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What You Exhibit	By : FlamingSilverTempest Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Lucius/Narcissa Views: 7674 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing from the Harry Potter world. They belong to JKR and I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-What You Exhibit
- 2-Chapter 2 : Meeting Mr Malfoy
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I see Lucius as fairly possessive of his witch at the best of times but I couldn't resist this plot bunny when it struck.

This delves into their history, how they came to be so devoted to each other and revels a little in the days before the first fall of the Dark Lord.

The various ratings are for later chapters. Enjoy!

Chapter 1 : The Balcony

She had heard stories about the revels and longed to go. Just once. Tales of debauchery and excess that made her head spin. And she was no stranger to luxury.

There was a darker side that she found intriguing. She had been brought up in a very proper, very conservative house and family and was never to be alone with a man until her wedding night. She played the part of the demure, sweet youngest daughter before the audience of society but inside she was screaming. The stuffy pomp and circumstance only served to infuriate her and make her feel caged, trapped. She longed to give reign to her passions and let them take her where they would.

In the privacy of her bed chamber she stood in front of her open windows and stared out over the gardens. Slowly her hand slid up her robes to the clasp at her throat, uncatching it and letting the material drop, collecting at her feet. The cool night air crept over her, bringing goose bumps beneath her silk under robe as she unbuttoned that as well drawing the chilled fabric over her skin and letting it join her robe on the floor. Stepping out of her underwear and forward onto her balcony, she laid her palms on the iron rail, letting the cold infuse her body and being. This coldness was the face she presented every day to her family and their friends. The chill had gotten into her soul and she was unmoved by almost everything, seeming emotionless and yet the discreet smile stayed in place no matter what was said. The cold was invigorating and yet at the same time calming. She felt more invincible the lower her body temperature dropped. As if the ice in her soul formed a fortress around her heart, a heart that others had practically denied the existence of when they informed her earlier today of her betrothal. How could they? Pureblood traditions be damned! Arranged marriages seemed positively medieval in this day and age. How could they really expect her to marry a man she didn’t know and with whom she would never be left alone until their wedding night? True enough he had known of him at school. Hogwarts makes for a tight knit wizarding world but he was an arrogant sod and enough years her senior to pay her no attention. Would she be condemned to living a lie of acquiescence for the rest of her life?

She breathed deeply and raised her face to the stars as she laid her cold hands on her breasts, catching her nipples between her fingers, pinching gently, feeling them constrict beneath her touch. In the midst of her coldness a sliver of heat flared between her legs. Taking the whole of her breasts in her hands and squeezed, molding her hands around her firm flesh, running her fingers up the valley between them and up over the delicate collar bones, prominent from a combination of good breeding and her aversion to over eating. Rolling her shoulders forward and exhaling brought them into further relief and she was able to hook two fingers under them almost to hold her bones. She did so on one side and pulled, stifling her whimper of pain as her shoulder came forward and her fingernails bit into her flesh leaving angry red marks. If the cold made her feel strong, then pain made her feel alive. Her frustration with her rigidly bound position in life was vented in the moments of pain as she reveled in the only thing she had control of, her body.

She straightened up, still toying with her collarbone, before stroking one hand down over her hips to tangle in the soft curls between her legs. She sighed into the night as she dipped her fingers into the velvet folds of her sex and slowly circled the tender nub of her clit, dipping her fingers down into her moistening cunt and back up to tease herself again. This was liberty. This was release. To be touching ones self, naked and exposed to the heavens. Oh what joy! This was something that no amount of pomp and circumstance could take away from her. Her moisture soaked her fingertips and she squeezed her clit in between two fingers and began to rock against her hand gently building her pleasure. Her other hand was clasped around her breast, digging her nails deep, then scratching down her side, down her stomach and as much of her thigh as she could reach. The sight of the red lines on her pale flesh and the hot pain of it pushed her over the edge of joy and her orgasm crashed down upon her.

This was her ritual. At any time of day, whenever the urge to scream threatened to over come her. Always on her balcony, in the winter or summer, with the rain soaking her or the snow fluttering around her. It was the thrill of someone maybe seeing that took her to the highest pleasure. This exhibitionism unlocked something inside her and the most intense orgasms came when she happened to see a gardener tending the borders or trimming the lawn, or even her parents taking a friend on a tour of the garden. To be exposed, to be touching herself when she might easily be seen was liberating. To know that she was part of such a well to do pureblood family and everyone looked upon her to be the paradigm of proper behaviour and lady-like thoughts. Oh how little they knew!

She was told upon the lead up to her marriage that her place as a wife was one of silence and acceptance. Her only responsibility was to produce a male heir. She was not to trouble herself with anything other than that. She would sit and listen to her mother and her friends as they shared these pearls of wisdom like they were initiating her into some secret club of 'knowing' that only married women were a part of. She listened and smiled sweetly but her mind toyed with the idea of having a lover if marriage was so deathly boring. If a wizard can keep a mistress, then a witch could keep a lover. Or she would at least. Better that than become one of these repressed harpies.

Hope did flare though when she met her betrothed for the first time. Their eyes met and there was a spark in his that interested her. Maybe... maybe her marriage would not be as dried up and lifeless as she had been led to believe. After all, Lucius Malfoy had a devilish smile.
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What You Exhibit