Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Everything belongs to its respective owners.

A/N: This story has a rather long history behind it. I started writing this about three years ago, but I never managed to finish it. I couldn't quite forget this story, and it always frustrated me that it was on my hard drive, taunting me with a prospect of remaining unfinished forever. That was until a sudden longing to finish this piece once and for all overcame me, and I finally sat down and finished it, and by that I mean I've been obsessing for about two weeks to get this just the way I want it.

I realize that it's rather long for a one-shot, the original piece was much, much shorter, but I really enjoyed writing this and hope that you enjoy reading it.

I just adore the Malfoy's, and this is actually the first time I post a story with these two, though I've written a few stories that, unfortunately, must suffer the fate of remaining stuck on my hard-drive.

Now I'm going to have a nice cup of tea, and enjoy this lovely day.

Thank you for reading.

One Day

Narcissa Malfoy's frosty gaze peered over the rim of the teacup that was pressed, ever so lightly, between her lower and upper lips. The flower painted porcelain felt cool against her pale skin, and the warm liquid burned her mouth and throat, but that discomfort was not to be seen on her face. In fact, she looked perfect. Her long blonde hair was swept up in a graceful bun on the back of her head, accentuating high cheekbones and narrow features.

Despite her constant self-critique on how her chin was a bit too narrow, and the tip of her nose a bit too pointy, she considered herself rather beautiful. With her flawlessly fair complexion and eyes, blue as the winter sky.

Though many believed that her wrinkle free complexion was not due to good genetics but specially imported anti aging potions from Sweden. She had, of course, denied such preposterous allegations.

Finely manicured hands placed the teacup soundlessly on the saucer and carefully laid it back on the table in front of her. Every move she made was carefully planned and executed, as was fit for a Pureblood wife. She focused on the scone on her plate, and buttered it in fine even strokes.

Everything was under her control, just as it should be. It was easy to be completely entranced by her; even the simplest things appeared graceful in her hands.

All of this, however, seemed to go right past the eyes of her husband and son, who sat opposite her by the grand breakfast table in the family dining room. They seemed rather biased with the carefully decorated table, which swayed with delicacies. Freshly baked breads of all sorts filled the woven baskets, the appetizing smell drifting out of the open windows with the warm summer breeze that stirred the silk curtains.

Rows of jams made of blueberry, raspberry, rhubarb, apricots and peaches lined down the table in neat little jars. And mountains of pastries; tiny cakes topped with icing, apple tarts, macrons in pastel hues, and pumpkin pies covered the silver platters.

Beautifully decorated china was neatly laid out on the crisp white tablecloth, and in the middle of the table stood a tall vase with violets and roses in light purple and pale pink.

While Narcissa carefully broke the scone in half and nibbled on it in tiny bites, the boy greedily ate from his plate. Occasionally his eyes would roam over the table, his pale eyes searching for his next treat with greed.

On a normal day Narcissa Malfoy would scowl at the boy, and admonish him for such behaviour, but this was no normal day.

Narcissa's eyes were fixed on her husband, who sat at the other end of the table. His face was completely hidden under a copy of the 'Daily Prophet', and the only thing that was visible were two pale hands holding the rim of the paper and few strands of white blond hair that peeked over the paper.

On the front page were boldly printed letters; 'Terrible occurrences at the Quidditch World Cup.' Underneath the headline was a picture in black and white, covering nearly the entirety of the page. The taunting picture showed a skull hovering in the night sky with a snake slithering out of its gaping mouth.

His food lay untouched on his plate, and he didn't seem to give his wife or son any notice.
To an outsider this would look like any other ordinary family. Narcissa Malfoy's expression, however, indicated that this was not something that belonged in a respectable household. Her frosty gaze was fixed on the headline, the normal coolness in her gaze shifting for the burning fire of fury. Her thin fingers grasped the arm of her chair, red painted nails digging into the embroidered upholstery.

Why this would irritate anyone would be considered rather odd, but anyone who knew, or claimed to know Narcissa, would know that this was not tolerable.

Narcissa was a woman of habits. Throughout the years she had carefully organized the life around her, and anything or anyone who went against that was considered unworthy of her time. It was hard to receive her respect, but once crossed it was easy to fall in her disgrace. That her own husband would go against that was, to her, a shocking occurrence. Normally he wouldn't go against her wishes, and humour her, but this was clearly one of those days where everything did not go as planned.

"Mother, may I be excused?"

The sound of her son's voice seemed rather unannounced in the uncut silence that passed between husband and wife. Apparently oblivious to his parent's disagreement Draco, who had finished his breakfast in record time, looked at his mother expectantly. He should have known to stay put and wait for his allowance to leave the table. But young boys find it exceedingly hard to keep silent for considerably long periods of time, and for a boy like Draco Malfoy, it was even harder.

Narcissa's, seemingly, unblinking gaze finally left her husband and lowered to her son who sat halfway out of the chair as if he was about to stand up and take his leave. Her answer seemed rather unexpected, at least in his ears.

"No, Draco. You may not," was her only reply. Then she turned her gaze back to her husband, or rather to the 'Prophet', as if nothing had happened. The boy seemed utterly confused by his mother's behaviour, but he didn't dare press her. He knew that when it came to his mother that it was best not to cross any boundaries. If she wanted him to sit there for the rest of the day, he would do so.

For several minutes they stayed this way, Narcissa, completely frozen, and Draco, slumped in his chair waiting to be excused. Meanwhile Lucius remained un-obliged behind his paper.

As the time went on the atmosphere turned thick with tension. Narcissa's expression had turned from frozen to sour. Her breakfast remained untouched, and her tea lay cold in the teacup. Finally her husband's face appeared from behind the paper, his face pale and languid, the steel grey of his eyes dulled by the dark circles under his eyes. He seemed strangely out of place, as if he hadn't gotten a decent sleep in a while. His eyes did not meet his wife's. Instead they were cast towards his son who sat with his hands crossed over his chest, a foul expression on his face.

"Draco. You may be excused." He drawled towards his son whose pale eyes looked upwards to meet his father's. He shot an unsettled glance towards his mother whose expression had darkened considerably since her husband had opened his mouth.

When she didn't oppose openly to his father's words he took the opportunity to leave. Hesitatingly he stood up from the table and walked briskly towards the door that led to his freedom. Draco might not have been considered the brightest but he knew when to vacate a room. The door fell behind him with a faint click, and then all went silent.

Both husband and wife sat in their respective seats, both remaining completely silent. Lucius refused to meet his wife's eyes, his long fingers plucking through a muffin, though never taking a bite. Despite him being very much aware of his wife's wrath, which he could only guess the reason for, he decided to take matters in his own hands.

"I have to go to the Ministry for a few hours. The Minister expects me at eleven and I have a late lunch with few associates." When he received no answer he stood up from his chair and called for one of the house-elves to fetch his cloak.

"Don't expect me until dinner." He added while he fastened his thin traveling cloak, the summer heat prevented him from wearing his more lavish robes.

He crossed the room and stopped few feet from her, sparing her a single glance.

"I will see you later then."

"Are we not going to talk about this?"

Her voice was icy, and the room seemed to lose its temperature. Narcissa turned in her seat and faced her husband. His face remained cool and aloof as he regarded his wife.

"There is nothing for us to discuss." He replied, feigning ignorance.

"Really? So you are just going to pretend that last night didn't happen?" Narcissa stood up from her chair; her powdery blue dress swirled around her slender frame. Her voice was dangerously low when she continued.

"Are you also going to pretend that you and your friends didn't play a little dress up under everyone's noses?"

Lucius' expression hardened, his eyes turning into hard steel as he stormed towards his wife.

"I will not have you speak to me in this way. This is none of your business and you might want to think twice before you mention this again."

An uncontrollable fire burned in the blue of her eyes.

"What do you take me for? You think you can control everyone around you, but I am your wife, not your ornament and I will speak to you however I wish to."

She remarked icily, although her voice shook slightly with anger, her carefully hidden mask threatening to break.

Her husband, however, seemed far from sentimental. His hard gaze seemed to burn through her core, his nostrils flared in seething anger and his fingers twitched slightly. That did not go unnoticed.

Narcissa backed away from him in shock, and anger. Lucius, realized his lapse and stepped towards her, but Narcissa backed even further away from him.

"What nonsense is this?"

"Tell me that you were not going to reach for your wand."

"I was not." He said through gritted teeth. "For Merlin's sake Narcissa, I do not have the time for your interrogations. What do you want?"

Narcissa closed her eyes briefly, and took a deep breath. "I want you to be honest with me. Do you have any idea in what kind of danger we were in last night? You could have been caught. The Ministry officials were everywhere, and…" She stopped abruptly as if someone had stolen her speech completely. All too late she realized that she was crossing the invisible line between them. They were never sentimental towards each other. It just didn't fit in their world, so they set lines; she didn't ask, he didn't tell.

But now she was asking him, and deep down inside she wanted to know what he had been thinking. She had been seething with anger towards him for this stunt of his. Endless questions had been brewing in her head, and she wanted answers.

Why now, after all this time? With ceaseless effort she had tried to make their life as perfect as possible, and it hadn't been easy after his trial thirteen years ago. After careful planning, and a bit of bribery, she had managed to squeeze into the social life again without too much damage. And now he was endangering their reputation again. It was enough to have Arthur Weasley breathing down their necks, trying to find a hole in their carefully knitted web of lies and deception. She didn't want her husband to dangle his mask right in front of his face.

Narcissa was very well aware of her husband's intentions. He did enjoy to step over the line just to get away with it, he had ever since their days at Hogwart's.

Yes, her husband thrived in showing his enemies that he was in charge, and he alone. Sometimes he forgot that his match shared his bed, and that she could catch him at his game.

Lucius was clearly taken off guard by her sudden outburst, his own façade cracking under her speech. His expression couldn't have been categorized as concern, but there was a small trace of shame, and much to her mortification disappointment, on his hard features.

"I see. I thought you wanted this. I thought you still believed in our beliefs- to get this scum out of our lives." His eyes flashed with fire she had thought long quenched. It made her heart race.

"Besides, it was just a small muggle torture, there's nothing to get worked up about."

When he spoke like this she began to long for the glorious days of their youth, when they burned with fervent passion and righteousness. She couldn't deny how much his words excited her, how she needed that Lucius from time to time. The Lucius she had fallen in love with.

Narcissa, however, was a rational woman, and she knew where to draw the line.

"Of course I want that, more than anything else. But to endanger our reputation like this was foolish, and what about Fudge?"

"What about him?"

"What does he want with you? Do you think he suspects anything?"

"No, Fudge is blind. He would never say anything against me. My influence in the Ministry, and the Wizarding world for that matter, is far too important for him to say anything against me." He said it with such confidence that she almost fell into his trap, almost.

Lucius might be a good liar, but the few tell-tale signs of distress did not go unnoticed by Narcissa.

"Is there something to be worried about?" She pressed. Lucius' gaze did not falter, and in his confidence she realized that he might not be able to fool her, but others would be blind against his persuasions.

"Of course not dear."

"I don't believe you." She leaned closer to him, her blue eyes on fire. "I don't want anything like this;" she pointed at the morning paper, "to happen, ever again."

Lucius squared his jaw and glared at her. "Leave Fudge to me, and find something else to worry about, for example our son's decreasing grades."

Narcissa fumed, leave it to her husband to blame her for their son's grades. She counted to ten in her head, reminding herself that she was a lady.

"Yes, we need to discuss that dearest." She said, consciously diverting from the previous topic. "How about a private tutor? I heard that Blackwood was good, although I doubt that our son will accept that lightly."

Her words were casual, although her eyes betrayed her annoyance with Lucius, who had taken a seat in one of the chairs and picked an apple from the fruit tray.

"Yes indeed, although that doesn't concern me. He must learn responsibility." He cut through his apple, the juice weeping from the wound.

"You spoil him too much." He added lazily.

Narcissa raised one finely manicured eyebrow. "Last time I checked you gave him 1000 galleon worth birthday present, if I'm not mistaken." She remarked drily.

"The last time I checked your name was also on the card."

Narcissa pursed her lips and forced herself to keep her composure. If only she could wipe that self-satisfactory grin off his face.

"We both spoil him too much." She concluded diplomatically, and smoothed an invisible wrinkle on the rich fabric of her dress.

"Although I wasn't the one who bought new racing brooms for the entire Slytherin team, the good that did." She muttered under her breath.

"Did you say anything, dearest?" Lucius questioned her challengingly, his grey eyes boring into hers.

"No, I didn't." She replied curtly.

"I thought not." His lips curled up in a smirk.

Narcissa chose to ignore his remark, and took a sip of her now cold tea. Wrinkling her nose with disgust, she flickered her wand lightly on the porcelain, warming it up. She rearranged the silverware and took a tiny bite of her scone. She looked at Lucius disapprovingly as he disappeared behind the paper once again.

"Lucius?"

"Yes, dear?" He muttered behind the paper.

"Weren't you supposed to go somewhere?"

Lucius dropped the paper, looked at his watch and cursed. Narcissa scowled, she disliked curse words, they were utterly barbaric, and not how a proper pureblood wizard should behave.

She didn't say anything, and watched her husband stand abruptly from the chair, picking up his walking stick in the process. He stopped by her side and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"I'll be home around five." He stated then strode out of the double doors, leaving her alone in the room.

Narcissa touched the place where he had kissed her, and could almost feel it leave a frozen mark on the pallor of her cheek.

Shaking her head at her foolish thoughts she stood up and retreated out of the room. Tiny clattering noise behind her indicated that the house elves were already cleaning off the table.

Narcissa made her way down the open hallway, past pale-faced portraits that pretended to dose off when she walked past them. With a certain flare the mistress of the House walked up the grandiose staircase that led to the west wing of the manor. The wing was specifically resided for the family alone, and a fair few were allowed to step into that secluded part of the house.

Still frustrated by Lucius' antics, Narcissa tore open the door to the master bedroom. She removed her blue dress and let it slide unceremoniously on the floor- the house elves would pick it up later- and walked into the en-suite bathroom. Frustration and built up anger radiated from her as she stepped into the shower, which magically started to pour water from the faucet on the ceiling.

She gasped when the cold water hit her skin. It helped her to clear her mind and forced her to rationalize her thinking.

If he only knew...Narcissa groaned as she lathered shampoo into her hair, her nails digging into her scalp painfully. If only he knew the real reason for her fears, then he might have thought twice of his actions. But he didn't know, and therefore it had no consequence for him how she felt of the matter.

Despite spending a good amount of time under the cold water it still gave her no rest. Even her carefully executed morning routine did nothing to calm her riled up emotions.

Dressed in a white bathrobe, her initials sewn expertly into the fine fabric, Narcissa walked to the panelled wall and flicked her wand lazily so a handle magically appeared on the cream coloured walls. She opened the door and stepped into a lavish dressing room. The room was cast in a faint glow from the pristine crystal chandelier that hung from the ornate ceiling, illuminating the rows of beautiful garments. Narcissa flicked her wand easily so the walls changed into gilded mirrors.

With a criticising frown she flicked through her impressive collection of attires in search for the perfect outfit for the social endeavours of the day. She finally settled on a floor length skirt that accentuated her slim figure, and a coat to match, which she paired with a crème coloured shirt with an intricate lace detail on the collar and on the cuff of the sleeves. Once she was dressed she sat by her vanity and fixed invisible strands of hair threatening to peek out of the securely placed pins. Finally she put on her gloves, and heels, careful to give her image a one last glance before walking out of the dressing room.

A familiar satisfying thrill shot up her spine by the sound of new heels on the hardwood floor, bringing back fond memories from her childhood when her parents came home from some exciting trip to France or Austria. Her mother would always bring home new shoes from some expensive boutique, and she would dance around the drawing room, enjoying the sound of her shoes echoing across the room. In that aspect she felt a rare feeling of remorse of never having a daughter to share such precious moments, but that feeling was quickly choked down. She and Lucius had enough problems as it was, another child would only bring further complications to their problematic lives.

Narcissa shook her head and continued onwards, she was vexed enough and didn't see the need to add to her troubled mind. Determinedly she walked over to the large save and grabbed her purse only to remember that she had forgotten her hat in her closet.

In her distraction she opened Lucius' part of the compartment and froze in place. Wide eyed she bent down and picked up the deformed mask in the shape of a scull. In their years of marriage Lucius had always been careful to keep this aspect of his life as far from their family life as possible. Never before had he been so careless as to leave his garb so easily disposed. Slim fingers ran down the bone white mask, her skin colour draining into the same shade. She refused to believe that her husband could be so reckless. He must have known that after the incident on the World Cup previously alleged Death Eaters would be on the top of the list of suspected in the Ministry.

She did not need this. They did not need this. Not after the whole fiasco with the Weasley girl. The name Malfoy still provoked fear and respect in the Wizarding world, but bad publicity would ruin them. Her husband worked hard to keep their reputations intact, but her whole life was devoted to it.

Narcissa dropped the mask with a disdainful sneer, and closed the door firmly, then stepped outside the room as if nothing had occurred. She rounded past the staircase and onto the other side of the wing. Without a single knock she opened the double doors to her son's quarters. A pale head shot up by the sound of the door opening.

"Mother."

"Draco, I am going to meet friends for lunch. I reckon you still have a meeting with those brutes you call friends."

"They aren't brutes, and their names are Crabbe and Goyle." He murmured and toyed with a toy dragon that spewed fire over toy soldiers that were scattered on the floor.

"Promise you'll behave." She bent down and kissed her son's cheek, much to his chagrin. Though unable to defy his mother he simply nodded his pale head obediently.

"Yes, mother."

"Good."

She straightened up, her pale blue eyes looking critically over her son's bedroom.

"Make sure to punish the elves if they haven't cleaned up this mess by noon."

With that remark she stepped over an abandoned toy and walked flippantly out of the room.

The few apparating spots on the manor grounds were easily missed by those unfamiliar with the manor. It had taken Narcissa quite a while to get used to the many wards on the Malfoy land, but as the years progressed it had become a matter of security for Narcissa. She walked onto the terrace and with a casual flick of her wand she disappeared with a faint pop.

The sound of the busy street of Diagon Alley came into view. Witches and Wizards strolled past her, busily getting to their destinations. The street seemed unusually busy and loud for this time of year, and Narcissa braced herself against the turbulent crowd. She hated public gatherings, preferring the quieter and calmer streets of the upper Wizarding London, which was preserved for those with wealth and influence. Few with sparse amount of galleons in their pockets dared even enter the reserved streets that continued off the busy street of Diagon Alley.

With a disdainful sneer she managed to squeeze past the crowds. She was careful not to breathe through her nose from the stench, and watched every step as if the people surrounding her were diseased. Who knew how many mudbloods were in the midst of the crowd? It made her skin crawl to think of it.

Once she had made her way through to the more quiet streets she finally allowed herself to relax and enjoy the warm summer morning.

Discarding the beautiful boutiques she walked straight ahead to her destination. Le Petit Salon Fée was a quaint little coffeehouse situated between Madame Fairshaw's finery, and Nuits & Beaune, the finest winery in London. Known for their heavenly pastry and tea blends, Le Petit Salon Fée was a popular abode amongst the Pureblood socialites. Narcissa walked through the door and was immediately attended to by the owner of the place.

"Mrs. Malfoy, how are you this morning?"

"I'm very fine, thank you." She greeted the stout man, whose moustache shifted upwards when he smiled politely.

"Excellent. Your friends are waiting. I picked the best table."

"Narcissa Malfoy! By Morgana's grave how long is the last we met?"

Viola Parkinson was a boisterous lady who had been in her social circles since Hogwart's. Despite that Viola was four years her senior she had been eager to include Narcissa in her circles at Hogwart's.

"Viola, it has been too long."

They embraced and shared airy kisses on each cheek before Viola drew her at arm's length. Viola's dark hair was swept up in an elaborate up do fit for the queens of old, her purple skirts swinging around her curvaceous frame.

"Oh my, have you lost weight? You look spectacular, as always."

"Thank you." Narcissa ignored the hopeful glint in Viola's eyes for her recognition. She wasn't one for pretentious compliments. She turned her head to the side and stepped away from Viola.

"Ah, Evelyn, Georgiana, Isabella."

She acknowledged the already seated women by the round table. Three heads nodded towards her, though they made no move to greet her as Viola did.

Narcissa sat down by the table, and ignored the menu before her.

"What have you been up to this summer? I heard you attended the Quidditch World Cup." Evelyn Rosier's bottle green eyes fixated on her pointedly, as if she was waiting for some dirty secret to unravel before her. Narcissa's stomach clenched, but she carefully masked her unease.

"Yes, I did. Though I despise this vile sport. If I hadn't been personally invited by the Minister of Magic I would have declined."

Evelyn's eyes widened slightly but she didn't say anything further.

Ignorant of the tension in the group Isabella Zabini leaned forward in her chair.

"I went to Greece with my husband. Such a lovely resort. We spent the whole summer there."

"Charming." Viola Parkinson said with a disinterested flare. "My husband isn't fond of Greece, you see, he hates these Mediterranean countries. The people all seem…dirty." She said the word with a wrinkle of her curved nose.

"Oh, I quite agree." Georgiana Goyle mused, her eyes seeking acknowledgement from the rest of the table.

"Did you go overseas this summer, Narcissa?" Viola looked at Narcissa expectantly, ignoring Georgiana's remark.

"No. Lucius and I have been quite busy this summer. We have scheduled a trip in December."

"Oh, a romantic holiday with the husband. Sounds endearing." Isabella Zabini smirked suggestively.

Narcissa could hardly count her relationship with Lucius romantic, or their trip endearing. It was mostly business for him, and shopping endeavours for her.

"Draco won't be coming home for the holidays. Lucius and I decided to go to Paris and then perhaps we'll prolong the journey and stay in our house in Brittany."

"Oh, how exciting. I wanted to buy a house in the Alps, but my husband didn't want to. But I told him that..."

Narcissa tuned out of the conversation. Isabella could go on for hours if she wanted to. At least her chatting was preferable over the scrutiny from Evelyn Rosier. Surely Viola knew of her own husband's association with the Dark Lord, but others weren't so fortunate to receive their husband's trust. Narcissa wouldn't have minded Evelyn's judgment if it weren't for her vast connections. Even though she itched to tell her of her husband's endeavours, she decided against it. Evan might have a secret side, but he was family, and in the Pureblood world blood ran thicker than water. Evelyn might have married a pureblood, but she could never change the fact that her blood was not the purest, and Narcissa wasn't afraid to remind her of that whenever she decided to act her superior.

Evan had inherited the Rosier wealth, her mother not receiving a penny since she was a female descendant. It was heart breaking to see him claim the many prized possessions of their uncle, who had recently passed away.

"Here you go ladies." The waiter placed a tray on their table, along with their tea.

"Now, Narcissa. How is Lucius?" Evelyn said as she poured milk into her tea.

"He is well, thank you for asking. How is my darling cousin?" She asked pleasantly, though the underlying venom in her voice did not go unnoticed by Mrs Rosier.

"He is well. In fact he was speaking of you and Lucius yesterday. He told me he ran into you at the World Cup."

"Yes, he did."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed, and she leaned a little bit so the rest of the table wouldn't hear what she said.

"A little bird told me about your involvement in the occurrences at the World Cup."

If Narcissa was surprised or offended by her remark she didn't show it.

"We don't want anyone to hurt your precious reputation, and your flawless image, not would we, Narcissa?"

"What exactly are you implying, Evelyn?" Narcissa said evenly, though her voice could have frozen a dragon's fire.

Narcissa didn't know what Evelyn was playing at, but she could believe her to do anything to hurt the Malfoy reputation.

"What exactly did Evan tell you?"

"Nothing. Evan wouldn't dare say anything against you. But there are others who would gladly leak said information to the press for a generous amount of galleons."

Her lips twitched into a nasty smile, her eyes drifting to their companions who were eagerly discussing the hideous china Imogene Bulstrode had recently purchased.

Narcissa couldn't stand the self-satisfactory smirk on Evelyn's face, and leaned in closer, just to be sure that the others couldn't eavesdrop on their conversation.

"What's in it for you?" She hissed.

"Everything. You have been waltzing around as if you own the world, when you are just as dirty as the next mudblood."

"How dare you." Narcissa flared.

"What are you speaking of so privately. Why won't you share with the rest of us?" Viola said snappishly, not even bothering to hide her annoyance of being left out on a conversation.

Before Evelyn could reply Narcissa took control of the situation.

"I apologize Viola. We were discussing how Evan enjoyed spending time with us at the World Cup. It's unfortunate that Evelyn couldn't come."

"Unfortunate indeed." Viola said and raised one thin eyebrow.

Fortunately Isabella Zabini found an opening to steer the conversation to herself and her son Blaise.

Narcissa welcomed Isabella's chatter over Viola's scrutiny and Evelyn's threats any day.

One hour later Narcissa stepped onto the sunny street and said her goodbyes to Viola, Georgiana and Isabella. Neatly she put her hand through the crook of Evelyn's elbow and steered her away from the bustling coffeehouse.

"Let us walk together Evelyn." She said pleasantly, though she was seething inside. Though Evelyn's lips were turned upwards in a sneer, her bottle green eyes betrayed her uneasiness.

"Let's."

They walked in silence, the tension between them thick as smoke.

"Should I be afraid? Are you going to send your husband to threaten me, or torture me?" Evelyn's voice was light and mocking.

Narcissa stopped and turned to Evelyn.

"You have no authority to threaten me."

"No? Actually I think that you're the one who shouldn't be threatening me."

"If only you know what you've gotten yourself into. You might think you have revealed our secret, but you may have forgotten that your own husband and his friends were also there."

Evelyn's eyes widened, her smug expression dulling slightly by her remark.

"You wouldn't…he's your cousin."

"There is nothing I wouldn't do to protect my family. Cross me and you'll be thrown out of every social circle worth attending."

"You cannot do that!"

Narcissa raised one eyebrow, a mocking smirk on her lips, a familiar trade of the Black's, one she found quite useful in situations like this. The Black pride soared through her veins. No one threatened a Malfoy and got away with it.

"There is very little I cannot do, and I hope you're wise enough to learn that before it's too late."

Evelyn took an involuntary step back; her self-assuring sneer wiped completely off her face, and was now replaced with fear.

"You have nothing on us." She said with a shaky voice.

"Neither have you." Narcissa pointed out.

"Now," She said calmly and put her gloves on. "I trust that everything is clear between us?"

Evelyn nodded her head tersely and clutched her pearl beaded bag and turned around with a huff.

Narcissa watched her retreat and blew out a small breath before heading into the opposite direction. A small smile of triumph played on her lips, her head held high as she walked down the busy street of Diagon Alley.

When Narcissa apparated back to the manor the weather had taken a downturn. Instantly regretting her decision to walk the manor grounds to cool off, she hurried down the gravelly road towards the wrought iron gates. With one flick of her wand the gates dissolved into smoke. By the time she entered through the front door it started to rain.

With a sigh of relief she threw her cloak in the arms of a waiting house elf and hurried up the grand staircase.

Now she only had to wait for Lucius to arrive.

Lucius didn't come back home at five, and he did not appear at dinner either.

Narcissa and Draco enjoyed their dinner in a relative silence, though she could not miss the troubled glances her son cast to the empty spot his father usually occupied. Narcissa refused to acknowledge his absence despite the fact that Lucius had always taken dinner with his family no matter the circumstance.

It had turned dark, and the fire crackled in the marble fireplace in the library where Narcissa had made herself comfortable in her favourite armchair. She had changed into a fitted ivory gown of silk and lace with a robe to match.

Her hand leaved through a potion's book, though her mind refused to concentrate on the intricate text.

Draco had retired early, by her command. She didn't want him anywhere near her confrontation with his father. Contrary to popular belief, Narcissa could be just as dominating and manipulative like her husband.

The sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door to the library alerted to her that her husband was fast approaching. He was quite fond of making his appearance known, a nasty habit in her eyes.

Feigning ignorance, she darted her eyes to the book in her lap. One minute later the door opened, and Lucius entered the room, a cane in hand.

"Narcissa." He seemed almost surprised, perhaps that she was still awake, though Narcissa wasn't quite sure.

"Lucius." She acknowledged though she didn't look up from her book. The sound of his footsteps faded into the luxurious carpet, making it hard for her to estimate his direction. Reluctantly her fingers closed around the edges of the book and closed it shut.

"I expected you home at five." She was unable to hide the bitterness in her tone. Never had she intended to become like her deceased mother who could never trust her own husband.

"I was delayed." Came his simple answer.

Narcissa clenched her jaw, but made no reply. The only indication of her growing irritation was the restlessness of her hands that kept turning the wedding band on her finger.

"I spoke with Viola Parkinson today," Narcissa said calmly as she watched her husband from across the room, "and Georgiana Goyle, and Evelyn Rosier. Do you know what they had in common?"

"You know full well that I have no interest in your social affairs." Lucius drawled as he removed his cloak, throwing it on the back of the nearest chair.

"They are all witnesses to your atrocious activities Lucius."

If Lucius was bothered by Narcissa's outburst he didn't show it. With an eerie calm he poured himself a glass of cognac. When he finally turned around he appeared perfectly calm.

"I thought we spoke of this Narcissa." He finally said, and took a sip of the cognac.

Narcissa pursed her lips, her nose turning upwards disdainfully.

"If you think that I am going to turn my back on this then you're wrong. I won't allow you to destroy us."

Lucius' eyes hardened into molten iron, the grip on his glass tightened so his knuckles turned white.

"I warn you Narcissa. Continue like that and you might just regret your words." He said icily.

"You're warning me?" She stood up from her seat, the silk robe slid off her milk white shoulders and on to the floor.

Lucius' nostrils flared, and he put the drink on the counter with a considerate force. Narcissa winced as the glass compacted with the hard wood.

"What is with you Narcissa?"

Lucius walked over to her, the storm in his eyes making her feel entirely exposed. She tried to gain control of her emotions, but despite her talent at hiding her feelings, it became impossibly hard when she was around him.

He stopped mere inches away from her.

"You have been angry with me ever since we came home from the world cup. What do you want, Narcissa?"

His cologne filled her senses, making her weak in the knees, dulling her counterattack. Instead of allowing him to affect her so, she took a step forward and pointed an accusing finger into his chest.

"I want us to remain as we have these past thirteen years. For thirteen years we have lived our lives in respect and admiration. I don't want that to change by a single lapse in your judgement."

Lucius grasped her hand in a tight grip, his voice hissing at her like a snake.

"What do you have me for? Do you honestly think that I would endanger our reputation so easily? Are you so thick headed to think that I haven't done this for the greater good of our society."

Narcissa tore her hand from his grasp and took a step back.

"I don't know."

Lucius sighed and ran a hand through his blond locks.

"Narcissa, are you even listening to yourself? The only people who know for sure are on our side. You speak of Parkinson, Goyle, and Rosier who were and are as deep in the Dark Lord's circle as we are."

"We don't know where their alliances lie, not anymore. If they turn you in…"

"They cannot possibly turn me in." He seemed so confident that it almost convinced her that he was right, that she was merely being hysterical. But she had not forgotten how easily their closest friends and allies turned their back on them when Lucius was accused. She had not forgotten how they had been shunned from their social circles until Lucius was cleared of all charges.

"You don't know that." She said quietly.

"Why? Why are you even bothering Narcissa, when my actions repulse you so?"

"Because I don't want to lose you."

Silence engulfed the room. Lucius and Narcissa looked at each other with masked expressions.

"You what?"

"I..." Narcissa trailed off uncharacterisitcally.

She didn't remember the last time she lost full control of her emotions. It didn't matter, the damage was done. Feeling the heat rush to her cheeks, she tried to think of something, anything to say to make this right. She had broken the very rule they set for each other, to never show sentiments in that way. In all their years together she had never spoken of her worry when he left the manor, possibly to never return. He had never told her that he would miss her when he went away for weeks at a time, when she was pregnant with Draco. Somehow it had been easier for them. They knew all too well the consequences of sentiments, and therefore they refused to allow their emotions to get away with them.

Narcissa tried to steady her hearbeat as she observed her husband. Lucius looked at her with such a mix of emotions that she couldn't even begin to depict his feelings.

"You won't lose me." His voice was unusually soft, comforting even.

She wanted nothing more but to step into his embrace and fall for his honey coated words, but her instincts prevented her from such luxury. Instead she took a step back, breaking the spell between them. She missed the momentary hurt in her husband's eyes.

"What did Fudge say?"

"Nothing you should worry about."

Narcissa glanced at him in disbelief. Lucius sipped his formerly discarded glass of Cognac, his grey eyes never leaving her.

"He merely wished to discuss the newest agreement with our associates in Belgium, that's all."

Narcissa pursed her lips and nodded her head tersely. If only she could believe him, and trust him like she used to. But that had been many years ago, and many things had happened since then.

"Should I worry?"

"No."

She could feel a headache start by her temples. Narcissa put her hand on the base of her neck and massaged the achy spot. The pins in her hair were giving her a headache, and slowly she removed the sharp pins out of their place, allowing her hair to pull free from the tight knot.

Soft blonde curls fell down her back in waves, and she rubbed her aching skull.

"What is truly going on with you?" Lucius said wearily from his spot by the counter. Narcicssa dropped her hands to her sides and stared at him pointedly, any pretence long gone.

"I am tired of playing the same games over and over again. I am tired of keeping our lives perfect, and I cannot stand that after all these years scum like Arthur Weasley keep trying to destroy our lives. I hate it." She sat down into one of the seats and buried her head in her hands. If Lucius was the man she thought he was he would walk away and pretend that their conversation had never taken place. Her breathing caught in her throat when she felt long fingers clutch hers. Slowly he lowered her hands so their eyes could meet. He didn't say anything. He didn't gather her into his embrace, and he didn't comfort her. He simply sat there, crouched on one knee and waited for her to explain herself.

She knew that this was her moment to tell him truly how she felt. How she feared every single day that Ministry officials would raid their home and arrest her husband. Every day she feared that the Dark Lord would return and take him away from her.

She lowered her eyes, but did not retreat into her cold self.

"I don't want to live in fear again. I can't do it."

"I want you…" He paused and took a deep breath as if it pained him to say the next words. "I need you to trust me."

Narcissa's eyes drifted quickly upwards, seeking any hint of the familiar mockery, but there was nothing but sincerity in his usually cool eyes.

"I do, but do you trust me?"

"Yes."

"Then we have an understanding."

"We do."

"Well then," Narcissa stood up and picked up her discarded robe. "I'm going to bed then." She said and tied it around her waist.

"I will join you shortly." Lucius had returned to his old self, and Narcissa found it somewhat comforting to know that some things would never change.

Narcissa crawled into bed, feeling incredibly weary and drained. She lay on her side, facing away from the empty space beside her. Despite her weariness sleep could not find her.

True to his word Lucius came after about an hour. Pretending to sleep she only heard as he prepared himself for bed. She felt the mattress shift when he crawled into bed beside her.

She closed her eyes and evened her breathing as if she was in deep sleep. It almost quickened when she felt a warm breath on her cheek. Heart hammering in her chest she wondered whether he was about to kiss her. Then it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, the absence of him left the cold air to caress her cheek. She lay on her side, until she heard Lucius' breathing even, and she knew that he was asleep.

Turning over to face the ceiling, she stared into the darkness, and slowly brought her hand to the spot where he had branded her with his closeness. How easy it was for him to stir her cold heart. If only her actions could do the same.

Her eyes drifted to her husband who seemed alert even in his sleep. Her hand reached out to smooth the crease on his brow. Sometimes she wished that their life could be that of normal and simple people, but then again they hadn't chosen each other in the hopes of an easy life.

Despite how much she pretended that their life was perfect, she could never delude herself into thinking that it was. On the contrary, it was complicated and incredibly frustrating at times. But she had chosen this life, she had chosen him, and she simply had to live with the consequences of her choices. Somehow she had never regretted her life with Lucius. Despite all their differences, she would rather live an exciting lifetime with him than in safety with someone less worthy.

For now, that was enough.