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Narcissa Black was a brat, Lucius had always thought. And then, right after that thought crossed his mind, he always remembered that he loved her. Perhaps, well, not perhaps, but definitely, this was foolish of him. It had been foolish, he would berate himself when he was alone another night, to place so many hopes on a childhood playmate who hated him, and had vowed a long time ago that she always would.
Narcissa went to work at the Ministry when she finished school, as a translator. In her spare time throughout her years at school, she had made short work of learning 3 human languages – French, Swedish, and Russian – and 2 non-human – Gobbledegook and Mermish – along with her Ancient Runes coursework. It was something she had always found came very easily to her, and given this along with her excellent connections, getting a job proved a trice. Soon she had moved away from home and into her own very stylish flat in London, in a building owned by a wealthy widowed witch her parents knew well and approved of. Men came in and out of her life for several years, none of them as important to her as her work.
Lucius Malfoy never had a job, and never would. He didn't need one and he didn't want one, and he divided his time between hanging about the Ministry slipping Galleons into opportune palms and, increasingly, spending time serving a master other than money. But in the light of day he was still handsome, desirable, Lucius Malfoy, the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world.
Narcissa, despite coming nearer a promotion to Deputy Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation with each passing day, couldn't seem to give up her habit of wearing skirts that bordered on too short to work. This was a constant torment to Lucius, who, while lurking in various hallways of the Ministry, often had to watch her flounce away from him, huffing if he even tried to speak to her.
She's a brat, he reminded herself each time this happened, although he couldn't really make himself believe it. Yes, Narcissa, despite being a working girl now, had grown up with just as many luxuries as he had, and was extremely unaccustomed to anyone telling her no. However, to anyone she worked with, this was never apparent. To them she was sweet and kind, although throughout the years she had been known to come down hard on those who made foolish mistakes.
"Don't cross her," everyone told new employees. "She's the loveliest person until you've done something wrong."
She doesn't want you, was sometimes the other refrain he repeated to himself, and this was much harder to stomach. Why, after years of childhood playdates and Slytherin House bonding, had she never accepted him?
Narcissa did get her promotion, and a letter circulated amongst every Slytherin from their year to meet for a party in her honor at one of the nicer bars in Diagon Alley. Bellatrix would bring her to make it a surprise, and Lucius had never been so excited for anything in his life.
"Why do you hate me?"
"You are so smug," she shouted over the music. "And –"
But there she cut herself off, hand flying to her mouth after realizing she had said one word too much.
"And what, Cissy?" Lucius pried, absolutely desperate. He was finally, finally arriving somewhere.
"Don't call me that," she snapped.
"Everyone calls you that."
"No, my friends and my family call me that."
"You've changed the subject."
"As I intended."
She gave him a drunken little wink, and a flip of her hair, and walked away.
Lucius stayed until the very end of the party, unwilling to go until he was forced out. Finally, just as Bellatrix was saying goodbye to the last few guests, Narcissa flopped down onto the couch beside him.
"My mother has always wanted me to marry you," she said, words slurred ever so slightly.
Her head tilted towards him, and he was thrilled to lean down and listen to her soft voice.
"When we were little she wanted us to play together and when we started Hogwarts she would ask if we ever talked at every chance she got. And I hated it. I still hate it."
"Why do you hate it so much?" he asked reverently, heart jumping at the idea of her even considering marrying him, even as a burden.
"I'm not a thing to be married off," she said, voice fading. "I'm Narcissa."
"Yes," Lucius breathed, "you are."
He watched her eyelids flutter closed, and held his breath as she tipped over and her head came to rest in his lap. He held his hand stiffly at his side, not daring to touch.
"Great," someone above him said, and he came out of his reverie to find Bellatrix looking down at him. "How am I supposed to get her home?"
"Can't you wake her?"
"If I do, she'll barely be able to stand anyway. She's a lightweight and yet she weighs so much more than you'd think when she's all floppy like that."
"You mean she needs to be carried?"
"Yes, and I've done it before but don't relish doing it again."
Lucius had relaxed as they talked, letting his left hand fall to Narcissa's shoulder. She was breathing steadily, warm and fast asleep.
"I'll take her," he said, almost too quietly for Bellatrix to hear. Lucius knew if he made it too obvious, if he was too eager in his offer, there was no way he'd be let within 100 yards of Narcissa's house.
"Oh, thank Merlin. Yes, take her," Bellatrix said straightaway, apparently unconcerned with his intentions.
"Really?"
"Yes. Here’s her purse, I'm sure her keys are inside."
She thrust it against his chest, and started to wrap up in her cloak. Bellatrix was nearly out the door before Lucius could carefully extricate himself from under Narcissa, and she only gave the slightest bit of help to him as he tried. She really was a sack of potatoes at that point, but once he was able to scoop her into his arms, she seemed to fit perfectly.
Narcissa woke up, eyes squinting tight against the sun, to find Lucius asleep in the chair beside her bed. The room was still spinning around her, and she tried to sit up once and failed, finding that her heart beat so quickly it was frightening. She was aware of a figure in the chair, but couldn't make herself care about who it could be.
Her small movements woke Lucius, who had slept fitfully, partly due to location and partly due to anxiety. Narcissa really had been very drunk the night before, and he was frightened that she might be sicker than he knew. He debated taking her to the hospital for about an hour after they arrived back at her flat, but eventually, after a lot of garbled conversation and hair holding, she insisted on getting herself ready for bed, and he knew she would be alright. He had watched, bemused, as she stumbled about pulling on pajama pants under her dress and trying to braid her hair. Eventually she fell into bed, and once she was asleep Lucius managed to somehow pull the covers around her. She hadn’t seemed aware of him, maybe thinking him just another servant or elf to which she was accustomed. As her breathing slowed into slumber, he had wondered what he would say when she rose. The chance to stay was too wonderful to let go, even if it led to awkwardness. Even if it made things worse.
“I should have known,” she groaned, falling back into the heap of silken pillows. “I should have known Bellatrix would throw me to the wolves.”
But she didn’t seem mad.
“Can I get you anything, Cissy?”
“There’s Hangover Helper under the sink,” she directed.
He was stiff getting up, and she smirked at him behind his back as he hobbled across the room.
“How was our lovemaking then?” she asked at his return.
Lucius, yes, Lucius Malfoy, blushed.
“Cissy, I would never –” he began. She stopped him.
“I know, Lucius. That much I know.”
Then it was quiet for a moment, while she fussed with her wand and her hair and her clothes and the bottle Lucius had brought. He watched her transform not entirely into the workaday Narcissa he knew, but into a clean and pretty girl who was not as old as she gave off and who was ready to go back to sleep, respectably this time.
“I’ll go,” he said, hoping he hadn’t stared too much.
“Don’t,” she said. “You were up all night. Get in. Stay on your side.”
She flipped the covers open on the other side of the bed, and snuggled back into hers. She wouldn’t be explaining or qualifying the offer. It was just a courtesy. Just two school friends in a bed. Just…
When he woke, curled against himself, the sun had risen over the roof and left the room cast in late afternoon warmth. Lucius stirred, then froze and settled back when he felt hands wrapped around at his waist. Surely it couldn’t be, and yet it was, that he was in Narcissa Black’s bed with her draped over him.
“I know you’re awake,” she whispered as he tried to still. “I’ve been up.”
“Oh?”
There was nothing else he could say, no way to sound nonchalant when he simply wasn’t.
“Anyone else would have dumped me with the elf. They’ve done it before. Or else done with me what you wouldn’t.”
He stayed quiet. Surely one movement from him would break the spell.
“Do you want coffee?” she asked, still holding him.
“Tea,” he whispered, and she called out to the elf.
“Lucius, roll over. It’s ok.”
She released him and he felt her shift to her back, and somehow he mustered the courage to do the same, and then even more courage to turn his head to face her. It was still her, not a dream or illusion, beside him. Her hair was in a tangle from sleeping hard and her face was pale, the way he remembered her years ago, in 3rd or 4th Year before she had started wearing makeup. Her eyelashes were blonde.
“Are you pleased?” she asked.
“Has it been that obvious?”
“Yes, Lucius, it had always been that obvious and that delightful that you were mad over me.”
Then he was compelled, suddenly beyond the timidity of moments earlier, to roll farther towards her and grab her at the waist and pull her close him. And she didn’t object. In fact, she more than yielded, turning her back to him and snuggling her body perfectly against his.
“How long were you going to toy with me then, Miss Black?” he murmured.
“I hadn’t decided,” she said, and her voice had shifted to be lower, more honest, almost breaking. “But I felt increasingly I couldn’t hold out forever.”
They managed to get up, finally, and Narcissa asked him to go shopping with her.
“Groceries?” he asked, staring at himself in the mirror and wondering how he could ever make himself look presentable after such a night and day in the same set of clothes.
He turned in time to see her withering stare. Narcissa had never bought her own groceries, and she knew he knew that. She was unabashedly changing her clothes in front of him, and he felt like any moment he would wake up in his dormitory bed, 16 again.
“Clothing, Lucius. It’s time to become a bit more matronly.”
“You could never.”
Ignoring this, she went on.
“Then we can go to dinner, and then come back here. You can come to brunch with me at my parents’ tomorrow. Your elf can bring you some new clothes.”
“Yes, Narcissa, he can. But am I to stay here forever now?”
He did.