Chapter 1
Lucius Malfoy was used to winning.
A single glance, a well-placed smirk, the whisper of his name in the right ears—power was his birthright, influence his craft. His world bent to his will with little more than a flick of his wrist.
Except for her.
Narcissa Black.
She moved through the Great Hall like a wisp of winter—silent, composed, utterly untouchable. While other girls clung to his every word, Narcissa remained indifferent. While professors praised him, she barely acknowledged his presence. She was a puzzle he could not solve, a prize just out of reach. And it drove him mad.
Lucius lounged in his usual seat at the Slytherin table, one arm draped lazily over the back of the bench. He had been watching her for weeks, waiting for the moment when she would finally see him the way everyone else did. Surely, she would succumb eventually. They were a perfect match—pure-blooded, powerful, destined for greatness. It was only a matter of time.
Across the hall, Narcissa sat with her elder sister, Bellatrix, her posture straight as a blade, her pale fingers idly toying with the stem of her goblet. She was effortlessly elegant, effortlessly cold. He had spent the past year deciphering her—how her lips barely curled at even the sharpest of jokes, how her sapphire eyes only softened when speaking to her sisters. She never let her guard down. Not with him.
But Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not persistent.
With a casual flick of his wrist, he summoned a house-elf to his side and murmured a command. A moment later, a single, pristine white rose appeared before Narcissa’s plate. The hall stirred with hushed whispers and stolen glances. It was a bold move, even for him.
Narcissa stilled. For a brief, fleeting second, she simply stared at the flower, unreadable. Then, with the same delicate grace she applied to everything, she lifted the rose between her fingers, examined it as if it were a mere curiosity—before setting it aside, untouched.
She did not look at him.
Lucius felt a slow, simmering heat rise in his chest.
Bellatrix, seated beside Narcissa, let out a low chuckle. “Oh, Malfoy,” she drawled, her dark eyes glittering with amusement. “Are you truly so bored that you’ve resorted to sending my sister flowers?”
Lucius recovered swiftly, allowing an easy smirk to slip onto his lips. “A simple gesture,” he said smoothly. “Surely, there’s no harm in a bit of admiration?”
Bellatrix’s smirk widened, but Narcissa—Narcissa finally turned her head.
Their eyes met. His world stopped for a single moment.
For the first time all morning, she regarded him, truly looked at him. But there was no blush, no pleased smile, no trace of the reaction he had expected. Instead, she tilted her head ever so slightly, as if considering something, before saying in a voice as cool as frost,
“If admiration were all you sought, I imagine you’d have grown bored by now.”
Lucius’s smirk faltered for half a second. She had seen right through him.
And then, just as quickly as she had graced him with her attention, she turned away, plucking a piece of toast from her plate and continuing as though he had never existed.
Lucius Malfoy had always been a man of power. But today, for the first time in his life, he found himself powerless.
-
The Slytherin common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday morning, the greenish glow from the lake casting long shadows across the stone walls. A few students were scattered about—some poring over books, others engaged in hushed conversations about upcoming exams or the latest rumors.
Lucius sat near the fireplace, absentmindedly twirling his wand between his fingers. Across from him, Severus Snape lounged in an armchair, his dark eyes watching him with thinly veiled amusement.
“Brooding doesn’t suit you, Lucius,” Severus murmured. “You look almost… defeated.”
Lucius shot him a glare. “I am not brooding.”
“No?” Severus’s lips curled into a rare smirk. “Then why have you been staring into the fire for the past ten minutes instead of reveling in your usual victories?”
Lucius exhaled sharply, leaning back in his chair. “She’s toying with me.”
“She?”
“Narcissa.”
At her name, Severus let out a soft chuckle. “Ah. I did wonder when you would realize that she isn’t like the others.”
Lucius scowled. “She should be. She has every reason to be interested in me—our families are aligned, our status is equal. It’s logical.”
Severus tilted his head. “And yet, logic does not seem to sway her.”
Lucius’s grip on his wand tightened. “She’s testing me.”
“Or she simply has no interest in playing your game.”
Lucius ignored the comment, pushing himself up from his chair. “It doesn’t matter. If she wants a challenge, I’ll give her one.”
Severus sighed, watching as Lucius straightened his robes and ran a hand through his pale hair, regaining his usual air of confidence. “Do try not to embarrass yourself,” he muttered.
Lucius smirked. “Don’t be ridiculous, Severus. I don’t embarrass myself.”
And with that, he strode out of the common room, determination burning in his veins. Walked until he found himself there. In front of the library. God, who would’ve thought?
“For fuck’s sake, here goes nothing” — he mutters under his breath.