Narcissa couldn't quite believe that the evening of her engagement party had already arrived. Bellatrix and Rodolphus were hosting it, their first major soiree as "The Lestranges," though Bella's interest in the preparations had been less than minimal. "Do what you want, Cissy," Bella had yawned in the early hours of a Friday afternoon several weeks back. "Rodolphus can afford it, because he has a wife that doesn't waste money on a new dress every other day."

"Speaking of dresses," Narcissa had replied tartly, "It's past noon, why on earth aren't you dressed yet?"

"Late night," Bellatrix shrugged. Narcissa didn't press for details, but made a mental note to be cautious of Lucius's likely exhaustion when he returned home from the Ministry that evening. She had bid her sister farewell, already musing on how she might liven the gloomy décor of the ancestral Lestrange home. Deep in plans of updating draperies and adding a multitude of floating candles, as she exited the study she nearly ran headlong into Lucille.

"Oh! So sorry—Lucius is at work and likely will be for several more hours. Were you looking for him?"

"No, darling," Lucille replied warmly. "Just on my way out, actually, I wanted a bite of lunch first. I don't keep Lionsmare staffed with too many elves, and just between you and me, my elf that cooks the best will only prepare really spectacular dishes when we're in Paris. She hates it here, you see. I know I should be harsher with her, really demand results, but I simply didn't grow up with elves and have rather a soft spot for this one. Robert was much more commanding with them. Lucius is too I'm sure—the meals here are always quite excellent. Is something wrong, Narcissa?"

Narcissa realized a moment too late she hadn't heard a word after "out." A quick assessment while Lucille prattled on had confirmed that the older woman was dressed in the same robe that she had been the evening before at supper. She hadn't changed clothes. She hadn't left last night, which could only mean…

"Fine!" Narcissa blurted shrilly, dimly aware that she was not giving quite the correct response to whatever question had been asked. "I'm fine. I think I hear Draco crying—I'll see you soon I'm sure!"

It took all of her willpower to walk down the corridor with composure, until she was out of sight of the befuddled Lucille. Once she rounded the corner, however, she began to tremble. By the time she reached Draco's nursery, her eyes were clouded with bitter, stinging tears.

"Hush, little one," Narcissa murmured, scooping Draco into her arms, although he showed no sign of fussing. "Hush. It's fine, it's fine my prince," she crooned, more for her own benefit than his.

When Lucius returned home that evening, gone was Narcissa's plan for quiet empathy and a soothing knowledge of his Death Eater activities the previous night. Far more concerning was what had transgressed prior to his outing. She sat rigid in her chair, refusing even to greet him when he entered the dining room. He didn't seem to notice, and began eating without acknowledging her steely gaze. She speared a potato with a certain vengeance—still no response.

"Are you so oblivious to human emotion, then?" she demanded at last, breaking nearly five full minutes of silence. Slowly, he turned to meet her demanding stare at last, and she was taken aback to see something akin to real anger, rather than his standard mild irritation, when he looked over at her.

"I shared this house with a woman for ten years, and she spent much of it silently loathing me. Perhaps she had good reason to. I learned quickly that nothing I said to her would ameliorate the situation. If you would like to say something to me, and would like a response, then you may say it. I am exhausted and hungry and want no part of this childish guessing game you seem to have concocted."

Narcissa pressed her lips together. At his admission, a part of her wanted to relent. There was a time, not too long ago, that he would have ignored her, or returned her comment with a cold retort that would foreclose any possibility of a discussion. As frustrating and condescending as she found his reply, at least he had replied—and done so in such a way as to allow her to proceed. He had been honest and expressed his feelings in that moment, a rare occurrence indeed.

Progress.

But, she recalled what had so infuriated her and her desire to relent dissipated.

"Lucille spent the night last night."

Lucius raised his eyebrows, indicating that if she had a point she should make it.

"I think it's inappropriate."

"I think it's none of your business."

"I think it is," she insisted. "You wanted me to raise you son in a traditional environment, and such behavior prior to marriage is, quite frankly, unacceptable."

Lucius rolled his eyes and resumed eating. "I maintain that it is none of your business. We are engaged and quite frankly I think the only unacceptable behavior is you bringing this up at supper."

Narcissa felt a familiar flush rising to her cheeks at his offhand dismissal. "Very well. Then I suppose you won't mind if I invite my fiancé over in the evenings."

Finally, Lucius paused and set his fork down. "You will do no such thing. Now you're just being crude."

"My point exactly! It would be an awful, unwholesome environment in which to raise your son and I insist that you set aside your double standards and that Lucille leave at a decent hour when she visits."

"My situation is very different from yours. Lucille and I have both been married before. What adults choose to do in their free time is hardly of interest to anyone. It's what trouble girls like you get up to that draws public ire that I simply will not tolerate in my home."

"'Girls like me'?" she echoed incredulously. "I can assure you that I have nothing but your son's moral well-being in mind, which I daresay is a very adult concern and involves only the purest of intentions."

"I'm finished with this conversation and you will not bring up the matter again."

Though Narcissa had seethed at the time, she had not seen Lucille in the morning since. Perhaps he had simply been ushering his paramour out earlier, or perhaps her words had some impact on him, but regardless, it spared her from the admittedly unwarranted anguish of knowing they had spent the night in each others arms. The victory was bittersweet, she mused as she finished the final preparations of her hair. Soon Lucius would be married. And even sooner, Narcissa would be saying her own vows.

A knock on the door drew her out of her reverie. "You're early," she called out to Gareth, "but come in."

However, it was Lucius, not Gareth, who opened the door. She blinked in shock- she couldn't recall a time when he'd entered her private quarters in the past.

"I thought-"

"I just went through today's post," he began as if she hadn't spoken. Narcissa immediately knew what was coming and felt an uncomfortable squirming in her stomach, certainly anxiety but also something resembling... anticipation? After all, here he was, in her room.

"Oh?" she feigned innocence as she fastened her other earring, watching him in the mirror carefully. He wordlessly held up a rolled parchment.

"It's in rather bad taste to give notice of ending employment in such a manner, but I suppose I cannot hold your youthfulness and naivete at fault for this particular oversight; you weren't anticipating ever holding job as a girl, I'd imagine."

"Really, Lucius," she attempted to keep her tone lighthearted and causal as she delicately arranged her necklace. "It's just a wedding invitation, you needn't act as though I've left a cowardly note for you to find." In reality, that had been precisely what she had done. Unable to determine an appropriate moment to tell him the ceremony was quickly approaching, she had decided instead to include him on the list of invitation recipients and allow him to bring up the issue.

"It says here," he unrolled the parchment slowly, "that in one month from today you, Miss Black, will be a "Miss" no longer."

"That's correct," she affirmed, sliding on two bracelets and comparing them with unnecessary scrutiny before deciding on one.

"And when will you be moving out?"

"I was thinking... next week."

There was a beat of silence, and she turned to face him at last. "I wouldn't want to stop working until, oh, I don't know, the day before the ceremony? But I was thinking I should move back with my parents. It seems... strange to prepare for a wedding from another man's home. You understand. I've started packing already..." she gestured to two open trunks, both mostly filled. Lucius said nothing, so Narcissa pressed on. "And that invitation- you'll see it includes Lucille and Draco as well. I do hope you'll bring them both."

"I see." His face was inscrutable. "Have a pleasant evening." He turned and was gone before she could utter a response.

Was he upset? Her heart was pounding in her throat. To come and seek her in her rooms was highly unusual, but tomorrow was her day off so perhaps he had simply wanted to clarify her termination date prior to Sunday? She didn't have time to dwell on it too long, as Dobby appeared to alert her that Mr. Fawley had arrived.

Gareth looked painfully handsome as she descended to the entry hall. He looked up and grinned broadly, and she couldn't help but return the smile. His geniality was effusive, but she knew that it was in no way reserved specifically for her. She supposed it should please her, to be engaged to such an affable man, but she couldn't help but to feel that, even after all these months, she still scarcely knew him. Or maybe there was no more to know? She wasn't sure which idea she liked less. But, his charm was impossible to resist, and by the time they arrived at the Lestrange's, Narcissa was laughing gaily and her exchange with Lucius was far in the back of her mind.

The estate was stunning. Bellatrix had fought none of her decor requests ("as long as it's gone the next day"), and the entryway was alive with thousands of candles and, weaving in and out, several dozen live fairies. The grand ballroom was remarkable in its own right, Narcissa had needed to do little more than remove the heavy drapes blocking the windows stretching across the west wall. The east wall wasn't really a wall at all- rather, a series of archways led deeper into the mansion on the ground level, and above, broad balconies overlooked the dance floor. The guests entered down a sweeping staircase from the north, and Louis XIV chandeliers floated splendidly above. Bella called the room a dust trap- Narcissa thought it was the one redeeming portion of an otherwise Gothic dwelling.

The evening was a blur of colorful silks, delicate perfumes, and shimmering powders. Gareth stood by her for the toasts, clasping her hand, every inch the smitten groom, but she was surrounded by matrons the rest of the time. She was praised for her beauty, and listened to countless commendations of how "dashing" her fiance was by plump old women she scarcely recognized. Cousins, some of whom she was sure she'd never met, pressed forward to gush how positively envious they were. She danced one or two waltzes with Gareth, but she kept being pulled aside by women who insisted that they hadn't seen her since she was an infant, and did she remember them? Her face was aching from the perfect, sociable smile she kept plastered to her face. She enviously caught glimpses of Gareth easily making rounds, chatting, sharing a cigar with an uncle, warmly greeting Regulus, drinking a glass of scotch beside his father. She spotted Bellatrix only in glimpses, dancing with her husband and ignoring all the women who tried to speak with her (undoubtedly to ask when she would have a son). Narcissa envied her sister as well but could find not graceful moment to draw away, so when Regulus materialized by her elbow after a few hours, she could have kissed him. Her Aunt Walburga was droning on about her own engagement (a million years ago, Narcissa thought ungraciously), and Regulus managed to murmur in her ear, while his mother paused for breath, "meet me upstairs in twenty minutes. Third bedroom down the hall towards the north wing."

Relief flooded her as he slipped back away. Finally, her darling Regulus was being a true friend once more- she hoped he had a drink waiting for her. After the twenty minutes had passed she quietly begged to be excused to refresh herself, but it still took another five to extricate herself from the group. She looked quickly about, intending to let Gareth know where she was intending to hide, but he was nowhere to be seen. Well, no matter, he probably wouldn't miss her. Exhausted but thrilled to be sneaking away, Narcissa impudently snagged a flute of champagne from a server on her way out of the ballroom and downed it rather faster than was perhaps wise. She cast a glance over her shoulder when she reached the top of the stairs, and saw Rodolphus and Bellatrix dancing below, standing out handsomely from the other couples around them. Narcissa smiled softly as she crept out into the corridor. Her sister had so dreaded marriage, but it had worked out well... maybe, Narcissa decided as she sailed towards the bedroom Regulus had described, things would work out for her as well. This fondness for Lucius... who was to say that was any more real than her affection for Gareth? It was probably just because he was Draco's father, and she did love that boy. Her smile widened as she thought of Draco; almost a year old now. His babbling had started to take shape lately, and she had secretly been teaching him to call his father "da-da," though she could only hope to be there to witness the moment he used correctly. She giggled at the thought of Lucius's reaction, and pushed open the bedroom door, prepared to share the amusing thought with Regulus. But her cousin was not alone.

Gareth sprang back at the sound of the door opening, but there was no hiding what they had been up to. Shirts unbutton, belts unfastened, hair disheveled- Narcissa felt her extremities go numb. She knew what she was looking at, technically, but she just couldn't fathom it. It was so unexpected, so beyond anything she had ever expected, that she suddenly began to laugh. It was a tense, high laugh, not a sound she had ever made; in fact she didn't immediately realize it was coming from her. Her eyes found Regulus's first. His gaze was apologetic but firm. He had intended this. He hadn't known how to tell her, and she had repeatedly dismissed his pleas to find someone besides Gareth. She held his eyes for a long moment, and then realized suddenly that Gareth was speaking to her very rapidly.

"-and I'm sure you're upset but... I know how it seems but it, it isn't what it looks like-"

"Oh stop," Regulus snapped. He was redressing in stiff, jerky motions. "It's exactly what it looks like, do you think she's an idiot?"

Narcissa's laughter abruptly ceased as Gareth's shoulders slumped. He stopped talking as well, and the silence was deafening. Now fully dressed, Regulus sat down on the edge of the bed, crossed his arms, and waited.

"How... how long has this been going on?" Narcissa asked at last. The question immediately sounded stupid to her own ears. Why would that matter, at this point?

"It's been... a while," Gareth answered gently. He glanced over his shoulder at Regulus, who quirked one eyebrow as though encouraging him to continue. Gareth sighed. "Since the night you introduced us. There was just immediately this... spark. You asked Reg to chaperone our carriage ride home- do you remember? And then after we dropped you off, he and I ended up back at my flat. We talked for hours-" Regulus interrupted with a scoff, and Gareth added, through gritted teeth, "-among other things."

Narcissa's head was spinning. She wished she hadn't finished that glass of champagne so quickly, but it gave her the false courage to blurt, "and have you been with other... men? Before him?"

Gareth's expression was solemn. "Yes."

"And you, Regulus?"

Her cousin hesitated, and then shook his head. "I knew... I knew I was never really interested in girls though." That much was certainly true; she had long wondered was Regulus seemed hardly able to stand the nice girls that his mother pushed at him. She had always assumed it was some sort of rebellion, but... Suddenly she remembered Bellatrix's claim, months ago, "he's in love with you." Though that had seemed far fetched, Narcissa would still have believed it before this. Well, Bellatrix always had been bad at reading people. Her head was spinning. She raised a hand to press it to her forehead but froze, her eyes locked on the engagement ring Gareth had given her in front of all their family and friends.

All their family and friends, who were currently downstairs celebrating their engagement.

"How are we going to tell them?" she whispered, horrified. She wasn't really expecting an answer but Gareth swept forward and grasped both of her hands. She blinked up at him, startled, but his eyes were earnest and intent.

"Listen, Narcissa. This doesn't change anything for me. I still want to you marry me in a month. I want you to be my wife, mother of my children. You are a beautiful, bright woman, and I want you at my side for the rest of my life."

"I...what?" Nothing was making sense.

"I'm going to marry a woman, Narcissa. You know that I... that Reg and I can't... come now, darling, there are expectations. The world at large is getting more progressive, but not ours, pet. We still live in a world of aristocrats and traditions, and that won't be changing in our lifetime. I will be married, to a woman, and I do so deeply hope that it will be you. It could be advantageous for us both. You know my secret now, though I wish you hadn't found out like this..." he threw an accusatory glance at Regulus, who shrugged in a nonchalant way that led Narcissa to believe he'd been encouraging Gareth to divulge this information for some time. "And unlike any other eligible man you'll find out there, I couldn't care less if you've fucked Malfoy. Merlin knows I would've."

Shaken at last from her haze, she fixed him with her iciest glare. "I've done no such thing," she hissed, cheeks flushing. "I actually value the sanctity of marriage. I believe in our traditions."

"Some of them," he teased, his old charm flickering back. A shield. "Not those awful traditional wedding robes though."

It was too much. She wasn't ready to laugh yet. She didn't know that she would ever laugh again. Without waiting to hear another word, she turned on her heel and rushed from the room. Gareth called after her but she didn't stop. She ran down the corridor, out the front door, but didn't stop at the carriages- she didn't want to stop at all. She ran until she reached the edge of the property where she could apparate. She closed her eyes and clenched her wand, disappearing with a resounding crack.

Lucius was about to retire for the evening when a deafening crash shattered the peaceful silence of the Manor. He was on his feet in a second, wand drawn. He was in the entry hall only a moment later, though it took him several moments longer to register what he was seeing. The grand double doors had been forcibly flung open, and silhouetted by the candlelight was...

"Narcissa?" He stowed his wand, but still approached with caution. This was not the lovely creature that had drifted out of his home earlier this evening on the arm of her fiance. Her gown was ruined, the hem filthy and torn to expose bare, dirty feet. Her hair was windswept and sagging dangerously out of its carefully styled coiffure, but it was here eyes that were truly unrecognizable. Wide, wild, and flashing dangerously. He was, for the first time since knowing her, not tempted to call this rage a child's tantrum. This was the fury of a woman, and he knew to proceed with utmost care.

"Are you hurt?" Best to get the basics out of the way first, though he saw no blood or ginger movements. Her head snapped in his direction and she flashed him a wide, mirthless grimace that he supposed was meant to resemble a smile.

"Of course not, Lucius." She began to move swiftly, purposefully into the Manor. He closed the doors and followed. He awaited an explanation, hoping that she would break out into a characteristic rant and he would recognize her once more, but she stayed silent until arriving at her rooms. Finally, he could wait no longer.

"What happened?"

"The wedding is off." She offered no more information, and began to remove her jewelry with neat, methodical motions.

"Off?" he echoed, uncertain still of how best to proceed.

"Off," she confirmed, glancing up at him in the mirror as she unclasped her necklace. He was struck at how similar this scene was to the one they'd shared earlier. They were both in the same spots, him in the doorway and her seated before her vanity, but things were vastly different now and Lucius still wasn't sure how or why.

"As it turns out, Gareth truly is seeking a connection to the Black family. Although his preference seems to be more for my cousin than for me."

It took Lucius only a moment to understand- his eyebrows skidded upwards and his took in her words with a brief nod. "That is certainly, ah, a preference you cannot satisfy, I suppose. Regulus is-" She stood up abruptly and yanked her dress violently over her head and tossed it aside, rendering Lucius instantly silent.

"So I'll just stay here, it seems," Narcissa spoke as if the situation had not suddenly become even stranger; as if she were entirely oblivious to the fact she stood before him in nothing but a sheer silk slip. Instead, she walked over to her trunks, as if to unpack, but instead of returning clothes to her wardrobe she began to fling them haphazardly across the floor. "Probably for the best, anyway. I don't really know how I could leave Draco. Lucille won't mind I'm sure, she can focus her energies on her own endeavors, her own children once she has them- though I suppose I could be a governess for them as well. Won't it all be so unexpected! A working Black girl. A career governess. I guess it's all on Bella now to carry on our line."

Lucius struggled to find his voice. "It... I'm sure it doesn't need to be that way. Gareth may even still want to marry you, plenty of men have vices that do not include their wives." It was true, but it was very immediately apparent that this had been the incorrect response. She whirled around to face him, marched across the room and raised her and struck him across face. Or she would have, had he not seized her wrist mid-swing.

"I think not," he snarled, any empathy he might have been feeling instantly erased by the classless gesture of attempted violence. She stared at him with nothing short of utter loathing and attempted to pull her hand away, but he only tightened his grip. She did not back down, as he had anticipated, and instead meet his steely gaze with a frigid one of her own, mere inches away. He scarcely recognized the young woman before him. Her jaw jutted defiantly, there was all the stubbornness he knew in her, but the girl that had lived under his roof for nearly a year- he couldn't find her in those hurt, angry eyes. Or maybe he was finally seeing her. It would be the former excuse that he would turn to later, though- that she was suddenly not the girl that he knew- when trying to understand why he dipped his head at that moment to meet her lips with his own.