Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

Ogden's Old Icewhiskey

Narcissa was frustrated, in more ways than one. She briefly considered giving it an outlet verbally, before quickly dismissing that idea. After all, she thought to herself imperiously, a lady does not make awkward noises. Rule #159 from A Pureblood's Guide to Etiquette and Manners by Lady Pembleworth. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes—another social faux pas known as Rule #27—and instead glanced at the tiny house elf that was busy closing all her drapes.

"Dinky," she said softly, a touch of inspiration striking her. The cowering creature scurried closer, flinging itself to the ground and lying prostate at her feet.

"Yes, Mistress?" Narcissa fancied she heard it say, but was unable to determine its exact words because of its unnaturally large, bulbous nose pressed into the fine rug from some obscure nation in the Orient. She wrinkled her nose distastefully at the taint that was most likely sinking into the thick fibers.

"You have displeased me," she informed it, using the indifferently furious tone she usually took up when talking to Lucius. She pushed him nearly forcefully out of her mind, listening to the house elf squeak in fear instead. It rushed off to grab the closest thing: a fire poker from the nearby grate. Narcissa was ready to watch gleefully, before realizing with disappointment that the blood might leave a stain on the costly rug.

"Blinky—" she began again, stopping it from swinging the poker at its sobbing, wrinkled face.

"Dinky," it corrected instantly, and made a small "eep!" and slapped its hands over its mouth. Narcissa narrowed her eyes at it.

"Blinky," she repeated again darkly, clasping her hands behind her back in a stern manner. "Now you are beginning to irritate me," she uttered coldly. The house elf moaned piteously, large eyes filling with moisture. It was all Narcissa could do to not close the distance between them and kick the tiny monster out of her vision. Such disgusting little creatures, she thought with a curled lip. If only they weren't so efficient…

"Take the poker down to the kitchens. You may only stop when I instruct you to. Until I tell you specifically to stop you are to physically injure yourself as violently as possible. Am I clear?" Narcissa enunciated the words clearly and strictly, leaving no possible loophole for the elf to wriggle its way free of the punishment. The little maggots had a nasty habit of doing such if the instructions weren't clear enough. The elf nodded hastily, sobbing as it reached for the poker and disappearing from the room. Only when the elf was gone did she relax.

Narcissa lazily glided towards the window whose drapes remained open. Outside, she could see to the right the elaborate balcony that she and Lucius had often used, either for a midday lunch or a nighttime escapade. She scowled at it, feeling her face scrunch with the pressure of the muscles moving under her silky skin. Narcissa looked towards the gardens, spying an early frost on all the lovely flowers that immortalized them for one night. The icy layer faded the colors, made them frozen shadows of what they previously had been, but still created a unique beauty that she appreciated.

It is a shame that in the morning they will be dead, she mused, the irony not lost on her cynical soul. Beauty always had its cost. Except in a few cases, she thought smugly. But…even then, she had her doubts about that. Was the cost of her own beauty to be constantly worrying over the whereabouts of her husband when he was gone for a few weeks? She caught sight of one of the white peacocks that tended to strut aimlessly around the grounds, and couldn't help but be reminded of Lucius yet again.

Stupid bloody peacock, she cursed to herself silently. Doesn't it realize that it's below freezing out there? The conceited, puffed-up chicken is going to get itself killed. Her eyes widened in horror as she looked around her room swiftly, half expecting her old etiquette teacher to leap out and rap her on the knuckles for her internal cursing.

Face slipping into a small smile, she looked back at the peacock and felt the smile melt away, replaced by that brooding expression that would most likely form wrinkles. She quickly eased her face muscles into a blank look, but her thoughts weren't as easy to dissolve.

Lucius.

He had been gone for nearly three weeks now, past the point of it being only a business trip and slipping into the realm of possible danger. These times weren't exactly safe, and with those whispers of a new Dark power—she was a Malfoy, for Salazar's sake, so of course she would have heard—Narcissa couldn't help but worry. He was supposed to be gone a fortnight at worst; the longer he was away, the more worried she became.

She had attempted to placate her worries with her typical reassurances: Lucius was used to the less-than-shady dealings he participated in. She wasn't ignorant or stupid; the money was there, of course, but Malfoys required more than simply money to maintain power. The delicate balance of careful bribes, softly-spoken threats, and believable arse-kissing was necessary for Lucius to integrate himself into the Ministry as well as other private organizations with the least amount of notice.

Narcissa knew that this kind of maneuvering was necessary for the political power that Lucius craved. She was also aware of the fact that Lucius had been delving into shadier and shadier dealings as of late; she was almost positive it was in congruence with the afore-mentioned arising Dark power, a Dark power that she knew Lucius would be all too willing to ride to the top on.

She didn't mind his ambitious goals; they were simply a part of Lucius. But when they interfered with her own personal "alone" time with him…well, that was when she got a little irritated. And frustrated, she added to herself, remembering her earlier ire. And now I have completed a full circle…Lucius gone meant that she had spent a very lonely almost-three-weeks without him.

She walked towards the bed, contemplating her options. The pale blue nightgown that had been left out for her offered one option: sleep. There was also another option, one that could possibly temporarily sate a particularly frustrating feeling that hadn't left her since Lucius' last night at the Manor.

She thought about it briefly, but really, it was only a formality. Narcissa had made up her mind the instant she had ejected that Pinky from her room. With a soft sigh, she reached for the wand tucked in her wrist sheath that was stealthily obscured by fashionably frothy sleeves. She waved her wand and felt the laces that crawled up the back of her midnight blue dress untie and peel away from her back, leaving the revealed skin bare in the cool air. She dropped the wand carelessly on the bed, slid out of the dress and left it in a silky puddle on the floor.

She reached for her wand, raising it and waving it in the vague vicinity of the bathroom. Floating out of the marble room came Lucius' cologne bottle, which she delicately spritzed on her pillow before waving it back into the bathroom. Now the setting was complete. She grinned contentedly and tossed her wand haphazardly onto the bed.

Narcissa slipped underneath the sheets, reveling in the way the cool silk brushed her skin, leaving trails of goose bumps in its wake. Leaning back in bed, she idly trailed one manicured hand down her body, barely touching her skin with the very tips of her nails and feeling the flesh tighten deliciously. Her lashes fluttered closed, brushing the tops of her cheeks in a movement reminiscent of a butterfly's wings sinking down delicately. It wasn't that hard to imagine Lucius, leaning over from his side of the bed to whisper sinfully dark promises into the shell of her ear.

"Narcissa," he'd purr, pressing his lips to the skin behind her ear and allowing the syllables to caress their way across her scalp as his fingers teasingly delved into her moist folds. And then he'd breathe in deeply and say something romantic like, "Salazar's balls, Narcissa, did you sleep on the same bloody sheets for the past three weeks? It smells as if I barely left! I'm not touching you until you take a bath and wash that stench off you. If you've slept in the same sheets for three weeks, you're probably close to the equivalent of Mudblood-filth."

Narcissa opened her eyes, releasing an angry huff of air in the process. It was no use; fantasizing about Lucius was nearly impossible. She removed her fingers from the focus of her desire with a nose scrunched in disgust and groped for a handkerchief to wipe her fingers off daintily. She closed her eyes in hopelessness. Instead of finding the scrap of lace she had been searching for, a large hand wrapped around her wrist tightly.

"Allow me," a husky voice said, before a warm mouth clamped over her slender digits. She let out an involuntary gasp as her eyes snapped open. Familiar locks of icy blond glowed faintly in the moonlight and Narcissa felt the tight coil of nerves and worry in her gut ease and leave her body.

Home. He was home.

Suddenly remembering herself, she jerked her hand back angrily.

"Lucius," she greeted him, her tone one of cool indifference as she eased back on her pillow, utterly comfortable with the fact that her upper half was revealed for his eyes to rake. She soaked in his visage just as greedily. It was as if she were a starving man faced with a feast. His travel clothes looked fresh and pristine, with his silvery hair curling slightly over his shoulder in the dark ribbon that held it back. His grey eyes held only a hint of emotion, and that was only because she knew where to look for it.

Narcissa knew that if she were anyone but his wife and therefore someone who knew Lucius like she knew herself, right now she would only see him inspecting her with about as much passion as he would examine a shrubbery.

"Narcissa," he replied, his voice just as expressionless. She was afraid it was going to turn into one of their Silences, in which they both tried to outwait the other. And then he moved, and she unthinkingly moved to meet him.

It was bliss. Nearly three weeks was entirely too long for them to be apart; whenever she regained the function of her vocal cords, she would tell him so. But until then…she lost herself.

He tasted like cinnamon snowflakes. That was the only way she could describe it; snow didn't have a taste, but when it was Lucius Malfoy's lips, it tasted like cinnamon. Burning hot cinnamon that scalded every surface of her mouth, before it was cooled and frozen by the equally biting snow.

She was almost positive that it was a potion he always took before kissing her, or some cousin of Ogden's Old Firewhisky, perhaps Ogden's Old Icewhiskey or something ridiculously similar to that. Either way, however, her lips would tingle for hours afterwards, and she wasn't going to complain about something like that.

Narcissa could feel a very familiar smirk curving over his lips as he pulled away, and she stopped his retreat with a stealthy hand tightening in his hair, heedless of his confining ribbon.

"Miss me?" he asked impertinently. She resisted the urge to smack the self-satisfied grin off his face. That would be in violation of Rule #73: A lady does not assault her provider of revenue. She was pretty positive there had been a footnote stating that it was perfectly acceptable to assault any other person, as long as she did it with poise, dignity, and class.

"Not on your life," she said, the hardness entering her voice and transforming her words into a near-snarl, or it would have if Narcissa spoke without restraint. As it was, her voice hardly sounded angrier than her normal tone; if anything, there was only a touch more than normal of malice, a hint more of a sneer, that she knew Lucius would be able to pick up.

"But Cissy," he pouted, sticking out his delicious lower lip in a way that had Narcissa almost salivating. "It almost was." She knew he said it teasingly, but she also knew that he was telling the truth. She didn't want to confront that just yet, so she jerked his head down to hers sharply.

Their teeth clicked together, but she didn't care. All she cared about was getting those expensive clothes off him, and that was turning out to be similar to wrestling with a pit of quicksand. Meaning it was nearly impossible. She broke away from him, a harsh sound exiting her lips as she turned her attention to the row of buttons that fastened his vest together. His jacket had already disappeared to the left side of the bed. Lucius chuckled infuriating as he kissed a trail of burning ice down her neck, dipping between her breasts before she sucked in her breath, using that fine white blond hair to yank his head back up.

"Not yet," she growled at him, emphasizing her point by moving her knee dangerously close to the source of his desire, instantly stilling him. "I need to get these bloody clothes off you." He laughed lowly, midway through leaning further into her, regardless of her precariously placed knee and capturing her lips so she could feel the vibrations of his laugh traveling down her own throat. She jerked away from him again, shooting him a deadly glare.

"Do you kiss Draco with that mouth?" he questioned with a quirk of his eyebrow, grey eyes laughing at her struggles with his clothes.

"Yes and he's the only one who's going to be getting any kisses unless you get undressed right now," she snapped dangerously. His teasing manner was instantly gone at this very real threat from her. He knew, from previous experience, that Narcissa could be particularly vindictive when provoked—and that included withholding any and all sexual favors until she got her way.

She emphasized this point by dropping a hand to his crotch and gripping it too tightly, and his breath left his lungs in a low hiss.

"Now," she repeated again, a smirk twisting her lips. One arm bent by her head and supporting his weight, Lucius hit a switch on his palm and his wand came sliding out of his wrist sheath. It was with a pang of sadness that Narcissa noted this: it meant that he had needed to have his wand easily accessible, instantly accessible, on this past "business" trip.

She put it out of her mind, though, when the next word left his lips.

"Evanesco," he murmured, waving his wand over his clothes. They vanished and Narcissa resisted the urge to grin goofily. If she were anyone but a Malfoy she would have been concerned about the fact that he had just vanished around three thousand galleons of expensive fabric. Since she was a Malfoy she decided to ignore that fact and focus on the breathtakingly amazing sight that was in front of her: a certain Lucius Malfoy that she didn't mind seeing without clothes on at all.

"That's more like it," she said smugly. He sent an equally appreciative grin at her bare breasts, grinning as the steady rise and fall rhythm sped up just by his single glance.

"Much more agreeable," he conceded, before dipping down to catch her lips in another searing kiss. She wriggled one leg out to the side of the bed using flexibility gained from other sorts of illicit activities such as this one, snagged the end of the sheet with her toe and dragged it down, leaving the rest of their bodies pressed flush against each other. He groaned at the feeling and Narcissa smirked greedily. He took her momentary distraction to delve into her breasts, laving kisses and nibbles to the tender flesh that had tiny gasps escaping her lips.

"Feels nice, doesn't it?" she cooed to him, stroking his hair lovingly in between his not-so-careful nips. When he went to nod an affirmative, she threaded her fingers through his hair and yanked out the ribbon, pulling out a good few of the icy blond hairs with it. He emerged from her cleavage with a dark glare on his face.

"What was that for?" he growled angrily. She only smiled sweetly at him.

"Only a small fraction of the payback you're going to get," she replied innocently, before simultaneously pulling his head back down to hers for a kiss and tightly grasping the length of him. He groaned into her mouth. She took the opportunity to plunder his mouth, a near role reversal of their usual characters. She was merciless, alternatively squeezing tightly and biting his lips, his tongue, his cheeks—he was going to pay for making her wait.

Payback was a bitch. And that bitch was currently Narcissa Malfoy née Black.

He finally managed to pull away and give her a threatening look.

"Narcissa," he growled angrily, and she only gave him a saccharine smile and tightened her grip. He made a sound that was a cross between a groan, a moan, and a curse, before reaching down with his free hand and expertly parting her folds, reaching for her sensitive nub with eager fingers. He applied nearly the same amount of pressure as she had on his member, and she nearly lost it then and there. Stars erupted behind her eyes, and her breath exited in a whoosh while he continued to languorously rub the delicate flesh.

"Lucius," she ground out between her teeth, giving him a glare and reaching lower for his delicate sac, tightening her hand around those. His arm buckled and he partially fell over her, bringing his face close to hers. He looked almost cross-eyed, his hand lose on the source of her torment while he looked completely stunned with a tiny frown on his forehead. A breathy giggled escaped her, and she gave him a tiny kiss on his nose, overwhelmed with his cuteness. That seemed to revive him a bit, and he blinked almost stupidly before grinning mischievously.

He dropped a kiss on her nose, one that resulted in said nose wrinkling in an attempt to lock the sensation in place, before he place one on each eyelid. His grin widened when he noticed that when he was placing the light kiss on one eyelid, the other remained open, icy blue eyes constantly watching his moves. They might not have been openly attacking each other, but she was right to remain suspicious of him.

His feather light kisses trailed lower and lower down her body until he was squirming lower as well, attempting to stretch himself out comfortably without moving her. It wasn't that hard of a feat, since their bed could have easily fit a dozen additional couples, if they were the type to have an orgy or two.

They weren't, but the amount of action the bed had seen was equivalent to numerous orgies, so Lucius was sure that it more than made up for their lack of crazy sex parties.

He had reached the delicate curls that guarded her entrance. He felt a genuine smile curve his lips as he paused for a moment to look up the length of his wife. His. He couldn't help but feel a trill in his heart every time he thought of that, even though it had been true for a number of years now. The moonlight made the sweat on her skin glisten faintly, creating a near glow to her pearly flesh. Her golden hair was cast in a halo around her head, eyes closed and plump lips parted. He fancied that she looked like an angel.

Definitely not one from Heaven, though, he amended hastily when she cracked an eye, scowled at him, and lazily reached down to nearly shove his face into her core. He chuckled, causing a shiver to dance up her form from the sensation of his cool breath sweeping over her burning center. She didn't beg, but the way her legs tightened around his head and her fingers tangled into his hair, he knew she was doing just that. He didn't consider the possibility of refusing as he pushed himself the few millimeters closer to her and swiped his tongue along her lips.

Narcissa trembled like a leaf at that initial touch, and when he halted, refusing to do anything else, she bared her teeth, ignoring the fact that he couldn't see her, and pulled sharply on his hair. He savagely exhaled, and she felt another shuddering breath exit her lungs. Tentatively, teasingly, he reached out with his tongue and poked gently at her bundle of nerves. She writhed, trying to get closer to him and failing while trying to get away from him at the same time. She wanted to yell at him, to tell him to hurry the hell up, but knew that he wouldn't be rushed until he wanted to.

When he suddenly dipped closer and sucked her clitoris into his mouth, she sucked in a gasp at the wild sensation of it. The gradual coil of warmth that had slowly been building seemed to double in the pit of her stomach, and she clenched her muscles around it, attempting to pin it into place. It didn't help when he maneuvered a hand between her legs to tickle her gently, tracing around and around her lips but never giving her the penetration that she craved.

She knew that Lucius was a master at this; after all, he had years of experience of learning just what pushed her closer and closer to the edge, yet still only kept her on this side of it, toeing the line dangerously. He would build her up until she was positive she would explode outwards from the warmth in her stomach, and then just ease her back down with soft touches when she wanted him to just shove into her and end it.

"Lucius!" she said, the syllables dragging out in a half-moan, half-whine. He used his hands to pull his head out of her thighs, grinning up at her like the cat that had caught the canary. She didn't stop the groan that slipped past her lips; she had been this close…he cocked his tousled head at her, cheeks flushed pink with exertion while his lips curved into a sinful smile.

"Yes, Narcissa?" he asked politely. She felt like pulling her hair out—or better yet, his—but decided that the only way this was going to work was if she forced him to do what she wanted him to do. It was simple to spy her discarded wand on his side of the bed, untangle her legs from his shoulders, and dive for the slender piece of wood. A single spoken word and he was flipped over. She wasted no time in reaching for the throbbing muscle that was the source of her current hunger. The groan that was pushed between his teeth had her grinning triumphantly.

"Something wrong, dear?" she questioned innocently.

"Narcissa—" he began in a gravelly voice, and she cocked her head, mirroring his actions while she tightened her grip.

"Oh, you mean you want this?" she questioned, turning her attention to the length of flesh protruding from the nest of white blonde hair, stroking her nails gently along the soft-yet-firm skin and delighting in the squirms she got from him. She lowered her head, grinning malevolently when her hair swept over the point of his agitation and he twitched violently.

"Doesn't it feel good?" she purred, pressing a kiss to the base of his manhood. He groaned aloud, not making any attempt to disguise the noise. She missed him stealthily reaching for his own wand, but she didn't miss it when her wand was flying away towards the corner of the room and she was suddenly pinned down by a very livid, very horny Lucius Malfoy.

"You'll pay for that," he nearly snarled, a dark look entering his eyes. An equally enraged look crossed her face and she attempted to snap her head forward to bite at his nose. He jerked back at just the right moment, her teeth clicking in the empty air. He looked down at her, grimly amused, before he transferred her left wrist to his other hand, holding them above her head as he trailed his hand lower, stopping at her hip.

Narcissa didn't have a moment to think when his hand tightened painfully on her hip and he thrust forward at the same time.

A gasp slipped through her lips, eyes fluttering closed with bliss. The coiling, twisting heat in her abdomen seemed to double, and she didn't want it to stop.

"Again," she commanded sharply, wriggling her hips for emphasis. Lucius had a curiously frustrated look on his face, and she knew exactly what he was thinking of. He had informed her long ago that when he tried to regain control, he recited the Magna Carta, the agreement between the baron wizards and the Muggle King John I, in original Latin. She allowed him a few seconds to regain his composure before clamping her inner walls tightly on him, and he groaned.

"You're not helping," he told her sharply, and she lightly lifted her shoulders in a shrug.

"Again," she insisted, and then suddenly, he was moving, and it was all she could do to meet him, thrust for deliciously painful thrust. She wanted to scream when she felt the tension building to insurmountable heights, knowing that he felt it too, if his increasingly frenzied thrusts were anything to go by. She managed to free her hands, one hand holding tightly onto his forearm while the other reached up to tangle in his wildly disarrayed hair, using them as handholds to push herself down harder and faster.

When the stars behind her eyes turned into a maddening glow that she was positive was going to blind her, she snapped open her eyes to catch Lucius' wild grey eyes, feeling the tension coil low in her belly and knowing that any second, any second she would just burst into a million tiny pieces of priceless Narcissa bits and she'd cease to exist as solely Narcissa, and just be whatever was left when her pieces melded with his tiny pieces of Lucius and they were one entity, Narcius or Lucissa—

And the scream tore itself from her throat as wave after wave of wondrous release rocketed her body, mirrored by her shimmering other half that was frozen in a moment of pure ecstasy, hot scalding rivers of pleasure pushing its way through her core and into her veins, circulating in dizzying circles until she wasn't sure if it was so wondrous that it was painful or if it was simply so painful it was wondrous.

He collapsed on her, taking a moment to settle his racing blood before rolling off her slightly, not wanting to smother her. She lay gasping, chest heaving with each breath as her muscles twitched in hundreds of tiny aftershocks. She cracked her eyes open and glanced at him, seeing that Lucius was having the same troubles with controlling his muscles. What was that she had thought? Oh, right, she thought, remembering with a giggle that had him peering at her from behind a curtain of silken hair.

"What?" he croaked, scowling as she giggled further.

"Narcius," she managed to say, before curling around her middle, attempting to hold herself together. "We were Narcius for a moment. You felt it, didn't you?" He was quiet as he watched her giggle to herself, before cracking a smile at her.

"That's absurd," he stated, but didn't say anything that he could have said. Her giggles subsided, and her breathing slowly calmed down as they lay there, soaking in the essence of the moment.

Narcissa didn't want to think about anything, but, inevitably, thoughts crept back into her head like stealthy thieves. She only had to look at Lucius to know that he was having the same problems with his own pesky thoughts, and frowned lightly to herself to deal with those thoughts. She couldn't help but have one of those sickening accurate feelings when thinking about Lucius' absences. She knew he was going to be gone more frequently in the coming weeks, but didn't want to dwell on it too much. The Dark power was gaining strength as it went. She was positive that Lucius had already been drawn to it.

She reached out a hand and pulled his left arm to her, wrapping herself around it like a teddy bear. She hugged it tightly, pressing a light kiss to his upper arm before turning her face to his.

"Promise me," she started, her voice dark with suppressed emotion as she looked into his serious grey eyes. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you'll return home." His expression softened marginally and he shifted so he could draw her into his arms. He didn't say anything for a long time and Narcissa was afraid that he wouldn't answer at all, because he couldn't tell her what she wanted to hear without lying.

"I can't promise that, love," he told her eventually, the endearment sounding strange on his lips. Lucius typically only showed his love through actions, not words, so she knew that he was deathly serious about this. She didn't want to cry, but a stray sniffle escaped that had his grip on her tightening.

Suddenly, she felt an insane urge to convince him to stay, to never leave the Manor and do the biding of that Dark power. It was perfectly plausible; they had enough money that they could live comfortably until it all blew over. They could have the house elves get their food, and clothing, and invite people over if they were feeling particularly sociable…

She scrambled out of his embrace, going for the corner where she knew he had thrown her wand. He sat up on one hand, watching impassively as her slender form darted out of the moonlight and into the shadows, eyes searching the shadows for a dimly gleaning piece of ivory wood. When she found it, she picked it up, turning back to Lucius with a grim expression on her face.

"Accio Robe," she commanded, catching the green silk as it flew at her and tying it securely. "Get up," she told Lucius, and he pulled himself to the edge of the bed, found his wand and repeated her actions. She strode up to him, reached for his hand, and forcibly dragged him from the room. They didn't have to walk long; her destination wasn't that far from their bedroom. She pushed open the door forcefully, but still taking care not to make a sound. She pulled Lucius into the room and didn't stop until they could clearly see what she had been bringing him to see.

Draco, nearly a year old, was sleeping peacefully in an elaborately carved cradle. The mobile above his head was of flying dragons, darting around in a sleepy fashion. They sparkled jeweled tones in the moonlight. Softy feathery down hair crowned his head, a miniscule hand tightened into a fist of tiny fingernails. Narcissa felt love and desperation swelling up in her chest, fighting for dominance.

"Lucius," she said, voice dark with suppressed emotion and the wish for quiet. "If you can't return for me, stay for him." She watched his face closely, hoping that he'd see reason and promise to remain for their son. She knew, though, that it was an irrational hope, no matter how reasonable it might sound.

The internal conflict only reflected in the way his eyes took in his son, before looking back at Narcissa. She saw that he had made his choice, and had to stifle her sob, half turning away from him to hide her tears. She felt herself pulled into his tight embrace, returning it with a fierceness that nearly shocked her. Narcissa could feel the tears streaking down her cheeks, wetting his robe, and Lucius just clutched her tightly to him, lips pressed to her head.

"I can't," he repeated in a whisper, and she felt her heart break a bit, knowing that eventually they would all have to pay the price for his ambition. Her grip tightened, and she squeezed her eyes shut, burying her head on his chest.

Regardless of whether or not it would tear them apart, she was determined to hold her family together, no matter what the cost.

A/N: This is written for Imperial Princess as her 500th reviewer prize! Woo! I'm so fast at this! I'm hoping to finish my other oneshot, the one in response to rowan-greenleaf's prompt, sometime this weekend. Hopefully.

Thank you Melissa so much for risking your asthma and going through this, even though you knew I hadn't looked over it at all. At ALL. For that kind of torture you deserve a medal.

This is my first Lucius/Narcissa fic, so please let me know if you think I captured their personalities right. I'm really new to them and I had to get into their characters by reading some extremely cute fanart by Makani of them. If you want to know what site has so many fantastically hilarious drawings of them, review and I'll respond with the URL!

Roma