Under Obligation

Chapter 4

Preparations

One week wouldn't be nearly long enough.

Narcissa lay in her bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling; sleep seemed a terribly futile endeavour. Her mother crept into her room an hour or so after Lucius left, but Narcissa hadn't felt up to talking, so she had feigned slumber until her mother left again.

Now she was staring through the darkness tracing the shadows above her with her eyes, making faces out of the strange shapes, and trying to decide what she felt. The night before she had cried herself to sleep, certain that her family was ruined, certain that they were going to lose everything. It was only one day later, and things could not have looked more different. The Blacks were not ruined- not completely.Things could be patched up and mended, although perhaps they would never completely heal? Narcissa licked her lips and refused to dwell on what she personally was losing.

Perhaps it was best not to think about it? To pretend it really wasn't happening? Lucius and her father had been so eager to assure her that nothing was going to change... maybe she could will herself into believing the lie?

Narcissa yawned and snuggled down into her pillows. Yes, denial, that was the key. She could pretend that tomorrow was just another day, the same as any that had come in the weeks before. Willing herself to believe the lie, she found slumber at last.

The blissful oblivion was not to last. Narcissa was woken at the crack of dawn by the curtains being jerked apart. She muttered something garbled into her mattress and pulled the covers up over her head, only to squeal unhappily when they were thrown off completely.

"Come on, get up you lazy Skrewt!" Bellatrix's voice sounded far too wide awake. Narcissa strained to open one eye, but couldn't quite make out the numbers on the clock beside her bed.

"I'm asleep," she mumbled, groping around for her quilt. "Go 'way."

"Get up, Cissa," Bellatrix said and prodded her roughly. "We've tons to do today! Mama's already ready downstairs. She's waiting to take us into London- well, you really I suppose," Bellatrix almost pouted. "But I'm sure to get a new dress too."

"I'm happy for you. Go 'way," Narcissa begged, hiding her head under her pillow.

"Oh, aren't you even a little tiny bit excited about choosing your wedding dress? You only get one you know."

Narcissa bolted up, feeling as if she had just been dowsed by a bucket of icy water. "My wedding dress?" she whispered, paling.

"Yes, you didn't think you were going to wear Andromeda's ugly old rag, did you?" Bellatrix sniffed contemptuously.

Actually, Narcissa had rather thought she would. Mr. Black had insisted, as a point of pride, on paying for his eldest daughter's gown. It had been ordered from a very exclusive couturier in Paris and had not come cheaply.

Bellatrix seemed to be able to read her sister's thoughts.

"You're rich now, remember? The Malfoys sent over loads of money- well, at least I think they must have- and told daddy you can use their accounts for whatever else you need. You're getting the dress, and new furniture, and all new things for school."

Narcissa sat up in her bed and blinked, wondering if she was still asleep. "New furniture?" she asked, still-bleary eyed.

"Yes. Apparently the Malfoys don't think we're up to scratch," Bella informed her. "Daddy was ranting about it this morning, but he took the money all the same...now, GET UP!"

Narcissa finally allowed herself to be prodded out of bed and called an elf to draw a bath and arrange her clothes. Once again, her father sent instructions regarding her attire. She was tucked into one of Andromeda's leftover gowns, had her hair pinned on top of her head, and was splashed with rogue before she was pronounced acceptable.

Her mother and sister were waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Narcissa shrank a little under Mrs. Black's hollow, disapproving gaze. "Well, Narcissa. You look lovely," she said tightly. She lifted her voice a bit, adding emphasis as she added bitterly, "No one would guess you're only fifteen years old."

Narcissa's father must have been nearby, because she heard a sigh and a slamming door, but she didn't see him. Bowing her head a little, she accepted a hug and light kiss from her mother, and then fell into step behind her impatient sister as they headed for the floo.

She knew they would go to Diagon Alley. There were some boutiques there that her mother patronized from time to time, but the fireplace they emerged in was unfamiliar to Narcissa, as was the wizard who rushed forward.

"Ah, zis ees zee pe-teet?" he said in a French accent so thick that Narcissa suspected it was fake. He was talking to Bellatrix.

"No," Mrs. Black said coldly, and gestured to her second daughter: "My youngest, Narcissa."

Narcissa barely had time to catch her breath before the strange wizard was tugging on her hands and leading her into the hushed, silk-swathed recesses of what she could tell was an exclusive salon.

"Madame must see you," he said, slipping out of his accent. "She is-ees ver-ee bus-ee, but-"

"This is the girl?" Narcissa's eyes widened as a large witch emerged from a curtained portal on the wall. She looked like the last person Narcissa would expect to be a designer. Clad in simple, severe black robes and buckled shoes, the woman had a sharp, unpleasant face and a down turned mouth.

The wizard leading Narcissa nodded his head. Soon, the youngest Miss Black felt appraising eyes wandering over her figure. "Skinny little thing, aren't you?" the designer witch mumbled disapprovingly, "and what about your chest? You're having an engorgement charm set, surely?"

Instinctively, Narcissa crossed her arms over her breasts, "I-!"

"She most assuredly is NOT!" Narcissa was grateful to hear her mother's voice behind her, sounding scandalized.

"Pity," the witch said, sounding annoyed. "Well, I'll have to enchant the bodice," she shrugged. "Stand on that stool." She gestured Narcissa toward a raised bench in the centre of the room.

Narcissa did as she was told, and then gasped as a glittering bolt of magic stripped away her clothes so that she was left standing in her underwear.

"I assume you'll be going for a trousseau after this?" the witch said archly, smirking at the girlish ruffled knickers and chemise.

Narcissa's cheeks began to burn.

"Just concentrate on the dress," Mrs. Black snapped.

"Mother..." Bellatrix whined in warning. That was interesting. Bellatrix was usually the last person to suffer arrogance. The designer must have been more exclusive than Narcissa first expected.

"Let's try satin," the large witch said, zapping Narcissa again. The girl gasped as a simple, tight-skirted column dress formed around her body.

"Hrm...too plain," the designer sighed. She flicked her wand again. The skirt filled out, and was covered with little ruffles.

"Too busy."

Another flick.

"Too full."

Narcissa was surrounded by mirrors, and she watched the gowns scroll past far too quickly to register her own opinions. She quite liked some of the dresses that the witch was trying, but she couldn't get a word in edgewise. Her mother was having the same problem.

"A bit low-cut in the front!" Mrs. Black offered once, but Madame ignored her, scrolling through design after design on her own.

"Maybe organdie?" she said in a bored tone.

The air around Narcissa shimmered again. Then, everyone gasped.

Narcissa knew, the second that she looked into the silvery glass at her reflection, that it was the perfect dress. She was reminded of the day when she bought her first wand at Ollivander's. From the moment it touched her skin, she knew. The tight bodice of the dress gave the illusion of curves that had not quite formed, and the full, gauzy skirt reminded her of something that a fairy princess in a story book would wear.

"Well," Madame said, clapping her hands in satisfaction, "I believe that will do."

Everyone else seemed to be in agreement as well. It was perfect.

Narcissa ventured a small smile at herself in the mirror. Then she noticed the price tag dangling out of the top of the bodice. She read it and gasped.

Madame and the wizard exchanged a look, but Mrs. Black hurried forward. "It doesn't matter what it costs," she said in a tone that implied, at last, that she had found something in the arrangement to take pleasure in. "We'll take it. Bill the Malfoys."

The wizard nodded eagerly, "Of course!"

There were still fittings to take care of. The wizard handled it, while Madame sorted out a bridesmaid gown for Bella. Narcissa wanted pale pink, but her sister refused. The youngest Black didn't know quite how she felt about "forest green and crimson" for wedding colours- it sounded suspiciously like what Bellatrix had wanted for her own wedding before being overruled- but she hadn't made a habit that week of refusing extraordinary requests, and she saw no need to start at that moment.

It was less than an hour later when Narcissa and her family emerged from the posh boutique, each clutching exquisite new gowns for the wedding and in much better spirits than when they had set off. "Well girls," Mrs. Black said, turning them down one of the side streets that was a shortcut back to the main thoroughfare of Diagon Alley, "Would you like some ice cream or lunch before we finish shopping for Narcissa's things?"

Narcissa was about to nod her head in agreement, when a flashbulb exploded near her head. She barely had time to blink before another went off, and then another.

"Miss Black!" a voice shouted near her head, "When did you first start dating Mr. Malfoy?"

"Is it true that you met him while visiting your sister at school?" came another from her left.

"Are you really pregnant?"

Narcissa felt as if something icy was being poured down her back. What was going on? It was impossible to even think in the confusion of voices and light. She was grateful when fingers curled around the collar of her dress and hauled her back into the boutique.

It was the wizard who had greeted them before. "NO COMMENT!" he said, then dragged the three dazed women back inside. Regaining her bearings, Narcissa saw that (accent abandoned) the man was shutting the door on a throng of reporters.

"My goodness!" Mrs. Black said, eyes wide, "What in the world was that all about?"

..ooOOoo..

It didn't take long for them to get an answer. Abandoning their plans for shopping, the trio returned to Ravensden Hall to find the evening edition of the Daily Prophet bearing their own photograph, and the headline:

"SISTER SWAP!"

Beneath, in smaller but equally garish letters read:

"Truth of broken engagement surfaces, Malfoy to wed little sister."

"Well, I guess they got tired of reporting about Lord Voldemort," Bellatrix said dryly.

"Bella!" her mother hissed in annoyance. She snatched the paper out of her daughter's hands and read, her face growing paler and paler. "I have to take this to your father," she said.

Bellatrix scowled, "Wait here," she told her sister. She lifted her wand, and with a loud /CRACK!/ she disappeared.

Narcissa sat on the steps brooding and trying to figure out what was going on, but it wasn't long before her older sister reappeared, bearing a fresh copy of the paper. Bellatrix sat down beside her sister and gestured to the caption beneath their picture:

"Narcissa Black (centre) shown leaving Siren Couture. Is the newest Malfoy on the way?"

"Listen," Bellatrix said, beginning to read, "Two days ago this paper reported the broken engagement of Andromeda Black (Tonks) and millionaire playboy..." Narcissa scrunched her nose at the term, "...Lucius Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy Industries Floo Powder fortune. Recently, however, the Prophet has discovered startling new information..."

"Discovered how?" Narcissa interrupted, but Bellatrix shushed her and continued to read aloud.

"...it seems Mr Malfoy, far from being the party left standing at the altar as was formerly supposed, was in fact the one to call off the imminent wedding between himself and the former Miss Andromeda Black. The reaction of the now Mrs Tonks to this news we can, of course, only speculate, but her subsequent actions appear to speak volumes.

"Jilted by her long-standing fiancé in favour of her own baby sister Mrs Tonks set herself down a route of self-destruction, throwing herself at the first (Muggle-born!) man who would take her, and ensuring her permanent estrangement from her own, renowned, family.

"But the drama continues! In less than a week Mr Malfoy and Miss Narcissa Black are set to wed - and what could have prompted such haste, apart from the expectant patter of little feet? -"

"What?" Narcissa gasped, cutting Bellatrix off once again. Her sister stopped reading, but frowned down at the paper.

"Well, I assumed that's what people would think," the older girl said with a shrug, "but I didn't imagine the Prophet would actually go ahead publish it. Different reporter," she pointed to the name at the top of the article - a Ms C Thatcher. "Less fond of Muggles than the last one but no more subtle. Oh well, reporters are all scum, we needn't-" she ground to a halt at the stricken look on her sister's face. "Cissa?"

"Everyone will have read that! Everyone will think I'm- that I'm a-" Narcissa couldn't bring herself to say the words, but she could feel tears stinging her eyes.

"Who cares what everyone thinks? They'll all be proven wrong in nine months anyway," Bellatrix offered dismissively. Narcissa scowled. Bellatrix hadn't been quite so quick to ignore the opinion of Wizarding society when Andromeda's elopement had been splashed across the papers! "Besides, no one who knows you could have you pegged as anything other than a perfect little virgin bride," she laughed, a little meanly.

This, predictably, didn't make Narcissa feel any better, she stared at the floor glumly, unsurprised when the sound of her parents arguing in her father's study carried out into the hall.

"I have a headache. I'm going to lie down," she announced, standing up.

Bellatrix nodded distractedly still pouring over the paper, so Narcissa turned and stomped angrily up the stairs. She marched along the first floor corridors before furiously flinging open the door of her bedroom. She had not agreed to have her reputation besmirched! She felt like screaming into a pillow! And was very tempted to do so... except there was a large eagle owl sitting on her dressing table, attacking her hair brush. Narcissa watched it, wide-eyed and confused, once it seemed satisfied that the silver hairbrush was indeed dead, it hooted impatiently and bobbed its head towards a letter it must have delivered.

Narcissa crossed the room and picked up the note, she didn't recognise the script, but assumed she knew who it was from - Lucius. It had to be, she couldn't imagine anyone else who had a reason to write to her. She waited for the bird to fly off out of the window, but it seemed in no hurry to leave.

"Fine. Stay," she sighed, breaking the seal. At least the owl couldn't read, couldn't talk, and hence couldn't make matters any worse.

Miss Narcissa Black,

Forgive me for taking the liberty of writing to you, but I felt I should offer some form of congratulations to you on your impending marriage to Mr Lucius Malfoy, my son.

Narcissa gaped at the letter in her hands. Everyone knew that Mr and Mrs Malfoy were separated. Mrs Malfoy was said to be living in France where she had family. She had not been actively involved in the Malfoy's affairs for some considerable length of time as far as Narcissa was aware. What had prompted her to write now? Andromeda hadn't received any such letter. She sat down on the edge of her bed to continue reading:

The news came as quite a shock, I can promise you. However, I should like to assure you that you have nothing to fear from me. Other members of the family I fear I cannot vouch for, but such things should hardly been written in one's first correspondence!

And the point of this correspondence, apart from offering words of congratulation, is to offer you an invitation to my villa here outside Marseilles. I should dearly like to meet you, my dear. I understand that the wedding is to take place almost immediately, and you will not have a great deal of free time beforehand, but if you send Hibou back with your reply, letting me know when you are available I am confident that we can arrange something. I have a great deal to say to you.

Kind regards,

Mrs Evangeline Malfoy

Narcissa finished reading the letter, then folded it neatly and laid it back on the dresser, deciding that she would answer it later. She was desperate for a nap- or simply to lie in her bed and stop thinking for a while, but it was not to be.

Mrs. Malfoy's eagle owl was followed by a plump, snowy-white bird from Great Aunt Araminta, a pair of barn owls from Cousin Violet, and a great, scarlet howler from Grimmauld Place.

Narcissa's ears had barely quit ringing from Aunt Agrippina's screeching (and rather unreasonable) accusations that she was a "Tart! A trollop! RUINATION ON US ALL!" when another flock of bird swooped in. There were soon so many that one of the house-elves had to be sent down to the cellar for more owl-treats. It seemed that everyone who could claim even the most casual acquaintance with the Blacks felt compelled to send a note congratulating them on their news, and not-so-subtly sniffing for the "real" story of what had gone on.

"Well, we can hardly confine the wedding just to the family now," Narcissa's mother said at dinner. "Besides, there's hardly any point keeping it a secret when word is out. We'll have to invite the Goyles, and the Hopskisses, and the Menchins..."

"I don't think that Mr. Malfoy will want a lot of people," Narcissa said nervously.

"Well, he ought to have thought of that before he went running to the blasted Prophet!" Orion snapped, rolling his eyes when Narcissa was shocked.

"You don't really think that he's the one who told them?" Narcissa said, incredulously. How was that possible? Surely Lucius wouldn't want more rumours spreading about him?

"Oh, please, Cissa," Bellatrix copied her father's expression. "Would you rather be known as a jilted groom, or a rakish despoiler of young girls?"

"No one is being despoiled!" Orion cut back in wearily before his daughters could begin a row, "Regardless of how it came about, the deed is done. The story has been printed. I think your mother is right. We'll have to have a big wedding now. Narcissa, why don't you write Mr. Malfoy and get an idea of how much he'll give you?"

"Give me?"

"Money to pay for the wedding. This is their fault, after all," he sniffed, as if one day had been enough time to forget his own complicity in bringing about the event.

Narcissa thought that she would rather die than ask anyone for money- especially Lucius!- but she didn't have a choice, and so she excused herself and wearily returned to her room. Mrs. Malfoy's letter was still on her desk, along with a stack of other notes that she had barely begun sifting through. She reached for a quill, but then gasped as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror above her head. Sitting behind her, was Andromeda!

She spun around, convinced that the stress had finally got to her, certain that she was imagining the reflection in the glass. Except, when she had finished turning, Andromeda was still there. Narcissa started to shake, for a moment she thought she was going to burst into tears, and then she recognised the intense emotion coursing through her body and robbing her of speech - pure, unadulterated anger.

"Oh Cissa!" Andromeda exclaimed wretchedly, stepping forwards without preamble. "If I had known I'd-"

"You'd what?" Narcissa snarled, her voice striking Andromeda like a slap to the face. "You would have done your duty? You would have married Lucius Malfoy as you were supposed to? As you have always known you were meant to?" Narcissa's voice steadily increased in anger and volume as she spoke.

"No," Andromeda shook her head sadly. "No, I would never have married Lucius Malfoy," she whispered.

Narcissa snorted. "So you decided to run off with your Muggle-born fiancé, humiliating him and destroying us!" she shrieked.

"I never meant to hurt you, Cissa, never ever, but you have to see that I couldn't marry him. I'm in love with Ted. I-" she trailed off under the look of disgust in her little sister's eyes.

"Love?" Narcissa snarled. "What's that like, Andy? Do tell; you've robbed me of my chance of ever finding that elusive emotion." She took a deep breath and plunged on recklessly, "And don't expect me to ever forgive you for doing that!"

Andromeda blanched, she shook her head soundlessly for a moment, and then managed to force herself to speak: "Don't say that, Cissa. Please, I-I can't bear it. You don't have to marry him either-"

"Andy, don't you understand?" Narcissa crossed the space between them, not seeming like the little sister anymore. "The Malfoys will destroy us if I do what you've done. Not that it matters to you," she hissed cruelly; "you are no longer one of us."

"Don't say that, Cissa," Andromeda begged, tears falling freely down her cheeks, but Narcissa was riding the high of too much anger to care. "You can't marry him, you don't know him. I have to tell you, he-"

There was a loud /CRACK!/ and a battered looking house elf appeared. "Mr Malfoy is here to see Miss Narcissa, misses," it squeaked, eyes bulging when it saw Andromeda.

Narcissa stood abruptly. "If you'll excuse me, my fiancé requires my attention."

"Cissa!" Andromeda called after her little sister, "Wait!" She stood, but didn't dare to follow her into the hall. Narcissa didn't let herself look back. She tried not to think about the fact that she might be seeing the older girl for the very last time, or of all the other things that she might have said, and to concentrate instead on placing one foot in front of the other and marching down the stairs. She couldn't allow herself to feel. She couldn't allow herself to wonder. Perfect numbness was the only way she could carry herself through the ordeal with decorum.

Lucius was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. A little of her worry melted away when she noticed how wickedly handsome he looked. Narcissa could almost hate him for how calm and poised he appeared. He seemed elegant and perfectly at ease as he stood with one hand on the banister, and the other curled around a silver-topped cane.

Millionaire playboy, indeed! Narcissa thought churlishly as she tried to discount how easy it was to see his appeal. Only a few days earlier she had judged him and found him wanting, so it was quite alarming how rapidly her opinion had changed. She had always found his long, silky hair something of an affectation, but pulled away from his face and secured by a black leather thong, it looked exquisitely masculine and
appealing. Likewise, there was something agreeable about the shape of his face- when he wasn't smirking at her, that was!

"Miss Narcissa," he said in greeting when she finally reached the last step. He lifted her hand to kiss it, but she snatched it away. "Such warm greetings," he murmured, not showing if he was ruffled or not, "No wonder I'm so fond of this family."

"As if I'd let you kiss me after what you did!"

"What I did?" he answered, frowning as if in incomprehension. When she continued to hold herself aloof, comprehension dawned. "Ah, the article in the Prophet."

"Yes, the article in the Prophet!" she hissed, trying very hard to keep her voice even. Treacherous little tears were already pricking at the backs of her eyes, making her vision watery. She jutted her chin upwards to try to mask their appearance. "That was very...very ungentlemanly of you, Mr. Malfoy!"

A smile tugged at the corner of Lucius's lips, making her even angrier. He thought it was funny to toy with her reputation? "You really are quite adorable when you're furious, Miss Narcissa. I shall have to make you angry more often."

"Why!" she gaped, astonished that he would be so casually flip. She was gathering her wits to shout back something acidic, when she was silenced by the third most shocking thing that had happened in the past three days...

He kissed her.

It was only the lightest brush of his lips against the tip of her nose, but it sent Narcissa shooting away from Lucius as if she'd been burnt. Unfortunately, as she hadn't quite managed to make it down the last stair, Narcissa tripped, catching her ankle on the lip of the next step and throwing herself completely off balance.

Lucius moved instinctively to catch her, arms winding around her body, so that, for just a moment, she was crushed against his chest, the broad expanse of hard muscle lay flat beneath her small hands. She was enveloped by warmth and strength and a rich, masculine cologne that settle deep in her blood. And far too soon she was being set to rights, set apart from the solidity of his body.

"We'll have to do something about your skittish tendencies," Lucius drawled, wholly unaffected, adding it to the bottom of the lip-biting, apologetic-shrugging list he had started to compile.

"I am not skittish!" Narcissa snapped, trying to ignore the way her hands were still tingling. She hadn't expected him to feel quite so- so... she wasn't even sure what to call it, but she hadn't expected to like it quite so much either! The discovery that she had was really rather alarming.

"No?" Lucius looked ready to argue the point, but seemed to decide on reflection to let it pass. "I suppose it might just be youth," he said.

"Well, if you only came here to insult me..." Narcissa stuck her nose up in the air and started to turn, careful this time of where she placed her feet. She stopped, mid-step however when Lucius spoke again.

"I didn't come to insult you. I came to apologize."

She spun around. "Oh! So you admit-!"

Lucius laid a finger across her lips. Feather-light, she nevertheless felt a sizzle of electricity that shot all the way down to her spine. "I'm not admitting anything," he said sternly, "I came to tell you how sorry that I am that your name got raked through the mud."

"But if you didn't-" Narcissa saw in her fiancé's eyes that she should have let the subject drop, but like a dog with a bone, she couldn't let it go.

"I have my suspicions," he growled, "But you needn't trouble yourself. It's been taken care of."

"Taken care of?" Narcissa breathed, wary of something in his tone.

"Taken care of," he repeated firmly, and then added, "It helps to have powerful friends."

She wondered who could possibly be more powerful than the Malfoys, but she didn't have long to dwell on the question because he was holding out his elbow as if he wanted her to take it. She did so, but frowned curiously. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Lucius smiled down at her. "To see my apology."

"To 'see'?" she repeated, still confused.

Lucius grinned broadly. "Ah, Miss Black," he teased, "Surely you don't doubt that I know this much about women at least?"

"Oh?" In spite of herself, she felt her lips turning upwards, "And what is that, Mr. Malfoy?"

"That the value of an apology increases in direct proportion with the box accompanying it."

"Mr. Malfoy!" Narcissa laughed, covering her mouth with her hands because she didn't really want him to see it, but unable to stifle the impulse. "You're incorrigible!"

"I try."

She allowed herself to be led through the front hall and onto the porch.

"Do you trust me?" Lucius asked. Narcissa's first impulse was to frown. How could she possibly trust him after so short an acquaintance? Then again, she supposed that was only a proper feeling to hold toward one's intended spouse? She didn't quite know how to answer, because Lucius made a weary sound. "Just this once," he amended, and then fished a clean handkerchief out of his pocket. Narcissa submitted as he folded the cloth into a long strip and tied it around her eyes. "No peeking!" he admonished, as if he could sense her fingers twitching on her skirt.

"I'm not," she protested, and stopped trying to see out of the edges of the makeshift blindfold while she was led a little ways in the dark.

"Here we are," Lucius said at last.

He pulled away the blindfold and Narcissa let out an awed gasp. Tethered a few feet in front of them, pawing restlessly at the ground, its chestnut coat gleaming in the evening light, was an absolutely beautiful Aethonon mare.

"Oh, she's gorgeous!" Narcissa breathed, enthralled, watching as the striking animal flexed its large wings.

"She's yours," Lucius said softly, studying Narcissa's delightful reaction instead of paying any attention to the Aethonon. Her skin was glowing and her eyes positively sparkled, a small smile tugged at the corners of Lucius's mouth. Yes, he decided, he would be in very grave danger of spoiling her completely.

"Oh, but I-" Narcissa began, intending to added the words 'couldn't possibly accept her' to the end of that sentence, except she really didn't want to, and so the polite refusal that was all planned out in her head wouldn't come.

Besides, she reasoned, stepping forwards so that she could pet the Aethonon's velvety muzzle and escape Lucius's questioning stare, it would be very rude to do so. It wasn't as if Lucius had showered her with gifts. This was his very first one. She'd had to make do with the engagement ring he had given her sister after all. She was due a little indulgence. All the same she didn't want him to think that her good opinion could be bought, or that she would forgive any misdemeanour if he simply threw enough money at it.

She was puzzling this over when thoughts of the Malfoys' bank balance reminded her of her father's earlier request.

"Oh, but you?" Lucius finally prompted, impatient of waiting for Narcissa to complete the unfinished sentence herself.

"Oh I- I had something to ask you, Mr Malfoy," she murmured uncomfortably, her attention deliberately focused on the Aethonon and not her fiancé. The winged horse had calmed a great deal under her gentle strokes. "Well, my father wanted me to ask really..." her voice trailed off. "You know, our stables aren't really fit-" she began a completely different tangent.

"You can keep her in my stables until the ones here are repaired. You were saying-"

"Are they going to be?" Narcissa interrupted, finally turning to look at Lucius. She bit her lip; he was looking very mildly annoyed, and very rightly so, she supposed. She hadn't even managed a 'thank you' for his present.

"Of course," Lucius frowned, wasn't his family paying for the whole of Ravensden to be restored? The Blacks were getting an awful lot out of this marriage, he thought a little churlishly. "Now, you and your father had something to ask?" he pressed. Why did he think he could guess the topic if Orion Black was involved? The embarrassed blush that stained Narcissa's cheeks simply confirmed his suspicions.

"Hewantstoknowhowmuchyou'llpayforthewedding," Narcissa said in a garbled rush.

Lucius blinked, and tried to decipher what had just been frantically mumbled at him. Giving up and trying not to laugh, he said: "Pardon, Miss Narcissa, I didn't quite catch that?"

Narcissa stepped away from the Aethonon and turned to face him, looking absolutely mortified. "My father would like to know how much you are willing to pay for the wedding," she said slowly, doing her little trick of staring at his left shoulder instead of his face as she spoke, so she didn't see him frown.

"Whatever's necessary, you have a carte blanche as far as money is concerned, surely you've already been told that?"

Narcissa's eyes widened a fraction. "Don't you think that's a little... excessive?" she asked weakly.

"No," Lucius argued testily, "I think we have a certain image to maintain and I refuse to be part of a mediocre ceremony."

"Oh," she replied. She turned her face back toward the winged horse so that he could only make out a tiny glimpse of the uncertainty in her eyes. "Oh, I suppose not."

He could tell from the sound of her voice that there was something more that she wanted to ask, but he didn't force the issue. He stepped up beside her to stroke the horse while he waited for her to muster the resolve to voice it, knowing that it wouldn't be long.

"You didn't do so much for Andromeda," she finally said, blurting what was worrying her out in the form of a statement rather than a question.

"Well, whatever I did with Andromeda obviously didn't work," he snapped back automatically, but instantly regretted it. "You are not your sister," he revised in a more thoughtful tone.

"No." Narcissa nodded, accepting this explanation, and developing an absolutely adorable pinkness across her cheeks. She continued petting the horse for another quiet moment before she turned toward him again. "You don't have to, you know."

"Perhaps I want to."

He could practically see the small "Why?" hovering on her lips, but she wisely didn't ask it. Instead, she afforded him another small smile. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy."

"You're very welcome." He replied.

..ooOOoo..

Lucius left soon after, so Narcissa made her way back to her bedroom. There was only one last thing to do before she could succumb to the temptations of sleep. Stepping inside her room, Narcissa closed the door and wandered over to the dresser where Mrs Malfoy's letter was still sitting, unanswered.

She wasn't sure why she hadn't mentioned it to her parents, her sister, or her fiancé. She supposed Andromeda's sudden unexpected, unwanted appearance had muddled her thoughts. She hadn't told anyone about that either, and from the relative calm of the household she assumed the elf hadn't said anything.

Narcissa didn't know when or why she had become so secretive, maybe it was because she had been so set apart from the rest of family and felt so isolated, she felt forced to tackle things alone as if to underline her self-reliance?

She sighed, and picked up the letter, settling down on the edge of her bed to reread its curious content.

It sounded like a warning.

Narcissa couldn't account for the sense of uneasiness that it gave her any other way. Mrs. Malfoy's words were perfectly polite, and it wasn't unusual that a woman would want to correspond with her son's recently announced fiancé, but there was still something that she couldn't put her finger on that made her nervous. No witch worth her wand would discount a hunch, and so Narcissa was reluctant to reply until she was able to pinpoint the cause of her discomfort.

Narcissa put the letter back on her desk and resolved to think about it in the morning, but she found that she couldn't sleep. She didn't know quite what to say to Evangaline Malfoy, but to offer no reply at all seemed the worse possible course of action to take. She didn't think that Mrs. Malfoy had much influence on her son, but she wasn't certain. Besides, the older woman might have some insight to offer on the duties- and burdens- borne by a Mrs. Malfoy- not that Narcissa would care to hear them all! She had only managed to hear snippets of gossip about the other woman. Generally, things were not spoken of when young, unmarried girls were in the room, but she knew enough to make her worry.

Julius and Evangaline Malfoy had been an arranged marriage too. Impeccably pureblooded, Lucius's mother had also been chosen to improve the line- but something had gone terribly wrong. When Lucius was a small boy, even before he had gone to Hogwarts, his mother had run away. As far as Narcissa knew, she had never returned to residence at Malfoy Manor again.

Of course, the Malfoys hadn't gotten divorced. That was unthinkable for a family of their standing and class, but they hadn't been happy either...

Narcissa sighed at herself, trying to put it through her stubborn head that she wasn't meant to be happy. She was meant to be a respectable wife and, eventually, a mother. She had to learn to be content. The prospect wasn't really so daunting, was it? She would hardly consider herself in love with Mr. Malfoy now, but they had spent a perfectly pleasant evening together.

She felt her cheeks begin to glow as she remembered her gift and when she recalled the earlier kiss. She tried to attribute the fluttery sensation in her stomach to the simple joy of companionship, but she knew that the concept was strained.

Try as she might, she could not still her mind. So, hoping to buy herself a few more moments in bed the next morning, she decided to tackle her correspondence after all. She first replied to her friends and cousins- short, 2 line replies which enclosed an informal wedding invitation and a promise that they would all "talk soon" and then faced the prospect of writing to her mother-in-law again.

"Dear Mrs. Malfoy," she wrote, and first smiled at the line...but then frowned. Did she still go by "Malfoy"? Was addressing her by her formal name too stuffy? After consulting the note that she had been sent, Narcissa decided to keep it and to continue.

"Thank you very much for your kind invitation. I am looking forward to meeting you very much." The last bit was a lie. Truly, the note had made Narcissa rather nervous, but it wouldn't do to say so of course. "Lucius has told me a lot about you," she wrote on autopilot- but then crossed it out because it was another lie. Lucius hadn't made the first mention of his mother during their short acquaintance. "Your son has been very kind to me," she wrote with a bit more assurance.

It took a full minute of staring at the half-blank sheet before Narcissa was able to continue: "I hope that you don't believe everything that you read in the papers concerning our engagement. Our fathers determined, quite recently, that we were better suited to one another than Lucius and my sister had been and thought we'd better go through with it quickly."

She reread the lines again, disappointed with how inelegant the lines were, but too tired to care overly. She tacked on, "I hope that we will see you for the wedding. Will you be staying here at Ravensden?"
She doubted that she would be at the Manor. "I will see you then. Yours, Narcissa Black."

Setting down her quill, Narcissa summoned and elf to take the letter to the owlery and finally settled into her bed.