WANTING NARCISSA
An Augury Origin Spin-off

Detailed Description: Frustrated by 20 years of infidelity from her beloved husband, Lucius, Narcissa Malfoy offers Severus Snape a mutually beneficial arrangement: her body for his companionship. But what happens when she begins to develop more than lust for the emotionally distant Potions Master? Could falling for him be dangerous? Spanning the time between Easter 1996 and Christmas 1998, this is the story of an affair of convenience that becomes anything but convenient, as conflicting emotions from both parties threaten to destabilize what each has worked their entire adult lifetimes to build.

Narcissa/Lucius, Narcissa/Snape, Bellatrix/Voldemort
Rated M for Mature Readers.
Includes some Cursed Child back-story.
Deathly Hallows compliant.
Note that Lucius Malfoy has been aged by 2 years.

A/N: This fic exists in the same universe as my "...THE DARK LORD... Augury Origin Tales" but you definitely do NOT need to read those to read this (those are more Bellatrix/Voldemort and Bellatrix/Snape than this one, and LOYAL TO THE DARK LORD is also considerably darker and more violent).

Chapter One – Easter, 1996

Draco Malfoy, a fifth year student at Hogwarts, prefect, and member of Dolores Umbridge's Inquisitorial Squad, did not wish to come home for Easter.

This was a decision that left his mother feeling rather unceremoniously abandoned, a disappointment compounded by the sneaking suspicion that her husband, whom she loved dearly, was again involved in an illicit affair with one of the Dark Lord's female followers (which? She couldn't rightly say, though there were only so many from which to choose). It wasn't the first time he'd stepped out on her, but that didn't make it hurt any less... and yet this perceived rejection from her only son hurt far worse.

Which is why, the day before Easter, Narcissa Malfoy found herself both bored and in a bad mood, alone, abandoned, and, frankly, annoyed by the carelessness of the two men in her life, especially as they were more or less the only two people in her life. Her parents were dead, her eldest sister was in hiding after escaping her life sentence in Azkaban, her other older sister was long estranged from the Black family, the Dark Lord didn't exactly make for pleasant company, and she had never been terribly adept at striking up friendships with other women.

She was passing the solitary time doing what she wasn't permitted to, strictly speaking: cooking in the kitchen of Malfoy Manor. Though she had lived in the sprawling, antiquated mansion for nearly 25 years, over half of her life, there were moments when it felt like it couldn't be further from home, namely due to the fact that certain rooms, including the kitchen, remained practically off-limits to her by the order of her husband. Lucius, who considered both himself and his bride to be of exceptionally good breeding, saw cooking as a job for servants, not an appropriate pastime for his wife. When they ate, they did so in the formal dining room, served by house elves. Always. Whether they were having a dozen guests or if it were just the two of them (with Draco off at school) it didn't matter. The kitchen was a subordinate's place for preparing food, not a Malfoy's place to consume it.

But secretly, Narcissa liked cooking. Cooking was a bit like potions-making, one of the few classes in which she'd excelled at Hogwarts. Cooking was like brewing – what with the weighing and measuring and testing and experimentation and the lingering possibility one wrong move could ruin the entire thing – but unlike most potions (those that were actually fun to brew, anyway) cooking had a practical application as well. When she was done, she could eat whatever she made.

Today, what she was trying to make was a cherry pie.

Technically this was baking, not cooking, but she wasn't going to fuss over the particulars. As she worked to form the lattice crust, she hummed to herself. Two hours ago, she'd felt positively sour, but upon realizing having the house to herself meant she could make use of the can of cherries she'd purchased in Muggle London without anyone to stand around and judge (or ask what she'd been doing shopping for cherries in Muggle London), she was cheering significantly.

Unfortunately, the feeling didn't last. She over-baked the pie, which burnt around the edges, and fell apart into a cherry liquid mess when she attempted to cut into it. Cursing, she Vanished it with her wand, now even more glad to be home alone, thus spared the shame of being caught not only cooking, but failing, and yet even more resentful about being left home alone (because who doesn't come home to visit his own mother over Easter?).

Two hours later it was nearly dinnertime and Lucius was still out. Doing what? She wondered. Or, she thought bitterly, doing whom?

Narcissa settled in the study, holding but not reading a book, and set to playing her favorite little mind game – "Who could my husband be fucking this time?"

As usual, she mentally ran down the list of women in their social circle, though with the Dark Lord back it was just as likely to be a woman within His circle instead.

First, her sister, Bellatrix Black Lestrange. She always considered the possibility of Bellatrix first.

Before her stint in Azkaban, beautiful Bella had a bit of a reputation for promiscuity, but Narcissa always suspected that the bulk of her conquests came about not out of a desire to sleep around on her husband, but at the request of the Dark Lord, who seemed to look upon her as his favorite female puppet. Before Azkaban, Narcissa worried regularly about her sister stealing Lucius away, even though it was unlikely that she wanted him. It was no secret that Bellatrix Lestrange loathed Lucius Malfoy, always had, but even more so after he escaped imprisonment upon the Dark Lord's fall. On the other hand… Lucius had, on more than one occasion, made it clear to Narcissa that he found her sister attractive, desirable, worthy of his time…

Ultimately, though, Narcissa always ended up crossing Bella off the list. If you can't trust your own sister, she figured, you couldn't trust anyone.

Next she thought about Hortensia Higgins.

Hortensia Higgins was one of the few women who could call herself a Marked Death Eater, which Narcissa suspected appealed to Lucius on a carnal level - to conquer a woman viewed to be as strong as his wife was weak would be entertaining for him. That was exactly that challenge that made Bellatrix appeal to him, but unlike Bella, Hortensia was more likely to be attainable.

As an aside, Narcissa herself had never taken the Dark Mark. Never wanted it. Oh, certainly she believed in blood purity and would agree with any steps to be taken to keep Muggles and Mudbloods from poisoning good Wizarding families, but to actually pledge her allegiance and with it, her life, to a cause that could quite easily get her killed? Or require her to become a killer? As much as she supported the ideals of her husband and was keen to raise her son to believe the same, she knew she couldn't stomach being in the thick of a battle, not if there was a chance the dueling could end in death for either party.

Hortensia could, though. Hortensia had been proud to take the Dark Mark. Honored. She told everyone so. There were rumors, though (which Lucius shared with his wife shamelessly delightedly) that in order for young Hortensia to have taken the Mark, she'd had to give herself to Him… and to Bellatrix. Despite Lucius' willingness to believe this, Narcissa was sure it couldn't be true. Bella's morals in that area were a bit more lax than those of either of the other Black sisters, but there was no way she'd take women to bed, not even if the Dark Lord ordered it. Of this Narcissa was confident. Well... reasonably confident.

"You're getting distracted," Narcissa scolded herself. She adjusted her position in the armchair so that she was curled up more comfortably, running her fingers absentmindedly over the raise impressions on the leather bound book cover.

Back to Hortensia. Hortensia had taken the Dark Mark at seventeen, not long after dropping out of Hogwarts in early 1981, making her approximately… thirty-two now. Old enough to have lost that edge of immaturity the Dark Lord once said He despised about her, but young enough that she would probably still interest Lucius. Lucius liked young, the younger the better. He always had. Unlike Bella and so many of their friends, Hortensia never saw the inside of Azkaban's terrifying walls. She claimed she was too young and too brainwashed to know what she was doing, thus it was widely accepted that she, like many others, had been acting under the effects of the Imperius Curse and was therefore not culpable in the many heinous crimes she'd committed.

Narcissa considered others too, as possible current mattresses for her philandering husband. Marked Death Eaters Euphemia Rowle, Alecto Carrow, and Hazel Whitecrest were quickly dismissed as too obnoxious, too ugly, and too old. This left their other friends (or, technically speaking, the wives of Lucius' friends). After over a decade of trying, Crabbe's wife was finally expecting Baby 2, so she was out. Dolohov's wife was post-menopausal, so she was out too. Nott's wife was dead, so clearly it couldn't be her. Rodolphus' wife was Bellatrix, already covered. Snape, Travers, and her brother-in-law Rabastan did not have wives. Both Goyle's and Macnair's wives were too under-the-thumbs of their abusive husbands to risk affairs, Avery's wife was at least a hundred pounds overweight, Flint's wife was naught but skin over bones, and Narcissa couldn't imagine anyone ever wanting to spend the night with Mrs. Bulstrode, thus Narcissa's mind wandered to the Ministry, where her husband spent so much of his time, making sure – as her mother always had – to do and say all the right things in order to influence the right people.

Narcissa didn't know much about the Ministry except that Victor Yaxley worked there. His wife Armithia was decent looking enough, she supposed, but since her husband's last prolonged affair had been with Armithia's sister, Endora Selwyn, who committed suicide after he'd ended it, Narcissa assumed that this pairing was unlikely.

Someone new, perhaps?

Someone young?

Very young?

Fresh out of Hogwarts? A new recruit?

Fuck.

It was driving her crazy.

It had been driving her crazy all day. All week. All month. For six months.

No.

It had been driving her crazy since she found out about him and Endora Selwyn back when Draco, now nearly sixteen, was still in nappies.

Narcissa's eyes brimmed with hot tears. She didn't deserve this. She was the proper sort of wife. Elegant, attractive, available, of a higher class than most, pure-blood, from a good family. She doted on her son, was dedicated to her husband, and generally devoted her life to being the trophy wife her mother raised her to be. And what did she have to show for it?

Feeling fed up and perhaps a little irrational, Narcissa summoned one of the house elves (they had two who hadn't managed to get themselves freed by that damned Harry Potter, plus one they'd acquired more recently),. She told the elf she would be out for the evening and to inform Lucius of this should he return before her, then she grabbed her traveling cloak and stormed out of Malfoy Manor with the intention of staying away until she could return in a better mood.

Thanks to Apparition, she soon found herself in Hogsmeade. She did a little window shopping but bought nothing because even retail therapy wouldn't help at the moment, considered stopping at the pub for a glass of red wine (though she knew she shouldn't be drinking alone in public – people would talk) and finally decided there was only one place she wanted to be: Hogwarts. With her son.

Knowing full well that he would likely be mortified to have his Mum turn up over Easter break, she wrapped her traveling cloak more tightly around her and whisked off toward the castle, following the familiar path students had taken to get to and from the village since the Four Founders decided to open a school of magic there.

When she arrived, she found no challenge in entering but fifteen steps into the hall, she began to lose her nerve. Draco would not be happy to see her, of that she was certain, and Lucius would not be happy that she left the house. Of that she was equally certain.

What had she been thinking? It was stupid, coming here.

Angry tears again stinging at the corners of her eyes, she turned on her heel to go, only to find herself staring into the dark eyes of Severus Snape, Potions Master, godfather to her son.

"Narcissa?" He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Nothing wrong at home, I hope."

"I wish to see my son," she said, straightening up, trying to appear dignified. Figuring since she'd been caught she might as well make the attempt to visit him, she explained, "He did not choose to return home for the Easter holiday even though I expressly asked him to in my last letter and I… and I…" Here, her cool demeanor gave way to a flicker of true feelings, but only for a moment. She finished softly, "I miss him."

Snape's expression didn't soften exactly, but he did lower his eyebrow and offer in a calming voice. "Why don't we speak in my office rather than here in the hall?"

"Very well."

She followed him down to the dungeons where, as a student, she had regularly shown off her potions making skills to impress then-Professor Slughorn in an effort to elevate herself to favorite member of the Slug Club. A disappointment to him, now, she figured. Slughorn liked wizards and witches who achieved greatness after Hogwarts, and what had she done?

Dropped out early to get married.

Narcissa and Snape did not speak as they walked. There was no need.

Once they were safely closed inside his office, Severus dropped his unfriendly, strictly professional manner, choosing instead to address her with the familiarity of a man who'd been like family for over fifteen years.

"I can't believe you're here, Narcissa. What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with everyone else?! Lucius is off doing… whatever he does. Whomever he does. Draco ignored the request in my letter, choosing to remain here to lord over younger children as prefect and loaf around with that Parkinson girl I don't like. My semi-psychotic sister uses my home as if it's the train station, always coming and going, but never invited or with warning, even thought she knows if she's caught it will be dangerous for us, the Dark Lord slept at Malfoy Manor three nights last week, which always makes me nervous, and… and… and…"

"And?"

"And I've had to start coloring my hair because the roots are all gray."

Snape regarded her for a long moment, unsure of what to say, before he burst out laughing.

"I don't find it funny!" She snapped, wiping away tears.

"It's a little funny," said Snape, handing her a handkerchief. "Of all that's bothering you, going gray puts it over the edge?"

She wiped her eyes, giggled sheepishly, and nodded. "I suppose you didn't need to know that about my hair."

"Narcissa," he said gently, motioning for her to sit in one of the two winged back leather chairs on either side of his desk. She removed her traveling cloak and sat across from him, crossing her ankles. He sat too, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You're here to see Draco because he chose not to return home for Easter, is that right?"

"Yes. And you have to understand, Severus. He's my only little boy…"

Snape held up a hand. "He's fifteen, Narcissa. Nearly sixteen. For how long are you planning to baby him? To smother him?"

"I do not smother him!"

"I haven't had a single other Slytherin mother come to me in all these fourteen years because she was distressed over her nearly grown son's decision to stay home over a short holiday. If that's not smothering, what is it? And if that's not why you're here… why are you here?"

A nagging thought wriggled about in Narcissa's brain, begging for attention, even though she'd been repressing it for months. She was tired. Frustrated. Unhappy. And for months she'd been giving consideration to a variety of possibilities that could change her state of malaise. Suppose her subconscious had settled on one… and it had led her here? Suppose her trip all this way wasn't about Draco at all? Suppose it was an act of her subconscious, propelling her toward a possibility she'd been mulling over in the back of her mind for some time? Could she...? Should she...?

"Narcissa?" said Snape, leaning forward. "Are you alright?"

"No," she said simply. "No, not really. As I said, I… You're friends with Lucius, aren't you, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "Of course."

"So you know… you're aware of the fact that he's having an affair." This was a statement, but Snape chose not to take it as one.

"You're asking me whether he's having an affair?"

She sighed and began to twirl a long blonde strand of hair around her right forefinger, a childhood habit she and Andromeda shared. One that Mother always hated.

"I know he's having an affair. Do you know…?"

"If you want confirmation or a name, I'm afraid you shall have to ask Lucius." Snape stood, prepared to guide her toward the door. Briefly comforting an overbearing mother was one thing, but discussing his friend's sex life (and partners) with said friend's wife was quite another.

"Please!" She stood too, stepping closer to him, ever-so-lightly pressing her palm to his chest to halt his movement. "I'm lonely, Severus. Please, just listen."

He did not sit back down but did not move toward the door either. "I'm listening."

"I love Lucius but I can no longer pretend... Lucius... he... he doesn't find me attractive anymore, Severus. He's told me as much in a million little ways. He doesn't like that my hair is going gray. He doesn't like that I color it the Muggle way to keep the gray from showing. But he doesn't want me changing it our way either, since the charms wear off and are hard to maintain. He simply doesn't want me to go gray and there's nothing I can do about that. I'm stressed. Stress causes grey. It also causes weight loss, apparently. He says he wants me to gain weight, but I can't. He says I've gotten too thin. He says I look sickly and shapeless, but I can't, Severus. I can't gain weight."

Snape was tempted to mention that he'd known her in the years after Draco was born and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could, indeed, gain and maintain weight, but thought this was not the best time to point that out.

"I have no friends, not a single one, and no one to talk to…"

"What about Bellatrix?" he interjected. "Surely you must be happy to have your beloved sister returned to you?"

"She's not the same as she was before Azkaban. And I never know when she's going to turn up. Her temper is… well, to be honest, I'm a little afraid of her. She's gone a bit mental."

"She's always been a bit mental. I doubt you're alone in fearing her."

"Severus…" Narcissa glanced up at him, chin down, which gave her sort of a pitiable look. "Lucius is the only man I've ever been with."

"Why are you telling me this?" asked Snape in his usual bored tone, as if she's just informed him that it's not raining on a day expected to be sunny.

The idea that had been taking form in her mind for weeks seemed both insane and completely practical, but she'd come this far... She just wasn't sure how to broach it. Come right out and express herself, or skirt around and see if he picks up?

"I'm tired, Severus. I'm tired of sitting at home, alone, while he's off gallivanting with our friends' wives and young girls and those women who are clearly seeking advancement in the Dark Lord's ranks. Do you know how long it's been since he last touched me?"

"Er… no." Though he didn't back away from her, Snape now looked decidedly uncomfortable, especially as her palm moved from the center of his chest to the front of his shoulder, mirrored by the other hand. She squeezed his shoulders.

"Nearly six months. Six months!" Her gray eyes widened as if in disbelief of her own statement. "We've passed Christmas, New Years, our 23rd anniversary, Valentine's Day, my birthday, and in all that time, nothing!"

Snape tried not to notice the way her breasts heaved as she pouted over this, but without her traveling cloak to cover her, he was all-too-aware of the ample amount of skin she'd chosen to expose on her chest and shoulders. He averted his gaze, but that didn't stop him from being able to feel the heat from her palms, which she slid up even more so that they were now resting on the backs of his shoulders.

"I'm not looking for love, Severus," she said, pressing closer to him. "I simply want… I want to be wanted."

This was the notion she'd been toying with but in all the scenarios she'd played out in her head it went quite differently. For starters, in none of them was she standing in the middle of Snape's office in the dungeons at Hogwarts. Most importantly, in her head, none of her attempts ended in rejection, whereas real life very well might.

"Why are you telling me this?" he repeated, but his tone was not as cool or distant as it had been moments ago.

Taking a deep breath to steel herself, Narcissa decided upon the blurt-it-out approach, though she did take a decisive step back before doing so, moving her hands to her hips.

"Severus," she began matter-of-factly. "I want to have an affair. I want to have what Lucius has. It isn't fair. I've been faithful to him since we started seeing each other when we were kids. I was thirteen when he first asked me out. Thirteen! A little girl! And in all that time, I've never once been with another man or even fantasized about being with another man. I've never become emotionally invested in another woman's husband, thus setting myself up for idiotic heartbreak…" That was a jab at Endora Selwyn, the dead ex-mistress. "Nor have I ever sought the company of a single man since he and I agreed upon exclusivity, when I was a student. Or before, even. He's it. And I've tried. I've tried so hard to do whatever I've needed to do, whatever... exactly what my mother raised me to be. I've been the perfect wife, Severus, but he hasn't been the perfect husband, and that is no longer acceptable."

"Why aren't you telling him this? Tell him it's unacceptable. Tell him you won't allow yourself to be cheated on anymore."

"No." She turned away from Snape, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. "No, we're past that. I've asked before. Begged, pleaded, cajoled. I've cried, shouted, threatened. He does not care. So I figure, it's my turn. It's only fair. I want… I want the same. I want a physical thing, not an emotional one. I want… damn it, like I said, I want to be wanted! I'm still good-looking, am I not? I could still... I could be of use. I could... Do you... Severus, do you think... theoretically speaking, of course... but... but I'm pretty, right? Don't you think someone could want me? Do you think you could want me?"

"Narcissa…" Snape said slowly, weighing his options. On the one hand, this was his friend's wife, mother of his godson, sister of his most recent sexual partner (if the other bottom of one fury-driven half-dressed quickie could even be considered a 'partner'). This was not a woman he should be considering taking to bed. But on the other… that encounter with her sister had occurred three months prior, and since then there hadn't exactly been a slew of women throwing themselves at him, plus the past had taught him that those who did typically had ulterior motives, especially when the Dark Lord reigned before, and it was likely to continue in the vein now that the Dark Lord was set to truly rise again. No, just as it was during the First War, the women looking to be with Snape would be picturing him as a wrung on a ladder, a necessary step. Nothing more.

Not that he was looking for love or romance or any of that rubbish. No, he'd found love, long ago, and had no desire to sully it with an impossible attempt to achieve it with another. So perhaps this was exactly what he needed. A no-strings-attached affair with an attractive woman he knew well and could trust not to tell a soul.

"Severus?" Narcissa turned to face him, again doing that tilted-chin, raised-eyes thing, looking more defeated – and somehow, more beautiful – than he'd ever see her. "It's pathetic. I'm pathetic. I'm 41 years old. My hair is going gray. My husband is cheating on me yet again. My son doesn't need me or want me around. I have no friends, no career, no sisters I can currently confide in. I can't even bake a cherry pie."

If he wondered why she threw that last part in, he didn't let on.

"I'm literally throwing myself at you knowing it's possible I'll end up absolutely humiliated as a result. Please, just consider it. After all, I'm not asking for much and what I'm offering in return is worth your time. I need someone to talk to me, to help me feel less lonely, someone to desire me and fulfill me…" As she spoke, she moved closer, closer, until their chests were almost touching. She slipped her arms up around his neck, now leaving only about an inch between them. "Severus, I'm 41 years old and I've never even been kissed by anyone other than him."

Snape closed the gap, pressing his body flush against hers, simultaneously sliding his hands over her hips and around her small waist, stopping at her lower back.

"You've never even kissed another man?" he asked. Upon her nod, he added, "Well. That certainly is pathetic."

Then, despite his better judgment, he pressed his lips to hers.