Worth Rememering
Title: Worth Remembering
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy
Rating: PG/PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Alone in Azkaban during HBP, Lucius considers four kisses with his wife that stick out to him.
The first time they kissed, Lucius was in the lead, controlling it and loving how Narcissa gave in and melted against him, how just the brief touch of his fingers to her wrist could make her breath catch. It was sweet, as all first kisses were, but they were Slytherins and true first kisses, beyond perfunctory pecks, were never chaste.
The kiss on their wedding day was chaste, but he could sense the hunger in her for more, from the way her lips trembled beneath his, torn in the attempt of being appropriate, when all she wanted to do was deepen it. He removed temptation by breaking the kiss, but the fingers on her wrist promised more with a tiny caress.
The first time Narcissa took control nearly broke him there, after some long party, where according to her, he had flirted with Serafina Zabini (he had done no such thing...) and somehow, her kiss was different, cool and fiery at the same time, teasing and tempting, cool and freezing at the same time. He gasped into her mouth, shocked by it, and her fingers curled into the small of his back, disarming him completely.
The kiss when he found out that she was pregnant was different, almost punishing in how tender ti was, and full of wonder for both of them. Certainly, they had always expected it--that was why the marriage had been contracted after all, to produce an heir, but there was none of that nonsense in Lucius’s mind as he touch Narcissa’s stomach, savouring the kiss, all he could think was that everything was perfect.
And it was perfect, or nearly so, for a long time, and there were plenty of kisses over and between each, but those were the kisses Lucius dreamed about in Azkaban, those moments, almost turned bittersweet in his mind, and it always ended, as it did, with the one before he had come to this place--the gentle, pleading kiss for him to come back that was only dealt when he disappeared for the Dark Lord, when her worry was so palpable he could taste it along with unshed tears, and as always, as he finished cataloguing, he mentally promised to come back and make the next kiss worth remembering.
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing: Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Malfoy
Rating: PG/PG-13
Warnings: None
Summary: Alone in Azkaban during HBP, Lucius considers four kisses with his wife that stick out to him.
The first time they kissed, Lucius was in the lead, controlling it and loving how Narcissa gave in and melted against him, how just the brief touch of his fingers to her wrist could make her breath catch. It was sweet, as all first kisses were, but they were Slytherins and true first kisses, beyond perfunctory pecks, were never chaste.
The kiss on their wedding day was chaste, but he could sense the hunger in her for more, from the way her lips trembled beneath his, torn in the attempt of being appropriate, when all she wanted to do was deepen it. He removed temptation by breaking the kiss, but the fingers on her wrist promised more with a tiny caress.
The first time Narcissa took control nearly broke him there, after some long party, where according to her, he had flirted with Serafina Zabini (he had done no such thing...) and somehow, her kiss was different, cool and fiery at the same time, teasing and tempting, cool and freezing at the same time. He gasped into her mouth, shocked by it, and her fingers curled into the small of his back, disarming him completely.
The kiss when he found out that she was pregnant was different, almost punishing in how tender ti was, and full of wonder for both of them. Certainly, they had always expected it--that was why the marriage had been contracted after all, to produce an heir, but there was none of that nonsense in Lucius’s mind as he touch Narcissa’s stomach, savouring the kiss, all he could think was that everything was perfect.
And it was perfect, or nearly so, for a long time, and there were plenty of kisses over and between each, but those were the kisses Lucius dreamed about in Azkaban, those moments, almost turned bittersweet in his mind, and it always ended, as it did, with the one before he had come to this place--the gentle, pleading kiss for him to come back that was only dealt when he disappeared for the Dark Lord, when her worry was so palpable he could taste it along with unshed tears, and as always, as he finished cataloguing, he mentally promised to come back and make the next kiss worth remembering.