Ice

Chapter 17: "Yet that terror was not fright, But a tremulous delight..."---Edgar Allen Poe, The Lake

The next time Narcissa was able to spend any time whatsoever with Lucius came at their engagement ball. The ballroom had been festooned with white flowers and softly glowing white lights, a lovely and ethereal décor that was both appropriate and ridiculous at the same time. Narcissa wore robes of the palest icy blue, so much so that they appeared almost white. She looked lovely and innocent, and only she had seen Lucius quirk his eyebrow as he saw her attire in amusement. "Going for the pure look, are we?" he'd sneered at her, and she widened her eyes innocently.

"Why, Mr. Malfoy. I don't know what you are implying, sir." She had actually batted her eyes at him, an affectation she had never once employed. He had been predictably amused and had merely held out his arm to escort her into the ballroom. Before they went in to take their place, he leaned down and whispered, "You know what that does to me, my dearest Narcissa, to see you enveloped in all that white?"

Hating herself for the traitorous rush of desire, she sucked in her breath and fought for her composure. "I don't believe I do, Mr. Malfoy," she simpered, and he laughed low in her ear.

"It makes me want to defile you," he whispered, and she stumbled briefly. He laughed, the sound both amused and malicious.

Her mother was across the room giving last-minute instructions to the house-elves, and her father was talking to Rodolphus in the corner in hushed whispers and casting his eyes nervously about for his wife. Seeing she was safe for the moment from curious onlookers, she leaned up and tugged his ear down to her mouth. "It makes me want to let you," she purred and laughed at the flush that climbed up his high cheekbones.

"Touche, Miss Black," he drawled and tucked her hand under his arm possessively. "We shall attend to that matter just as soon as we've seen to our guests." There was not a hint of impropriety in his tone; he might as well have been talking about having her ring resized or some other trivial matter. His eyes glittered enticingly, but he closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, they were his normal inscrutable gray.

She stood in the receiving line next to him and shook hands with scores of people she neither cared about nor was interested in. However, she was to be the wife of a very important wizard and figured she should get used to it. It did not make it any more enjoyable. It would have been impossible for anyone to notice the annoyance she felt; this was nothing she had not done before. Perhaps recent events had tainted her ability to smile effortlessly at these types of affairs.

For his part, Lucius stood next to her with a polite expression on his face; neither smiling nor scowling, he looked as benign as he was able. Narcissa was unaware how anyone could be so easily fooled by him, but apparently he was just as successful at the masquerade as she. Perhaps he finds my act every bit as easy to read, she thought. Eventually, her mother pulled her away from his side, and she was forced to mingle with the guests, accepting their platitudes and smiling graciously at their well-wishes. Many of the young witches around her age seemed a bit miffed as if they were angry with Narcissa for effectively removing such a sought-after wizard from the market.

Narcissa still possessed her acute senses of observation, and she heard the whispers around the ballroom that she was certain she was not meant to hear. "Orion and Ariana must be thrilled this daughter married well," was one of the most common. "After all," she heard a variety of gossiping women murmur, "the eldest ran off with some Muggle and the middle girl, that Bellatrix, married a pureblood with hardly anything to his name but that rambling old house." Narcissa thought it amusing her sister was referred to as "that Bellatrix" although she was irritated on Bellatrix's behalf. Shadowbarrow was a bit nicer than a "rambling old house" although the Lestrange fortune was hardly comparable to the Malfoys.

There were several hushed whispers about her fiancé and his "questionable reputation," and Narcissa prayed her parents did not hear this until at least after the wedding. They were hypersensitive to rumor and scandal and with reason, and Narcissa was straining to be the dutiful daughter. I shall play the role of proper Miss Black one last time on their behalf, she thought, idly sipping her champagne, and then segue into my new role as Mrs. Malfoy. Then I may wear blood-red robes if I wish. The whispered conversations about Lucius were nothing she hadn't heard before: his business deals, questionable activities with the Ministry and the question of whether he associated with this Lord Voldemort, who was causing such a stir in the wizarding community. Narcissa paid them no mind but filed the comments -- and indeed the identity of those making them -- away for later discussion with her intended. The thought pleased her that for the first time in her life, there would be a beneficiary for her clandestine abilities. Malfoy has no idea what a lovely wedding present that shall be.

It was getting late. The ballroom was crowded with people she neither knew nor liked, and Narcissa's jaw ached from smiling. She had filled her champagne flute with water and was thinking of nothing save bed and a reprieve from all of this chatter and empty platitudes. She felt a pricking sensation on the back of her neck and looked across the room to meet Lucius' pale eyes fixed upon her intently. Throughout the entire evening, she'd felt that similar stirring of the hairs on her neck and had found him staring at her with his usual intense, chilly glare. His words from earlier struck her, I want to defile you...

He briefly flickered his eyes towards the doorway leading into the hallway out of the ballroom, excused himself from his conversation and walked off. He wants me to follow him, Narcissa realized, and likewise excused herself from her conversation. She walked into the darkened hallway, and there was no sign of her fiancé, so she continued down the hallway. Her heels clicked on the floor as she moved further away from the sounds of the party in the ballroom. "Lucius?" she attempted to call and whisper his name at the same time, which resulted in her voice sounding far more shrewish than she intended.

An arm reached out from the shadowy darkness and grabbed her arm. It pulled her into a side hallway that led off to the kitchens. Narcissa squeaked in outrage until she was hauled up against a very familiar lean, tall figure. "Lucius!" she hissed -- this time the irritation in her voice was intended -- "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"I'm so dreadfully bored, Narcissa," he whined playfully, nipping at her ear. "I simply cannot shake another hand or listen to another ridiculous statement about how bloody perfect you are," he said, angling her against a wooden door. She could barely see him in the darkness.

"I should think you'd agree, Malfoy," she snapped back, but her voice had lost much of her earlier irritation. Her reaction to him was not something she was able to fight. Narcissa was not sure she wanted to do so in any event.

"I know you, Narcissa, and you are not the woman everyone thinks I am marrying," he said, his hands moving up her body with a rough urgency. He brushed his fingers over her nipples, causing her to arch her body against his shamelessly.

"Well, I am quite aware of the fact that my pureblood fiancé has a bit more to him than a noble name and a grand fortune," she retorted, leaning her head back against the door as she twined her arms around his neck. "Perhaps you would be so good as to admit we are perfect for each other, then," she said a tad breathlessly as he ran his tongue around her sensitive ear.

"I suppose," he said smugly, his hands having shoved her robes up and the fingers of one hand doing delicious things to her as he reached down to fumble with his clothing with the other. "However, I am restless, and I believe there is only one way I can think of at the moment to cure it." He grabbed her legs and pulled them around his waist, driving roughly into her. She bit his shoulder to stop her scream and gloried in his fierce hiss of pleasure.

Naricssa moaned, the familiar sensation of impending release streaking through her as he clutched at her and drove himself inside her mindlessly. She could not see him in the dark; only a small sliver of light angled into the small alcove, and it cut across his shoulder. The sound of their combined breathing and the erotic blindness of not being able to see each other heightened her excitement. She saw the sliver of light shine off the diamond in her ring and put her mouth next to his ear. "I have so enjoyed all the compliments on my ring," she choked out.

At her words, he tensed and drove himself inside her one last time while biting at her neck, a moan escaping him. She laughed delightedly in her pleasure, grasping his robes for purchase as he fell against her, breathing heavily. She slid her legs down his body and smiled up at him. In the darkness, she could feel his hair that had escaped his queue on his shoulders and the sheen of sweat covering his brow. Her legs shook from exertion, and she noted in pleasure the slight tremor that went through him as she reached up and stroked his face.

"Are we to never do this in a bed for the whole of our married life, Malfoy?" she asked as he stepped back from her to right his clothing.

"Perhaps not," he answered her. "I should not think you'd mind," he drawled in a smug voice, his arrogance both irritating and arousing.

She smiled moved close to him to lay her lips to his. "I don't," she said against his mouth, and he kissed her for the first time since she'd met him in the hallway.

"I did say I wanted to defile you. One cannot be defiled properly in a bed, after all."

"I shall not ask you how you are such an expert on the finer points of defiling young women," she said, and he kissed her again.

"I should think it necessary for me to keep a few tricks up my sleeve, Narcissa," he drawled in that infuriating tone.

"I suppose it is, Lucius. We best return to the party," Narcissa said in an amused tone, feeling vastly more energized. They both used a hurried cleansing charm and put their clothing to rights before walking back into the hallway. They had almost made it back to the doorway leading into the ballroom when they heard a soft laugh.

"Why, I wonder where you two have been."

Lucius tensed beside her at the words, and she felt his hand slide down as if reaching for his wand, but Narcissa placed her hand on his arm lightly.

Narcissa smiled icily at her sister, who was leaning nonchalantly against the wall next to the door and giving them both a smug look out of knowing black eyes. "I believe you know, Sister," Narcissa drawled in a manner very much like Malfoy's, "for if I recall, I found you there with Rodolphus on the night of your engagement party. Remember? I'm just following the Black family tradition." Smiling, Narcissa walked back into the ballroom with her head held high, vowing to enjoy the memory of her sister's surprised expression in addition to the thoroughly pleasant memory she now had of her engagement ball.