#it’s the soft lucissa for me

[valoale]

Hope this lucissa finds you well

[lucimalfoys]

"Of course," he replied, casually placing his arm around Narcissa. Public displays of affection were never encouraged in their circles, but he would make an exception for his fiancée. They'd grown closer in recent months, and he would make sure that would only continue.

"Is that so? I ran into Rab myself. He was," Lucius paused, thinking of the appropriate word, "a bit off, actually. How did he seem to you?" He gently stroked Narcissa's back with the pad of his thumb as she spoke, entirely enraptured in what she was saying. It was fascinating to him, to say the least. Both of them knew they'd be engaged to marry for years now, and while he always admired her, he was finding himself excited at the prospect of their future together. He'd had very casual relationships with a few girls during his school years but nothing like he was experiencing now. Maybe it was simply because they were engaged, but he felt differently about it. About her. "Believe me, I much rather would've been spending the entire evening here with you. Even if you'd asked me to to take part in that body painting booth over there..." he trailed off, unable to stop the visible shudder. "That would've been better than listening to the wheezing breaths of Amadeus Selwyn while he attempted to chug a bottle of Firewhisky. I truly couldn't tell you how that wrinkled, ulcer-riddled man is even still alive."

His sneer relaxed as Narcissa discussed their upcoming nuptials, a fond smile settling in instead. Merlin, he hoped no one was seeing him show such outward devotion to another person. "Well, that's a name I haven't heard in a while. Does he now?" He pondered it for a moment and relented with a nod. "I imagine that would do wonders for a small business, considering the amount of press that will be covering our wedding." Lucius lightly nudged their shoulders together, his smile unwavering. "If that's what you want, then I'm all for it. I am somewhat of a businessman myself, you know." He jokingly wiggled an eyebrow, genuinely surprised at how easy it was for Narcissa's presence to knock his barriers down.

Narcissa had spent most of her life being told that she would be marrying Lucius one day, and she was glad that they were getting closer to that happening. She couldn't remember a time when she hadn't known Lucius, but she often felt that they had grown closer over the past few years. She was hopeful that that meant that their eventual marriage would be a smooth transition. "Thank you," she smiled at the compliment.

She intertwined her fingers with his when he reached out and took her hand. "It's been nice. I spent some time with my sister and dear Rabastan. It has been a rather tolerable evening." She looked up at him. "I know how busy you are, I would hate to keep you from it, but I would have enjoyed the day far more with you by my side."

"You'll never guess who I ran into. You remember Ozwald Wilkes? He has a flower shop now and they suggested that we should use their shop as the florist for the wedding. What did you think? I was thinking that it would be kind to support his business after everything happened but I'm not sure how you feel. Regardless I said that we would be in touch."

[zennybearr]

silent muse

ship: lucius x narcissa malfoy.

tags / warnings: painting; cute moments; husband and wife playful moments.

note: @loving-lucissa - ily.

word count: 580.

in the sun-drenched parlour of maloy manor, the gentle sounds of a brush stroking canvas filled the air. lucius malfoy stood at his easel, focused intently on capturing the image before him. his wife, narcissa, sat comfortably on a plush chaise longue, a leather-bound book resting in her hands. the soft light from the tall windows cast a warm glow on her fair skin and platinum hair, creating an ethereal aura around her.

narcissa was lost in her book, her delicate fingers occasionally turning a page. she exuded a calm, elegant grace, her posture perfect and poised. the serene expression on her face suggested she was completely absorbed in the story, unaware of the outside world, save for the man painting her. her dress, a soft blue that matched her eyes, flowed around her like a gentle wave, adding to the tranquil scene.

lucius glanced up from his work, his eyes tracing the elegant lines of narcissa's form. his hand moved with practised precision, capturing the delicate arch of her neck, the gentle curve of her lips as she read. he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her so engrossed, her usual regal demeanour softened by the quiet intimacy of the moment.

for lucius, painting was more than just a pastime; it was a way to immortalise the moments he cherished. and this moment, with narcissa bathed in the soft afternoon light, was one he wanted to remember forever. he marvelled at the way the light played off her hair, giving it an almost silver sheen. his brush danced across the canvas, blending shades of gold and cream to capture the subtle hues of her skin.

narcissa felt his gaze and looked up from her book. their eyes met, and a gentle smile spread across her lips. “how is it coming along?” she asked, her voice soft and melodic.

lucius returned her smile, his eyes full of affection. “beautifully, as always,” he replied, his tone warm. “but no painting could ever truly capture your beauty.”

narcissa chuckled, a light, musical sound. “ever the charmer,” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes. “you flatter me too much, lucius.”

he set down his brush and stepped back to admire his work, then turned his gaze back to her. “i speak only the truth,” he said sincerely. “you are my muse, my inspiration.”

a soft blush crept into narcissa's cheeks, and she looked down, momentarily flustered. she had always appreciated the way lucius could express his feelings so openly, even after all their years together. it was one of the many things she loved about him.

lucius walked over and sat beside her, gently taking her hand in his. “thank you for sitting for me,” he said, his voice tender. “it means more than you know.”

narcissa closed her book and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. “anything for you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. she felt a surge of warmth in her chest, a deep, abiding love for the man beside her.

they sat there in comfortable silence, the painting of narcissa as serene and beautiful as the woman herself. in that quiet moment, with the sun setting and the room bathed in a golden glow, they felt an unspoken bond, a deep connection that went beyond words and gestures. it was a moment they would both treasure, a reminder of the love they shared and the beauty they found in the simplest of moments.

© zennybearr

[rockongolddustw]

Lucissa

In the Black Prophecy

Headcanons:

- Narcissa was always interested in courtly love; respectful and in line with propriety. Before Lucius, she had some girlish crushes on handsome, well-bred Purebloods, but had never properly entertain any suitor.

- Like most Pureblood’s marriage contracts, their betrothal was decided by the head of their families. Because of the Malfoy’s wealth and status though, Lucius had more say than most - he was given a small pool of suitable candidates, and his desires were taken into account. This pool of candidates included The Blacks, and Andromeda, as the eldest unmarried sister was discussed first. Lucius contemplated this, but was cautious after seeing many of his friends engaged to witches he considered uncouth and indiscreet (including his friend Rodolphus Lestrange to Bellatrix Black).

- Lucius watched Narcissa for a long time before he made a move. He admired her poise, her perfectionism, as well as her beauty. His Mother was also fan, noticing that Narcissa had interests suitable for a well-bred witch (traditional rituals, herbology).

- Lucius’s one concern was Narcissa’s icy facade, and whether he would ever crack it. He began a slow, very cautious process of getting to know her, and tried subtle ways of seeing whether he could affect her. He’d live for the slow blush on her cheeks when his fingers skimmed hers lightly when offering her a rose.

- The Blacks were discussing several other potential marriage contracts for Narcissa (including with European Wizards), but the Malfoy influence ultimately won out. They were both happy with the match, seeing each other as the ultimate ‘prize’ in the marriage mart.

’Narcissa was not happy with the progress of her Flutterby Bushes. She had hoped that, with the right care, they may flourish or even flower in the next few years. As she carefully inspected them in Greenhouse Three one bright March afternoon, spotting the young leaves and brown spots, she sighed with discontentment. All the signs suggested it may take a decade or more.

She huffed, furrowed her brows, and leaned back from the plant to contemplate. Perhaps, with her mistrust of strangers, she was not the best mistress for this particular plant. Flutterby Bushes had a desire to attract careless, imprudent souls. It was a shame, but these things had to be accepted as a Herbologist.

‘You are not pleased,’ Lucius Malfoy's low, rich voice interrupted her. He walked towards her slowly, his hands clasped behind his back, and his face expressing mild concern.

Narcissa gave him a gracious nod. ‘Plants do sometimes disappoint me,’ she answered ruefully, eyeing up the Flutterby Bushes again. ‘Or perhaps I disappoint them…’

Lucius raised an eyebrow. ‘I can’t believe that Miss Black. If they are disappointed, they haven’t been paying attention.’

Narcissa felt her cheeks heat, a soft pink blush spreading out on them, catching Lucius’s eye as he clocked her embarrassment. She used to hate these betrayals of her body. It was mortifying that she showed the world how she felt no matter how hard she Occluded. Still, with Lucius, she was beginning to accept them. The way his eyes lit up and lips raised in a smug smile pleased her.

‘Call me Narcissa, please,’ she replied prettily, dusting down her robes and avoiding his eyes lest she give away more of her feelings. ‘Or ‘Cissa if you prefer.’

‘I thought it was only your sisters who were allowed to call you that,’ he added slyly, gesturing for her to come and sit with him on a nearby bench.

‘I might be able to make an exception,’ she said as imperiously as she could muster, vanishing the specks of dirt on her sleeves, casting a charm to smooth her robes, and then walking with him to the bench. She sat down carefully, her back straight, one foot crossed over the other slightly turned towards him. The picture of a lady, just like her Mother taught her.

‘I hope so,’ he whispered, eyeing her approvingly. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something important.’

Narcissa's eyes widened slightly, and she nodded carefully, urging him to go on.

‘I think you are aware that Malfoys do things a little differently when it comes to courting than the rest of the Sacred 28,’ he started in a serious, careful tone.

Narcissa nodded. ‘You are your own men,’ she answered, confirming she knew the power he had. Choice.

‘Quite,’ Lucius replied with a nod. ‘My Father has always made it clear that there is a pool of Witches from which I could choose a match. Like other families, alliances play a part, but our family insists that I make a choice based on compatibility as well.

‘I understand,’ Narcissa confirmed, her heart beating wildly in her chest. This conversation meant one of two things, and it was not yet clear which way it would go. Lucius held his body so rigidly that he couldn’t get a read on where the tension rolling off him was coming from.

‘I’m not sure you do yet, but I will try and enlighten you,’ he said more softly. ‘You see, I have discerning tastes. I couldn’t abide a Witch who didn’t live by the rules of propriety, and you, my dear, seem to embody them entirely.’

Narcissa looked up at him, startled, her eyes wide and mouth parted. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

Lucius gave a small smile then. ‘You are so wonderfully hard to read most of the time.’

Narcissa’s cheeks heated again. She had been taught that her iciness was a gift, but perhaps in these circumstances, it was not. ‘We Blacks are taught Occlumency from birth,’ she tried to explain.

‘And yet your sisters still betray their emotions more readily,’ he challenged.

‘I am very different from them both,’ she replied, furrowing her brow.

‘I know, ‘Cissa,’ he whispered, leaning into her a conspiratorial look. He rolled out her name, emphasising each syllable as if it tasted delicious on his tongue. ‘That is a very good thing. But you seem to give away a bit more when you know people better,’ he observed.

‘I do,’ she whispered, unable to break eye contact with him. She could feel heat spread through her cheeks down to her neck and chest.

‘And I’m starting to be able to notice your tells,’ he continued with a smile, his voice getting lower as he spoke deliberately and carefully. ‘And I think, if circumstances were right, there could be affection between us.’

Narcissa's heart beat wildly, and she couldn’t hold in a gulp. ‘If circumstances were right,’ she repeated.

Lucius gave her a broad, feral smile as if she were a fly caught in his web. ‘Well, then. I will write to your Father.’

She knew what that meant. He wanted them to start courting formally.

‘I would like that,’ she whispered back, her eyes lighting up.

Lucius beamed back at her.

[broomsticks]

@krethes SMUT QUEEEEN — still laughing forever over the time your T-rated fic won best smut for, like, reputation and aura alone hahahaha. i mean, it’s certainly well deserved! the characterization, the consistent headcanons, the detail, the variation. incredible.

your older wolfstar fics are the perfect example of “create what you want to see” and i love that so much. not only was DYMM such an incredible piece of writing, it was also just an absolute masterclass in marketing and like… public relations, hahaha, and i really admire how gracefully you all handled the inevitable fanwank that comes with popularity in this fandom. ahhh truly makes me so happy for whatever happy coincidence we ship the same OTP because 🤩🤩🤩🤩🤩 that’s some damn good fic.

(also finally thank you so much for your incredibly kind comments when i first started writing. <3<3<3)

don’t do modern au textfics? make an exception for this one: Did You Miss Me? • wolfstar, jily, ensemble • 640k, E.

oh the atmosphere in this one. Silver for Monsters • wolfstar • 19k (WIP). i read this witcher remus/elf sirius before i had any witcher familiarity at all and i only love it more after!! also loved the similarly powerful writing and feels in krethes’s ancient rome au here to mars (4k (WIP), E).

softness and strength: to bind us to the earth • lucissa • 2k, M. the contrast! the first person narcissa POV!

hot and just. spellbinding: wherever flames may rage • wolfstar • 10k, E. gosh i really love this firefighter au.

fairest of the rare: Hell and High Water • susan/pansy • 7k, T. the worldbuilding! the dialogue! this wild west au rare pair really works -- and the PODFIC in krethes’s gorgeous voice. perfection.

best wordplay: Thirteen Seasons • wolfstar • 4k, M. one of the first fics i read by you! blown away by the structure of this piece!!!

let nothing you dismay • 3k, T & Seeing the Light in the Darkness by • 2.5k, T: i love how well you’ve fleshed out remus’s familial relationships; it adds so much to how you write him. shoutout also to Tight Spaces and The Valentine Moon, both 3k & T hogwarts-era puppyboys that’s just… perfect hurt/comfort sweetness.

most intense!!! The Violence • 2k, M. krethes writing first war wolfstar? two of my favorite things!!!

best for last: Quintuple Meter • wolfstar • 8k, E the first fic i read by you! the pacing, the plot, this whole universe😍

---

for an explanation of why i just wrote you a whole ~thing~, check out this post & the ‘mutuals march’ tag below!

[cruciatvsaa]

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[sneverussape]

auguries of innocence

yes, i stole borrowed it from william blake. it just made sense to me.

one-shot. lucissa/snucissa. 3500+ words. written slapdash so sorry for any typos/errors/whatnot. based heavily on DMs with @greens-your-color so this is for them. :)

summary: the malfoys are haunted, but in a way of their own making and their own choosing. and it doesn't look like it will end very soon. or very well.

She knew where she would find him. On days when the Manor was too dark despite the light that spilled in from the grand windows, too cold despite the fires that blazed in multiple hearths, and too empty despite the soft gurgling of their young tuft-headed grandson, there was only one place Narcissa knew with certainty that Lucius would be.

She left young Scorpius in the company of Nibbly, who had been Draco’s and Lucius’ own nanny elf, and gave them strict instructions to fetch her in case of medical emergency. Nibbly certainly didn’t need the instructions, but Narcissa felt better all the same after having given them. Relinquishing control was not something she did easily, even for the most trivial things, and this Nibbly understood well enough.

“Would you care for a cloak, Lady Malfoy?” Nibbly asked as Narcissa fussed over Scorpius one more time before kissing his cotton-soft hair. She paused, partly in surprise that Nibbly had known, but after having lived with the Malfoy family for nearly a century now she supposed it would have been more startling if they did not know about the goings-on in the house. Nibbly had always been awfully fond of Lucius. And they had also grown fond of—

“Yes please.” Narcissa cut her thoughts to the quick and forced a smile at the house elf. Nibbly bowed and snapped their fingers, and Narcissa’s shoulders were instantly draped with thick velvet. Lucius had given this cloak to her, back during the fleeting days of their courtship. Oddly, it barely supplanted her any warmth now, but she held it close just the same. Although she liked to think she was above such mawkish sentiment, for certain things she forgave herself quite easily. “Thank you, Nibbly.”

She left the nursery and proceeded to take the long route to where she knew her husband would be. As she walked from the East to the West Wing, the shadows seemed to grow longer, and the sunlight seemed to shine weaker. At the end of the corridor in the West Wing was a small nondescript door hidden in plain sight with several Notice-Me-Not charms. It was so inconspicuous that even Voldemort had not bothered satisfying his curiosity with it. Narcissa let out a hollow laugh at the memory as she pulled the door open, revealing what seemed to be a hallway closet stuffed with half a dozen moth-eaten Muggle coats.

Anyone with half a shrew’s intellect would have seen how misplaced this sight would have been in Malfoy Manor, she scoffed in derision as she used her wand to move the coats to one side and flatten them against the wall. Then she stepped inside the closet and shut the door behind her, before holding her breath and taking two confident steps forward.

It always surprised her that the closet never barred her entry, but she supposed that uninhibited entry was one of his little gifts for her (especially since it had barred Lucius once or twice on occasion, rendering him with a reddened forehead that had clashed horribly with his hair). Her eyes opened to a small room that was illuminated by watery sunlight streaming in through a tall, lone window. The tapestry that hung above the door just across from her was that of a doe in a star-filled meadow. It was one of the only ones in the Manor that wasn’t magical, and so the doe stood stationary at the place where she had been sewn in. It took all of Narcissa’s willpower to not draw her wand and blast the tapestry into shreds with a well-aimed curse. Lucius would never forgive her, and she knew she would deeply regret it at some point after the fact…no. She held tighter onto her wand and marched towards the door before pulling it open to reveal a long winding staircase.

It was for this passage that the cloak was for. It had always been dreadfully cold in the tunnels leading up to the room, so much so that the stones lining the walls felt like ice. She had no idea why he— well, perhaps she did. Of course he would. He would not have done anything less.

She didn’t know how long it took to get from the entryway to the bottom. She never counted. It felt like the perfect punishment somewhat.

Was this how he felt on that night…? She couldn’t help thinking, and it was with a short, pained gasp that she had to stop and collect herself before she resumed her march, using the tips of her fingers to blot out the hot tears that had gathered at her eyelashes.

Tears, Narcissa, really? She scolded herself. He wouldn’t want you to, and you…you don’t deserve it.

It was with a low-simmering rage that found her in front of the final door, the last hindrance to her destination. Like all the other doors she had gone through, this was as plain as ever. Dark English oak that was knotted and scarred in places, but with a doorframe carved in protective runes, something she and her husband had taken the time to make and perfect to balance out both Malfoy and Black protection charms, and which they had repeatedly done over the years for both Draco and Scorpius.

Not that it had worked for him, the bitter thought came before she could stamp it out, and Narcissa pressed her lips together into a thin line in silent protest.

She knocked on the door, thrice in the familiar rhythm only the three of them had ever used. She knew Lucius was inside. She could feel him. She could feel…Severus…too, and she knew that she had to retrieve her husband quickly if she didn’t want him lost in the void of his own grief once more.

“Lucius.” She called his name. The silence from within frightened her and her heart started thumping in rapid succession. “Lucius!”

The door swung open silently and revealed the dimly-lit but spacious Potions lab that they had come to know every corner of over the years. It was lined in dark stone and had wall sconces that were now all extinguished but for the four closest to the center. It was there that Lucius sat, on a threadbare chair that would not have been fit for any room upstairs but had a decidedly determined air to fit here, despite Narcissa’s earlier refusals. She should have reduced the thing to kindling, but it was the only one of the set left. The rest had all been reduced to ashes either by a mishandled potion or a playful attempt at a duel.

And it was here…here…where she felt Severus the strongest. In the same way that she could feel her husband’s magic – hot, slightly bitter, white like the exploding of a star – Severus’ own – cool, almost electric, a deep viridian green like the birth of a new forest – echoed loudly against the stone.

She couldn’t stand it. She should have locked this room ages ago, when she had had the chance, when Lucius had been going through the trials. But she had been too shocked, too hurt, too numb with grief to even start to do anything but wait on each day to rise and end with the assurance that Lucius and Draco were safe and would continue to be so. Unlike…

“Lucius.” Her voice trembled a little, and she loathed herself for it. In response, her husband lifted his gaze to look at her. The glamour he usually wore when meeting other wizards had been lifted as it had been part of the protection they had placed on the room (“…in case of injuries, we know what he’s like…”). It terrified her how terrible he looked. A ghoul borrowing her husband’s features would have been a more apt description for the once-formidable Lucius Malfoy.

Lucius seemed to be in a different universe entirely. He was always that way, when he had been in the room too long. As though small parts of him were being slowly eaten away. To her surprise, however, he blinked at her, recognition suddenly shining in his quicksilver eyes, and smiled.

“Hello, darling,” he said, then tilted his head. “You’ve a cloak on. Are you cold?”

The fact that he felt the need to point it out sent a bolt of fear down her spine, but Narcissa refused to let her emotions run rampant on her face.

“Lucius, you promised,” she said, refusing to give him any more prompts than necessary. Severus’ magic pressed against her in a way that was almost painful. Thankfully, Lucius nodded. He was still here, it seemed.

“So I did. Young Scorpius must be waiting, hm?”

“He’s settled in the nursery with Nibbly. Draco has dropped his things off and will be back later after he takes care of a few more things. With Astoria and all of that.”

It should have hurt, talking about the girl her son had loved and whom they had treated like family for what had seemed too short a time, but Narcissa wasn’t ashamed to admit to herself that it simply didn’t. Astoria had been there, and now she was not. Of course it was terrible for both Draco and Scorpius, having lost a wife and a mother so soon, but Narcissa simply had nothing left to give. Her heart, whatever was left of it, was divided neatly into Lucius, Draco, and Scorpius. If there was a hidden pocket of affection that she still kept and cherished and wept over for one other then it was her secret to keep, and she was good at hiding secrets.

“Splendid. It will be like old times then.”

Lucius’ smile barely made it to his eyes, but Narcissa wasn’t cruel enough to point it out to him.

She approached slowly, her steps cracking sharply in the gloom. Once she was in front of Lucius she reached out to hold his hand; the fact that it was near-frozen made her lift his hand up to her cheek. To warm it, perhaps, or give him an anchor that she knew he desperately needed.  

“Darling…” she said, then hesitated. She didn’t know how Lucius would react to her suggesting this now. But she knew this was not something that could go on. She resolved to try a different tack. “Darling, we should go back upstairs. Greet Scorpius. Spend some time with him, hm? You’d like that. You can redecorate the nursery to suit him the same way you did with Draco.”

Lucius met her gaze once more, and this time the sorrow was clear in his eyes.

“I know what you mean to do,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he spoke. “I felt it even before you entered. Your anger…the room shook with it. It nearly didn’t let you in. But you’re right.” He let out a shaky laugh and moved to wipe his eyes with his other hand with barely-held finesse. “It has been ten years. A very long ten years…and I. I am exhausted.”

The confession distressed her. This wasn’t what she had expected from her husband. Hearing it from his own mouth she now wasn’t even sure if it was what she also truly wanted.

“What was it that that old coot of a Headmaster used to say? It does not do to dwell on dreams…?” Another hollow laugh. “I fear this time he is right.”

Narcissa thoroughly ignored the quip about Dumbledore; she had never liked or trusted him anyway, but resigned herself to the fact that Lucius had come to the same conclusion that she had earlier about the room. She quickly knelt so that it would be easier to meet Lucius’ gaze, her hands now clasping his on his lap.

“Darling, it doesn’t have to be forever. Perhaps only for a little while,” she offered. Yes, a compromise could work. Her anger came and went like a summer squall. It was Severus she was angry with on some days, but yes, sometimes it was also with Lucius. Lucius, who should have known what Voldemort had planned to do with Nagini. Lucius, who shouldn’t have failed with the Prophecy retrieval. Lucius, who shouldn’t have taken the Mark and who shouldn’t have pulled Severus and Draco in on his wake. Lucius, who had welcomed a halfblood, Muggle-raised urchin into his home so many years ago and who had inevitably left traces of himself in their own lives.

Traces so powerful that they could still feel it.

“Only for a little while,” Lucius repeated. He seemed to weigh his words before speaking. “I suppose it couldn’t hurt to have this old place locked up while Scorpius is in the Manor…I wouldn’t want him stumbling in and handling old Potions ingredients…”

Not that Scorpius could even enter this space. Neither could Draco, unless it was with their explicit permission. It was keyed only to allow entry to the three of them and certain house elves, but Narcissa didn’t see the need to remind Lucius of it.

Around them, the magic thrummed. She didn’t know anymore whose it was, whether it was Lucius’ or Severus’, only that it hurt and it was all she could do to not burst into tears where she sat. She felt Lucius’ hand run through her hair, the motion soothing her immensely.

“Very well, we shall say goodbye for now, perhaps. But darling, indulge me. One last time?”

She knew what Lucius was asking, and in truth she wanted to see it too. The last time she had was the first time they had discovered it was even possible. After the trials were finally over and done with, Lucius had barricaded himself in the room to navigate his hurt, and by the time she had been allowed entry a very distressing two weeks later, she had been afraid the strong presence of Severus’ magic would have driven him half-mad. She had been partly correct, but only because she had never expected how physically magic could actually manifest.

With his free hand, Lucius lifted his wand. It was very different from what Voldemort had stolen from him, and Lucius argued it disagreed with him on some days. But it worked well enough for most things –

Dark Arts, for one, it embraced and executed with relish.

Revertere cum dilectione…mea ligare vos…

The way he did the wand work told her he had done this multiple times, possibly on every single night when she had awakened with his side of the bed cold and empty, or on days when the Manor was so silent her own stifled cries felt like an act of betrayal. She could have been down there with him, but what good would it have done? For the both of them to slowly driven be mad by ghosts?

“Cissa! For Merlin’s sake! Put that down!” Severus’ deep baritone was such a shock to hear after so long that Narcissa shuddered in response. Lucius put a comforting hand on her back. Surprisingly, his touch was warm.

“Darling, take a look. I will make good on my promise, but bear this final one with me. Please.”

“Cissa! Do you have a death wish?”

Her own laughter echoed in her ears, so bright and mischievous that if she didn’t remember the exact memory happening she would have claimed it was a different person altogether. Then the quick pattering of shoes against stone, so close to where they sat that she could feel her skirts ruffle. She shook her head vehemently against Lucius’ lap.

“No. I will not. I should not, Lucius, it’s too cruel.” She said, the effort of speaking causing her to nearly gasp. “I cannot bear it.”

“You can, darling. You must. We can say goodbye together.”

Perhaps it was the way he had kept rubbing soothing circles onto her back and how he had whispered the words into her hair. Narcissa looked up at her husband, unsurprised at how her cheeks were now stained with her tears. He gazed back down at her with a soft smile. This time, it was one that expanded and melted into the sheen in his eyes.

“See our Severus,” he said.

And Narcissa did.

There was Severus lighting several cauldrons all at once. There was Severus, chasing her as she ran from him with the needed ingredient in her hand, their laughter and shouting ringing like bells. There was Severus, on one of the chairs that didn’t exist anymore, hissing at Nibbly as they tried to assist him in binding a leg injury they had no idea how he had gotten. There was Severus, being kissed softly by Lucius on the counter. There was Severus, plaiting her hair on some truly awful settee he had transfigured from…something…and there she was, raising her eyebrow and smiling at his whispered joke, leaning into his touch in that old familiar way…

The images lasted no longer than a handful of seconds each. The longest seemed to be the strongest held memories and lasted for a minute at most. They came and went like ghosts, leaving traces of color and echoes of sound of things and selves long lost and abandoned, the images smudging at the edges the same way a painting would before disappearing altogether.

This was the Darkest of Dark Arts she and Lucius had ever tried to conjure, to bind the traces of Severus’ magic in order to visually project the ghosts of the memory that the energies still held. It had been cobbled together with some of the crumbling texts on necromancy and blood magic found in the depths of both Malfoy and Black libraries, and despite knowing the price to be borne of toying with such ancient magicks, they had thoroughly succeeded, and it was still something that still deeply fascinated her.

For was it even still the Dark Arts if what was binding the spell, what was keeping the memories up, was in fact, the very thing Voldemort had rejected? It was love that powered the spell, hers and Lucius’ for Severus, mixed with his leftover magic bottled up in an empty space and used to recreate imprints. Love that they had held to themselves for ten years gone now, because the recipient was no longer there to accept or reject it. Love for Severus who was gone, but not forgotten.

For Severus, who was gone, but…unforgiven? For not telling them a word of his mission with Dumbledore? For not giving them a single clue as to what he had planned to do? For the betrayal she eventually had to face when she found out about his death when she was so thoroughly damnably sure that he was going to survive and the final revelation had caused her to go mute from shock for days on end?

No.

Wholly forgiven. If not by the wizarding public, then by her and Lucius, most assuredly. And that should be the only judgement that should matter. Besides, Narcissa would do well to remember her own advice. And as though summoned—

“I hate you, I really do,” Severus Snape, all of twelve years old, said as he sat cross-legged on the floor, so close to her that she automatically reached out in an attempt to touch him, but Lucius held her arm in a gentle grip. Severus, undeterred, was scowling at a book that she was sure contained his French revision.

“No, you don’t. You hate not having control.” The sixteen-year-old version of her, tanned after a restful holiday in Nice, lounged on a pile of cushions next to the recalcitrant boy. Prior to them converting the room into a state-of-the-art Potions lab, it had been a convenient hidey-hole for the three of them from Lucius’ father and she remembered spending a good chunk of that summer there. Narcissa watched herself as she pored over her own Transfiguration notes, where Lucius had left annotations in both French and Italian. “Now pipe down and conjugate those verbs. You’ll thank me later.”

Severus, the little brat, stuck his tongue out at her surreptitiously, but he also smiled at her, just before the image faded out.

Severus really did have a beautiful smile. It was a shame no one ever really had the opportunity to see it.

It was a full minute before the images rewound and started to show the same things all over again. Lucius raised his wand to cancel the spell, but Narcissa reached out to touch his wrist.

“Once more, Lucius, please. And then it ends.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her in a knowing manner. “Scorpius…”

“Scorpius has Nibbly. They will get us if we’re needed. One more, Lucius. Please.”

The expression on Lucius’ face softened into something that looked like the most profound understanding. Before her eyes, the skin seemed to sink in deeper on his face.

“Do you promise?” He asked, his wand hand quivering as he held the spell in stasis.

It didn’t miss her how identical this conversation was to what she had had with Lucius earlier that day, before he had disappeared.

“I promise.”

.

.

.

end.

[fonkeloog]

The other day I mentioned to @narcissa-black-supermacy that I wanted to try writing Lucissa, and I've been coerced (bullied myself) into doing just that. So, here is my first ever Lucissa drabble :)

"Malfoy," the sound of his name makes him stop in his tracks and slowly turn around. As soon as he does, he's faced with Narcissa Black. She's still in her uniform, and the look on her face is slightly panicked.

"I'm sorry for disrupting your evening like this, but my sisters said you were the one who could help me." Her voice is clear in the empty common room, the only thing betraying her nerves is the way she keeps biting her lower lip.

"And what, if I may ask, would you need help with, lady Black?"

She huffs in frustration, -or to hide a smile- before looking him straight in the eyes. "Lady Black would be my eldest sister, I'm just Narcissa," Lucius doesn't give any indication to be interested. Except for one raised eyebrow, prompting her to keep talking. "Bellatrix said you're one of the best at the protection of the mind. My ability is, ah, severely lacking. Would you be willing to teach me?"

Another nod is given. "Make sure to be here tomorrow morning, 4 am sharp and I'll see what I can do. You should get some rest now." With that Lucius turns around to move up towards his dorm. Just before he gets to the final step, a soft "good night" reaches his ears. The owner of the 2 words has long gone into her room.

[sistersblack]

first line game

rules: list the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20,  just list them all!). see if there are any patterns, choose your favourite opening line, and then tag 10 of your favourite authors! 

thank you @bunny-bopper for tagging me 🥺💕i’ve included some wips since i haven’t published a whole bunch since the last time i did this. alsoo they’re not all hp this time so 👀👀 i’m exposing my bad taste to this acc. 

what a mess i leave (to follow) · wip · severus & eileen | hp · He’s born breech, feet kicking before the screams can start, like he’s already ready to leave her.

the world’s a beast of a burden · wip · boba fett/din djarin | the mandalorian ·  The sky is always clear here, beyond the Dune Sea.

untitled nd snape week fic · wip · gen · He keeps the vial in his palm, gently tracing the glass ridges with his fingertips. 

a soft place to fall · fennec shand/din djarin(/boba fett) | the mandalorian · Din is hot beneath her, skin flushed and sweaty. 

an invention of darkness · severus/lucius/narcissa | hp · You could say it starts like this: Cold, concrete halls, with little light and no portraits.

at the seams · din djarin/boba fett | the mandalorian · Boba smells it in the cockpit of Slave I, as the beroya stands behind the co-pilot’s seat, hands clasped around the headrest as he fights the urge to fidget.

blacker than blue · gen | hp · Hunting, Mulciber calls it.

a feeling so peculiar · gen | the mandalorian · When he finally turns away from the elevator, the others are waiting. 

sweeter than heaven (hotter than hell) · elliot stabler/olivia benson | law & order: svu · Olivia’s apartment is quiet.

this feeling (i wish i could freeze and own it) · gen | hp · Take your pick, Lucius says, and be down by nine.

something wicked this way comes · severus & eileen | hp · The riverbed glistens in the night, his mother a silhouette against the moon’s reflection.

i live in you · lucius gen | hp · Lucius scours the Manor’s library seeking answers and finds them scrawled on the back of a stray photograph.

resist the temptation · lucius gen | hp · “What happened to the rest of them?”

no sacrifice without blood · lucius gen | hp · Lucius dies in daylight.

its own charms · lucius gen | hp ·  Malfoy Manor is void of portraits. 

hungry for you · lucissa | hp · Lucius is already there when she slips inside, hip pressed to the vanity as he leans, waiting. 

straight lines, he’s running out of time · lucissa | hp · Water runs over reddened flesh, Draco’s arm held in Narcissa’s hand.

follow you down · eve/carolyn/elena | killing eve · It’s Eve’s voice—a hitched breath, filled to the brim with pleasure—that Elena recognises.

don’t play with fire (unless you want to get burned) · snarcissa | hp · “He should be back already.”

a world alone · snucissa | hp · “Congratulations, Headmaster.”

woooo i definitely messed up the order of fics i think,  but i’ve been in class all day so i’m running on half a brain cell and it’s fine. as for trends - i hate opening with dialogue and love not using names??? and as for my fave, i think probably the first one 👀

tagging @maria-de-salinas @sapphicathenas @marshmallowmcgonagall @solasnarealtai  @deathdaydungeon @celta-diabolica  @wisp-of-a-spook @sportivetricks (though idk if you follow this acc - it’s @humanveil 😚) aaaand anyone else who wants to do it, really. no pressure though 💕

[severousse]

To @sandraharissa who asked me some questions in the notes of my post about Snape and Heathcliff. I hope you don't mind if i answer them here because there is a limit of characters in the notes section and i'm more comfortable with writing a new post.

"Why does only romantical/sexual love count ?"

Well, first of all, my original post was not about romantic love specifically. Whether Catherine Earnshaw loved Heathcliff as a friend or a lover doesn't really change many things. She still loved him until her death. He was her soulmate and friends can be soulmates as much as lovers.

Anyway Snape wasn't even able to have this kind of relationship because his awful personality prevented him to befriend anyone when he was an adult.

I always put a stress on it because it's very important to aknowledge that as a child, Lily certainly liked Snape even if the scenes in the books tend to prove otherwise. The thing is... Snape as an adult was a completely different person. Lily would never have befriended (i'm not talking about romance) a man like him.

How does a person's attractiveness make them more good ?

It's not about their attractiveness but rather about how their true personality can still be loved by someone after they have been seduced. It means they have a soft side and Snape didn't have that soft side.

If you say that Lily loved Snape platonically but it was somehow toxic then how is it different from some guy who was also in toxic love relationships ?

Because said guy was desirable and Snape was not. Snape wasn't even able to keep his only friend, can you imagine him dating someone and having someone who fell for him as a teenager ?!

Are you trying to say that chance doesn't exist and that we are in control and responsible for everything that happens to us ?

Chance doesn't exist in human relationships. You'll be loved by someone at one point in your adult life (friends or lovers) if your personnality is not that repulsive.

"If Bella loved Voldy then what makes you think that there isn't a single person out there who would have loved umbridge or snape that they just haven't met yet"

JKR herself. There is a reason if she didn't want to prove that Snape and Umbridge were capable of being loved. It's because she wanted to dehumanize them and giving them love would not fit her agenda. It's as simple as that. She decided that no one ever loved them because of their terrible personalities.

"Who would want Snape in love with them ?". 😏

Same for Umbridge.

"What if someone is aro or just uninterested in pursuing a romantic relationship ?"

That's not the point. Snape could be aro/ace, he was still incapable of being loved, even if it was unrequited.

If one character loved another for some vague reasons that you can't even list maybe it's just wasn't the best developed/explored relationship a la jily and doesn't prove anything anyway ?

Weeks ago i wrote a post about why Lucissa is one of my favourite hp ships. I have listed things that made them fell for each other and they are not even an important pairing in the books.

Jily's shippers would gladly do the same for their ship i guess.

It does prove that unlike Snape, some villains or morally grey characters were not repulsive to the point of being unloved.

[tangodancerwrites]

‘ you could stay here. with me. ’ + Lucissa

* LOVE ♥ STARTERS

Narcissa’s first time with Lucius had been nothing short of magical. It’d been warm, and hot, and he had been so attentive to her needs. He’d been so wonderful that it almost felt bittersweet when the whole affair was over, the pair laying side by side on his bed. The thought suddenly occurred to the young Black that she had no idea what was supposed to happen next. She’d heard the rumors about his flings with women. Was she supposed to just leave like them? She certainly hoped not, because that would prove her sister’s theory right–that he’d only wanted to bed a well-bred woman before moving onto something newer and more interesting. Still, she figured it was a better move than to just stay still and wait for him to tell her to go. With a small grunt, she moved to sit up in his bed, grabbing her bra and putting it back on. She was reaching for her underwear when she felt a gentle hand on her arm. 

“You could stay here. With me.”

Narcissa’s turned and gazed down at him with a certain fondness before she fell into Lucius’s arms. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, before moving to remove her bra again. “Can I borrow a shirt to sleep in?” she asked, unable to stop her smile from growing at the thought of sleeping in one of his shirts. What a fool she was, and how far gone for this man.

[mischiefmanagedrp-blog1]

Lucius Malfoy

lucius malfoy. slytherin. seventh year. prefect. pureblood

out of character info

Name/Alias: Sam

Pronouns: she/her or they/them

Age: 20

Join Our Discord: yes

Timezone: est

Activity:  liek 7

Triggers: none

Password: Always

Character that you’re applying for: Lucius Malfoy

Faceclaim: Austin Butler

Favourite ships for your character: Lucius/Chemistry, eventual Lucissa

in character info

Full name: Lucius Abraxas Malfoy

Birthday: November 14

Sexuality, gender, pronouns:  Heterosexual?, cis male, he/him

Age: 17

Wizarding World Info

House: Slytherin

Year: Seventh

Wand: His personal, childhood wand is hawthorn, 13 inches, with a unicorn tail hair. His family’s heirloom wand is 128inches, Elm, dragon heartstring, and he inherited it from his father on his 17th birthday.

Boggart: His father yelling at him, disappointed in him.

Patronus: Fox

Quidditch Team: Sure. Chaser. 

Classes: Advanced Arithmancy Studies, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Ancient Studies, Potions. 

Clubs: potions, duelling

Detailed Info

Appearance: With slicked blonde hair, grey eyes, pale skin, chiseled cheekbones, and a prominent jaw, it’s hard to mistake Lucius for anything other than a Malfoy. His hair goes through different styles of long, short, tied back, slicked back, as long as it never looks unruly. He stands at six feet tall, with a bit more leg than torso, and up straight is how he usually stands, with perfect posture that has been instilled in him since childhood. Though not one to show much of himself off, he does stay somewhat toned from the quidditch he plays, both at home with childhood friends and in school –– though what he pays more attention to is the creases on his eyes, from spending much more time reading. 

Lucius dresses rather sharply, as he thinks anyone with his kind of funds should. When not in his school robes, he wears the finest linen shirts, dress pants, and dress shoes. However, due to his prefect duties, as well as a large schedule of N.E.W.T. level classes, he is more often than not in his school robes. He also often keeps his wand out at his side, rather than in his pocket, in order to show it off –– this is similar to how he typically wears a ring with his family’s emblem on it on his right ring finger.

Personality: There is much to say about Lucius’ egotism. There’s few who are more selfish and more proud of themselves than he is, but if you ask him, he has every reason to be. He is of the highest class, he is dedicated, he works hard, he is a top-student with some of if not the highest marks in school, and he is heir to a very important family –– he has every reason to be as egotistic as he is, as well as proud of who he is and what he has done. He is also very dedicated to maintaining who he is and maintaining his place as rightful heir, therefore dedicated to school, and to his family and his other responsibilities. 

The boy is also calm, dependable, and good at showing little emotion or animation. He can keep himself from letting his temper get the best of him for the most part, as well as hiding his true emotions, even if doing so may lead to being deceptive; perhaps especially if doing so results in being deceptive. Additionally, he also has great ability to find quick and clever ways to overcome difficulties. There is not much that can get in his way that can truly interfere with his plans. 

History: Lucius was born in the Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, England on November 14, 1959. As the first and only son to Abraxas Malfoy, he became the heir to one of, if not the most influential and respected families in the wizarding world. His education began at a young age, with his parents carefully teaching him all that he needed to know before he would eventually become a student at Hogwarts. These lessons included languages, broom-riding, arithmetic, and etiquette.  He also spent much time being around children, reading books, and engaging in other activities all carefully selected by Abraxas to ensure the raising of a proper heir. Soon enough, his education continued at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the same place his own father went. As a student, he carried on his family legacy by being housed with Slytherin, where numerous like-minded young idealists would also be found. 

None to his nor his family’s surprise, Lucius proved to be a rather skilled wizard and a strong student. Abraxas and Pheobe were proud of the consistently high marks he had been receiving, and he was happy to have achieved what was expected of him. Thanks to his hard work, he was made a prefect in his fifth year, which showed the efforts he put into appearing a model student in the eyes of his teachers. 

Over this past summer, Lucius has noticed a few shady figures frequenting his house and speaking to his father more and more often, and has overheard conversations of dark subject.  He would have been a fool not to suspect the upcoming war for blood purity, but he did not know that he would be so closely tied to it. After questioning his father, the truth of what was coming up had been unveiled to him, as well as an expectation from his father that Lucius himself enlist for the cause and become part of the Dark Lord’s inner circle. Now, as he is entering his seventh and final year at Hogwarts, it is truly the only place he can feel safe, as he makes the decision of what he must do next for his life. 

Sample paragraph: For a second, the darkness felt as if he’d actually been swallowed by the cold, uncaring jaws of death. Utter blackness coated his vision, a feeling of intense loneliness overtaking him. He would have given into the sensation were it not for the wand held between long, pale digits, that waved through the air as soft voice muttered ‘lumos.’ What a quaint little charm, that light-giving spell, one he had hardly a need to call out in order to cast it was so natural to him. In fact, it was the first spell he remembered learning. It was on a cold night traveling through the hills of northwestern England, in the seat of the carriage beside his father, when he struggled to read a book that had been selected for him –– a scholarly book on Transfiguration, whose letters on the parchment were hardly legible in the lack of light. After a complaint about not being able to read, Lucius was taught the charm by his father, and could then read by wand-light about a subject that would endlessly bore him in the future. 

As if the world had blinked, the darkness was suddenly gone. Instead of utter blackness, he could at least see the walls of this hallway and those attached to it, the light from his wand now illuminating this particular space of the dungeons. He’d barely taken another step before he heard hushed voices begin to stop, their location in the perpendicular hallway certainly a stance where the light from Lucius’s wand would be noticed. 

Knowing that there were at least two people to be caught after curfew, eyes immediately surveyed the situation, glancing at the hall where the noises originated. He noted the time it would take to get there, as well as the time he had taken to consider if that’s really where he heard the voices. Not only did the potential curfew-defiers not have enough time to escape, but the hallway they dwelled in was a dead-end as its further side was to a storage room that had no doubt been locked by now. At least, if the years of being on duty patrolling this dungeon truly did teach him anything about the layout, then he could be sure it was the dead end he believed it was. Last of all to secure his decision in moving towards the hall, however, was the glimpse he caught of a wavering shadow, of clearly two people in their school-robes, (which he couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to wear so late if they didn’t have to,) the figures seeming entirely out of place against the stone dungeon walls.

Despite the clear sealing of their fate, the shadows fled as the people seemed to try to escape the other way, their lack of familiarity towards the layout of this floor of the school damning them to be caught. “It’s best you try not to escape, you couldn’t hide from me in a storage closet,” he called out as he approached the turn, then made himself visible to the two. Before him stood a remorseful Slytherin girl who he recognized and a Hufflepuff boy that he must have seen passing, but still could not remember for the life of him. “Well, fancy seeing you here, Miss.”

He turned to the boy, giving him a quick, “it’s your lucky day, run along back to your dormitory. Be careful not to get caught by Mr. Filch,” with a sneer to accompany his false well-wishing. After the boy went running, his attention went onto the girl. A smirk curled on his lips as he took a step closer, his stature bringing him to loom over her. “You, I will deal with now. Come with me, and remember you owe me a favor for letting your little friend go.”

Other Information

Headcanons:  

Because of the strict education during his childhood, Lucius is fluent in French, Italian, and Latin, at least, as fluent as one can be in a dead language, regarding Latin. He is also proficient in arithmetic and history, both general Muggle world history and Wizarding world history, but much more so the latter.

As both Prefect and member of the Slug Club, Lucius knows he now holds great power over those below him. This pleases him. He plans to use his standing to avoid being caught as he seeks out revenge for any wrongdoings to him or his friends, as well as solidify himself in his family’s dark ways, and slither his way into further politics beyond those in Hogwarts.

With his family’s wealth, he has no worries about working in the future beyond his Hogwarts graduation. Instead, he will use his time to build a life as the next patriarch to the Malfoy name, raise children, and perhaps work to get rid of those pesky Mudbloods that taint the purity of the Wizarding world.

Anything of importance:

hey no lucius hate allowed in the ooc chat? thanks xx

[wandchoosesthewizard]

1, 10, 17, 18 for the multi muse ask

Y’all sent lots of these || @fcntcsticmuses || Still Accepting

is there a muse that you wish gets more attention?

I mean - Gilderoy, Sirius, Cedric, Voldemort, Lucius, Draco, Lily && Juliet could all do with some extra attention for me right now lmao. 

which muse is the most fun to write for?

Probably Patrick?

do your muses get along with each other?

So I mentioned here that some do. Some more of the fun pairings include - Sirius and Snape, who hate each other. Snape and Peter who hate each other. Gregory and Patrick would either be a match made in heaven or a nightmare - depending. Gellert and Wendelin might actually get along wuite well. Snape & Lily - it’s complicated.

would you ship any of your muses together? who?

Sure. I’m trash enough to admit that. I’ve mentioned before Snucissa is a go. Obviously Lucissa. I do ship Leandra with Narcissa - just not mine. Gellert with Percival and Credence. Patrick’d take anyone who looked in his direction. I’ve mentioned before I have a soft spot for Tim x @misterpercivalgraves. Credence and The Obscurus. Credence and Percival. Snily is... Complicated. Leandra and Greg would never marry but they’d be... Interesting. Greg and Narcissa maybe? Snape and Lucius. Leandra and Lucius. Leandra and Sirius. Percy and Cedric maybe? I mean, I’m not saying I do - and I’d be much more likely to do with with other people who play duplicates with one of my muses in those pairings but I’m not gonna draw a line in the sand and be like ‘never’ There are probably more if I cared to think about, I’d ship. 

[zennybearr]

Lucissa dancing to “Can’t Help Falling In Love” by Elvis Presley???

Do whatever you want with it!!!

the grand ballroom of malfoy manor was bathed in the soft glow of enchanted candles. the shimmering light reflected off the polished marble floors and crystal chandeliers, creating an atmosphere that felt almost dreamlike. it was a rare evening of peace and quiet for the malfoys, one not filled with social obligations or the pressures of their standing. tonight, it was just the two of them.

narcissa stood by one of the tall windows, gazing out at the moonlit gardens below, her long, silvery-blonde hair cascading down her back. lucius, watching her from a distance, felt a soft smile tug at his lips. even after all their years together, she still had the power to take his breath away.

without a word, lucius crossed the room and gently took her hand. she turned to look at him, her blue eyes meeting his with a curious smile. “what are you up to?” she asked, her voice soft and teasing.

in response, lucius flicked his wand toward the gramophone in the corner. a familiar melody filled the air - a soft, slow tune that brought a smile to narcissa's lips.

“lucius, you don’t seriously want to dance to this?” she asked, recognising the opening notes of the song - their song. it was a muggle song, one she had secretly loved for years, though she would never admit it in public.

but lucius wasn’t concerned with public appearances tonight. he gently pulled her close, his arm sliding around her waist, and led her into a slow dance.

“wise men say only fools rush in,” he began softly, his deep voice blending with the music, “but i can't help falling in love with you.”

narcissa chuckled softly, her head resting on his shoulder. “you’re such a fool, lucius malfoy,” she whispered, though there was nothing but affection in her voice.

“shall i keep going?” lucius asked, spinning her gently across the floor, their steps graceful and perfectly in sync.

“please do,” she replied, her smile widening.

lucius tightened his hold on her, their movements slow and tender as the lyrics of the song flowed around them.

“shall i stay? would it be a sin if i can’t help falling in love with you?”

as they swayed, narcissa let herself relax completely in his arms, her worries forgotten for the moment. she closed her eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace and the familiar lyrics wash over her. she’d never imagined that lucius, so composed and often rigid in his beliefs, would dance with her to something so simple, so unabashedly romantic.

“like a river flows surely to the sea, darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be.”

narcissa felt her heart swell as lucius softly sang along, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered the words. it was rare to see him so vulnerable, so open, and it made her love for him deepen even more.

“take my hand, take my whole life too, for i can’t help falling in love with you.”

lucius guided her through the final steps of the dance, his movements slowing as the song came to an end. they stood there for a moment, locked in each other's gaze, the world outside forgotten.

“thank you,” narcissa whispered, her voice barely audible.

“for what?” lucius asked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“for this.” she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “for reminding me that even in the darkest of times, we can still find these moments.”

lucius gently tilted her chin up, his grey eyes searching hers. “i would give you the world if it meant seeing you smile like this.”

narcissa leaned up and kissed him softly, their lips meeting in the quiet of the ballroom, the last notes of the song lingering in the air like a promise.

as they pulled apart, lucius smiled - a rare, genuine smile - and whispered, “i’ll always dance with you, narcissa, no matter what.”

and in that moment, everything else seemed to fade away, leaving only the love they shared, as timeless and unwavering as the song itself.

[marlmckitten]

Welllll thank you @team-prongs~ I feel special now.

Favorite male character:

Probably Remus Lupin. Or Fred Weasley. There were always in my tops.

Oh, Charlie Weasley actually.

Favorite female character:

Ughhh, she has so many great female characters.

Hermione Granger was my OG favourite. Then Tonks came in and she made my number one. Then I saw so much potential in Narcissa and she’s my baby too. And now more recently Marlene McKinnon (obviously.)

Favorite pairing:

Cannon: Remadora/Ronks and Lucissa.

And then there is the obvious Blackinnon.

I also have a weird soft spot for Tonks and Ginny, idk why?

Favorite Harry Potter book:

Goblet of Fire I think. It’s the funnest to read. It is still so enjoyable but also as things get more serious. It has the perfect mixture of everything. But also Half-Blood Prince because Tonks is finally in it, but also that book just begins to lace things together so perfectly.

Have you ever been to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter?

Yes~ And I cried for like the first hour. It was super embarrassing.

If so, favorite attraction; if not what would you like to do there?

Just the whole thing, being there and so surrounded my magic. It felt like coming home.

Hogwarts House?

Slytherin~

Patronus

Dolphin I would think.

Ilvermony House?

I think I got Wampus, but I honestly don’t remember, nor do I know enough about them?

Books or Movies?

Anyone who says movies can unfollow me now.

(I’m only joking, you can like whatever you want and I will still love you.)

Why do I love Harry Potter?

Because it’s filled with strong female characters, it makes me happy, its like a vacation when I’m sad, it’s brought so many people together, there is so much to work with, it is a beautiful story, it saved my life as a child, how many reasons do you want?

This was a good length, not too long like some of them get ;) I dunno who to tag so liiiike everyone? But also @the-bitch-and-the-dog @padsmcfoot <3

[idreamofdraco]

After that answer to the anon about lucissa you got me wondering if you'd ever write anything family centric as opposed to couple/shipping fic. If so, could I prompt you for a Draco and Lucius post with either 12 or 29? Would be super interesting to see your take on thier interactions as father and son as you say you usually write his parents out!

I write gen or family-centric fics when the inspiration strikes! I just gravitate towards romance because I lack it IRL (and it’s more popular, let’s be real here), lol.

Here’s a gen Malfoys-centric one-shot I wrote last year that might interest you. And here’s a gen Weasley twin fic I wrote a couple months ago, though I wouldn’t blame you if you care more about Malfoys than Weasleys. ;) Everything is post-war and everything hurts.

I went with 12. “I think we need to talk.”

Draco spent most of his time sitting in the labyrinthine garden behind Malfoy Manor. Sometimes he strolled, navigating the paths and the secret passages he’d adored to hide in as a child, racing away from his mother when she determined it was time for supper or a bath. But mostly he sought a bench within the garden’s depths and sat for hours that passed like minutes.

He let the wind stir his thoughts in meandering directions in a way he had never let his thoughts meander before. His aunt Bellatrix had begun teaching him Occlumency at the age of fifteen, but Draco had been naturally gifted in the art. He’d spent his entire life compartmentalizing his thoughts, organizing them into neat categories that shaped the way he viewed and understood the world. That skill had been more than beneficial to him by the time war was waged—it had been lifesaving.

All his life, Draco had heard stories about the Dark Lord and his quest to rid the world of impure blood, to return magic back to the hands of wizards. True wizards. Wizards like Draco and his family. Not pretenders who sullied themselves with Muggles, diluting their perfect blood until it was dull as mud. All his life, Draco had wished he’d had the chance to pledge his allegiance to the cause like his father had, to pledge his life in service to the Dark Lord Voldemort’s noble goal.

Funny how when made into reality, dreams could actually reveal themselves as nightmares.

Draco didn’t like to think about the war, but the way he naturally organized his thoughts caused him to chase the tails of memories until a cascade of them fell over him, drowning him under their weight. If he accidentally reached into the Hogwarts box, he might find himself tumbling into the Potter box and then the War box and then the Battle of Hogwarts box. And then he’d be barraged with images of classmates and family friends dying around him as he failed over and over again to capture Potter, to end the war in the Dark Lord’s favor, to earn some glory for himself. As he failed to make his parents proud.

He’d be trapped in boxes if he let himself think that way.

So instead he cleared his mind and let the balmy summer breeze tease the hair at the nape of his neck, caress his cheek, and swirl his thoughts into eddies that collapsed and reformed too quickly to allow Draco to fixate on just one. He breathed with the wind, letting himself exist outside of his identities and allegiances for the first time in his life.

He wasn’t sure how long his father sat next to him before Draco realized he was there.

Lucius seemed to hold his breath, waiting for Draco to say something first, but Draco just stared into a hydrangea bush, caught by the way the wind kissed the petals.

“I think we need to talk,” Lucius said finally.

“Do we?” Draco’s voice cracked, rusty from disuse.

“Your mother seems to think so.”

“You don’t?”

Lucius frowned, but Draco hardly noticed. A box had opened in his mind, and a memory snuck out.

“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy,” Potter had said, and, suddenly, all of the eyes in the Great Hall turned to Draco as he shoved through the crowd, looking for his parents.

The Elder Wand. Draco didn’t know what that was. He owned a wand no longer. The hawthorn wand he’d owned since the age of eleven was clutched in Potter’s grubby fingers, pointed in the Dark Lord’s direction. His mother’s wand, which she had given to him to use after Potter had stolen his at Easter, had burned with the Room of Hidden Things thanks to Crabbe.

The tool that signified Draco’s power was gone. He had certainly never wielded something called the Elder Wand.

“...and after I have killed you, I can attend to Draco Malfoy,” the Dark Lord said.

Draco froze in fear at the casual mention of Draco’s death. Everyone’s attention turned back to the spectacle in the center of the room, and he used their distraction to move through the crowd again, to continue searching.

His mother found him first, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, suffocating him in her trembling grasp. His father joined them moments later.

“We should go,” his mother whispered, trying to remain unnoticed as Potter and the Dark Lord exchanged more words. “Before anyone notices. We should leave.”

Draco tugged on his mother’s hand, urging her toward the Entrance Hall, the great oak doors, the grounds—to freedom.

But his father hesitated. He opened his mouth to speak and was interrupted by a blast of red and green light. Draco and his parents turned, struck dumb by the golden flames that erupted in the center of the Great Hall where the Dark Lord and Potter’s spells collided.

And then the Dark Lord fell backward, his body meeting the flagstones with a hideous, final thump.

“I do. Of course I do,” Lucius said, and Draco blinked, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. “I failed you. You and your mother both.”

Draco finally looked away from the hydrangeas, only to be met with the sight of his father rubbing his palms along his thighs; his hair combed—barely—but in disarray; a thin, pale beard obscuring his chin and jaw; dark circles under his eyes.

A mess. Lucius Malfoy looked a frightful mess. His appearance might have suggested the Dark Lord still lived, sharing quarters with the Malfoys as he had months ago in the war’s wake.

Narcissa Malfoy had strapped herself in the armor of her appearance, and Lucius Malfoy had shed it entirely.

Lucius’s icy gaze, the one Draco had inherited from him, pierced Draco in the area of his beating heart. The bothersome organ pounded in his chest, bringing him back to life in a way Draco had not experienced in years.

His eyes stung, and he turned his head away, far away, to keep his tears from his father’s notice.

“I’m the one who failed. Maybe everything would be different if I hadn’t—”

“No, Draco.” Lucius’s voice was gruff and firm. The first hint of anger Draco had heard from him in months.

Lucius grasped Draco’s shoulders and forcefully angled him until they were facing each other and did not release him afterward.

“Buf it I hadn’t Disarmed Dumbledore, the Elder Wand—”

“No. Don’t even think it. There is no use thinking of what could have been.”

Lucius pulled Draco into his arms, his embrace hard and confining, not soft and comforting. But that was just what Draco needed at that moment. He needed someone to keep him together, to keep his pieces from shattering into even tinier shards. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder and cried as silently as he could. His shoulders shook in his agony, and his father held him tighter, shame a faraway emotion as Draco released the tension he’d been hiding and holding for months.

How many times since the war had Draco examined his memories, analyzed his every action, wondering what other tiny, meaningless moments had changed the tide of a battle? If he had known that letting Snape Disarm and kill Dumbledore in his stead would have won them the war, Draco would have swallowed his pride and let Snape have the honor. Either way, he’d been spared the horror of murdering someone in cold blood, but at what cost? What did the future hold in store for the Malfoys now?

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, his voice muffled. Sorry for losing them the war, sorry for causing the Malfoys’ ruination. Sorry for not being able to save his parents after his father’s own failures.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Lucius said, his voice cracking, as if holding back his own tears, which was impossible. Lucius Malfoy never cried. “You’re my son.”

He said it as if that was the only thing that mattered, as if that absolved Draco of everything. Maybe it did.

The garden was the only place Draco felt safe. The only place that stood outside of time and memory. The only place he could think without obsessing, exist without guilt, feel without pain.

But in his father’s arms, Draco found forgiveness.