"One butterpumpkin coffee, please."

"The lady's drink is on me," a low, silken voice purred above her left ear. Narcissa froze and watched, as though in a trace, a large hand, roughened by Quidditch but still unbearably sensual, slide several sickles across the counter. The movement caused a firmly muscled chest to brush against her shoulder. Her breath caught. That scent- that cool, clean, spicy male scent- made her head spin.

Three years. Three years to the day. Very nearly to the hour.

"That's very kind of you," she said cordially, fingering the clasp of her clutch, unable to lift her head.

"Here you are, ma'am," the barista chirped.

"Thank you," Narcissa murmured, accepting the beverage, still rooted to the spot, now holding up the line.

"Perhaps we should go take a seat. There's a free table by the window." He took her elbow firmly but gently, guiding her towards the aforementioned spot. She allowed him to lead her, eyes glued to the floor. He pulled her chair out and waited for her to settle before taking the seat across from her.

Narcissa stared into the creamy drink, swirling it and deeply inhaling the rich aroma. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she struggled in vain to find something witty or meaningful to say. She came up blank, and so continued to stare.

"Narcissa..." his tone was strained and low. "Please, look at me."

It was the pain in his voice that did it. Her eyes lifted immediately, bright with concern, and she sighed his name softly.

"Lucius."

He looked older. His hair was longer, damp from the rain, and his robes were more adult and tailored, but his eyes... She searched them for several long moments looking for that boyish, mischievous sparkle, that naughty little glimmer that make her want roll her eyes and kiss him, that flash of excitement and suppressed glee, always suffused with insatiable want...

It was gone.

Where was it? she worried. What had she missed in the past three years that had taken that away? What had she been thinking back then, letting him go to be hurt?

"How... er, how have you been?"

"I've been working at the ministry, Narcissa. Long hours."

She waited, but no more was forthcoming. "And... how are your parents?"

"They're fine, Narcissa. I actually haven't seen them terribly often. I'm living in London, in a flat nearby."

Though his words were clipped and distant, his eyes raked her face, and he stared at her like a starving man being offered a meal for the first time in...

Well. The first time in three years.

"That's lovely. I've actually been working too, mostly to get out of the house, in a darling little boutique in Diagon Alley. I've been seeing a lot of Bella and Roddy, too- d'you think they'll ever get married?" she gave a little nervous laugh, aware that she was rambling but unable to stop. "I mean, everyone's been expecting it since they graduated, but he still hasn't asked her..."

Lucius nodded, knowing exactly why they had not yet had a wedding, but holding his tongue.

"He'll ask soon, Narcissa," Lucius told her briefly.

"Really? Well, that's just wonderful. I do love wed-"

"Are you seeing anyone, Narcissa?" Despite his best efforts, the question still sounded far too intense, much too desperate. Narcissa frowned, staring down into her coffee. Her silence seemed to stretch on for an eternity, and Lucius felt every second of it as his heart pounded in his throat and his mouth went dry. Please, say no. Please, please-

"Of course I'm not, Lucius." For a split second a grin broke across his face, but immediately vanished when he recognized her tone as angry, and her words as hurt. "You made sure of that, didn't you? Of course I couldn't be seeing anyone else- not when I have a deep sense of conviction that every man who looks my way doesn't truly care about me. Sweet men, kind men who I've dated, men I push away the moment they lean in for a kiss because- Merlin, that's all they want, isn't it? No matter how many times I tell myself that they aren't you, that there are good people out there..." she broke off, burying her face in her hands. "I hate you, Lucius, for stealing any trust I could ever have in men. I hate you for how lonely I've been because of it. I hate you for making me love you- I was just a little girl, Lucius. How could you do that to me?"

She wasn't really angry, not anymore, but the sense of feeling betrayed and deceived had never left. Nor had the deep, abiding love lessened for even a moment. And for that, she hated herself.

"Narcissa," his voice was an agonized rasp. Lifting her head, she saw that his eyes were clenched shut and his jaw was tight, his face towards that table in what may have been shame. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I know saying it doesn't make a difference, not even now, when I've had three years worth of nights to lie awake and wish I could go back and change how it started, three years of dreaming of you, of having to go through my life as if you weren't a part of it- as if you'd never been a part of it. Three years of visiting Rodolphus and Bellatrix at every possible chance, hoping one of them would slip and mention your name, so I could feign disinterest while trying to find out how you were, what you were doing with your life. I've deserved every bit of pain I've felt over the past three years, because I know it doesn't even begin to touch the pain I've put you through. And I regret hurting you. If staying out of your life forever would hurt you less- I would do it. But Narcissa, you're not happy either."

"I won't come running back to you. I won't fall into your arms and let you- you- Lucius, how am I ever suppose to trust that you love me? It felt real the first time-"

"It was real the first time," he cut in swiftly. "Of course it was real. I was stupid then- when I first asked you out, it never occurred to me that I would love you; it never even occurred to me that I could fall in love! But that doesn't mean I didn't; that I couldn't. Narcissa-" he drew a deep breath. "I want you to marry me. I wanted it since that night when I finally realized it, when I woke you up to tell you I loved you. I was stupid," he repeated, "I thought that by loving you, everything would work out. I thought... I thought it was enough to make up for my mistakes."

For a long moment, neither spoke. Lucius reached into his pocket, and set something on the table.

"Think about it, Narcissa. That's all I ask." He rose slowly, giving her plenty of time to ask him to stay. She did no such thing- she didn't even look up. Instead she stared, almost vacantly, at the small black box he'd put down. He turned to go, and it took all his will power not to look back. He prayed with each step that she would call him back, and at the door of the small shop, he paused. He couldn't leave like this. He glanced over his shoulder, but she was still staring at the box. Defeated, he slipped out the door.

Fingers shaking, Narcissa reached out, scarcely daring to believe...

But there it was. The diamond shone obscenely in the dim lighting, far too beautiful and elegant to be in a cheap cafe. This ring deserved ball gowns and galas, and the ornate scrolling suggested 'M's on either side of the gem; clearly a family heirloom. She couldn't possibly keep it. Best thing to do would be send it back by owl; avoid another confrontation. She had told him what she needed to, and she didn't need see him ever again.

The mere thought made her stomach drop. Seemingly on its own accord, her right hand lifted the ring, and slid it on to the fourth finger of her left. It was a perfect fit.

What was she doing? By now, she didn't care. All she could recall were Andromeda's words that day on the train: If you can't not love him... Though her sister, it had become apparent last year, had had ulterior motives for that little speech. Still, she simply didn't care. Abandoning her unsipped beverage, she sprang to her feet and rushed out of the shop, terrified that it was too late. She stumbled onto the busy street, panicking for a moment as her eyes darted over wet cloaked figure as people scuttled about to reach dry shops. However, she didn't have to look far: on a bench, several yards away, Lucius sat with his elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands, seemingly unconscious of the fact that he was becoming drenched. She ran over, skidding haphazardly on the slick cobblestones.

"Lucius." She stood before him, and he raised his head at the sound of her voice. His eyes flickered from her face to her left hand, where the ring shone impossibly in the drear.

"Does this mean yes?" he whispered, hardly daring to believe, but wanting it so badly. Tears welled in her eyes, against her will, as she nodded silently.

And then, he was kissing her. One arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other around her waist, crushing her to him as he moved their mouths together in a manner that made her head spin- had always made her head spin. It was so right, so familiar, and it suddenly didn't matter that they had three years to make up for. His tongue slid between her lips and a low sound reverberated in his throat as he dragged her even closer.

"I've missed you so much," he whispered, breaking the contact of their lips only to steal quick gasps of air. "I've thought about you every single day. And night. All the time."

She gave a sad, rueful smile. "That's sweet of you to say. But look at you; you've changed." She stroked his cheek softly. "I can't have been the only thing on your mind."

"Narcissa," he whispered roughly, fingers gripping her face too tightly, too desperately. "You don't believe me?"

"Well, Lucius. I've though of you often too, certainly daily, but we're two different people, now. We've grown up. We've-"

"I haven't touched a woman in three years, Narcissa," he blurted abruptly. "And I-"

"What?" Narcissa gasped. "You haven't had sex in three years?"

"Not just sex- I haven't even been able to look at another woman. I haven't taken a warm shower since the day you told me you wouldn't forgive me. I haven't had a good night's sleep or been able to appreciate a nice day or-"

Narcissa cut him off by pressing her lips to his once more, for a brief, vigorous moment, before seizing his hand and leading him through the streets. The rain had stopped, but there were still puddles collected in the cobblestones. Narcissa plowed through them recklessly.

"Where are we going?"

"To make up for three very, very long years."