A Night to Remember
The Malfoy estate was grand, as always, but there was something magical about it when the winter holidays arrived. The hallways glowed with candles in crystal holders, and garlands of ivy and holly draped the walls, twinkling with the soft flicker of enchanted lights. The house was alive with activity, as the grand Malfoy Christmas Ball loomed that evening, an event that had become legendary among the most influential families in wizarding society.
But in the midst of the grand decorations and the hum of conversation, Lucius Malfoy couldn’t focus on anything but the woman who had already captivated him more than anyone else—Narcissa Black.
Her family had arrived just after the afternoon sun dipped below the horizon, their carriages driving up the long, snow-covered path to the Malfoy manor. Lucius hadn’t wasted any time. As soon as he saw Narcissa, his eyes locked on her, his usual charm effortlessly sliding into place, though it was far from just another fleeting exchange.
The night unfolded in a blur of dances, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Yet, despite the grand spectacle of the evening, Lucius felt himself drawn away from it all.
Narcissa was nowhere to be found.
He excused himself from the crowded ballroom, his mind restless with anticipation. He made his way through the lavish halls of the manor, past the portraits that watched with knowing eyes, all the way to the winding staircase that led to the private wing. His bedroom.
She was there when he entered, standing by the large window, gazing out over the frost-covered grounds. Her presence alone made the room feel smaller, and in that moment, Lucius couldn’t remember why he hadn’t sought her out sooner. The world outside, the grand party, everything felt like a distant hum compared to the magnetic pull she had on him.
Her eyes turned toward him, those striking blue eyes, as if she had known he would come.
“Cissa,” Lucius said softly, his voice a low murmur.
She didn’t say anything at first, just watched him as he closed the door behind him, the soft click of the lock sealing them in the quiet of the room.
“You were missing,” he added, a trace of amusement in his voice, though his gaze never left hers.
She stepped away from the window, slowly walking toward him, her heels clicking softly against the floor. “It’s rather… crowded downstairs, Lucius,” she replied, her tone steady but with an underlying warmth he couldn’t ignore.
Lucius smiled, his eyes darkening just a fraction as he took a step closer to her. The air between them seemed to crackle with anticipation, something unspoken but present. He didn’t need to say it—she felt it too.
He reached out, brushing his fingers against her arm, the contact brief but lingering. Her breath caught slightly, and for a split second, Lucius saw the vulnerability in her eyes before she quickly masked it with a calm, composed expression.
“We don’t have to go back down there just yet,” he said, his voice soft, his thumb brushing over the soft fabric of her dress.
Narcissa’s gaze flickered to his lips for a moment, then back to his eyes. The tension between them was palpable now, the quiet building as her pulse quickened, though she made no effort to pull away.
“You’ve always known how to make me feel… out of place,” she whispered, her voice laced with something between frustration and desire.
Lucius chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face, his touch just barely grazing her skin. “Is that such a bad thing?”
She exhaled slowly, taking a step closer until there was barely any space left between them. “You’re never satisfied with the ordinary, Lucius,” she murmured, her breath warm against his skin.
Lucius smirked, his hand sliding down her arm, fingertips lightly grazing her wrist. His touch was gentle, almost teasing. “Ordinary isn’t nearly enough,” he said, his voice low, deliberate.
Her heart raced as she glanced up at him, those blue eyes darker than usual. “What do you want from me, Lucius?”
Her voice was quiet now, the teasing gone, replaced by something softer. Something that pulled at him.
He leaned in closer, just a fraction, his breath mingling with hers. “Everything, Cissa. I want everything from you.”
The words hung in the air, thick with implication. But he didn’t move any closer. Instead, he let the silence stretch between them, letting her decide what came next.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the hum of the house in the distance. And then, without warning, Narcissa reached up, her fingers tracing along the side of his neck.
Lucius felt his pulse quicken, a slow burn building between them as she closed the distance, her lips brushing against his ear in a soft, almost teasing whisper. “What if I gave you just a little bit of what you want?”
His eyes flickered shut for a moment, his hand gripping her waist as he pulled her just a little closer. Her skin felt warm under his touch, and for a brief second, the world outside—everything but her—disappeared.
Before he could respond, she pulled back, her lips teasingly brushing his jawline as her breath came quick and shallow. The world seemed to narrow until it was just the two of them.
Her hands found the back of his neck, pulling him in closer as she kissed him again—deeper this time, more urgent. There was no pretense, no hesitation. Her lips moved against his with an intensity that stole the air from his lungs. He responded in kind, his hands sliding to the small of her back, pulling her flush against him, his fingers desperately seeking the familiar heat of her skin beneath the layers of her dress.
He could feel the softness of her body, the curve of her waist, the taut tension in her every movement. And when she gasped, just the slightest hitch in her breath as his fingers grazed the edge of her skirt, it was enough to drive him mad.
Her hands were everywhere—one threading through his hair, the other pressing against his chest, as if she were trying to anchor herself to him in this madness of sensation. They kissed like it was the only thing that mattered, the only thing that had ever mattered.
Lucius felt her shiver slightly under his touch and pulled back just enough to catch his breath. His lips were still close to hers, their faces only a hair’s breadth apart.
“Are you sure about this?” he whispered, his voice hoarse, still full of that same hunger.
Narcissa didn’t answer in words. Instead, she reached down, her fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw before she kissed him again, this time slower, more deliberate. Her lips were soft, but the way she pressed against him—insistent—told him everything he needed to know.
She wanted him, wanted this, as much as he wanted her.
But when she pulled away again, her chest rising and falling with each breath, she looked up at him, her eyes soft yet filled with something more—something that felt almost like regret.
“We shouldn’t,” she whispered, almost to herself, though the words stung just a little.
Lucius stared at her, his hand still on her waist, his thumb lightly grazing her side. There was nothing but silence between them now, the air thick with what had almost happened. He could feel the temptation lingering, could almost taste it, but he knew that if he pushed her too far, too fast, it would all fall apart.
Narcissa, however, didn’t pull away. Instead, she simply sighed, pressing a final, brief kiss to his lips.
“Not yet, Lucius,” she whispered against his lips, her breath mingling with his.
He nodded, his chest tight with longing but with a strange understanding. This wasn’t the end. Far from it. But for tonight, it had to be enough.
“Not yet,” he murmured back, his voice tinged with the promise of more to come.
She stepped back then, just a little, her eyes lingering on his for a moment longer before she turned toward the door. The soft click of the handle was the only sound that filled the quiet room as she disappeared, leaving Lucius standing there, his body aching, his mind racing with what had just transpired.
-
The cold winter night pressed against the windows of Malfoy Manor, but inside, Lucius sat by the hearth, his eyes flicking over the fire. The warmth barely reached the chill in his chest. His thoughts were consumed by her—Narcissa. It had only been a few days since the Christmas ball, and already he felt like he was losing his mind. There was a space between them now, a tension that neither of them could avoid.
Lucius had spent the past few days attempting to focus on other matters—studies, family obligations, and politics—but the more he tried to drown out his thoughts of her, the more persistent they became. He couldn’t stop picturing the way her lips had tasted when they kissed at the manor, the way she had felt beneath his hands, so soft, so responsive. It had been a moment of absolute need, of hunger, but also of something deeper. And now, as much as he wanted to tell himself it was just the heat of the moment, he knew it was more than that.
Narcissa was more than just a fleeting obsession. She had become a part of him.
He opened the drawer beside him and pulled out the letter he had written to her just that morning. The parchment was smooth, the ink still fresh as he read it once more, ensuring it conveyed the right level of earnestness, the right invitation.
“Cissa,” it began. *“I hope you’ve found some peace in this quiet holiday season, though I imagine your thoughts are as restless as mine. We both know that our worlds have a way of keeping us apart, but perhaps that makes the stolen moments all the more precious.
I would like to see you again, away from the eyes of our families, away from prying eyes. If you’ll have me, meet me in the garden near the old willow tree at midnight. I’ll be waiting.
Until then, my thoughts remain yours.
Yours, always.
L.”*
He folded the letter and sealed it, his fingers lingering on the wax as he thought of Narcissa. He imagined her sitting in her room, perhaps in the quiet darkness of the Black family home, reading his letter. What would she think? Would she hesitate, as she had before? Or would she come to him as she always did, quietly, unspoken, but with that undeniable pull?
He didn’t doubt she would come. She always did.
Narcissa sat at her vanity, the soft glow of the candles casting long shadows over her delicate features. The quiet of her family’s house weighed heavily on her, but her mind was far from peaceful. She had spent the last several days in her own world of contemplation, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, trying to make sense of him.
Lucius had kissed her—not just once, but deeply. And now… now, she couldn’t escape the feeling of his lips on hers, the taste of him still lingering on her skin. She should have told him to stop. She should have walked away when she had the chance. But she hadn’t. She had let him pull her in, had let herself give in to the desire, the pull between them.
A soft rustle from her desk drew her attention back to the present. It was the letter from Lucius.
She unfolded the parchment with delicate fingers, her eyes tracing the words he had written. His words were carefully chosen, but the meaning behind them was clear. He wanted to see her again. And as she read, a small smile tugged at her lips, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. She felt the familiar flutter in her chest, the same warmth that always bloomed when she thought of him.
“Meet me by the old willow tree at midnight.”
The letter wasn’t just an invitation—it was an assertion. An unspoken promise. He wanted her. And perhaps… perhaps she wanted him just as badly.
She stood from her vanity, folding the letter and tucking it away. Her thoughts raced as she prepared herself. She had been careful, so careful, to keep her feelings hidden, but now, she couldn’t deny them any longer. She couldn’t deny that every moment spent apart from him felt like an eternity, and every letter, every word, only made her want him more.
And so, she would meet him.
The hours dragged on, the world outside growing quieter as midnight drew near. Narcissa moved through the hallways of her home with quiet, practiced ease, the soft swish of her dress the only sound in the cold air. The house was still, everyone asleep. She had become accustomed to these late-night escapades, slipping away unnoticed, meeting Lucius in secret.
As she stepped into the garden, she felt the sharp bite of winter air against her skin, but it did little to cool the heat that had built in her chest. She could see him waiting near the old willow tree, his figure outlined by the dim light from the distant torches.
He was waiting for her.
Lucius’s eyes flicked up the moment he heard her footsteps, his face lighting up as he saw her. He didn’t speak immediately; he simply stepped toward her, the air between them thick with unspoken words. His eyes were dark, intense, as he took a step closer to her.
“You came,” he said quietly, his voice rough, almost as if he’d been waiting forever.
She nodded, her breath coming in soft bursts. There was no need for words now, no need for the careful formalities they had once maintained. The space between them felt electric, charged with anticipation. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against her cheek, a soft, almost tender touch.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.
Narcissa closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin. The tension in the air was thick, and she could no longer ignore it. Her heart raced, and she found herself leaning into him, drawn by the need to feel more.
Without thinking, she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was softer this time, but no less intense. The moment they kissed, it was as if everything else fell away. The garden, the cold night air, their families, everything faded, and there was only the two of them, the heat between them slowly building.
Lucius’s hand slid down her back, pulling her closer, his lips parting just enough to deepen the kiss. Narcissa responded, her hands moving to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her fingers.
It was like a fire had ignited between them, a fire that neither could contain. She knew, deep down, this was only the beginning.
The kiss broke, but the intensity remained, lingering in the air between them.
Lucius’s voice was a low whisper. “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”
Narcissa’s heart skipped a beat. She wasn’t sure what this meant—this thing between them—but she didn’t care. All that mattered was that they were together, in this moment, in a way that no one else could understand.