Devotion

The weeks between Erinn´s arrival and Lucius´ party were busy for Narcissa. Arrangements and last-minute changes had to be made with the kitchen staff and the decorators, and every spare house servant was set to making the Manor spotless. The `week´ Erinn was originally in London for had extended to a month, and now seemed almost indefinite. Narcissa refused to let her rent a hotel room for so long, and so Erinn had come to stay at the Manor, much to Lucius´ chagrin. He had never approved of Narcissa´s friendship with her, and when he saw Erinn dusting the parlor one day like a common servant, his distaste for the `half-blood Gryffindor´ only grew. Narcissa, however, appreciated her company and her help.

The day of the party arrived far too quickly for Narcissa´s nerves, but as she did her final surveillance over the house and grounds, she realized everything was quite well in-hand. The table in the dining room was set with a crisp, ivory tablecloth, the family´s finest gold-rimmed china and crystal, and elegant antique silverware. The main hall had been cleared for dancing, and the floor glowed from several hours of waxing and polishing. The gardens in the back had been trimmed perfectly to the last detail, with white wrought-iron benches and chairs placed strategically throughout. The marble fountains had been scrubbed until they shone, the lawns freshly clipped, the pebbled paths raked and smoothed.

"Come on," Erinn tugged on Narcissa´s arm just after tea, "let´s get dressed."

They walked up the stairs to Narcissa´s room, where Erinn had left her clothes for the evening. The gift from the Japanese fellow turned out to be none other than a three-layered kimono. The outer layer was a creamy brocade embroidered in burgundy, rose, and gold, and the inner layers were silk of the same colors. Narcissa took her own new robes out of the wardrobe and cast a simple charm to get rid of any wrinkles. The two women helped each other into their dresses, then Erinn sat Narcissa down in the chair in front of her vanity.

"All right, up or down?" she asked, running her slender fingers through Narcissa´s hair.

Narcissa thought for a moment as Erinn began twisting sections of her hair and experimentally pulling them back or piling them on top of her head. "Up, but softly," she finally answered, and Erinn nodded and put her wand between her teeth as her hands set to work. Narcissa smiled and relaxed, enjoying the feel of Erinn´s nails gently raking her scalp, and the occasional light tugs as she placed a comb or pin. They always did each other´s hair for dances or parties, or even simply stress relief, back when they were teenagers. It felt good to be sharing such a simple thing again. Erinn wrapped tendrils of hair around her wand and muttered a charm, and Narcissa´s hair was left in perfectly spiraling curls. The better part of an hour later, they both stood in front of Narcissa´s mirror, studying their handiwork.

"Do you think he´ll be pleased?" Narcissa asked, her hands twitching nervously again.

Erinn looked at her and sighed. "You´re still trying to make him love you, aren´t you?" "No, I just..." Narcissa looked down to play with the buttons on her cuffs, "I just don´t want to embarrass him in front of his friends." Erinn nodded knowingly.

"Stop that, you´ll pull them right off," she said, taking Narcissa´s hands away from the buttons. She squeezed them gently. "You look fabulous tonight, Cissa. And remember, the faerie queen could capture even the most banal prince´s heart."

Narcissa smiled weakly and folded Erinn into a hug. "Thank you, Rinn," she said, "I´m glad you´re here."

"Me, too," Erinn replied. "Come on," she said, taking Narcissa´s hand again and heading toward the door, "let´s charm some Death Eaters back to the light."

"Erinn..." Narcissa gave her a warning look.

"All right, I was only joking. Come on, your adoring public awaits."

The two women walked down the stairs to find several guests already standing about in the main entryway. Narcissa slipped easily into her role as hostess, making the rounds and greeting guests as they arrived, showing them to the chairs around the dance floor in the main hall, and out the rear door to the gardens. The grandfather clock in the parlor struck six, and Hilary began floating throughout the house and into the gardens, informing those he passed that dinner was about to be served.

Narcissa led the group she was standing with into the dining room, where the rest of the guests were already standing around the table and chatting. She searched the room for her husband and found his platinum blonde hair floating slightly above most of the guests. She made her way over to him, and as she got closer discovered that he was talking to Cornelius Fudge. Lucius´ dress robe was more like a cape, trimmed in black fur and held at the neck by silver clasps set with emeralds. The shirt he wore underneath was white, with a green silk ascot tucked into a black velvet waistcoat embroidered in dark metallic green. The vest tapered perfectly to his waist, still slender despite his age. He looks handsome and he knows it. Damn him. Narcissa took a deep breath and a moment to collect herself.

"Lucius," she greeted, adopting her `party face,´ the permanent smile that would deny any other emotion to show on her face.

"My dear," he replied as he turned to her. His eyes were appraising but not critical, and Narcissa allowed herself an internal sigh of relief. "You look lovely," he said, but Narcissa recognized it as a necessary compliment when they were in company. He took her hand and kissed her fingers. "Shall we?" He led her to her seat, on his left at the head of the table.

The other guests had been watching for this sign, and so the men likewise began showing their ladies to their seats and pulling out their chairs. Narcissa knew the seating was done for the sake of politicking. Lucius, apparently, had asked that Erinn be placed at the opposite end of the table from himself and Narcissa, and was obviously far more concerned with flattering the Minister of Magic than his own wife, as Cornelius Fudge sat to Lucius´ right, across from Narcissa. Once everyone was settled, Fudge gently tapped his fork against his champagne flute. The table quieted instantly and turned toward him as he stood.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "I am quite pleased to see so many people gathered here to celebrate the birthday of our friend, Lucius Malfoy." Fudge clapped Lucius on the shoulder as a smattering of applause was heard from around the table. "I have known Lucius now for upwards of twenty years..." Fudge´s voice faded into the back of Narcissa´s mind as she scanned the faces around her table: coworkers from the Ministry, Slytherins from Lucius´ Hogwarts years and their wives, and more than a few of his... extracurricular acquaintances. Most of the latter were British, but a good handful or so were international. Igor Karkaroff, the Headmaster of Durmstrang, was sitting next to Erinn, but looking rather sulky at being ignored, because on her other side sat a chap from Italy who was pleased as punch to find someone who spoke his language. The Dark Lord had agents everywhere, in many more countries than were represented at Malfoy Manor that night. Lucius had received letters from America and India the week before, expressing regrets that their senders would not be able to join him in his celebration. Those who were present, though, were more than enough to make Narcissa feel uneasy.

She vaguely noticed Fudge´s toast had ended, but stood with her guests as they raised their glasses and drank to Lucius´ good health in the coming year. Lucius thanked them all with a rare smile, and beckoned the kitchen staff to bring out dinner. Rebecca, the newly appointed housekeeper, was at the front of the line, carrying a rack of lamb in mint sauce which she set in front of Lucius. He stood to carve it as the servants waited patiently around the rest of the table. The initial cut made, he instructed his guests, "Eat!" and the lamb was whisked back to the kitchen for further carving as the remaining servants placed their trays, bowls, and platters before the waiting guests.

Dinner was a sumptuous feast, indeed, as befitted the grandness of the Malfoy house. The servants kept the table stocked with the various soups, salads, breads, and dishes of lamb, beef, veal, fish, and poultry, as well as wines and champagne. The selection of desserts was just as broad: custards, creams, soufflés, puddings, meringues, crepes, and glazed fruits of all varieties, accompanied by the appropriate liqueurs. An hour or so later, when the traffic of the servants had slowed to a trickle and the sound of silverware clinking against china had been replaced by chattering voices, Lucius stood once again, his mere presence silencing the room immediately.

"I hope dinner was to your liking," he said, and several voices echoed agreement. "My wife has been nearly frantic with worry this past month, organizing this little party for me." Narcissa felt her cheeks get hot as the guests at the table applauded her efforts, and more than a few raised their glasses to her. "So, with that done, I´d like to invite the gentlemen to cigars and brandy in the parlor, and the ladies to a walk about the gardens, or to enjoy the music in the main hall." He nodded to his guests, then turned and lifted Narcissa´s hand to his lips before excusing himself.

Chairs scraped back against the hardwood floor as the men helped their wives or companions up. Narcissa noticed the Italian bending himself over Erinn´s hand, then Karkaroff laying a hand on his back and steering him, not too kindly, toward the parlor. Most of the men joined Lucius, though a few (those with women new to the social scene), wandered out to the gardens. Lillian Macnair approached her to congratulate her on the dinner, accompanied by several other women. Lillian´s husband, Walden, was an executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, and one of Lucius´ less savory contacts. It didn´t seem to bother Lillian as much as it did Narcissa.

They made their way outside, where the late October air was crisp but pleasant. Several women commented on Narcissa´s robes, and swiftly promised to visit Malkin´s the next day and order their own. Narcissa wandered back and forth between the hall and the gardens, making small talk with those she passed.

"You seem made for this stuff," Erinn commented, catching Narcissa in a rare moment alone.

"It´s a habit I developed quickly," Narcissa replied. "Much as Lucius might seem like a hermit, he does love to make an appearance. And he never does it alone."

"Aww, poor Cissa," Erinn pouted, "has to go to parties and hobnob with rich and powerful wizards..."

"Powerful wizards seldom make good company," Narcissa said under her breath, "They´re not known for their social skills." Changing the subject, as there is nothing more suspicious than lowered voices, she asked, "So, how goes your quest?" though she doubted any of the Death Eaters were up for being converted.

"Well, Signore Rossini seems bound and determined to make Florence feel like home for me," Erinn replied with a grin.

"Really?" Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "And how does he mean to do that?"

"Quello è il mio segreto," Erinn said, placing a finger against her lips and flitting away as the men from the parlor began walking down the steps from the house. Lucius quickly joined a small cluster of people, so Narcissa followed suit and worked herself into a circle of unescorted Slytherin women. Most of them had been at her wedding, all false smiles and exaggerated kisses of congratulation for her, and burning glances at Lucius when they thought she wasn´t looking. Not much had changed. All of them, at one point or another, had been in relationships with Lucius, of varying degrees. Narcissa didn´t really like any of them, and she knew none of them liked her, but they were all too well schooled in social interactions to let a little thing like that ruin a party. For the most part.

"Narcissa, darling," one of them cooed, "what fabulous robes, did Lucius buy them for you?"

"No, Beth," another corrected, "Lucius doesn´t like blue, remember?"

"Oh, right," Beth amended, "he always did prefer green." Each woman was none-too-subtly sporting Slytherin green somewhere in her outfit, and smirking triumphantly at Narcissa´s faux-pas.

"Dear, I think he wants to talk to you," a third said. Puzzled, Narcissa turned around to find Lucius looking at their group. Once his eyes met hers, though, he quickly turned back to his own conversation. "Oh, I suppose not," the woman corrected. "Of course, it could have been any of us, really. I think you scared him off by looking." Her companions nodded in agreement, then scattered to claw at any single men they could find.

Hateful peacocks

, Narcissa mentally shot at their backs. She moved on to the next bunch of women, who, after a few moments of chitchat, said again, "I think your husband wants to speak with you." Again, Narcissa turned around to see him watching her, and again, he showed her his back as soon as their eyes met.

"Will you excuse me?" she said to the ladies, who all nodded their heads, perplexed. Narcissa walked over to Lucius. One of the men he was talking to nodded in her direction, and he excused himself to meet her in the middle of the path.

"Yes?" he asked, with his practiced look of unconcern.

"Did you want to speak to me?"

"No, I..." he looked around and saw men leading their ladies back into the house. Narcissa could hear the musicians in the hall through the open windows. "I think we should start the dance," he finished, extending his arm.

Narcissa took it and glided up the steps with him into the house. Several guests were already in the main hall, standing around the dance floor, waiting for their host and hostess. Lucius led her to the very center of the floor, took her right hand in his left, and wrapped his other arm around her back. Narcissa placed her free hand gently on his shoulder, and only had a single moment to breathe before the music began.

She had been dancing with him for so many years; she hardly needed to think of the steps. He led her around the room, spinning her under the very noses of the Slytherin women. He was displaying her, she knew. She could feel it in the tense muscles along his arms, his rigidly set shoulders. This dance was a showpiece. Why, she didn´t particularly care. Lucius could keep whatever reasons he had. He was looking at her, but his expression was blank. Cool. Controlled. Like his movements. Everything´s perfectly normal here, thank you, his body seemed to be saying to the rest of the room. The song ended and he solemnly bowed to Narcissa before their audience flooded the floor for the next dance.

Fudge took up her hand as she was walking out of the throng. "May I?" he asked with a charming grin.

"Of course, Cornelius." She smiled and let him lead her back onto the floor. He was a sweet old man, though an optimist to a fault. Narcissa wondered how he had ever managed in Ministry politics. She had heard Lucius call him a fool on several occasions. Naturally, that was another detail kept locked in a closet for parties.

"Smashing party, my dear," he said when the song was over. He bowed to her and went off to find some other charming young thing to dance with.

"Mrs. Malfoy," said a deep voice behind her. She turned to find Karkaroff brooding over her shoulder.

"Igor," she greeted.

He brusquely held out his hand. "I don´t fancy being in the middle like this. Do you mind?"

Narcissa shook her head and took his hand. They walked to the edge of the dance floor, where Karkaroff finally stopped and took his position. Narcissa placed her hands and let him lead her.

"We didn´t expect you´d be able to leave Durmstrang," she said, after a few moments of his stony silence.

"My staff can handle the school for one night," he answered. "I enjoy coming to England for... something pleasant."

"I suppose that´s true," she said, mentally cringing to think of the other reasons he would be called to England. The rest of their dance passed in silence, and Karkaroff ended it with a cool "Thank you," before walking back outside.

Narcissa hurried out of the hall before another man could ask her to dance. So many bodies moving had made it quite warm, and her velvet robe was beginning to feel decidedly too thick.

"Is everything all right, ma´am?" one of the kitchen girls asked her as she walked by the dining room.

"Yes, I just got a little warm, dancing in this," she said as she began to untie the cord at her waist. The girl set down the stack of plates she had been carrying and wiped her hands on her apron. She helped Narcissa out of the robe and held it at arm´s length.

"I don´t want to get it dirty, ma´am." Narcissa looked at the girl´s apron and saw only the tiniest smudge of what she guessed was mint sauce.

"Oh, don´t worry about that. Could you just see that it´s hung up, please?" The girl nodded as Narcissa walked away, noticing out of the corner of her eye that the girl was adoringly stroking the velvet. She headed for the front of the house; going out to the gardens would mean walking right past the main hall, and she didn´t want to be asked for another dance until she´d had some time to cool down.

Hilary and a few of the male servants were already waiting by the front door, to bid goodnight and escort out any guests leaving early. They all half-bowed as she approached, and one of them opened the door for her. "Thank you," she said as she stepped across the threshold. They bowed again and closed the door behind her.

She stood for a few moments on the top step, enjoying the feel of the cool air against her now-exposed back. It was quiet on this side of the house. She could just barely hear the music from inside and the laughing and chatter of the guests in the gardens. She breathed in the cool autumn air, looking out over the night-dark yard and seemingly endless lawns. Only tiny lights along the path up to the house provided illumination. The moon was a thin silver crescent and fog already shrouded the farthest of the footlights, making them seem like they led the way to Avalon and the realms of faerie.

If I walked into the fog, would I find my way back?

Narcissa´s thoughts were the echoes of countless Britons across thousands of years. Would I even want to? They say in Avalon life is a dream, and those who drink from the faerie queen´s cup never grow old. She laughed at herself. I´m supposed to be the queen, tonight, and win my prince... She turned to look back at the great manor house: a beautiful façade that somehow didn´t quite contain its own darkness, like the family who had lived there for so many generations. The only mark Narcissa had made on the Manor was the beds of violets on either side of the front steps. The smell reminded her of the first night she had danced with Lucius. She had been foolish to think that she didn´t care whether he loved her then or not. She had been foolish to become caught in his spell. Foolish, and yet unable to do anything else, all at the same time. The smell of violets reminded her of fate, destiny, and she took some comfort in knowing that there was some greater plan to her life, whoever´s plan that might be. She took another breath of the sweet air, and then headed back inside.

As she stepped through the doorway, Erinn came hurrying up to her. "Oh, there you are. Your husband has been looking for you."

"Looking for me?" Narcissa was puzzled enough to stop. "Why?"

"I don´t know," Erinn shrugged. "Karkaroff led you off the dance floor, and Lucius hasn´t seen either of you since."

"Igor went into the garden, and I was giving my robe to one of the servants. I stepped out front for some air. What...?" Narcissa´s voice trailed off as she realized the conclusion her husband was drawing.

Erinn waggled her eyebrows.

"That´s ridiculous," Narcissa shook her head and began walking again.

"Sweet to know he cares, though, right?" Erinn said as she caught up with her. Narcissa rolled her eyes.

"He just doesn´t want me to make a fool out of him in front of his guests," she muttered.

Her shoes clicked against the floor as she made her way to the main hall, where Lucius was lurking on the edge of the dance floor, waiting for her.

"Where have you been?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"My robe was getting stifling," she answered calmly. "I had one of the servants hang it up. Why? What´s wrong?"

He opened his mouth as if to tell her exactly what he thought was wrong, then seemed to think better of it. "My dear," he said, with his practiced smile, "we have guests to entertain," and once more extended his arm to her. She took it, and was again whisked out onto the dance floor.

Lucius was holding her closer this time. More people on the floor, now, she automatically reasoned, before she could get caught up in speculations as to why he would want her close. But when she looked up at his face, he didn´t present the same calm front from their earlier dance. Something was battling behind his eyes. Oh, that´s it, then. Her heart sank. He´s jealous and doesn´t trust me out of his reach.

Eventually, common courtesy demanded that he allow other gentlemen to cut in, but even as she danced with other men, he was never very far away, and his eyes were always on her. He haunted the corners of her vision and was always just behind her shoulder when she turned around, taking her back as soon as each song ended.

His hand was cool against her back, pressing gently with his fingers or the heel of his hand as they moved in perfect tandem. By the end of too many songs to count, she could feel his heart against her own chest, and her temple rested against his cheek. Probably far too close for dancing in public. But it felt good, perhaps almost as if he were really just holding her, and she didn´t dare pull away. She heard a small sound from his throat and felt breath against her ear. Is he smelling my hair? The thought seemed so unlike anything Lucius would do that she instantly discarded the possibility. Soon, though, he lowered his face to her neck and inhaled deeply. Gods, she realized, he is...

"Is that your birthday present from Draco?" he asked, and she could feel the vibration of his voice against her skin. It disconcerted her so much she nearly didn´t understand his question. Perfume. Draco had given her perfume.

"I believe so, yes." She closed her eyes. Calm down, Narcissa.

"It´s very nice on you." Narcissa´s eyes shot open. A compliment? She pulled away enough to look at his face. Did I step off the porch and wander into the fog, after all? He was looking back at her with slightly unfocused eyes and one corner of his mouth was lifted in the closest thing to a genuine smile she had seen in many years. She narrowed her eyes.

"Are you drunk, Lucius?" It was the only reasonable explanation for his behavior.

"Not a bit, my dear," he replied, and put his cheek against her head again.

Right.

Narcissa rested her chin on his shoulder, and tried to keep her mind empty as she finished the last few dances with him. He smelled of pipe smoke, rich and sweet and spicy, but the scent of brandy she was looking for was decidedly absent, and his steps were sure and unwavering.

With impeccable timing, the last song ended just as the grandfather clock began to strike midnight. The guests applauded the musicians and began meandering off the dance floor to collect their belongings and excuse themselves. Lucius and Narcissa stood at the door to bid goodnight to their guests, the servants who were there earlier fetching robes, coats, wraps, canes, and hats for those who remained. One by one, they kissed Narcissa´s cheek and shook Lucius´ hand, until there were none of them left. The house felt suddenly very large, and very quiet.

"Well, my dear," Lucius said, turning to her, "that was enjoyable. Thank you for the party." Thank you, and good night, she finished mentally, expecting him to walk up the stairs without another word. When he didn´t, she realized he must be waiting for her.

"Happy Birthday, Lucius," she said as she dutifully kissed his cheek. Just like that. No different from last year, or the year before that...

He surprised her by saying "Thank you," again. He still didn´t head up the stairs, though, so Narcissa waited patiently for whatever else he wanted to say. "Dinner was exceptionally good," he said after an almost uncomfortable pause, "I shall have to congratulate the cook. I suppose, though, that you helped in deciding tonight´s menu?" He looked at her intently.

"I did," Narcissa answered, puzzled.

"Yes, excellent," Lucius nodded. Another pause followed. "And I´ve never seen the gardens so fine."

Was Lucius really having casual conversation with her? "Yes," she said hesitantly, "they did turn out nicely, didn´t they?"

"Yes, very." They stood looking at each other for a few more silent moments, then Lucius cleared his throat. "You look lovely tonight, as well."

Now Narcissa was sure she´d wandered into the faerie fog. Lucius had never complimented her appearance. A cool glance with maybe an accompanying `Hm,´ was the best response she would ever expect. But he had just called her lovely. No, the dress. He thinks the dress is lovely. Don´t get carried away, she chided herself. He was looking at her almost expectantly, so she finally remembered herself and said, "Thank you," absently fiddling with the material at her side. "I wasn´t sure you´d like the blue."

"No, it´s... It does something to your eyes..." Lucius trailed off and wrinkled his forehead.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, wondering if something about the dress made him recall an unpleasant memory.

"No... it´s nothing," he replied perhaps too quickly, then gave a frustrated sigh.

Certain it was her presence that was so unnerving him, Narcissa took a step back. "Good night, Lucius."

He said nothing, but stood there with a look of seeming pain. Narcissa´s heart sank to see him in such turmoil. I wish he´d say something, anything, so I´d know what to do. She wanted to make him talk to her, but Lucius was not a man who could be made to do anything he didn´t want to do. She gave an inward sigh. Well, if he´s not going to say anything, then, I may as well go to bed. Today has been far too long. She turned to head up the stairs to her room, but Lucius caught her arm and brought her back, right onto his waiting lips.

Narcissa made a noise of protest and struggled at first, out of shock, but the arms around her waist were strong, and he wasn´t letting her go. Her heart hammered against her ribs, remembering the last time he had grabbed her like this. Don´t fight, it´ll only make it worse, if you fight. But something was different this time. His hands weren´t roaming, and he wasn´t trying to steer her up the stairs or into the parlor or his study. All he´s doing is kissing me. Gods, Lucius is kissing me. What´s going on here? The kiss deepened as her struggles slowly lessened, and it wasn´t an angry, bruising kiss. It wasn´t demanding. It was like... Like the first time. Narcissa smiled at the memory and ignored the confused protestations of her rational mind. Then, like the nineteen-year-old she once was, she melted into his embrace.

Please don´t let this be a dream. It must be real.

She wanted so desperately to believe what her heart was feeling. He must, she prayed as she felt his lips against hers, he must feel something, anything. After all these years... They stopped to breathe what felt like a hundred heartbeats later.

"What´s gotten into you, Lucius?" she whispered into his shoulder. It felt good, so good, to be standing there with him. Far too good to be true.

"You," he replied simply, and kissed the top of her head.

"Me?" Narcissa pulled away and raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, you," he said as he raised a hand to smooth her furrowed brow. His fingers were cool and soft against her skin. "You look..." Lucius cleared his throat, giving Narcissa the impression of a teenage boy on his first date. He looked her in the eyes, and Narcissa stifled a gasp when she saw something in those stormy irises she had not seen for fifteen years, and she thought, as she had then, Surely, he doesn´t intend... "May I be with you tonight?" he asked, in the softest voice Narcissa had ever heard him use.

Narcissa´s knees nearly gave way, even as her mind raced to find some other implication for his words. He can´t mean it. It must be something else. Lucius gently swept her up and began walking toward the staircase.

"Will you stay with me, tonight?" he asked, even softer than the first time.

Narcissa´s head swam as she frantically tried to find a rational explanation for Lucius´ actions. A small word tried to surface, but she viciously pushed it back again. No, Narcissa. Don´t get your hopes up. She looked again at his face. But could he? Maybe? After all this time? His expression was open and without guile. She leaned her head against his chest and listened to his heart, pounding furiously. Can the heart lie? Or is he really feeling what I am? What I´ve always felt? He lowered his head to look at her, and she saw the innocent question in his eyes.

"Yes, Lucius." Her voice was hardly above a whisper but he still heard. His face lit up with the smile she had seen the first time he danced with her, and he kissed her again as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He carried her up the stairs and into his room, and for once, in more than just name, Lucius and Narcissa spent that night as husband and wife.