a wound in her chest that seemed to gnaw open. "Bella. I love him. I want to be his partner—"

Bella spun in her chair. "You don't need a partner. I am your partner. You are a Black. A pure-blood. I don't care if you've fallen in love with my fiancé, Cissy. I care that he's made you weak."

Narcissa scarcely moved as she stared at her sister. Her mouth opened, and snapped closed. "Your partner? I've barely seen you in the last two years. You never visit, you never write—"

"Because I've been busy. Everything I do is for us. For this family. If you ever bothered to attend any of our meetings—"

"Don't hold your breath." Narcissa flinched the moment the words escaped. "I'm sorry, Bella. I love you, but I won't allow you to impose your choices on me. Whatever path you're pursuing is your own. I know what I want, and I can only ask you to respect that."

Bella stared at her with ice in her eyes, then turned back to her vanity. "Take him. I don't care. Talk to father, set up the engagement with the Lestranges. But don't expect me to celebrate the death of Narcissa Black. Because that's exactly what it will be. A funeral for the person you could have become."

"That's quite enough."

"It's true." She met her eyes in the mirror. "Mother made you weak. I should have stepped in sooner. I won't make that mistake again."

Narcissa lifted her chin. "Love isn't weakness, Bella."

Bella's face was impassive as she began rubbing lotion on her arms. "It is. You'll see. One day, you'll see."

She didn't look at Narcissa again.

82%

Lucius's footsteps echoed off the marble floor, bouncing and reverberating back to him. It had the eerie effect of making him feel not alone in his own hall. His gait was slow and measured, warning her of his presence — if she could even note it. He stepped into the doorway of the nursery.

Narcissa lay on her side, facing away from him. She was curled up on the daybed they'd laid next to the crib. It was to be hers — morning, noon, and night. She hadn't wanted a nurse at night. Narcissa had picked out the daybed herself, ever so meticulously. But this was the third time he'd found her on it, pale as death. The third time after the blood.

Mippy stood in the corner of the room, twisting her pillowcase around her waxy fingers. Her eyes were wet with tears, but she stood silently, waiting.

Lucius moved toward his wife slowly, as if the floor were made of glass. He set himself on the edge of the daybed, next to her hips. He hesitated, unsure if she wanted to be touched.

"It's alright," he said. He knew it wasn't. "It's alright."

Her ribs shivered with the sobs she was holding back.

He placed his fingertips on her waist, and when she didn't shove him away, his palm settled on her stomach.

It had been three years since their wedding. The Healer had reminded them many times that these things are common — that bearing a healthy child can take time. But with every miscarriage, Lucius saw the man's eyes grow dimmer and dimmer as he said it. They'd done plenty of tests after the second — tests on both of them. They were — they should have been — perfectly capable of having children.

But the dream had started to slip away. And he kept finding his wife sobbing in the nursery.

"Do you think Bella did this?" she asked, her voice small.

The words shocked him back to the present. He blinked down at her.

"Cissa, what—"

"I think—I think she cursed us."

Her chest heaved silently. He watched a tear roll across her nose.

"She hasn't forgiven us," Narcissa said. "She's taken them from us, I know she has—"

"Don't—" He took a deep breath and rubbed her stomach. "She's your sister. She wouldn't. She loves you, deep down."

Narcissa didn't move except for the slow shake of her stomach on every exhale. He tried to concentrate on her breath, on how grateful he was for it.

Lucius didn't have siblings. He'd never known a bond stronger than the love he had for his wife. He'd never felt an unconditional love — the kind they talk about between blood. Bellatrix was all but a stranger now, and he didn't know if anything he was saying to Narcissa was true. But he also knew that while Bellatrix never wanted children herself, she valued blood above all.

"If you don't believe she wouldn't hurt you, just think about it logically," Lucius said. "Bellatrix would never endanger a pure-blood child."

A sob broke through the silence. Narcissa's mouth opened wide, her throat choked with misery. He wished he could push the words back into his mouth. Lucius reached forward, trying to grab her hand. She jerked it away and gasped for air.

"Leave me," she moaned.

"Cissa."

"I want to be alone, please."

Her mouth hung open, weeping in silence. Her knees curled up toward her chest, blocking him out completely.

His eyes stung. There was a pressure behind his nose, threatening him. He stood, feeling her body slither away under his hand.

He wanted children. He did. He had just taken for granted that they would come. They'd discussed it before the wedding, as they lay in bed together for the very first time. Narcissa wanted at least three. Lucius was fine with an heir and a spare, but agreed that three was lovely.

Now they struggled to hold onto one.

Narcissa heaved a breath, mourning more than this child. More than this bloodline, perhaps, as her fingers clasped the jade necklace.

Lucius glanced at Mippy. The elf nodded at him, promising him to stay.

He left the room before his first tears crested over his lashes.

~*~

Lucius ran damp palms over his knees. The chair before Cygnus Black's desk was uncomfortable, and he had a feeling it was intentional. Lucius took note. While Cygnus's back was turned, closing the door, Lucius schooled his expression into confident superiority. It may have been the first time in his life that this face was a lie.

The door closed behind him. Lucius crossed one leg over the other as Cygnus rounded the desk to take his place across from him.

"Now," Cygnus said, scratching his jaw. "What is this about, Lucius?"

Lucius leaned back. "I have a proposition for you."

"I hope it isn't another delay," Cygnus said. His eyes were hard. "My eldest daughter has been engaged for six years. You mock me by asking for more time."

Lucius focused on loosening the tension in his shoulders. "I've come to understand you, Cygnus. I think we are more alike than I'd assumed."

The older man said nothing, but his jaw clenched.

"Why is it that only you and I leave Walburga's dinner parties early?" He tilted his head. "We do what we must, but our true interests lie elsewhere. Closer to home, if you will."

When Cygnus only stared back at him, Lucius felt that familiar thrill of power course through him — the complete control over a conversation and every participant. He stretched his arms out over the armrests, curling his fingers over the ends.

"Bellatrix, on the other hand," said Lucius slowly, "could not be more the opposite."

Cygnus sucked his teeth and sat forward, placing his elbows on his desk. "Stop toying with me, Lucius. Will you marry her or not?"

Sighing, Lucius mimed rubbing his brow. "I'm afraid I will not." He met Cygnus's cold stare. "I'm afraid we aren't a good match. It wasn't something I could argue when I was thirteen. But I'm an adult now. And I've determined exactly what kind of marriage I'd like to have." Cygnus opened his mouth, but Lucius cut him off. "One like yours. Not my parents'."

Lucius watched as Cygnus's lips closed slowly. He didn't understand yet, but he was getting there.

"I won't marry Bellatrix. I could cite any number of reasons for it. Her temperament, her sister's traitorous disappearance, or perhaps I could start a rumor that she's infertile." Lucius shrugged, as if any of those options were open to him. "But I don't actually want to ruin your reputation, Cygnus. I have a better idea."

Cygnus looked like steam would erupt from his ears at any moment. He was fuming, biting back words.

"I'm in love with your daughter," said Lucius simply.

The older man narrowed his eyes. And when realization dawned on him, Lucius watched the tension in his body shift to wariness.

Lucius let the idea hang in the air as Cygnus sat back in his chair, thinking. After what could have been a full minute, he said, "Narcissa is my favorite, Lucius."

Lucius nodded. "As is she mine."

Cygnus sighed. He ran a hand over his forehead, as if pushing away a headache. "You will not marry Bella… but you will marry Narcissa."

"Yes—"

"And you will throw her over when the next girl steals your heart, I can only guess."

Lucius lifted his chin. "There has never been a girl before nor a girl after her. She has held my heart from the moment I saw her."

Cygnus stared at him, examining him. The older man didn't have the talent with Legilimency like his wife and daughters did, but even without it, Lucius felt the need to erect his walls.

"She deserves better than you," Cygnus whispered.

"I agree."

"You were the best Bellatrix could do, but Narcissa could make a far better match—"

"Unfortunately, I won't allow that."

Cygnus's jaw snapped shut. "Is that right?"

"If you will not allow the marriage, I will ensure everyone knows why I did not marry Bellatrix Black. It may not be the truth, but it will be scandalous, I assure you. I will see the Black name ruined if you keep Narcissa from me."

Lucius saw the moment his words sunk like fangs into Cygnus's pale neck. The fight drained out the older man. He seemed so frail suddenly, and it made Lucius sit forward in his chair and speak plainly to him.

"She is precious to you, I know. I will treat her preciously as well. I want nothing more than to keep her safe."

"You say so, but I know what you and my eldest are doing after Walburga's salons. The Muggle slayings last month? The break-ins last week?"

"That wasn't me—"

"Don't lie to me, boy. You may have not cast the spell, but you watched them bleed out, didn't you?"

Lucius felt his mouth dry. It had been Ted Nott's idea. And he hadn't known how to get out of it before he was well in it.

He wondered if there had always been Thestrals grazing the edges of Malfoy Manor, but to ask his father would be admitting that he now saw them.

"You can't keep her safe," Cygnus said. "You're reckless already. You say you don't want war, but here you are, lockstep with the fools who have us on the brink of one. What happens when neither you nor I are around to protect her?"

"I would never let anything happen to her."

"I've seen and heard enough to know what's coming. And with you and Bella at the center of it—"

"Even in death, I swear on her safety."

Cygnus frowned. Lucius cleared his throat.

"Malfoy Manor is very special. There are magical protections around it that are unmatched in our world… in the case of the death of the lord of the manor." He paused, allowing Cygnus to understand. "If something should happen to me, Narcissa and our children will be taken care of. The manor will become impenetrable. The Lady and heirs could survive any war, any artillery. No one gets in or out unless they are Malfoy by blood or marriage." Lucius swallowed. "You have my word that I will force that lockdown, should it come to it. To protect her."

The promise glided on the air between them, hanging like mist.

Cygnus dissected him. Finally, he huffed a sigh, and Lucius felt the pressure ease from his own ribs. "Well, it seems you've left me no choice, Mr. Malfoy."

"My favorite kind of decision."

Rubbing his eyes again, Cygnus said, "And what about Bellatrix's reputation? I cannot give Narcissa away without Bella settled, so you will have to wait—"

Lucius stood and buttoned his robes. "There is a young man waiting in the drawing room. His name is Rodolphus Lestrange, and he wishes to marry your daughter."

Cygnus gaped at him, and then deflated and waved his hand. "Send him in."

~*~

88%

Bellatrix Black and Rodolphus Lestrange were married in August, a small wedding at the Lestrange estate. The guests were smart enough not to comment on the change of location or the change of groom. Two months later, just a week after Narcissa turned eighteen, a brand new reporter named Rita Skeeter highlighted the engagement of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black for three full pages in the society section.

And no one spoke of Lucius Malfoy's previous engagement ever again.

Two weeks later, on Narcissa's first Hogsmeade trip, Lucius Malfoy met her at the gates and escorted her around the town. It was Narcissa that dragged him into a small alley, cast a disillusionment charm, and told him to make her moan again.

Lucius took his time with her, kissing her jaw lightly as his fingertips danced over her thighs. She begged him to go faster, but it would be another half hour before he finally pulled aside the fabric over her center, and touched her for the first time. His fingers were dexterous on her clit and she was gasping for breath, tugging at his hair with a grip that threatened to tear it from the root.

She watched his face at the very moment he dipped a finger inside of her. Lucius's jaw dropped, hot air puffing against her face. The slide was so slow, so measured. A tear rolled down her cheek when he dropped his head against her neck and whispered, "I love you," into her skin. He brushed her clit once more, and she finished with a quiet yell.

When Narcissa had completed Hogwarts, Lucius was at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters to greet her. He swept her up in his arms and kissed her until she was breathless and tingling. Lucius sent Narcissa's luggage ahead of them, and promised to escort Narcissa home. They detoured.

In a room above the Leaky Cauldron, Lucius had only meant to touch her again — possibly put his mouth on her. But Narcissa had stripped her robes off before he'd even locked the door. Lucius wasn't one to argue. They made love there, in a small room built for commoners, three weeks before their wedding. He'd barely started to doze after the second time when Narcissa shook him awake, asking him how long it would take for them to go again.

In July, at the Chateau de Chambord, Narcissa Black married Lucius Malfoy. Neither of her sisters were in attendance.

~*~

Lucius waited at the corner of the metal table, looking at the wall as if it was a great landscape painting instead of damp, porous stone.

He was catching a cold. There was a scratching at the back of his throat that was deepening his voice and a chill across his shoulders. But he would never tell the guards. He would simply get over it.

When the door opened, his wife swept in, and before the guard had even closed the door, she said, "I'll make this quick. You're being childish."

He pouted at her, emphasizing her point. "It's good to see you as well."

She waved him off. "You won't accept your son's visitation requests? When he needs a contract signed?"

"A contract? Don't be so pedantic. We have a handshake agreement, and that's all that matters," Lucius said. "What I want to know is why he isn't engaged yet."

Narcissa lifted her chin. "We've read her wrong. I read her wrong."

Lucius frowned. That wasn't true at all. He'd seen it himself. Of course she was headstrong and unable to recognize a good thing when she had it, but she did care for Draco, or else she wouldn't have come to visit him.

"That's not right."

Narcissa sighed and pulled out the metal chair. "Well, then we pushed them too fast." She dropped down on the seat and crossed her ankles. "She looked horrified when she left here. Told me that she had no intention of marrying him."

His brows drew together. "What is the problem? A prior commitment to someone else? A lack of certainty?"

"Perhaps she just doesn't want him," Narcissa said. Her voice sounded a bit lost, as if she had been puzzling this problem herself for a while.

"She does," Lucius said, remembering the photographs he'd been sent just last week. They were on each other like dogs in heat, in an alley outside a bar. He'd been shocked to see the pictures, but he'd thought for certain that someone would have written him by now about a forthcoming public announcement.

"I've done all I can," Narcissa said, looking weary. "Sometimes people need to find each other."

Lucius's lips tightened. He didn't like waiting. He had real and external circumstances keeping him from Narcissa when he was their age. What in Merlin's name was this Muggle girl's issue?

"That's not why I'm here," Narcissa said. She straightened her skirt, and his eyes were drawn to it. As she probably knew they would be. It was to the knee, which surprised him. There must be a new fashion. "Why won't you see him?"

He shrugged, rounding the table to be closer to her. "Why would I need to? We have our arrangement. He'll have his inheritance."

"Will he?" Narcissa asked. "On the first of the year?"

Lucius nodded. But even as he did, he knew there was a different way to spin this. There was a way his son could have it all. And Lucius could be the one to give it to him.

Narcissa rolled her shoulders back, extending her neck. Lucius's eyes caught on the movement.

"I'll remind you," she said, "that if you stand in the way of this business or if you meddle with Miss Granger any more, I am prepared to ruin you."

His lips twitched. "Something to look forward to." He reached his hand forward and ran his fingertips over her collarbone. She allowed it with a flutter of her lashes.

She would understand one day. She could always see the chess pieces on the board, but she rarely played two games at once. Lucius was in a quadrant of boards at all times. He could win them all if he was patient.

Narcissa leveled her gaze at him. His knuckles dragged over her jaw. He stood over her, with her seated just inches away. It would be a power position on any other person.

"If our son can't have what he wants, our divorce will be made public in The Prophet," she said.

He was about to tell her she was repeating herself, when her fingers darted to her neck. He thought she was pushing him away, but then she was unbuttoning her first button. His heartbeat skipped.

"At first, I will leave it as a simple announcement," she said, continuing her speech even as her buttons slowly opened. "Just a throwaway line for Rita to print. But that will only be the beginning."

Lucius didn't bother pretending not to watch. Usually, he would test his own restraint and keep his eyes on her face. But he was a starved man.

The curve of her breasts appeared, and then the glimpse of her undergarments. A new lace bra. What an incorrigible minx.

Narcissa's eyes were on his face. "At the precise moment you need me the most — your wife, your loyal and devoted wife…" Her fingers fluttered over the buttons below her breasts, delicately tugging her blouse out of her skirt's waistline. Lucius watched every flash of pale skin with hypnotic interest. "I will not only fail to materialize. I will dig the knife in."

She chose that moment to open her blouse, sliding the silk down her shoulders. Perfectly orchestrated.

Lucius tilted his head to the side, letting his eyes roam over her perfect breasts. He could see her nipples were tight inside the lace, begging him to run his thumbs in slow circles before his lips took over. He forced himself to keep his hands on the table, at either side of his hips.

She sat before him, silk blouse slipping off her skin and ankles still crossed. He dragged his eyes up to hers when she paused. They both knew he was hard, his trousers twitching right in front of her face.

He lifted a brow. "Go on?"

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Just making sure you're listening, darling."

She stood slowly, making sure to just barely brush her breasts over his Azkaban robes. She had always been elegantly tall, but now with him leaning on the table like a commoner in his prison garb, she was perfectly his height. He felt her breath ghost over his lips.

"In a few years time, when you go before the Wizengamot to renegotiate your sentence," she said, reaching her hands up to his collar, "not only will I not be by your side"—her fingertips danced down over the large, crude buttons down the front of his shirt, before finally stopping at his drawstring trousers—"I will make sure Rita posts a decadent piece detailing our marriage and subsequent divorce."

He held his breath as she tugged at the strings, watching her mouth craft skillful threats.

"I will drag up all the ugly things we've buried." Her fingers wrapped around his length, and it took everything in him not to flutter his lashes like a schoolgirl.

"I will make sure no pity is spared for Lucius Malfoy," she whispered, her lips almost brushing his. He'd opened his mouth unconsciously, and he was puffing hot air into her as her hand started to slide. "Do you understand?"

His entire body was tight. Her lips were a perfect pink, and with just one downward glance, he could watch her breasts struggle against her bra. The new bra she'd bought for him. For this moment.

Her hand squeezed him at just the pressure he liked. His eyes rolled back and closed. "Cissa…"

"Do you understand, Lucius?" she said. Her voice shot straight to his blood, and he felt himself embarrassingly close. "You will not interfere with Draco's business or his love life."

Her strokes were faster. He tried to hold off. He tried to think of anything else. But she was insistent, doing all his favorite things.

The chessboards in his mind trembled. He was four moves ahead in every one, so close to securing everything.

Suddenly, she slowed, stopping. His eyes opened. He was so close to finishing, but she just looked at him, waiting.

His Occlumency walls shot up so she couldn't see the board with ten installments of the inheritance, or the other board with Madame Michele and Miss Truesdale. The way those boards all interacted. The third board, waiting to sacrifice the king…

"I understand," he lied.

With her hand on him and his heartbeat in his throat, he couldn't be sure she believed him.

But she did resume pumping him, her eyes a stormy ocean blue on his as she reached her other hand for one of his, and allowed him to cup her breast.

He came silently, with his mouth open against hers. Not quite kissing, but not quite not.

She wiped her hand on his trousers, slid on her silk blouse, and said, "I'll send your son for Christmas. Don't toy with us, Lucius."

He watched her breasts disappear beneath the white silk as he got his breathing back under control. When she knocked for the guard to open the door, he wasn't sure if he was even tucked back into his trousers.

She didn't look at him as she left — that chilled him all over, the words sinking in. But just before the door closed behind her, he heard her say, "My husband has a cold. Please see to it he has a potion brewed."

The door shut. His lips lifted in a smile. And he went back to staring at the stone wall, moving one chess piece at a time.

~*~

93%

The screaming had started at midnight. After six hours, the very expensive medi-witch Lucius had hired to see this birth to completion had come out of the suite they'd converted into a birthing room with a wild look of panic in her eyes.

And Lucius had whisked them off to St. Mungo's.

The Healers had taken one look at Narcissa and hurried her away from him, her screams echoing down the corridor until, finally, the door clicked shut.

It was noon. Lucius was pacing the waiting room, jumping on any person who walked through the doors to demand to know where his wife was. He'd smashed a decorative vase, threatened the head of obstetrics, and Floo'd the Minister to ask for personal records of every Healer working at St. Mungo's, including their mortality rates.

And his Dark Mark had been scalding for two hours. He didn't know what the Dark Lord wanted, and he didn't care.

A silver deer leapt into the waiting room twenty minutes ago, jarring his fury. Severus's oily voice had poured from its mouth, "Lucius, wherever this finds you, please check in. The Dark Lord thinks you've run."

Lucius laughed. As if he would run. Run from the Dark Lord? The inescapable future of the Wizarding World?

"I am at St. Mungo's," he said to the doe. "Narcissa is in labor. I am unavailable."

The doe nodded its head, and vaulted through the window.

Healer Morrow swung open the door that Lucius had personally tried to break down earlier that morning, and Lucius rounded on him. He stopped when he saw all the blood on the Healer's robes.

"Mr. Malfoy. We attempted abdominal removal of the child, but there have been significant complications—"

"Let me see her," he said.

"I'm afraid that's not possible. It is an unfolding situation, and our team cannot afford any distractions—"

Lucius stepped into him. He was a short man, and Lucius used it to his advantage. "Do you have any idea who I am? What I could do to you."

The Healer's throat bobbed. "Yes, sir."

"You will take me to her—"

"I will not, sir. And any forced entry will result in the arrival of the D.M.L.E—"

Lucius laughed. "The Aurors are worthless these days. You must know that."

Healer Morrow's face was pinched when he said, "Would you like to risk being in Azkaban for your son's first breaths?"

A pulse beat in his chest. The world felt stretched, as if on a string.

"A boy?" he whispered.

The Healer's bravado flickered. "Oh. I didn't know you were waiting to know. Yes, it's a boy."

Lucius felt his legs wobble. He had stopped naming them. They had stopped buying bonnets and booties. They had locked up the nursery, and Lucius had stopped asking the sex.

He stepped back. The Healer must have said something else, because then he was leaving through the swinging door that wouldn't swing for Lucius, heading back to his wife.

Lucius sat in a chair. It was the first time he'd done so. He'd been on his feet from the stroke of midnight until now.

Your son.

He stared at the linoleum beneath his shoes and tried to put the boy into a drawer, deep in a wardrobe, behind a closed door, in a mansion on another continent.

A crack! sounded from in front of him, and Bellatrix spun in a circle until her dark eyes landed on him.

"Where is she?"

~*~

Paying a man to stab you in the ribs wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Lucius hadn't experienced such injuries since the first war, when he was a far younger man. Without the adrenaline of battle, the pain was blinding.

Thompson actually winced as he did it. Lucius thought that was odd. It was his last thought before the pain felled him.

He drifted in and out of consciousness over the next several hours, but when the bright lights and blue curtains swam into his vision, he knew everything had worked out.

And the flowers he'd ordered for his windowsill were already here. Perfect.

The Healers briefed him, gave him Pepper-Up Potions, and an Auror came in to get a report on Officer Thompson. As discussed, Lucius described the effects of the Imperius Curse exactly.

"He's actually a very nice fellow," Lucius said. "I don't believe for one second that he'd do this of his own volition."

Lucius waited patiently before asking the medi-witch if his family had been notified.

"Yes, I believe your wife and son are here."

Lucius nodded, trying to walk the line between helpless and drowsy. Drowsy wouldn't get him visitors. "I'd like to see them. Whenever you think it's time."

The nurse was either a sympathetic fool or the Malfoy charm was wonderfully still intact. She said she'd alert the guard at the door that he was ready.

When the Muggle-born girl his son had almost thrown his life away for walked in first, Lucius was absolutely delighted.

"Miss Granger," he said. "I was hoping you would be here."

She seemed to take a steadying breath. "Mr. Malfoy. I'm surprised to find that I was included on your visitor list."

"Of course, Miss Granger. You're practically family, after all."

It landed just as he'd hoped it would. He watched her visible confusion. Her shiver.

"Why did you tell Draco about the classes?" she asked, exasperation filling her voice. "What possible motivation could you have had for that?"

Lucius smiled. "I assumed he already knew. I had no idea the two of you would keep secrets from each other."

She did something quite remarkable then. It was as if a viper that had been dormant inside of her had just woken up. She drew up to her full height, and lifted a brow in a perfect imitation of his wife.

"How boring it must be. To be in Azkaban with no one to play with." He watched her rest her hands on the bed rail, like a balcony. "Were things getting a bit too comfortable for you? Narcissa wasn't speaking to you. Your son's inheritance – the only thing that still tied him to you – was leaking away. And I was playing by your rules." He watched as she pretended to put the puzzle pieces together. As if she could possibly guess every move on the chessboard. "Was it time to spice things up?"

Lucius found that he quite liked her. He looked her over, deciding that – yes, it would be very nice to have a lion in the family. The snakes knew his tricks too well.

"How different you are, Miss Granger," he said. "I could credit Madame Michele for refining your approach, Miss Parkinson for styling you just so, or Miss Truesdale for teaching you how to move… But it's something else as well."

Her glare could cut glass. "Now, now. Don't say it was 'in me all along.' Not when I've gone through all this trouble."

Lucius's lips curved upward. She wasn't all Gryffindor, that was clear.

"You'll make a fine Lady Malfoy for him, Miss Granger."

It made her step back. And it reminded him so much of Narcissa, back when she knew all the rules to a game she didn't even know she was playing.

And Lucius realized then — Draco didn't know how to checkmate. He could get the pieces into the right position… he could succeed in every single way…

But he wouldn't take the queen.

He had yet to truly propose. To truly solidify his intentions. And now Miss Granger stood before him, wondering what her place was in this story.

"I don't understand," she said, breathless.

Lucius nodded. It came down to him. As it did with most things.

"You know, Miss Granger," he said, looking out the window casually. "The Malfoy inheritance is only to be released on the heir's wedding day. It's been that way for centuries. And it would only be released should the bride be approved of." He glanced at her, finding her still lost. "You would have taken those classes sooner or later. Draco wanted the inheritance sooner. So, I upped the timeline."

"Once you released the inheritance, you wouldn't have had any control over his bride," she said. She was close, but so, so far. "So, you manipulated me into taking the classes."

He bristled at that word. "Come now, Miss Granger. You manipulated yourself. I hardly had to do a thing."

You fool, he thought. You sad fools in love. How much had they both dreamed of her becoming Lady Malfoy, but never acted on it? He was very familiar with the problem. The years of pain that his betrothal to Bellatrix brought to them both could have been circumvented if only Narcissa had been willing to be selfish. If only he had gone to his father and Cygnus Black sooner.

Miss Granger seemed to cry with the inevitability, like she preferred making her own choices. "Why did you do all this? Why did you interfere? All of you."

He chuckled. One day she would understand. One day she would see the longing in her own son's eyes as his heart broke over what he couldn't have. And one day she would move heaven and earth to make it so.

"I've already told you, Miss Granger," he said. "Everything I do, I do for my son."

~*~

99%

Bellatrix's eyes were fevered— as if she were fifteen years old again, and had lost track of her little sister. She whipped around the waiting room, as if expecting to find Narcissa giving birth in one of the drab chairs.

"They have her in surgery," he said. And the words felt so inadequate. He watched as all the rage that had filled him over the past six hours flooded into his sister-in-law.

"So the baby is coming?" she demanded.

Lucius opened his mouth. And closed it. He felt suddenly so tired. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" She snarled at him. "You don't know?"

"The doctors have had her for six hours."

"That's not good enough, Lucius. When they take her from you, you break down the walls."

Bellatrix aimed her wand at the locked doors, and screamed the unlocking charm. Nothing. She blasted them, melted them, and battered them. They didn't budge. Whatever small logical part of his brain was left realized that this was not St. Mungo's first time dealing with impatient family members in the waiting room.

Shoulders heaving, Bellatrix flung herself into a chair across the room from him.

"This is unacceptable," she said. "There's a way up through the other stairwell, I think."

"Bella. Please let the Healers work."

She made a sound of disgust, tossing her black skirt.

There was no sound but the ticking of the clock on the wall. Lucius counted his heartbeat against it.

"This one's dead too, then?" Bella's voice was sharp and cold. When Lucius glanced at her, she was picking at her nails. "I don't know what the big fuss is when it's dead. Just get it out of her."

"It isn't dead. He… isn't dead."

The unsaid hung in the air like mist. Yet.

Bella laughed. "So she finally gave you a son." Her teeth gleamed at him. "My sister finally fulfilled her greatest wish – to bear an heir. Oh, happy day." She leaned back in her chair, stretched her feet out, and clicked her heels.

Lucius ignored her, closing his eyes. He started counting again.

"You know you ruined her, don't you?" Bella said lowly.

He ground his molars together.

"She had the world at her feet. And she chose to throw it all away for you."

"That's just the thing, Bella. She chose. She made the decision. She didn't want to be like you."

"Of course she did," Bella hissed. "She idolized me until the day she met you!"

A scream pierced the air, and both of their heads whipped to the side. It was coming from down the hall, behind the doors they were barred from.

Cold terror raced through his veins as Bella jumped to her feet and railed against the doors. "Whoever is back there, know that I will eviscerate you one by one—"

The same Healer burst into the corridor. When he opened the door, the ashen color of his skin halted Bella's snarl. Lucius stepped forward, like walking to the gallows.

"Your wife has suffered a uterine rupture," the Healer said, and another scream echoed down the hall. Lucius felt it rattle his bones. "She'll be sedated shortly."

"We need to see her," Bella said.

"That's not possible if you want her alive. There is no time."

The words dropped at his feet, and Lucius staggered, unsteady. He could feel the air between himself and Bellatrix thicken, both of them silent. His vision clouded.

"I have to get back. You must stop trying to break in. It distracts us from our work."

"Sir," Lucius stopped him as he turned back. "Is the child—" His throat clicked, unable to voice the words.

"Alive? As of now. His head is trapped, and with the rupture, his oxygen is dwindling. We're assessing the risks and trying our best to accomplish both extracting the child and stabilizing your wife's blood loss—"

"Then let him suffocate." Bella's voice was matter-of-fact. Both men looked at her. She shrugged. "Stop the bleeding."

Lucius saw a boy on a toy broom, flying away from him and out of sight.

"I'm afraid that would be against Mrs. Malfoy's directive to prioritize the child," the Healer said carefully.

Lucius felt ice water run through his veins. He tilted his head and stepped forward. "The what?"

The Healer swallowed. "Mrs. Malfoy signed a directive hours ago, that the child was the priority of care. That… that if there was a choice, then we were to save the child." He looked between the two of them. "She told me it was decided between the two of you."

"It was not," Lucius snarled. "Healer Morrow, that is not the directive. Your new directive is to save my wife at all costs, even the baby's life."

It was easy to give up the boy on the broom. If he couldn't have him with Narcissa, then what would be the point? Would he be stuck with it, like Ted Nott? Wife dead in childbirth, with only a scrawny, helpless infant to show for it?

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy," the Healer said, finding confidence from somewhere. "I cannot go against your wife's wishes."

Lucius reached out, grabbing the man by the collar and pushing him against the wall. "Do you have any idea who you are speaking to? Do you have any idea what I can do to you? To the people you care about?"

"Mr. Malfoy—"

"That's Lord Malfoy to you. Now go back in there and save my wife. The boy can die. If you return to me with a child and without my wife, I will kill every person in this hospital, do you understand me?"

Lucius tugged him off the wall and shoved him. Healer Morrow stumbled and righted himself. He lifted his chin.

"We are doing all we can for both your wife and your son, Lord Malfoy. We will only make a difficult choice if it is absolutely necessary."

Healer Morrow straightened his robes and slipped from the room, rushing down the hall.

Lucius watched the door swing slowly, like a book closing on a final chapter.

A hand shot out, black nails gripping the wood before it clicked shut. Bella stepped forward, into his sight. Her eyes were wet but determined.

"We cannot let that child kill her," she whispered.

Lucius stared at her, lost for words.

"Will you kill it, or do I have to?" she asked.

Through the spinning of the room, he knew what she was asking. And he knew what he'd told Healer Morrow. But then he imagined Narcissa waking up and finding no child next to her tomorrow. When she looked to him, and realized what he'd done.

And in that moment, Bella's eyes turned dark on him. "Weak," she spat.

She flung open the door, marched down the corridor, and drew her wand.

He stumbled behind her, his feet like lead. He should stop her. He should incapacitate her, let the Healers do their job, and see if they could save both of them. He opened his mouth.

A baby cried. Somewhere. In his heart?

Bella froze, staring into the room.

Lucius wasn't sure how long he stood there. And then it registered that Narcissa's screams had ceased, replaced by a baby's.

Which meant that—

They chose the child.

Bellatrix hadn't moved a muscle, and he knew it had to be because she was staring at her dead sister.

Lucius sprinted to her, shoving her out of the way.

His wife was stirring, alive. Tears poured down her face as she weakly attempted to reach for a wriggling thing to the right of her bed.

The boy.

She was alive. And pale. And wet with blood.

"Let me have him, please," she whispered.

"Mrs. Malfoy, he is healthy," said a witch running charms. "They still need to fix you up."

"Please," she begged.

Lucius stepped forward, and Narcissa's head lolled to him. She beamed, her smile just as bright as it had been under the gazebo eight years ago when she'd said yes.

"Lucius, it's a boy," she said, voice hoarse but happy.

He tried to go to her, but there were six medi-witches and wizards crouched around her — running tests on her bloodied abdomen, working below her waist.

Lucius looked back to Bellatrix. She was gone.

He spun around to watch Narcissa's arm fall to the bed, and Healer Morrow cast him a wary glance.

"She's out of the woods. Just stay there while we finish up."

Lucius nodded, blinking at the ceiling. His fingers twitched, and his breathing steadied. "Can I hold him?" he finally asked.

The medi-witch ran one more test on the child and then brought him over.

Narcissa was weak, but the Healers were working fast. He could hear Morrow saying encouraging things.

The baby was very small and wouldn't stop making noise, as if bragging that he'd done it. That he'd made it.

Lucius held him in his arms as he squirmed, and wondered how he could ever have let Bella within a meter of him. The boy's tiny fists curled and uncurled, eyes wide and grey, like his own.

Lucius smiled at Narcissa, and she smiled back.

He had loved only one thing in the world until this very moment. The thought overwhelmed him — that there were now two things to protect. Two people he would lay down his life for.

"Okay," Healer Morrow said, "Just finishing up here, Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy."

With the help of the medi-witch, Lucius placed the baby on Narcissa's chest. She cooed with him and stroked his head. Lucius knelt on the ground next to her, pressing himself as close as possible to the child.

"Draco," she said simply.

And it was perfect.

"Draco," he repeated.

The boy turned his gaze in Lucius's direction. He watched his son's eyes dance over Lucius's face, tracing his long hair, as if admiring it. The boy might have smiled.

Lucius decided then that that smile was the only thing worth living for. He reached to run a finger over his son's nose. It would be sharp and aristocratic like his, he just knew it.

"You're a Malfoy and Black, son," he whispered. The boy's gaze was drawn at the sound of his voice. "You are the best of all things. It is your birthright. And you deserve the best of all things."

The boy — Draco — almost seemed to understand.

Lucius traced his son's fingertips. Find the things that make you happy, Lucius thought, and I will get them for you. Until the day I die.