A Grave Mistake

Lucius's lips gently made their way down the side of his wife's neck, over her shoulder, and down her arm, stopping to place delicate kisses on her bruised flesh. She smiled faintly. "Do you think you'll just kiss it and make it better?" she asked quietly. The early morning sunlight streamed through the window and landed on their bed, filling the room with a warm glow.

Lucius stopped kissing her arm, and instead brought his face over to brush against hers. "That always works, doesn't it?" he smiled. She shook her head, rolling her eyes. He slid over her more, trapping her underneath him, but she didn't mind. Somehow their nightclothes had been lost overnight, and the couple was in no rush to be finding them again.

Enjoying the feeling of his belly pressed against hers, she cupped his cheeks gently, making him look at her face. "You're awfully sweet when you want to be." She threaded her fingers through his hair. "Why don't you kiss me?"

He went above and beyond her request.

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After their little romp in the bedroom that morning, Lucius left the house and did not return until well after supper-time. Narcissa had no idea where he'd been all day, considering that he didn't work on Fridays, but knew better than to go interrogating him, especially after last night. Still, his secrecy was driving her positively mad.

"Cissa."

Lucius was sitting in his armchair in the drawing room, looking pensive. Setting down her book, she rose from where she was sitting, across the room, and moved over to him. He was slouched slightly, staring into the fire. "I spoke to Draco." He glanced up at her. "I paid him a visit at school today."

Narcissa felt disappointment overtake her. "You visited Draco without me?"

"If we both went to talk to him, he'd assume that something was wrong. Besides, there are some things that we needed to discuss that you don't need to know."

She narrowed her eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

"He's a fifteen-year-old boy, Cissa. There are certain things that fifteen-year-old boys don't like to talk about with their mothers," he smirked. Then his expression grew more serious. "And I talked to him about his orders from the Dark Lord." Lucius sat up straighter and took his wife's hand. "Cissa, all he's ordered him to do is keep an eye on Potter. Draco says that the Dark Lord specifically told him not to go out of his way, but merely to be watchful when he was around, probably because the Dark Lord suspects that Draco would get caught if he started prowling around after Potter. He's to report any strange behaviors to either me or Bellatrix, immediately."

"Why not to Snape? And why have Draco do this at all, if Snape is there?"

Lucius looked at his wife curiously. "I'd imagine he doesn't want to put all his eggs in one basket. Besides, he has Snape keeping constant watch over Dumbledore." He squeezed her hand gently. "But in any case, he hasn't given him anything terribly dangerous to do."

Narcissa made a face. "It's the Dark Lord, Lucius. Of course it's dangerous."

Her husband stood up, staring into her eyes. He ran his hands down her arms gently, stopping at her elbows. "Cissa, I know you don't want to let go, but you must accept that our son is growing up," he said softly, knowingly. "The path to power can be a dangerous one, but it is well worth the effort. Sooner or later, Draco will have to decide to join. He isn't about to start supporting Mudbloods, Cissa, you know that; and as the son of a Death Eater he has little choice in the matter. He will rise in the ranks under the Dark Lord and retain power for the family. It is a dangerous occupation, but a highly influential and respected position at the same time."

She nodded slightly, slowly, trying to accept what he was saying. Lucius pulled her against him gently, then lifted her chin. "Cissa, what's the matter?" he asked very quietly.

Unable to organize her thoughts, she just shook her head. Knowing that he wouldn't accept this as an answer, though, she tried to explain herself. "Draco is of little use to the Dark Lord. Really, Lucius, he is," she insisted as her husband made a face as though to protest. "He hardly knows any magic worth knowing in the real world."

"Which would not be the case, had he gone to Durmstrang," Lucius added disdainfully.

"And besides that," Narcissa continued, purposely ignoring his comment, "do you really want your teenage son in the Dark Lord's inner circle? You know he has a temper, and usually just says whatever pops into his head at the moment."

"Yes," Lucius agreed softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. "Can't imagine where he got that trait."

Narcissa's cheeks flushed slightly. "Lucius, you're ignoring the point, here."

He sighed. "The Dark Lord has said nothing about Draco receiving the Mark. I doubt he will offer it to him any time soon." He thought for a moment, then looked at her again with a new intensity. "Cissa... The Dark Lord is being very merciful to us. As long as you behave in a manner befitting a follower of the Dark Lord and a wife of a highly respected pureblood patriarch such as myself, he is not punishing us any further." Though she still looked unenthusiastic, he squeezed her elbows gently. "He does still stand for our cause, and he is not endangering our son the way you thought he was. Clearly, he respects our family, Cissa. Not everyone would get off so easily."

"He doesn't respect us; he finds us useful for the moment."

Lucius gave her a very superior, 'Malfoy-esque' look. "Well, then we'll just have to show him how very useful we are, won't we?"

He waited until he got a slight nod of agreement from her, then kissed her cheek and left the room, saying he had some work to do. Narcissa watched him go out the open door of the drawing room, cross the foyer, and enter his study, closing the door behind him.

So he'd been at Hogwarts for a few hours. But that did not explain away his absence for the entire day. And now he was in his study, 'working' behind the heavy wooden door.

Under normal circumstances, she would have minded her own business and paid him no mind. But she had the distinct feeling that whatever he was hiding had to do with her.

And she was growing very tired of all his secrets.