Narcissa Black had gone back to school filled with smug excitement and with a great glistening rock on her hand. She took every possible opportunity to show it off.

Most of her housemates reacted with the appropriate envious glee, but a few scoffed at her; they said it was just to cover a scandal, or was all a lie, or at the least was doomed for they were too young and too foolish.

Narcissa, sensibly, told the naysayers not to be jealous and flounced off happily. Not even impending N.E.W.T.s—or war—could put a damper on her high spirits. She was engaged to the most marvelous, perfect young man ever to come out of Slytherin house, and her ring was magnificent.

Certainly it was prettier (and pricier) than the one that Rodolphus had handed her sister. Now that was baffling. Narcissa had hardly ever even heard Bella speak about Rodolphus Lestrange, and certainly never in a romantic way. She'd asked her sister when she'd fallen in love him and Bella had just stared at her blankly, told her not to be an idiot, and walked away.

Narcissa had a feeling that Bella didn't actually care about her fiancé at all and, worse, she had a terribly sinking feeling that the whole affair was, somehow, her fault.

She pushed that out of her mind. If Bellatrix had proven anything these last few years, it was that she took no one's counsel but her own—and that of her Dark Lord, of course. Bella would do anything for him. Narcissa wondered how Rodolphus must feel, always knowing that he would come in second to their master but, she supposed, he sounded every bit as devoted to the Dark Lord as Bella was. Maybe they had that in common.

Narcissa comforted herself with the smug thought that Lucius, at least, would ever answer to the Dark Lord second. Narcissa herself would always, always come first. She grinned, tilted her hand to better catch the sunlight, and admired her ring again. It really was just so pretty—

"Almost as pretty as you," Lucius had said, when she'd asked him how he'd picked such a perfect piece for her. "I just looked for the one that was almost as pretty as you."

Oh, he was just perfect, her darling Lucius was.

Now if only their parents could get things sorted out…

Abraxas had come around, just as Lucius had said that he would have to, but he still wasn't making things easy. To be fair, though, neither was Narcissa's father. Cygnus Black seemed to have taken the rather scandalous incident in the garden as an insult—well, granted, Lucius had been terribly insulting, hadn't he? But oh so charming, of course, at the same time, just like he always was—but Cygnus, grumpily, was dragging his feet in drawing up the marriage contract, and Abraxas was doing nothing to help speed things along.

The two fathers had been arguing about it for weeks. In fact, Narcissa's mother was beginning to be quite cross with her husband; there was a Malfoy on the line, after all—again!—and she wanted to get started planning the wedding. It was a marital coup, this union, and the celebration of it thus had to be appropriately ostentatious and elaborate.

But nothing could be done until the fathers came to an agreement on the financial aspects of the merger, and they didn't seem inclined to rush.

All of this delay was driving Narcissa absolutely spare, and she knew from his letters that Lucius was likewise on the brink of losing what little temper he had left. She wondered if her father and Abraxas knew how very lucky they were that Lucius was a Death Eater now; all that business for the Dark Lord kept him distracted and furthermore gave him somewhere to take out his frustrations.

They'd just better have everything sorted out by the time graduation came, Narcissa silently vowed. It was one thing to endure delay while she was stuck in school, unable to see Lucius except for the occasional meeting at Hogsmede, but if she had to keep waiting for the wedding after she was home, well…

Well, then, Lucius Malfoy would be the least of their fathers' worries.

... ... ...

There were buds on the trees and flowers poking up through the rich, dark earth in the gardens. The marble had been freshly scrubbed and the windows gleamed like they were made of diamond. Spring had come to Malfoy Manor, but the interior of the estate was not nearly as pretty or peaceable as the exterior would have led any passing observer to assume.

The heavy door to the study flung open to reveal a scowling Lucius Malfoy. "For Merlin's sake, father," he snapped, "just give them whatever they want already!"

Misters Black and Malfoy turned to gape at the interruption. "Lucius, how dare—" his father began but, as he so often did, Lucius ignored him.

He strode over to the desk on which the paperwork was sitting. Abraxas slammed his hands down on top of it. "What do you think you're doing, boy?" he snapped. "You're not permitted to be involved in—"

"I'm tired of waiting," Lucius retorted. "Just give them a pile of gold, buy me the girl, and let's have done with this nonsense."

Both fathers sputtered in outrage. Lucius rolled his eyes, the very picture of impatient annoyance. "Narcissa will be done with school in less than two months," he said petulantly, "and I'd like to have the wedding right after, so we need to get all these tedious preliminaries out of the way quickly if there's going to be time to make all the necessary arrangements."

"There's no need to rush, Lucius," Mr. Black began, but Lucius just scowled at him.

"Do you have any idea how excruciating it's been, all this waiting?" he said shortly. "It's interminable, and I'm done with it. I want to just have the blasted wedding so Cissa can be mine finally, officially."

Abraxas smirked unkindly. "Whatever spell of allure the girl's got you under, boy," he sneered at his son, "the secret of what's under her skirts is hardly reason to flail about so pathetically. You'll have people thinking you—"

"Oh please," responded Lucius, "we've managed that much already, obviously." Both fathers stared at him in shock, Cygnus Black's palid cheeks going apoplectically red.

"So that's the reason for all the rush!" Abraxas crowed. "You've gotten the girl in a state, and now you're desperate to hide the scandal!"

"Don't be absurd," Lucius sneered coldly. "We're hardly that stupid." Mr. Black's color stabilized somewhat, although his complexion was still splotchy; he was deflating, slightly, and it looked like the power of speech might soon return. "I'm just tired of having to go to all the trouble of sneaking off every time I want to see her," Lucius continued bluntly. "I want Cissa, and I want her with me, all the time, not just in snatched moments here and there. I want to have this wedding so I can take her home and keep her forever."

It took both fathers a moment to recover from the boy's blatant disregard of propriety. Abraxas got there first, snapping at his counterpart, "you hear that? I'm hardly going to pay full price for damaged goods, Cygnus, so you can just—"

"Father I'll curse you," Lucius interrupted flatly, "if you ever say anything that insulting about Narcissa again."

Abraxas stared at him and sputtered, wordless.

"You've—my daughter—" Mr. Black stammered, looking outraged.

Lucius stepped around his gaping father and plucked the fanciest, most official-looking bit of parchment off the desk. He seemed to be ignoring his intended's father as calmly as he was his own. "This all seems reasonable," he said, skimming the proposed contract. "Father, just sign the damn thing."

"I—I most certainly will not!" Abraxas declared. "It's a—a farce—an outrage—hardly going to make that deal, not for a—a—a girl who's already—"

"Fine," Lucius growled, "then I will." He picked up the quill and turned the parchment to face him.

"You will not!" Abraxas shouted. "Of all the—a boy signing his own marriage contract, when his father's still alive to do it for him? It's—it's unheard of! I'll never—"

"Then. Sign. It," Lucius commanded through his teeth.

No one moved. Abraxas glared at his son, their grey eyes identical mirrors of icy hatred.

"I'm of age," Lucius reminded his father, "I can sign it myself, if you won't. And I'm done waiting." The quill dripped, leaving a single dark mark of ink on the edge of the heavy parchment of the marriage contract. "Well?" Lucius demanded coldly.

Abraxas's face went white, then red. He stared at Cygnus, and at his insolent son. With a snarl, he shoved Lucius aside, snatched the quill, and scribbled his name. Then he slammed the broken feather down on the desk and stalked from the room.

Lucius turned to Mr. Black and grinned. "So," he said, "when can we have the wedding?"