Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Harry Potter. This is a non-profit story written for my pleasure and, hopefully, yours.

Pairing: Lucius/Narcissa (did I mention we need more of them? I did? Good, because we do).

Rating: M (sexual situation)

Summary: After being set free from Azkaban, Lucius returns to Narcissa.

Time frame: This happens between the 6th and 7th book, as Lucius apparently got out of Azkaban somewhere between HBP and DH.

Forevermore

Lucius stood in front of the mansion. Home. If he was being honest, he didn't think he would see this place ever again: perhaps that was the reason why it didn't feel like home anymore.

Lucius took a deep breath, and started walking towards the Malfoy manor. The door opened with the lightest touch of his fingers, recognizing him immediately. He stepped inside: the place seemed empty, but it was no surprise to Lucius. It was fairly late: both Narcissa and Draco ought to be asleep. He stood there for a short while, wondering what he should do: it felt awkward, as though he did not belong there anymore. It was very strange to feel like an intruder in his own house. After a couple of minutes, the Death Eater gathered his thoughts and climbed up the wooden stairs.

His steps instinctively took him to his bedroom: the door was half closed, and he could see the lights in the room, indicating that Narcissa was not sleeping yet. He froze there again. Did she know he was going to be taken out of Azkaban this night? Was she expecting him? Did she even want to see him, did she want anything to do with him in his current state? Slowly, carefully, he pushed the door to have a look inside the elegant room.

At the very same moment he glanced into the master's bedroom, Narcissa walked out their private bathroom, a purple towel around her body, and her long, golden hair tied up. Lucius held his breath, not daring to show himself just yet. Oblivious to her husband's presence in the door frame, she sat in front of her mirror, her eyes on her beautiful reflection. Lucius smiled faintly, he knew her routine by heart. First, she would use the creamy oil that made her skin softer than the finest silk, and then she wou take the bottle in front of her to put on her neck two drops of that perfume that gave her the scent of the most beautiful rose. He watched in silence as she massaged the scented oil into her alabaster skin, her long fingers running on her delicate skin.

Once she was done with the lotion, she - has Lucius knew she would do - picked up the bottle of perfume. Narcissa tilted her head to the side, and the clear perfume fell on her long neck once, twice, and she put back the bottle where it belong. Only at that point did Lucius manage to gather enough courage to speak.

"Narcissa."

The sound of his own voice surprised him: it was very harsh, very rasp as it pronounced her soft name - it almost felt like he was hurting the delicate name with his roached voice. Granted, he hadn't spoken in a long time - perhaps he should have practiced first, to avoid startling her? Narcissa quickly turned around, her eyes widening as she realized that her beloved husband was less than ten steps away from her.

"Lucius," she managed to whisper, her throat suddenly dry and without air.

For the first few moments she did not move a muscle - was he truly there? Was he real, or was he a dream haunting her after she had fallen asleep in her bathtub? She feared that moving would make him vanish, but the broken man took her hesitation and awe for disgust and repulsion. Of course she was disgusted at him - he did not need to catch a glimpse of his own reflection in a mirror to know that he did not look remotely worthy of her love and desire anymore, but as he took a step back, her voice rose again, louder this time, finally able to utter more than just a murmur:

"Don't you dare," she said, taking a single step towards him, "If you are not a dream, don't you dare walk away from me-"

And before any of them knew it, Lucius had closed the distance between them, cupping her face between his hands, ever so gently. His hands had grown callous and bruised during his time in Azkaban, and his body had grown thinner, quite noticeably so. His hair, once silky platinum locks, was a mess of dirty, greasy, entangled silvery blond hair, he had never been further from a close shave, and the overall look of his alabaster skin left no doubt that showers were few and in between in Azkaban, but Narcissa did not care about any of this - in fact, she did not even see any of this at this very moment, for all that mattered was the fact that he was there with her at long last.

"I'm sorry," he told her, removing his hands as he was reminded that he was filthier than he had ever been in his entire life, and that she was fresh out of her bath, "I'll-"

"I'll go take a shower right now," was what he meant to say, but his wife never let him finish, instead throwing her arms behind his neck to hug him tightly. It seemed to him that getting clean - at least physically - would make him worthy of her touch once more, but Narcissa did not seem to share his preoccupation, and so he decided to forget it as well, burying his face in her long, elegant neck, the delicate smell of her rose perfume tickling his nose, a hand to the small of her back to hold her close. As he lifted his head a little, leaning his forehead against her - for Narcissa was almost as tall as he was, being of the same slender build - before he slowly started to lean forward to try and kiss her, her pale finger on his now dried lips stopped him.

"Love," he whispered, "Either have me or don't, but anything in the middle ground is nothing short of torture to me."

She gently smiled to him.

"Where were we when we made love for the first time?" Narcissa softly asked.

The question took him aback for about half a second before he realized that she was trying to figure out whether or not he truly was Lucius Malfoy. Anyone with even the slightest knowledge of the Black family and their traditions would assume that absolutely nothing had happened before the wedding ceremony, which had been planned since they had been children - no one knew that they had gone to their marriage bed with a head start, because no one knew that they had fallen for each others along the way.

"In Hogwarts," he replied, "It was the last day of my seventh year, and you still had one year to go. I took you for a walk in the park - where better to be alone with you when rain was literally pouring that day - and you didn't want me to leave you."

The answer was sufficient for Narcissa, but Lucius continued, a dreamy smile lingering on his lips:

"I think you were afraid that I might forget you if I did not see you every single day, and the thought crossed my mind, too - but when we kissed and I realized that this time, you wanted more than a mere kiss, then I knew I could never forget you."

A faint smile lingered on Narcissa's pink lips as the memories came back to her, as clear and as vivid as they had felt on that rainy day: the water running on their naked skin, not cold enough to cool off their heads. She remembered being afraid of pain if he claimed her too eagerly, but Lucius had been incredibly gentle and patient - to this day, she still remembered every light touch, every butterfly-like kiss on her soft, wet skin.

"Need anymore convincing?" he asked her.

"No," she murmured before sealing his lips with a kiss.

The kiss quickly escalated from soft and chaste to passionate and hungry: it had been many months since they had last seen each others, and both of them clearly longed for the other's touch. Narcissa's hands tore whatever fabric was covering Lucius' body - which was nothing short of rags, anyway - her hands hastily running over his pale skin as she revealed it to the dim light of the bedroom. Lucius' hands make quick work of the fluffy towel that covered her body, for he, too, was eager to see and touch his spouse at long last. He worked his way down her sensitive neck with kisses as his hands got a hold of her round breasts, gently touching them before he decided to replace his fingers with his tongue and lips, which earned him pleasured sighs when his agile tongue began teasing the sensitive pink nipples, causing them to harden under his touch. A soft moan escaped her parted lips and she dug her fingers into his hair when he nibbled her every so gently, his hands squeezing her firm buttocks.

Ever so carefully, he lifted her off her feet, and when she put her long legs around him to hold herself close as they fell on the soft, warm bed, he felt her wetness brush lightly against his hardened manhood - he could have entered her at this very moment, eager that he was to be with her again after so long, but he had missed his wife so dearly that he felt like his seventeen year-old self, curious to see and touch every tiny part of her. He wanted to take his time, he wanted to savour this moment. A part of him feared death at the end of the Dark Lord in quite a near future, and if that was the case he intended to take every single memory about Narcissa he could to his grave. Lucius kissed his way down her stomach, fingers trailing down her rib cage, tongue teasing the sensitive skin of her lower belly, his hands initially falling to the curve of her hips before he ran them on her pale legs.

Lucius' first kiss on her inner thigh startled Narcissa - not because she had not been expecting his mouth, but because she had not expected the abrasive feel of his face, which had not been shaven in days. She, however, was quick to forget the slightly unpleasant sensation when he gave her another kiss on her fragile skin, higher, then another one, and another one, until his lips found her sweetest spot, and his tongue, Merlin, his tongue - a faint moan escaped her mouth as she threw her head back in the soft pillows, her eyes closed, her body fully aware of even the most subtle things he did.

"Oh, Lucius," she breathed, digging her fingers in his once-silky hair.

Her sultry voice quickly filled the room with her pleasured moan, each of them adding to Lucius' excitation. He had missed everything about her - her refined perfume, the softness of her alabaster skin, the love and lust in her sky blue eyes when she looked at him, the sound of her breathing, the sound of her voice in ecstasy, her sweet taste on his tongue - every single part of her, Lucius had missed very dearly. Subtlety, Narcissa began moving her hips in tandem with his lips and tongue, and he knew that she could not be very far now.

So he stopped, straightening his upper body, with a smirk on his lips and a mischievous glee in his steel grey eyes. Absolutely outraged, Narcissa opened her eyes to glare at him - she hated to be toyed with, and he knew it very well. It had always amused him to, quite literally, push her buttons.

"Lucius," she hissed menacingly, her eyes barely getting softer when he replaced his expert mouth by his agile fingers.

She was in no mood for his little games. She had missed him, and she wanted him - now.

"It's been a long time, love," he said to her ear, two fingers slowly moving in and out of her as he whispered to her. "There is no reason to rush anything."

Again, he straightened his chest, his free hand caressing her warm cheek. Her face was still flushed from the near-orgasm she had just had.

"I want to see you," his thumb lingered on her parted lips. "All of you - open your eyes. Look at me."

And as she obeyed, digging her lusty eyes in his own, Lucius increased the pace of his fingers inside of her, until her loud moans filled his ears again, and she moved her hips with him, harder and faster. She was so incredibly close again, but this time, he did not deny her, and granted her the release she had been begging for. Her back arched, her nipples hardened, her muscles stiffened and her toes curled and she voiced her ecstasy, her face progressively relaxing until all the tension was gone and nothing but pure bliss was on her elegant features. A faint smile curved his lips as he took a mental picture of how she was at this very moment.

"Lucius," she begged to his ear as she brought her body closer to his, her breasts pressed against his chest, "Please-"

There was no need for her to plead him any more than this: his hands behind her knees slightly readjusted her under him, and when he entered her he found himself closing his eyes and burying his face in her neck. He was the luckiest man alive to have her as his wife, and he had been locked away, far from her, for way too long now. Narcissa turned her head a bit to the side, her lips catching Lucius's in a languorous kiss as he began thrusting into her. His tongue and lips still tasted a bit of her intimate fluids, but she did not mind at all as they deepened the kiss. All that mattered was that he was finally by her side again. It only took a few minutes for Lucius to feel that his climax was near - it had, after all, been several months - and he thought slowing down the pace ought to give them more time, but Narcissa had to choose this very moment to cry out in blissful agony, her muscles so very tight around his manhood that he lost control and was sent over the edge as well.

Even as he pulled out, her hands behind his neck did not let him go very far, and Lucius laid next to her on the silky black sheets of their bed, his head resting on her shoulder and his arms tight around her waist, for he, too, was loath to let her go anywhere after being without her for roughly a year.

"Everything will be okay now that you're home," she assured him in a whisper, gently stroking his long platinum hair.

In a corner of his mind, Lucius seriously doubted the veracity of that statement, but he wanted to believe it - and his spirit was warm and fuzzy now, lazily drifting away, so he did not argue with her, and quietly fell to sleep in her comforting arms.

The end: Here you go! I actually started this way back in 2012, randomly came across it this weekend, and thought it was rather scandalous that I had a half-finished work in my computer, when we live in a world where there is so little Lucissa (let alone loving Lucissa). I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!