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The wind ripped the ribbon from her hair as Lady Siriana Black swooped toward the ground. The long, black locks streamed behind her like nightmares chasing prey. Laughter escaped and her cheeks ached from the force of her grin. She pulled up mere feet from the ground.
For just an instant, she felt free. Then reality intruded.
“On the ground, this instant!” Lady Walburga Black commanded.
Siriana stumbled as she landed on the sprawling lawn behind Black Manor and dropped her Comet 360.
“You’re being much too reckless, Siriana. Why don’t you ever think about consequences? A pureblood lady shouldn’t be so careless with her health. And you’ve let your hair come loose!” Walburga exclaimed, before flicking a styling spell at Siriana, which twisted her black locks up; it was much too tight.
She loved her mother. She did, but that didn’t stop her from hating her mother too.
In all of the years that Siriana had been flying, she had never once been in a serious accident. In fact, she was the only member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team who had never been sent to the Hospital Wing following a practice or game.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Siriana?” Walburga demanded, an eyebrow arched.
Siriana rolled her eyes. “Why does it matter if my hair is loose? We don’t have any guests.”
“A pureblood lady must not—”
“I’m sorry, Mother,” Siriana interrupted, even though she knew it would make her mother frown. She didn’t want to listen to another lecture about how she should follow her cousin’s example and be a perfect pureblood lady. She would never willingly burden herself with formal court etiquette as Lady Narcissa Black insisted on doing.
Walburga heaved a sigh and dropped her arms from their crossed position. “I love you, Siriana. You know that. I just want what’s best for you. You’re a Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black and it’s about time you start acting like it. You’re not a child anymore.”
“I know, Mother,” Siriana said, fighting to keep the tiredness out of her voice. She couldn’t help but wonder if she had finally become immune to guilt trips—with how often her mother applied them, it wouldn’t surprise her.
Walburga grabbed her by the hand and ushered her inside, away from the sky and shining sun, saying, “Now, come inside. A decision has been made and it’s time for you to learn about it as it affects you.”
Siriana grimaced at that announcement. Dread began to settle in her stomach. Her mother did what she believed was best for her family; whether her family agreed with her opinions or not didn’t seem to be particularly relevant to her.
“Sit,” Walburga commanded as she sat on the divan in the sunroom. “I have instructions for you.”
Siriana wanted to flop onto the sofa, squeeze her eyes shut, and pretend this wasn’t happening. That would earn her a lecture on decorum, which she couldn’t bear to endure. She sat with textbook perfect posture, even though it made her back hurt. “Oh?” It was hard to feign interest.
“Druella has informed me that you were seen with Heir Lucius Malfoy on three separate occasions this summer. You will cease such contact immediately,” Walburga ordered, her eyes sharp with admonition.
“What?”
Was it possible to feel all the blood drain from your face? Because Siriana was quite certain that was what just happened to her. This was a nightmare.
Walburga smoothed non-existent wrinkles from her robes and said, “Heir Malfoy is to be Narcissa’s lord-husband, Siriana. As you will eventually be inheriting our duchy, it’s only proper to allow your cousin the one she wants.”
Siriana shoved her hands under her thighs so that her mother wouldn’t see how badly they trembled. Walburga didn’t approve of pureblood witches who lost their composure. Her heartbeat sounded like a thunderstorm in her ears.
She wished she could believe this was a cruel, tasteless prank, but her mother would never engage in such behavior. “What?”
Walburga smirked, eyes full of pride, as she stated, “Bellatrix is Heiress Lestrange and will someday inherit the duchy with her lord-husband. Narcissa will receive the Malfoy duchy. Andromeda”—she wrinkled her nose—“has selfishly chosen to not further our family’s might. Heir Bartemius Crouch is infatuated with Regulus, so he will secure a duchy for us, as well. And, of course, I will soon begin reviewing pureblood gentlemen who will be acceptable suitors for you, Siriana.”
A sound was ripped from Siriana’s throat, then. All the deportment lessons in the world wouldn’t have been able to lock it away. Blind panic consumed Siriana at the thought of never seeing Lucius again, except with Narcissa on his arm. And for her mother to choose her suitors? “No,” she whispered.
“Speak louder, Siriana. It’s unladylike to mumble,” Walburga stated.
“No!” Siriana snapped, her hands fisted beneath her thighs. “I won’t stay away from Lucius!” She had done a great deal in her life that she did not wish to do for the sake of keeping peace with her mother. Siriana would not do this.
She and Lucius weren’t even officially courting, hadn’t confessed any romantic feelings, but Siriana would not give the pureblood wizard she loved and respected to her cousin for something as ridiculous as social and political power.
“Yes, you will,” Walburga replied, her tone biting. “I did not spend seventeen years raising a future duchess so that you could use all my lessons to benefit the Malfoy duchy! Heir Malfoy is for Narcissa, you selfish girl!”
“No, I won’t!” Siriana yelled as she rose to her feet. She couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t be here anymore. This was a betrayal she could never forgive. Everything hurt.
“As your mother, I am ordering you—”
“No. No. No!” Siriana turned on her heel to exit the room.
Walburga’s voice echoed like thunder as she said, “If you leave this room, you will not be welcome at any of our properties until you cease your selfish, immature behavior. These decisions have been thoughtfully made. I’m doing what’s best for this fam—”
“The only one being selfish here, Mother,” Siriana snarled as she glanced over her shoulder, “is you.”
“Insolent girl! How dare you speak to me like that? If you leave this room—”
“Don’t worry, Lady Black,” Siriana spat, “I have no intention of ever returning.”
She stormed out of the room. If her mother thought that she would come crawling back, begging for forgiveness, her mother was mad. After that ultimatum, Siriana had no intention whatsoever of seeing her mother again. She refused to distance herself from Lucius and submit to her mother’s matchmaking schemes.
Once she was outside, away from any house-elves and portraits that might report her actions to her mother, Siriana whispered the words that would activate her emergency Portkey anklet, “Star sapphires.”
The room she appeared in was her sanctuary. She didn’t come here often, even though she loved being here, because it hurt to leave each time. Yet, as her gaze trailed over the room, resolve overtook her.
“I’m not leaving this time,” Siriana said. She straightened her spine and forced the words out again—firm as the foundations of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—and wiped away the tears of rage and betrayal that rolled down her face. “I’m not leaving this time.”
She couldn’t wait to hear how her mother would attempt to explain away her disappearance. It would be a vicious scandal—one which her mother brought upon the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black herself.
“I’m never, ever, ever going back!” Siriana swore.
She walked over to the full-length mirror that was next to the enormous wardrobe. The face staring back at her—pale and tear-stained and haunted—would never be seen again after today. In her entire life, Siriana had only managed to keep a handful of things secret from her mother. One of those secrets would now grant her freedom. She stared at her reflection and called up her Metamorphmagus magic.
It didn’t take long for her body to change into a familiar shape. Siriana shrank three inches, her chest and hips became fuller, and her skin became fairer. Siriana’s gray eyes turned the color of lapis lazuli. Last of all, she transformed her hair from black to a blonde so fair it was almost white.
“This is where I belong. I’m never going back.”
Siriana Summoned the box on the bedside table. She stripped and dropped her wand atop her clothes. Then she retrieved the wand in the box—ebony with a unicorn hair core, rigid and unbending, excellent for dueling and healing—and cast, “Incendio.”
A barrier kept the fire from spreading. As the clothes and wand on the floor went up in flames, Siriana bid a silent goodbye to her former life. When nothing but ashes remained, she Vanished them, eradicating the evidence. It was cathartic.
“It’s done.”
After dressing in a gauzy day gown the color of her eyes, and gathering her blonde hair in an elaborate chignon, she stopped in front of the mirror again and smiled. She didn’t look anything like a Black.
She extended her magic through Malfoy Manor. When Lucius’s magic reached back toward her, her smile widened. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that she wasn’t alone. She didn’t think she could bear that at the moment. Not when powerful pureblood witches were actively scheming to keep them apart.
It seemed to take no time at all—and, somehow, forever at the same time—to reach the silver sitting room.
Ignoring Lucius’s many guests, she curled up against his side on the sofa. The last of the tension melted away as she relaxed against him. “Lucius.”
Ever since Lucius had found out her secret—when she was childishly practicing her Metamorphmagus magic during the year she stayed with the Malfoys—he and his family had provided her shelter from everything. It was a logical continuation of his family fostering her.
Lucius was protective without being smothering. He spoke with her, not at her. And when she needed to talk, he always listened. Even as the years passed, he always had time for her. He was twenty-two now and had never abandoned her. She could always depend on Lucius.
His smile was tender as he curled his arm around her and said, “Welcome home, Ilia. How are you?”
“Moved in.”
Lucius’s gaze narrowed. Rage sparking through his magic and into hers, he hissed, “What did they do?”
She sighed and closed her eyes. A twitch of her magic guaranteed the words didn’t carry as she answered, “Murdered the Black Heiress as far as I’m concerned.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She cut him a sharp look. “Lucius, not now.”
“Very well,” Lucius said.
“Lucius, who’s this?” Heir Rodolphus Lestrange asked.
“Ah, gentlemen, please forgive me. As you can see, I was surprised by her beautiful presence,” Lucius said, touching her heart with his sincerity. “This glorious witch is my cousin, Lady Caecilia Malfoy.”
“These are friends of mine, Ilia. Heir Flavius Flint, Heir Rodolphus Lestrange, Master Rabastan Lestrange, and Heir Evan Rosier. These gentlemen were schoolmates of mine while I was at Hogwarts,” Lucius said as if she weren’t perfectly aware of that already.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, gentlemen. That Lucius puts up with you at all tells me a lot about you,” Caecilia said, smirking when they laughed.
“I assure you, Lady Caecilia, the pleasure is all ours,” Evan said with a roguish wink.
“Quite right, Evan. The pleasure is all ours, Lady Caecilia,” Rabastan said as his eyes swept over her.
Lucius rolled his eyes and sneered at his cohorts. “I’ve taught her better than that. Don’t even try it.”
Caecilia grinned, amused by his possessiveness. “Lucius doesn’t like wizards anywhere near me.”
“Oh?” Flavius cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t that interesting?”
“Is it?” Caecilia feigned interest in her cuticles. Playing with Slytherins was so much more fun and distracting than playing with Gryffindors. “Hadn’t you realized that he’s self-centered? The poor dear can’t stand not being the center of attention.”
“Ilia!”
“I don’t want my favorite cousin to waste away, so I take pity on him from time to time. I want him to stay pretty, after all,” Caecilia teased. She adored riling Lucius.
“Caecilia!” Lucius covered her mouth with his hand, which only sent her into peals of muffled laughter.
“She’s your cousin?” Flavius asked as he watched them shrewdly.
“Yes, my second cousin,” Lucius stressed. It wasn’t the truth, of course. But Lucius wouldn’t be Lucius if he weren’t intentionally misleading someone.
“Oh?” Flavius smirked. “Lucky for you, Lucius.”
“What do you mean, Heir Flint?” Caecilia asked, after pulling Lucius’s hand away from her lips. She, of course, knew exactly what Flavius was implying, but never let it be said that she passed on a chance to prank Slytherins.
The guests stared at her in disbelief. Rabastan’s mouth fell open, though he quickly snapped it shut. Rodolphus burst into a coughing fit.
“Are you jesting, Lady Caecilia?” Evan asked.
Somehow, she managed to keep a baffled look on her face as she said, “No.”
“Lucius, you’ve really sheltered her, haven’t you?” Flavius sounded impressed.
“Curse you, Lucius,” Evan rasped, his gaze riveted on Caecilia. “Your mother must have bathed you in Felix Felicis when you were a baby. You have the most blessed luck I have ever seen in my entire life.”
A vibrant laugh echoed through the room. Lady Lucretia Malfoy née Carrow stood in the doorway, a teasing twinkle in her amethyst eyes. A light smattering of freckles bridged her nose. “Now you know my secret, Heir Rosier. I pray you won’t share it.”
“You have my word, Lady Malfoy.”
Caecilia turned away from Lucius with a wide grin on her face. “I missed you, Aunt Lucretia!”
Ever since her fostering, Lucretia had insisted that Caecilia call her ‘Aunt.’ It hadn’t taken long before Caecilia had come to love Lucretia as her true aunt, for Lucretia was superior in every way when compared to Lady Druella Black née Rosier.
Lucretia walked over and stroked Caecilia’s hair. “And I missed you, Ilia. I’m so glad you’re back.”
“How was lunch with the Minister?” Lucius asked.
“Tedious,” Lucretia said, frowning. “The Minister’s as incompetent as always. I’ll be pleased when Lord Nott wins the election in four months. Your father’s thrilled he’s decided to run.”
“All of us are. Bagnold’s pathetic attempt to cling to power is pitiful to watch,” Flavius said.
Lucretia glanced pointedly at Lucius’s arm around Caecilia. “May I borrow her, Lucius?”
“I just got her back, Mother,” Lucius retorted, his fingers curling against her waist. “She’s been in France forever.”
Chuckling, Lucretia said, “I know, Lucius. It really is important, though.”
“What is it?” Caecilia asked. She was reluctant to leave Lucius’s side after the day she had suffered through, particularly since it had been almost a month since she had last been able to come visit the Malfoys.
“Abraxas and I have something important to discuss with you, Ilia.” Lucretia leaned down and kissed Caecilia’s forehead. “I wouldn’t dream of tearing you away from him if it were something frivolous. I promise it won’t take long.”
“Lucius?”
“It’s your choice. You know that,” Lucius replied. His magic latched onto her, in direct opposition to his words. He had always been a possessive bastard when it came to her.
“You’ll still be here when I’m done,” Caecilia ordered. She didn’t want to admit it, but she felt annoyingly fragile after the morning’s events. Lucius’s presence always made her feel safe.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“All right.” Caecilia reluctantly drew away from Lucius, hating the warmth that disappeared when his arm fell away from her.
“Thank you, Ilia. We’ll be in Abraxas’s study,” Lucretia said as she nodded to the guests and left the room.
Caecilia flicked a mocking salute at their guests and said, “It was nice to meet some of the people who pander to Lucius’s ego.”
As they roared with laughter, Lucius flushed. Mission accomplished.
“Oh, the pleasure was all ours, Lady Caecilia,” Flavius answered for all of them.
“Glory in Gold, Blessings in Blood, and Might in Magic,” she said before leaving the room. If she dithered any longer, she wouldn’t follow Lucretia at all. There was something intoxicating about Lucius’s presence. Once she was within the reach of his magic, she never wanted to leave it.
“Ah, there you are. I thought I might have to come save you from Lucius’s hugs,” Lord Abraxas Malfoy said. He was tall and broad-shouldered, handsome and powerful, and Lucius looked nearly identical to him. However, Lucius had eyes the color of gray star sapphires; Abraxas’s resembled moonstones.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll never need to save me from Lucius,” Caecilia said as she hugged him.
Abraxas scooped Caecilia up in his arms and spun her around in circles, something no one had done since her father died. It brought back memories of good times. She kissed both of his cheeks, and then laughed when he set her on his desk.
“What did you want to discuss?” Caecilia asked. It must be truly important if they were going to discuss it in Abraxas’s study. She had only been here once before, and that was when Abraxas provided her with the emergency Portkey anklet when she was keyed into the wards at five years old.
“The first thing you need to know,” Abraxas said as solemnly as if he were presenting a Bill of Law to the Wizengamot, “is that you have every right to refuse. Whether you agree or not has no bearing on your right to be here whenever and as long as you want. Malfoy Manor will always be your home.”
Caecilia’s shoulders hunched. That wasn’t a good lead-in to a conversation. How terrible was this going to be?
“I expect you to say ‘No!’ if you don’t like what I’m going to propose. Do you understand, Caecilia?” Abraxas asked.
She knew he was completely serious when he didn’t use her nickname. “I understand.”
“Lucius asked me for official permission to court you on the first day of summer.”
“We’ve been waiting for you to visit so that we could ask if you’re interested, instead of sending an offer, given your fractious relationship with your mother. Lucius loves you. He swore on the family magic to prove his sincerity,” Lucretia said. Her gaze was earnest, almost painfully so.
“But don’t let that sway your heart. If you’re not romantically interested in him, all you have to do is say so,” Abraxas interjected.
Caecilia fractured. Her Occlumency shields shattered under the pressure of her roiling emotions.
Hopes and fantasies spilled forth—Lucius kissing her, the smirk on his lips as she rebelliously waltzed with him, the warmth of waking up in his arms with a bonding ring on her left hand, the eyes of their children, early morning Abraxan rides with her seated before him, nights spent watching the stars after swimming in the lake, and professions of love whispered against bare skin.
She didn’t notice anything in the real world until the door to the study slammed violently against the wall.
“What’s wrong? I could feel her magic broadcasting her pain on the other side of the manor. What happened?” Lucius demanded as he rushed toward her.
“I don’t know! We told her you wanted to court her, that you love her, and then—” Lucretia gestured at Caecilia’s condition as an explanation of what happened next.
Lucius flinched. His eyes dulled. “Does the thought of my loving you truly cause you such immense pain?”
“No! Morgana, no!” Caecilia immediately refuted. She wasn’t overwhelmed because she was disgusted, she was overwhelmed because her mother had attempted to ensure that this moment would never happen, had sought to blot it from existence before it even existed, and would have done her utmost to guarantee that Narcissa experienced everything Caecilia just dared to imagine. “That’s not it!”
“Then will you let me court you, Ilia?” Lucius asked as he stroked her hair.
Caecilia nodded, the pain in her heart easing at the direct question. All of her mother’s plans would come to nothing, for Lucius wasn’t the least bit interested in her perfect cousin. He wanted her—reckless, wild Caecilia. She caressed Lucius’s cheek. “Yes, Lucius. I would have no other.”
He embraced her fiercely, magic sparking off his signet ring. She was only vaguely aware that Lucretia was prodding Abraxas out of the room. Lucius kissed the skin just beneath her right eye; her eyelashes fluttered at the gentle sensation.
“This’ll be my first courtship—”
“Only courtship,” he corrected sharply.
“You better not mess it up,” Caecilia ordered.
Before Lucius could object and act all affronted, she kissed him, rejoicing as Mother Magic blessed the kiss and wove a betrothal bond between them. It had been a long time coming.
Finally, an effective way to shut him up.
Three days later, Caecilia prowled around her bedroom. Lucius was taking her out to lunch for their first Courtship Date. She had never spent so long getting ready in her life. It was embarrassing how long she took. Why did she suddenly hate all her clothes and accessories? How was that at all rational?
“Is Mistress being ready?” a female house-elf asked.
“Yes, please tell Lucius that I’ll be down in just a few minutes.”
“As the Mistress be wishing,” the house-elf replied before popping away.
Caecilia glanced down at herself and wondered for the hundredth time if she should change her clothes. She wore silver tights beneath an ice-blue wizard’s tunic. It was cut the same way as Lucius’s current preferred fashion of wizarding robes. However, it was fitted to her frame. The square neckline was daring, given the size of her bust. A white belt cinched in her waist. Her slippers were white lace, matching the gloves she wore and the half-veil that covered her eyes.
There was a sharp knock on her door; it opened before she could reply.
Lucretia stood in the doorway with a smile on her face. “You look stunning, Ilia. Absolutely stunning. I think that Lucius is going to spend the afternoon fighting off other interested parties,” she said, laughing throatily.
“Perfect.”
Lucretia smirked at her. “Oh, I agree. Just because you love him doesn’t mean you shouldn’t make him prove himself.”
Caecilia raised an eyebrow and joked, “I’m a Malfoy Maiden. He has a lot to prove to be worthy of me.”
Lucretia laughed again, her eyes sparkling with delight. “I know. And now my son gets to learn what it’s like to protect a treasure that thinks for itself and doesn’t stay locked up in a jewelry box until it’s wanted by its owner.”
“So,” Caecilia said as she ran her hands down the tunic, “you think Lucius will like it?”
A smirk wended its way across Lucretia’s face. “Very much, indeed.”
“Right. Okay.” Caecilia relaxed her hands, but that did nothing to calm her nerves. “Wish me luck?”
“I think Lucius is the one who needs luck.”
Caecilia laughed joyously and went to meet her beau. Like every cliché of pureblood society, Caecilia paused at the top of the grand staircase in Malfoy Manor to give him a proper chance to admire her.
Lucius dropped the gift box he held.
Laughing even harder than before, Caecilia sauntered down the stairs. She tugged on his magic, unconsciously wrapping it around herself. “Lucius.”
He blinked twice and then kissed her lingeringly, all without saying a word. When he finally pulled away, he breathed against her lips, “I have a gift for you, Ilia. Will you accept it?”
“Of course, Lucius,” Caecilia stated, lips twitching, “as soon as you pick it up off the floor.”
Flushing, he handed her a white box tied shut with a glittering gold ribbon. When she untied the ribbon, Caecilia gasped. On the lid of the box, engraved in gold leaf, was the image of a spinning wheel. “Lucius, you shouldn’t have!” Caecilia said, her gaze flying up to meet his. “The Spindle is—”
“The only jewelry shop in Magical Britain that I’d trust to produce something cursed to my exact specifications to keep you safe. Nothing bought at The Enchanted Rose could guarantee your protection from unwanted attention,” Lucius said, disparaging the most famous jewelry shop in Diagon Alley as if its inventory was of less worth than common Muggle gems. “I’m a Dark Wizard and I will commission jewel artisans who practice Blood Arts if it will keep you safe and ease my mind.”
“Lucius,” she whispered.
Caecilia was stunned, not only by the passion of Lucius’s response, but by the intent that went into the gift. First Courtship Date gifts were usually inexpensive, though tasteful. The Spindle was anything but inexpensive. The little box in her hand held something that likely cost more than the entire updated wardrobe Lucretia had taken her to get at The Scarlet Cloak the day after she arrived at Malfoy Manor.
“Open it,” Lucius prodded.
A gasp spilled from her lips once Caecilia lifted the lid from the box. Inside, nestled on a bed of white Acromantula silk, was a necklace and matching bracelet set—a double-string of star sapphires and lapis lazuli. The clasps were platinum, in the shape of the Malfoy family crest.
Her fingers shook as she touched it. “Oh, Lucius.”
“You love it!” he said smugly.
Caecilia glared at him playfully and said, “Don’t get cocky, you prat.” Then she kissed him, because he deserved it. “But your taste is surprisingly not appalling.”
He smirked and said, “That means you love it,” before placing the bracelet around her left wrist, signaling that she was in an exclusive courtship and was not interested in other suitors at this time.
When the clasp on the necklace closed, Caecilia leaned her forehead against his chest, overcome with emotion. A Malfoy courtship necklace was around her neck. This was something that no one—not even her perfect cousin—could take from her.
“Do I want to know what curses and spells the jewel artisans sang into it?” she queried.
Lucius smirked and said, “Probably not when we’re headed to lunch. I’ll just say that attempting to harm you or steal the bracelet or necklace would be most unwise on all accounts.”
“Suicidally so?”
Lucius’s smirk widened. “Perhaps.” He took a step backward and perused her, his magic possessively following in the wake of his eyes. “You are glorious, Ilia.”
Caecilia flushed, her heart skipping a beat. “Thank you, Lucius. You’re looking rather dashing yourself.”
“Are you ready to go?”
Caecilia snapped her fingers. When a house-elf popped up beside her, she handed over the white box and gold ribbon, saying, “Please take these to my bedroom and place them on my vanity.”
“At once, Mistress,” the house-elf said before popping away.
“Now, I’m ready, Lucius,” Caecilia said. Nerves fluttered in her stomach, but they were much different from the ones that appeared before a Quidditch match.
Lucius held her tightly to his chest and spun on his heel. It took a moment for her world to reorient itself. Apparition was nothing like Portkeying or traveling via the Floo Network; she was much more familiar with the latter two.
“All right?” Lucius asked.
“I’m fine,” she answered, when everything stopped spinning.
Lucius offered her his arm. Caecilia laid hers atop his, her lace-covered fingers just brushing the back of his hand. He smiled at her and said, “Welcome to The Poisoned Apple. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Famished,” Caecilia answered.
The Poisoned Apple was a strictly Dark pureblood club, unless one had an invitation from an established member; that invitation would only be valid for a three-hour visit on one day.
“Well, is it good enough for you, Ilia?” Lucius asked as he led her into a dining room she had never before seen.
There were low tables placed far enough apart to ensure privacy. Large, silken pillows surrounded them. Pureblood witches and wizards spoke in quiet voices as they ate their meals, though periodic laughter filled the room.
Caecilia beamed up at him. “It’s perfect, Lucius. You have such—”
A robust laugh distracted her.
Caecilia scanned the room. When her gaze landed on an athletic witch with black hair, her fingers curled around Lucius’s hand. She turned to him and asked, “May I see Jamie for just a moment, Lucius? Please? She’s ... the only friend I have.”
Lady Jamie Potter was the only person, other than the Malfoys and Siriana’s brother Regulus, who knew that she was a Metamorphmagus and occasionally assumed the identity of Lady Caecilia Malfoy. In her third year, Siriana hadn’t been able to keep the secret from her best friend any longer. Luckily, Jamie thought it was a brilliant prank and swore herself to secrecy without any prompting.
Now that Heiress Siriana Black was dead, as it were, Jamie was her only friend.
A smirk appeared on Lucius’s face as he drawled, “Absolutely. Annoying Flavius is one of my favorite hobbies.”
“What?”
It was only then that Caecilia thought to look across the table from Jamie. Heir Flavius Flint sat on a forest green pillow. His dark hair curled about his ears and his eyes were alight with interest. He was leaning slightly forward as he spoke to Jamie, but not so far as to infringe on Jamie’s personal space and make her uncomfortable. He was a year or two older than Lucius, if she remembered correctly, but Caecilia thought that was a good thing. Jamie needed someone cunning and mature enough to see through her masks and games.
“Flavius, it’s wonderful to see you,” Lucius said, still smirking, as he clapped his friend on the shoulder.
“What are you doing here, Lucius?” Flavius asked, only a hint of irritation at being interrupted leaking through.
“Caecilia!” Jamie’s face lit up, and Flavius suddenly looked as if he had been hit over the head with a Bludger. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“I missed you too, Jamie,” Caecilia said, grateful for the reminder that, according to their story, she was supposedly recently returned from a long stay in France. She knelt beside Jamie on the pillow and hugged her friend, before kissing both of her cheeks. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I had to come say hello.”
“Why don’t you join us?” Flavius suggested, gaze locked on Jamie’s radiant visage.
“Oh, we couldn’t possibly—”
“Please, Caecilia? Won’t you stay?” Jamie implored, her honey-hazel eyes sparkling with delight and mischief.
“I—” Caecilia bit her lip and glanced up at Lucius. She knew that joining someone else’s Courtship Date was not what he had planned for the afternoon. It wouldn’t surprise her if he had detailed lists so that everything would be just perfect for her. “Lucius?”
He sat on the pillow next to hers, and then brought her left hand to his lips for a kiss. “Whatever makes you happy.”
Lunch progressed wonderfully, though the amount of laughter coming from their table as Lucius and Flavius told absurd stories about each other inevitably drew the attention of the other purebloods in the room. It was amusing to hear about all the shenanigans the Slytherins got up to at school.
“I’ll be back shortly,” Lucius said before rising to his feet. The look he gave Flavius was ever so dark and weighted.
Jamie smirked at her as soon as he left. “He finally asked?”
Caecilia raised her left wrist, flashing the bracelet that signified their exclusive courtship, and said, “Any guesses as to my response?” She felt her cheeks heat with the force of her joy.
The satisfied smirk on Jamie’s face softened into a smile. “I’m happy for you.”
Caecilia darted her gaze across the table at Flavius before raising an eyebrow at Jamie and asking, “This is your first Courtship Date with Heir Flint?”
Since she and Jamie tended to meet up several times over the summer, they rarely bothered to send each other letters with the latest news. Still, Caecilia was more than a little surprised that Jamie had decided to keep something this big to herself until the next time they got together.
Jamie blushed magnificently as she confessed, “The third.”
Caecilia, mindful of their audience, sighed and took Jamie’s hands in her own. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you to speak with.”
“You’re here now. That’s what matters,” Jamie replied, fiddling with an obsidian bracelet on her right wrist.
Caecilia turned the full force of her attention on Flavius. He was the only wizard who hadn’t eyed her with interest during the visit at Malfoy Manor. Even Rodolphus had, and he was bonded. Yet, even as she stared at him, Jamie held his attention.
“You have excellent taste, Heir Flint.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Caecilia,” Jamie hissed, her blush crawling down her neck.
“He’s one of the sincere ones. If I were you, I’d move that bracelet to my other wrist,” Caecilia said boldly.
“You continue to surprise me, Lady—”
A shadow fell over the table. Caecilia leaned backward as a hand was thrust much too close to her.
“Smith, Heir Hezekiah Smith, at your service. May I have your name, my lady? I promise I’m more fun than Heir Flint,” he said as he winked at her.
Smith was a Light Wizard! Who, in all of Avalon, had invited him to The Poisoned Apple? His blatant disrespect for the courting bracelet on her left wrist was infuriating.
“Not interested,” Caecilia bit out.
At the same time, Flavius snapped, “Get away from her, Smith. You’ve no business here.”
“I wasn’t talking to you, Flint,” Smith said as his gaze raked over Caecilia.
“She’s spoken for,” Flavius warned, “as you must know, given the courtship bracelet she’s wearing!”
Unfortunately, Smith was an overconfident, pompous bastard. He had proven this time and time again. And he proved it once more by waving a hand dismissively and saying, “Witches change their mind at the drop of a top hat. All I have to do is prove I’m a better option than her current suitor.”
Did he honestly think that any pureblood witch would break an exclusive courtship with Heir Lucius Malfoy on his behalf? Smith was as mad as her mother!
He pasted a passably charming smile on his face and said, “I highly doubt your parents named you Not Interested. You must want me to guess, then.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Jamie said.
“Oh, you’re here, Lady Jamie? I didn’t see you,” Smith said, as if she wasn’t sitting right beside Caecilia.
“Don’t talk to her like that!” Flavius snapped.
Smith ignored Flavius and gave Caecilia his full attention. She glared for all she was worth; it actually gave Smith a moment of pause, but then he leaned closer. He winked at her again and reached for her hand, purring, “Where was I, my lady? Ah, ri—”
Caecilia shoved her hand under her thigh and—
Flavius stood and thrust his wand into the skin beneath Smith’s jaw. “I’ll make things perfectly clear for you, Smith, so that your tiny brain can understand them. You are going to stop talking to these ladies, you are going to stop looking at these ladies, and you are going to turn around and walk away and never come near them again.”
“Or what?”
“Or Ezekiel is going to be Heir Smith by the end of the week.”
Smith snorted and rolled his eyes. “A death threat. Really? Is that supposed to scare me? You’d never get away with it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t kill you, Smith. That’s much too mundane. Even a Muggle can kill someone. No, I’d see you ruined. I’d see to it that you were disowned from the Smith family.” Flavius laughed and it sounded like a threat. “And when you don’t have your title or your last name, and when you don’t have your vaults or your manor, not even Mudblood witches would give you a second glance.”
Smith rolled his shoulders back and stepped away from Flavius’s wand. “There’s nothing worth—”
“Heir Ezekiel Smith has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, Flavius?” Lucius interrupted, his tone downright frigid.
“Quite.”
With a final glare, Smith snapped his mouth shut and stalked off.
Lucius’s magic reached out to fold around her, warm and comforting. He gently tugged her hand out from beneath her thigh and kissed it reassuringly. “Ilia? Do you want to go home?”
“No. I’m not going to let him ruin our Courtship Date.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, Lucius, I’m sure.”
Lucius cast a glance around the room, his frown deepening at the covert glances being thrown their way. “We’re leaving. Say your goodbyes.”
Caecilia hugged Jamie fiercely. “I’m so sorry for ruining your Courtship Date, Jamie. I didn’t mean to do that.”
“You didn’t ruin it, Caecilia. You’re not responsible for that bastard’s behavior. I’m glad you joined us,” Jamie replied as she returned the hug. “Don’t let him win. Have a wonderful afternoon with Lucius.”
Caecilia kissed Jamie’s cheeks and then winked at her. “And you think about moving Heir Flint’s bracelet to your other wrist. Owl me anytime you want, Jamie. I’m staying at Malfoy Manor permanently now.”
Jamie touched the bracelet again, before casting a thoughtful look at Flavius, who still stood with his wand drawn. “I promise I will. I’ll owl you tonight so we can arrange an afternoon together.”
“I can’t wait.”
Then Lucius was leading Caecilia back to the Apparition chamber, her arm atop his. And if her fingers were gripping his arm, instead of lying flat against it, he didn’t mention it. He merely held her in his arms and Apparated them to Leisure Alley.
Caecilia took a deep breath, locked all thoughts of Smith behind a layer of her Occlumency shields, and grinned up at Lucius. “Where to?”
“I thought you were remarkably fond of surprises,” Lucius teased, the tension in his shoulders easing.
Caecilia tried to pout up at him, but she was laughing too hard to accomplish it. “Lucius!”
He rested his hand against her lower back and began ushering her past one shop after the next. Eventually, he gestured to a green and blue store front with a flourish. “Here we are.”
“The Mythical Menagerie?” Caecilia asked delightedly.
It was the flagship store for magical pets and familiars. The owners had opened a less discerning shop in Diagon Alley called The Magical Menagerie, but that was for mundane pets and hybrid beasts that didn’t react poorly to those with Muggle blood.
Lucius handed her a piece of paper. “This is for you.”
She gasped, almost unable to believe it. “Lucius, this is a license to own a purebred Kneazle.”
“You mentioned that you wanted one.”
“I was twelve.”
“I was paying attention.” He rubbed his thumb against her waist. “Do you still want one?”
“Yes, of course!”
She had wanted one since she was a little girl, but she wouldn’t have been able to take one to Hogwarts; it would have attacked the Muggle-borns. She hadn’t been able to bear the thought of getting a Kneazle and having to leave it at Black Manor almost all year long. So, she had never asked for one.
“Come on!”
Lucius chuckled and allowed her to drag him into the shop after she twined their fingers together. “Excited?”
“Not at all,” Caecilia lied cheekily as she towed him toward the pens that held the purebred Kneazles. She stopped and stared at the fourteen Kneazle kittens available. Kitten, of course, being misleading. The smallest one was nearly a foot high at the shoulder.
“It’s going to take you forever to decide, isn’t it?” Lucius asked. He had a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“I want that one.”
Lucius blinked down at her. “What? You’ve decided already?”
Caecilia stared at the Kneazle farthest away from her in the pen. It had silvery white fur and black speckles. The tufts of hair on its ears and at the end of its tail were almost platinum in color. Its eyes were a pale blue topaz, as if someone had taken the color of her and Lucius’s eyes and mixed them together.
“I want that one. It’ll fit right into the family,” she said, pointing directly at it.
Lucius raised his hand and a shop-boy appeared beside them, politely inquiring, “How may I help you, Heir Malfoy?”
“We have the license. My lady wants the silver and black one,” Lucius said, gesturing to the Kneazle Caecilia had chosen.
“An excellent choice. I’ll collect her for you now.”
“I’m glad you picked a female Kneazle to fall in love with. I don’t think I’d like the thought of a male sleeping in your bed, even if it is just a pet,” Lucius said.
Caecilia laughed as she chose a silver collar from a nearby display. “I think that between the Courting Gifts and Venetia, any male who attempts to pester me is going to suffer a gruesome fate.”
“Here you go, Heir Malfoy.”
Lucius accepted the silvery white Kneazle from the shop-boy with an absent-minded, “Thank you.”
“She’s lovely,” Caecilia said, petting the soft fur.
“Venetia? Is that what you’re going to name her?”
Caecilia placed the collar around Venetia’s neck. “Yes. I decided on that name for my Kneazle when I was a child.”
Lucius quirked an amused eyebrow. “You plan names that far in advance?”
Caecilia smirked up at him and whispered, “Of course. I’m going to name our firstborn son Draconis. And you’re going to teach him the importance of guarding his treasure.”
Lucius’s eyes flared brighter than a Lumos Maxima. His mouth dropped open the slightest bit. Even though she knew her cheeks were flushed at how forthright she had just been, Caecilia couldn’t help but laugh. She had never thought she would see the day when Lucius was stunned into speechlessness.
She buried her face in Venetia’s fur and smiled. The butterflies in her stomach flittered away, and she never wanted them to stop.
Caecilia lay on the blanket near the shore of the lake on the Malfoy Manor grounds a few days later. Her hair and body were still wet from her afternoon swim. Her swimsuit was damp and clinging, but a drying charm seemed like cheating when the sun was so bright.
“How are things with Lucius?” Jamie asked.
She rolled her head to the side and smiled at her best friend. Jamie wore a crimson swimsuit that made her cheeks seem even more flushed.
“I’m enjoying seeing him work for it. At this point, it would hurt like Mordred if he changed his mind,” Caecilia admitted, though she didn’t think he would.
“He won’t! I always knew he wanted you. Even Lucius isn’t stupid enough to blow it at this point,” Jamie said. She pulled a handful of grass and threw it at Caecilia.
“Aunt Lucretia would kill him if he messed it up.”
Jamie snickered. “Lord Malfoy would probably disown him. It’s no secret they adore you and want you to be their daughter-in-law.”
“Dad ... Dad would’ve approved. He would’ve been over the moon.” Caecilia closed her eyes to trap the tears.
Jamie sat up and folded her legs, before pulling Caecilia into a tight hug. “All he ever wanted was for you to be happy. I could see that as plain as the gold on a Galleon. He loved you.”
Caecilia sniffled and wiped her teary eyes. “I know.” She knew that. She did. She just missed him so much.
“Lucius looks at you with all the love and longing in the world, Caecilia. So, grab hold and cling with all your might.”
“I love Lucius just as fiercely,” Caecilia stated, her voice shaking at the sheer breadth of her emotions.
Jamie’s own eyes were wet with tears as she smiled. “I know.”
Gratitude filled Caecilia. Talking things out with Jamie had always helped her better understand her thoughts and her heart.
“I see you’ve moved the obsidian bracelet Heir Flint gave you to your left wrist,” Caecilia said, something she had noticed when Jamie first arrived at Malfoy Manor.
Jamie’s fingers closed around it instantly. “Yes, I did.”
“It’s going well?”
“I’ve become ... fond of him,” Jamie confessed, sounding bewildered at that admission. “When Mum arranged our first Courtship Date, I didn’t expect to like him as much as I do. He makes me feel safe when I’m with him. He challenges me.”
“And?”
Jamie was silent for several minutes before saying, “I think that I could love him.”
“But?” Caecilia asked, because Jamie didn’t seem at all pleased with her realizations.
Jamie huffed and frowned. “Managing two earldoms at once will be a nightmare in itself. I don’t even want to imagine how awful overseeing two duchies simultaneously would be in the future.”
Caecilia burst into peals of laughter, her stomach and chest aching from the force of her mirth.
“It’s not that funny!”
“You’re—” Caecilia glanced off to the right as she felt Lucius approaching. His magic nudged up against her. Was it tea time already?
“Flavius is with him,” Jamie said.
“I should order Lucius to stay back there and keep Flint at his side,” Caecilia muttered as she stretched back against the blanket.
“Why?”
“Because we’re wearing bikinis, Jamie! I don’t want him and Flint dueling each other to the death in order to defend our honor!”
A strangled sound came from behind the trees that hid them from view.
“You don’t think they would really…” Jamie trailed off, a calculating light in her eyes.
“You underestimate how possessive Lucius is.”
But she didn’t say anything to warn their wizards away. Instead, after waiting another minute for him to appear, she called out, “Be useful, Lucius! Come keep me warm! The lake was freezing!”
Moments later, Lucius settled beside her and wrapped his arms around her. His gaze burned down at her, sweeping slowly over her body multiple times. His hands brushed across her bare skin. “You enjoy torturing me,” Lucius accused.
Caecilia kept her head turned away from the other end of the blanket, where Flavius had cast a silencing barrier when he joined Jamie. She kissed Lucius’s cheek, and then nibbled along his jaw. “Very much.”
Lucius huffed, before occupying her mouth with long, lazy kisses. “You’re lucky I love you so much.”
Her cheeks ached from the force of her smile as she tangled her fingers in his hair. “Yes, Lucius, I am.”
But that didn’t mean Caecilia was going to stop torturing him any time soon.