Standing silently at the window of her bedroom in Malfoy Manor, Narcissa took a sip of sherry and stared into the distance. Night was falling. One more night without any knowledge of her son.
Behind her, the door opened, but she didn't turn. She could feel Lucius' malevolent presence as he walked silently towards her, displacing the lightly perfumed air. He smelled of battle, of dark magic.
That scent had once so enchanted her.
When his hand brushed her shoulder, she flinched. She didn't need to see him to know he was smirking at her instinctual reaction to his touch. His hand tightened, his thumb caressing her shoulder blade through the thin linen of her shirt, and his lips brushed the nape of her neck.
Narcissa shivered but could no longer tell if it was from desire or fear.
"No welcome for your hero?"
"...What victory did you win today?" she asked dully, taking another sip of the alcohol she no longer could do without.
Lucius turned her in his arms and there was a smug, dark look on his face. Plucking the glass from her hand, he set it aside and wrapped his arms around her waist. She read the desire in his eyes, and felt her own go empty. A good victory always aroused him.
"Three aurors dead, four running in terror."
"And my son?" Narcissa forced herself to ask, wondering as always if Lucius truly cared about his whereabouts.
Lucius frowned. "No word."
Heart sinking, Narcissa pulled away from her husband and turned back towards the window, her arms wrapping around her too-thin body to hold in the worry-induced trembling. "Our Lord wants him dead." She hated saying it, admitting to the truth, but she had to know Lucius' plans, and he had been remarkably close-mouthed in the month since the start of the war.
"That won't happen, Narcissa. Draco just needs to see the error of his ways."
"I just want him to return home," she whispered.
In a rare moment of tenderness, Lucius wrapped his arms around her from behind and lightly rested his chin on the top of her head. "He will. He has much to answer for, but Draco will return home. This is only youthful rebellion."
Narcissa forced back her instinctive response. Lucius was being blind. Draco had turned against his family, his heritage, everything they'd believed in for centuries. He'd chosen the other side.
It was much more than youthful rebellion.
Lucius' hands slowly slid up from her waist to her breasts, brushing aside her own arms to cup them. Drawing in a deep breath, he smelled her perfume, the floral shampoo she used, and the bitter tang of fear.
The fear had been a part of her for twenty years. It tainted her, mingled with her other emotions, sometimes controlling them, sometimes a force in and of itself. It was always there when he took her, most of the time arousing her to fevered heights. Fear and desire were almost one and the same for her these days.
And Lucius loved that she feared him. That aroused him to his own heights, or depths, as it were.
Narcissa's breath quickened against her will, and she felt her nipples harden against his palms through thin layers of silk and linen. She hated that he could arouse her so easily, but he'd had over two decades to train her to his touch. When his lips brushed her neck just behind her ear, a shiver of desire went through her.
"It has been nearly two weeks, Narcissa," Lucius murmured, then nipped at her ear lobe, setting off another tremor in her. "Go make yourself ready for me, my darling wife." He set her free and Narcissa nearly stumbled, her legs already weak from lust. Lucius had other lovers to relieve the sexual tension, but she never had, not willing ones, at least, so he was her only outlet.
Something else he loved about her.
Narcissa walked quickly out of her room through the connecting sitting room and into Lucius' darkly appointed bed chamber. One of the few battles she had ever won with him was her refusal after Draco's conception to allow him to fuck her in her only sanctuary. She figured Lucius let her win because his room contained all his toys, the most blatant the chains attached to each post of his massive bed.
As she walked towards it, she stripped off her clothes, revealing a pale and slender body. Her breasts remained high and firm and no stretch marks marred her skin. Nor did any scars. He always let her heal herself. It was only inside that she was damaged.
Where no one could see the scars.
She heard him enter behind her, and ignored him as she pulled back the velvet cover and the cool Egyptian cotton sheets. Sliding onto the bed, she rested her head on the down-filled pillows and waited for him. Her eyes found him, and she watched him disrobe. Lucius was still a beautiful man, his body hard and well-muscled, hardly a wrinkle on him. His hair was pulled back in a tight queue and he was already half-erect from anticipation.
Narcissa felt her own body tighten, liquid heat beginning to flood her veins and pool between her legs. She shifted on the sheets, drawing his attention, and he walked the few steps to the bed and sank down next to her.
"You are truly lovely, Narcissa," he murmured as he reached out to draw one finger along her flat stomach and up to the cleft between her breasts. "My ice queen..." Dipping his head, he flicked his tongue over one of her nipples, and smirked as it hardened beneath his touch. "But I can thaw you, can't I." As he licked her again, he slid his hand back down her stomach and between her parted thighs. "Here you're hot and wet." A kiss brushed between her breasts, and then his tongue was at her other nipple, laving it roughly as his fingers teased her.
Narcissa squirmed her legs farther apart, arching into his touch, and nibbling on her lower lip to keep in her moans of pleasure. Her hands fisted into the sheets beneath her and her eyes fell shut. When his lips closed around one of her nipples and began to suckle, she whimpered his name.
As a reward he brushed his thumb over her clit, teasing it until it swelled beneath his touch and more wetness flowed over his fingers.
"Touch me, wife."
Blindly she reached for him, gripping his shoulders, then sliding her hands down his back, her long fingernails lightly scoring him until he shuddered against her, and bit down into her tender aureole.
Narcissa yelled and bucked against his hand, climaxing hard from the combination of pain and pleasure. As she fell back trembling, her fingernails dug deeply into Lucius' shoulders, he moved over her, replacing his hand with his cock. With a hard thrust he was inside her quivering channel, groaning as her muscles clenched around him.
Opening dazed eyes, Narcissa stared up into the dark pleasure on her husband's face as he moved over her, thrusting deeply into her eager body. Moaning softly, she arched her back and wrapped one leg around his thighs, moving with him. She licked dry lips and caressed his arms and shoulders, then slid her hands to his chest, feeling his heart pounding beneath hard muscles.
Lucius dipped his head and ran kisses along her shoulder. She arched her neck, allowing him more access, and he suckled on her silky flesh, nipping at her pulse point and making her moan. His hips moved faster, more urgently, and his breath started coming in gasps in her ear. Narcissa wound her fingers into his hair and pulled the tie free, spilling the pale blond strands over his straining shoulders. Pulling him down to her she felt the whisper of silky strands brush her sensitive nipples and she whimpered loudly.
Propping himself on one elbow, Lucius reached down and hooked his other arm around her thigh, lifting her leg over his shoulder. They both groaned as he gained deeper access to her body and his pubic bone brushed her aching clit. Narcissa felt herself flush with desire and pleasure, and bucked up against him to meet each thrust. With a hiss, his mouth slid away from her neck and Lucius lifted his head to stare lustily down into her eyes.
The pressure inside her suddenly tightened and she cried out as her orgasm shuddered through her. The pleased smirk on her husband's face made her reach for him, tug him down for a hungry, breathless kiss until she collapsed limply, spent.
Lucius rose back up on his hands and thrust powerfully into her quivering channel until, with a deep groan, he spilled himself inside her. After a minute, he rolled onto his back, still breathing hard, and watched Narcissa turn away from him, her long, slender back trembling from her own release. Raising up on one elbow, he smirked at how obvious she was becoming as the years went by.
She enjoyed his touch, but not in the aftermath.
He rolled onto his side and spooned against her, wrapping one arm tightly around her waist and biting at her shoulder as she shuddered in reaction. "I'm not through with you, darling."
Narcissa tried to sound blase, but she desperately wanted him to stop touching her. "What do you want, Lucius."
What he wanted sent her silently screaming back into her memories.
Narcissa stepped into the entryway and set down her packages. She opened her mouth to call for Tildy, her personal house elf, when Lucius startled her by flying out of the library and grabbing her arm in a painful grip.
"Where have you been? Never mind." His eyes ran over her critically. "There's no time for you to change. You'll have to go as you are."
She winced. "Lucius?"
"Our Master has summoned you. You're to attend him in five minutes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't know. I was shopping," she stammered, finally pulling free of him. "Of course I'll attend him. I'll apparate right there."
He glared coldly at her and she shivered in confusion. "If you ruin this for me, Narcissa..."
"I won't. Do you know what He wants..." Her voice died away at the dark look on his face. "I'll go now," she whispered, sudden fear filling her. Pulling out her wand she apparated away.
Hours later Narcissa crept silently into the manor. Every muscle in her body was tense and trembling, and she clung to the banister as she made her way up the stairs and down the corridor to her bedchamber. Closing the door behind her, she staggered slightly, then grabbed for the chair at her dressing table and sank down onto it. She winced in pain and couldn't hold back a sob.
Her mirror reflected her every emotion. It also showed dark circles beneath reddened eyes, dried tears on cheeks washed free of make-up, tangled curls, and bruised lips. One trembling hand went to the neckline of her silk blouse and she pulled it aside to reveal ugly red marks along her collar bone and teeth marks on her shoulder.
Another sob sounded loud in the room and she buried her face in her hands.
As she cried, the memories began to assail her, her mind trying to process all she had suffered. She cringed, her stomach twisting into knots, and hugged herself, dragging her feet up onto the chair, so that she was almost in a ball. Ignoring the pain, she began to rock, keening softly against her trembling knees.
Time passed until slowly she became aware of the sensation of her own skin crawling and forced herself to unfold and rise on unsteady legs. As she limped to the bathroom she stripped off her clothes, silently wishing them to Hades, for she never wanted to see them again. Naked and conscious of that fact for the first time in years, she hugged her trembling body with one arm and reached into the shower to turn on the water.
Steam quickly filled the room. She wanted it hot--scalding.
She wanted to burn away her skin, burn away His touch. Stepping under the hard spray, she closed her eyes and continued to weep silent tears. Blindly she scrabbled for the soap and a sponge and began to scrub, at first slowly, then faster, until she was scouring herself, her skin reddening from the heat and the harshness. She reached between her legs, desperate to rid herself of every trace of Him.
But she couldn't reach that deeply, that far into her body and soul.
The pink-tinged sponge fell from aching fingers and she slumped down to the tiled floor, wrapping her arms over her bruised breasts and crying, not silently anymore, but pitifully.
The water had turned cold long before she found the strength to calm down and move. Shivering hard, she turned off the taps and stepped from the shower. She swaddled herself in a large towel, avoided the mirror and looking at the tell-tale marks on her skin, and dried herself quickly. She wanted to cover herself from head to foot in her oldest flannel nightgown, take a sleeping draught, and crawl into bed.
Never to awaken.
That thought made her stop, her breath catching in her throat.
Was she truly thinking of dying?
... No. She shook her head numbly. It had been horrible, truly the most horrible thing she'd ever experienced, and she felt sick and betrayed and lost, but she didn't want to die. Didn't want to...kill herself.
She wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction.
The momentary spurt of anger gave her the strength to slip on her robe, tying it tightly around her slender waist, and leave the bathroom.
Wearing only a pair of black silk pajama pants slung low on his hips, Lucius stood before the fireplace watching the flames and drinking brandy.
"I wondered if you were planning to drown yourself in there."
She paled, the shivering beginning anew.
"At least you had the sense to bathe yourself of Him."
The anger didn't come. Whether he was trying to goad her into a reaction, she couldn't tell, too hurt by his words to feel anything else.
"Did you please Him?" Lucius asked casually, still not looking at her. "I assume so, as I haven't been summoned to His side and cursed." He took a sip of the brandy, obviously savoring the taste on his tongue.
The truth finally hit her, the one she'd been denying all night, and she let it wash over her, numb her to the pain and anger, as she murmured, her voice dead and empty, "You never tried to deny Him, did you."
Lucius snorted softly and set the empty glass on the mantle. "And why would I do that, Narcissa? When a simple parting of your thighs brought me into the highest favor."
Each word felt like a blow until she physically flinched away from him, stepping back and wrapping her arms tightly around her shaking body. Her stomach churned violently and one hand flew to her mouth. And finally she asked the question foremost in her confused thoughts. "Why would you do this to me?"
There was an honest look of surprise on Lucius' face when he turned from the fire. "Are you really so shocked?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Narcissa, Narcissa, you of all people know my ambitions."
She could feel tears filling her eyes and fought them down, not wanting to show that weakness to the monster before her. "You used me," came out more hurt than angry, though.
"I use everyone, wife, and everything, to my advantage. That's never bothered you before." His eyes slowly trailed down her cowering body and his eyes narrowed. "Where is your spine, Narcissa? You should be honored that our Lord chose to bestow His attentions on you."
"Honored? Attentions?" she stuttered, her voice rising in pitch as she forced herself to admit the truth out loud, "He raped me, Lucius."
He scoffed, "One cannot rape the willing."
She gasped in protest. "I wasn't willing."
"I granted my consent, therefore you were willing," he replied, his voice cold as ice.
Horrified even more by his insane logic, Narcissa shook her head in disbelief.
"I do hope you didn't fight Him." Lucius' voice grew even colder, if that was at all possible, and he stalked towards her.
"I didn't, I swear." Narcissa tried to skitter backwards, but he grabbed her arm in a painful grip, pulling at the silk of the robe. It slipped from her shoulder, revealing the ugly bite mark turning dark red around the white indentations.
"Why haven't you healed this?"
Tears filled her eyes and she reached for his hand, trying to pry it off her arm. His grip only tightened until she whimpered in pain. "I couldn't bear to think about them," she finally yelled. "I couldn't stand remembering how He touched me and hurt me." Anger finally broke through the pain and she glared up at her husband. "You son of a bitch." Her free hand lashed out to slap him, but Lucius anticipated her move and caught her wrist.
They struggled for a moment, until Lucius pushed her away with a growl and backhanded her across the face, sending her flying to the floor.
Crying out instinctively, Narcissa cradled her wounded cheek and curled into a ball.
"Get up," he hissed.
She ignored him, whimpering, her still damp hair spread across her shaking shoulders like a cloak, the robe open to reveal one thigh mottled with finger shaped bruises.
"I am highly disappointed in you, wife. This cowering does not become you." He reached down and yanked her to her feet. Catching her wrists in one of his hands, he pulled them away from her face and saw the tears slipping over the reddened mark on her cheek. His voice took on a husky quality as he leaned down to murmur, "I much prefer you bearing my marks," before placing a soft kiss on the bruise.
Shocked, Narcissa jerked her head back. Her eyes widened as she felt his arousal pressed against her stomach, and desolation swept her. "No, please no, Lucius, not tonight," she begged brokenly.
"Take it off."
More tears filled her eyes and she shook her head, only to have him repeat the command as he freed her hands and slid his down her back to cup her hips.
Finally Narcissa reached for the ties of her robe, the futility of defiance having been made well known to her years before. He'd only beat her and take her anyway, and she just wanted this horrible night to end as soon as possible.
Lucius' lips quirked. "Not the robe. Well, that as well. Take it off, Narcissa. I'm pleased that you had brains enough to place the spell on yourself, but now I want it off."
"Remove the counter conception charm...now," he ordered, determination in both his eyes and voice. "I wish to create my heir this night, wife."
At the moment, the last thing on earth she wanted to share with this man was a child and she shook her head. "No."
His eyes narrowed and grew even more steely. "You will do as I say."
"...No," she said louder. "I don't want your child."
The smirk on his face turned into a snarling frown and his hands went to her shoulders to shake her one time hard and lift her to her toes. "Your wishes matter nothing to me. You'd think you'd know that by now, Narcissa. Take off the damn spell or I'll make you more sorry than you already are."
"Impossible," she spat, angry again.
Infuriated, Lucius shoved her over to the bed and flung her down face first, pinning her down with a knee to her back as he jerked her robe up her legs.
All the while she thrashed on the bed and screamed at him. "I hate you. I'll never give you a child. Never. You're a monster!"
The snap of a switch across her thighs made her shriek in sudden pain and she reached back, trying to shove his knee off her. The switch cracked again, criss-crossing the first mark, and she stuffed one fist against her mouth to hold in her cry. The other wrapped in the tangled bedding, finding purchase so she could lash out with her foot.
She connected with some part of Lucius. All it made him do was snarl, shift out of her reach, and beat her harder. Each blow landed on the delicate flesh of her upper thighs, just beneath her buttocks, and they fell quickly. He was furious and this was no game. As the pain grew, her whole body throbbing with it, she dimly heard him panting above her and felt a drop of his sweat splash on her upturned cheek.
Her tears mingled with his sweat and her own, but she forced down the sobs and cries as the switch rose and fell over and over until her thighs were on fire, her body quivering in shock.
The knee left her back, but she no longer had the strength to move. Another cut slashed across her and she began to whimper uncontrollably.
It took her a few minutes to realize Lucius had stopped beating her. She heard the switch hit the mattress, then felt him lean down over her. Slowly she opened her red and sore eyes to glare up at him.
"Take it off," he said sibilantly, his voice soft but deadly. "Take it off, Narcissa, or I shall send you back to Him and let Him do whatever He wishes to you."
Narcissa's breath caught in her throat, choking her.
She believed him.
With a sob she muttered the incantation to restore her fertility, then squeezed her eyes shut and waited.
Lucius wrapped his fingers in her hair and dragged her to her knees, then flung her higher up the bed. As her head hit the pillows, he grabbed her hip and rolled her over. Narcissa bit her bottom lip until it bled to hold in her cry of pain as the brocade coverlet rubbed her raw skin. He came over her quickly, shoving her thighs apart with his knees, as she dragged her legs up, trying to find some relief from the throbbing, burning agony.
In a daze she watched Lucius kneel between her shaking legs, slide his pajama pants down his legs, and stroke his cock back to erection. He made no move to touch her or attempt to arouse her. She doubted that it would have been possible even if he'd tried, but the cold and furious look on his face frightened her.
He'd punished her before. He'd fucked her while she still screamed in pain as part of the punishment, often leaving her before she found any pleasure.
But he'd never looked like he hated her.
Lucius leaned over her and thrust into her sore body, making her wince. He took her quickly, roughly, braced above her on both hands, barely touching her.
Narcissa fought back the moans of pain and humiliation and forced herself to meet his eyes. As she fell into the steel of his gaze, she suddenly knew why he wanted her to bear his son now. Why he was taking her so angrily.
She was his prized possession and he'd been forced to share her. He was staking his claim to her again.
A chill swept over her and she closed her eyes, clenching her fingers into the coverlet beneath her, her body still and cold as ice. As frost.
As Lucius grunted and climaxed, his hot seed filling her, she prayed she wasn't fertile, prayed he'd have heart failure and die atop her...
And swore that she'd never truly thaw for him again.
"It will never work," she whimpered. "I can't do it, Lucius."
"You will," he hissed in her ear. "Our Lord wants this, and you will do it and succeed, or I will kill you, Narcissa."
The threat was spoken so lightly she knew it to be true, and as Lucius left her, sliding off the bed to wash and dress for dinner, Narcissa began to cry.
It wasn't going to work. He'd know, and she'd never see her son again.
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