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First Year:

Heir Lucius Malfoy was walking toward the library in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry when a small hand grabbed his own. Shocked, he turned to see who would dare to touch him without his permission. His family was Most Ancient, and he relished in every privilege, honor, and accolade that came with it. 

Even the seventh-year Slytherins bowed to him as he ruled the Slytherin Court.

“Yes?” Lucius asked. 

He cocked an eyebrow when he recognized the witch. Unfortunately, Heiress Siriana Black’s family was also Most Ancient, so he couldn’t hex her for touching him so familiarly.

Siriana’s hair was French-braided down her back, which met the minimum requirement of propriety. It just counted as being up. He was surprised that Lady Walburga Black let her style her hair like that. Her cousins’ styles were complicated and always piled atop their heads. She wore open-front school robes, and she had used her red and gold Gryffindor tie to make a lopsided bow at her throat instead of wearing it like others did.

“I don’t get it,” Siriana said. She tilted her head and squinted her gray eyes, perusing him from the top of his head to his shining shoes. Unlike her, his uniform was immaculate.

Lucius heaved a put-upon sigh. “You don’t get what, Heiress Black?”

He had an essay to write for Professor Minerva McGonagall, and that was always tedious. Though the Gryffindor Head of House claimed she wasn’t prejudiced, he had to work much harder to get the O’s his essays deserved, while some of her lions got them with rubbish, poor grammar, and incomplete explanations. 

Siriana wrinkled her nose and glared at him. “Don’t call me that!” she snapped.

Lucius twitched in surprise at the vehement response. He wasn’t used to anyone speaking to him in that tone of voice; not even his parents ordered him around thusly. “It’s your name,” Lucius drawled, as if he were explaining himself to an infant.

She stamped her foot. “No, it’s not!” Her cheeks turned red. “It’s my stupid title,” she spat. “My name is Siriana. Can you remember that?” Siriana asked, turning his condescending tone back on him.

A smirk curled his lips at her childish indignation. She was amusing; very little amused him at Hogwarts. Lucius was always looking for new sources of entertainment. Chuckling, Lucius decided to appease her. “You don’t get what, Siriana?”

Siriana pursed her lips, and then heaved a big sigh as if she had generously decided to forgive him. “Adelaide Brown keeps gushing about how ‘cute’ you are.” She stared at Lucius intently, before snorting and shaking her head. “I don’t get it.”

Lucius glared and resisted the urge to stamp his foot as she had done earlier. He was thirteen years old and he wouldn’t act like a toddler. “I am not cute.” Lucius spat the last word like a swear. 

He was handsome, maturing, appealing, fanciable, and more. However, he wasn’t cute. Crup puppies and Kneazle kittens were cute. He was the Heir of the Vigilant and Most Ancient House of Malfoy. If anything, he was desirable.

“Good, you agree with me.” Siriana smiled at him; her teeth were straight and very white. It was a nice smile. “Because I don’t think you’re cute at all, Lucius.”

He considered ordering her to call him by his title, but the challenge in her eyes told him that it would be a waste of his breath. He had a feeling it would be easier to get the half-breed groundskeeper to learn proper manners than it would be to change Siriana’s mind once she made it up. 

“Good! I don’t want anyone thinking I’m cute,” Lucius retorted, grimacing when the word passed his lips.

“Well, that’s settled then,” Siriana said. “I’m glad I figured out which one of my new roommates is the mad one so quickly. I’ll have to keep an eye on her.”

“Siriana?” Lucius spoke before he realized he had a request.

“Hmm? What, Lucius?” Siriana asked.

Lucius had never asked anyone for a favor before, but he remembered reading a chapter that covered it in Moste Proper Pureblood Etiquette . He just hoped she would accept. “If she continues insisting on such vicious lies, I would appreciate it if you would attempt to stop them.” The next word was almost impossible to voice. “Please.”

Siriana nodded and grinned at him. “No problem, Lucius! Any time that Adelaide tells someone you’re cute when I’m around, I promise I’ll correct her.”

That was a relief. He couldn’t have his reputation ruined by a little girl with a crush. If the Slytherins heard such rumors about him, they would laugh at him behind his back! Lucius loathed it when people laughed at him. No one should ever mock a member of the Malfoy bloodline. It was unthinkable. More than that, it was unforgivable!

“Thank you,” Lucius said, before bowing to her. It was kind of awkward, since she still held his hand, but he thought he managed to make it look smooth and elegant.

Her expression was thunderous when he righted himself. 

“Don’t ever do that again!” Siriana commanded. 

Her cheeks were red, her eyes flashed, and her shoulders shook. “I am not a title, Lucius,” Siriana hissed. “I’m a witch. I have magic, just like you do. know curses and hexes. Don’t ever give me false courtesies. You don’t know anything about me; you can’t trust me enough to offer me your unprotected neck.”

Lucius’s eyes widened with each word she spoke. He had never thought of it like that before, even though it was the truth. Each time he bowed to a lady, he left himself open for an attack. It was a disconcerting realization. 

“I made you a promise, Lucius. Now, you have to make me one. Promise to never treat me like a brainless, pureblood title!” Siriana commanded as she yanked on his hand.

“And if I don’t?” Lucius asked, curious about what her reaction would be. 

Siriana’s magic hung down her back like a cloak as her temper raged. Her pink lips twisted in a smirk that looked entirely wrong on her delicate features. The wrongness displeased him. 

“Then I’ll tell Adelaide that you think she’s cute, too.”

Lucius shuddered. “You’re a cruel creature, Siriana.” 

He knew that she would follow through on her threat; she didn’t strike him as a witch who threw out idle words. It was refreshing to speak with someone who said what she meant. Girls were difficult enough to understand without having to decode their sentences; sometimes, he wondered if they spoke a different language on purpose.

Her face was all innocence, except for the wicked smile. “I have some idea of that which you speak.”

Lucius wanted to ask how she had convinced the Sorting Hat to put her in Gryffindor. He wanted to know how in the world she wasn’t in Slytherin. But he didn’t think she would answer him—not yet. Maybe someday he could find out. 

“I believe we’ve reached an accord.” 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Siriana asked, dimples flashing. “It sounded like your title was attempting to speak to mine.”

Lucius surrendered to her dimples and said, “You have a deal.”

Second Year:

Lucius reminded himself that he shouldn’t be surprised when Siriana flounced into the empty chair beside him. She swung her legs up on the library table, but seemed to have enough presence of mind to make sure she trapped the hem of her robe beneath her ankles, so she wasn’t flashing the room. Her feet barely missed a history book on the goblin wars.

He sighed and returned his peregrine quill to the inkwell. Attempting to finish his History of Magic essay when she was around would prove fruitless. The last time he had tried to ignore her she had kicked the inkwell onto his essay, ruining two hours of work. She hadn’t apologized, and Lucius knew she never would.

“Good afternoon, Siriana,” Lucius said. 

She had left him alone for the past three days, which had been oddly disturbing. He had become accustomed to her daily appearances in his life. He never knew where she would show up or what ridiculous thing she would say next.

Siriana beamed at him. “It is! It’s the best afternoon ever!” 

Her voice was obscenely loud, but he didn’t bother to shush her. Somehow, and he really, really wished he knew how, she had the hard-nosed Madam Irma Pince wrapped around her little finger. The strict librarian never evicted her from the library, no matter how disruptive she became.

Siriana stared at him expectantly, her fingers tapping an obnoxious rhythm against the table. The nearby Ravenclaws glared at her, but no one said anything. His presence often resulted in people clamming up, regardless of their opinion.

“All right, I’ll bite. Why is it the best afternoon ever?” Lucius asked. It had to be the dimples that made him cave time after time. As soon as she flashed them in his direction, he ended up giving her his full attention.

“You’re looking at the newest member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team!” Siriana declared. She spread her arms in a grand gesture. “I did it!”

Siriana had been excited about tryouts since the start of the year. She had even bullied him into teaching her the sloth-grip roll. He felt personal pride at her accomplishment, which startled him. Lucius didn’t tend to care about or acknowledge others’ accomplishments. He was preoccupied with bettering himself and reaching higher than anyone thought he could go.

“Many felicitations on—” Lucius cut himself off with a yelp as Siriana shoved him. His chair wobbled, but he, thankfully, didn’t fall to the floor. He glared at her. Those Ravenclaws were laughing at him because of her! How dare she?

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Siriana demanded, hands held out as if she would push him again, only much harder this time around. “It sounded like your title was attempting to speak to mine.”

Lucius gritted his teeth and acknowledged his error. Such occasions were rarer now, but he still slipped up. Siriana never let it pass. He took a deep breath to calm his temper, and then exhaled. “Congratulations, Siriana!”

She laughed with delight and began tapping her fingers on the table again. “Thanks, Lucius.” 

Her face grew somber; Lucius didn’t like it. He preferred when she was smiling and happy. 

Siriana balled her hands into fists. “I know Mum and Dad will just say ‘As expected of a Black’ in their letter, once I tell them,” Siriana said, blinking rapidly as if she were fighting back tears.

Lucius shifted in the seat of his chair, not sure what to say. His parents had always praised him and his sisters for their accomplishments. Knowing what he did now, that Siriana sought his company because he didn’t brush her off, made him feel guilty for the times he had ignored her. How aggravating would it be if everyone dismissed his hard work and success as a byproduct of being a Malfoy? 

Oh, he would hate it. 

“I’m proud of you,” Lucius said. 

She froze, as if no one had ever told her that before. Siriana swallowed and removed her legs from the table. She grabbed his nearest hand and squeezed it once. “Thank you, Lucius.” She released his hand and stood up. “I’m sorry for interrupting your studying.”

Lucius didn’t even have to think about the words, and all of the ramifications they would inspire, before he spoke them. “Any time, Siriana.”

She glanced over her shoulder, her dimples deepening as she stared at him. “You know, I think you really mean that.”

Lucius didn’t smirk, sneer, or frown, as he was accustomed to doing. Instead, he returned her smile with a tentative one of his own. It didn’t often see the light of day at school. But he wasn’t just humoring her, and he wanted her to know that. So, Lucius stared right into Siriana’s gray eyes and said, “I do.”

Third Year:

Lucius kept stopping and turning around as he patrolled the corridors. He had been a prefect for the past two months, but something felt different tonight. He was jittery. Even his magic was alert, as if he were about to be attacked at any moment. He swore he heard footsteps behind him, but no one was ever there when he turned around. Even the strongest revealing charm he cast didn’t help. 

“Who’s there?” he demanded, feeling like an idiot for talking to air. It wasn’t the first time he asked the question. However, he was rewarded by the sound of a muffled snort this time. It was one he had heard countless times over the past two years.

Groaning, Lucius leaned against the wall and ran a hand down his face. His shoulders relaxed as his muscles eased. The tension that had forced him to be alert for the past half an hour disappeared, leaving him drained. 

“That’s not nice, Siriana,” Lucius grumbled. He spared a thought for how she had successfully tailed him and deceived his detection charms, but it slipped away. He was too distracted to worry about it.

“I don’t remember telling you that I’m nice,” Siriana said.

Lucius yelped, wincing as his voice cracked, when the words came from right beside him. Her laughter was loud and long and full of mirth. His cheeks heated with embarrassment as he swung an arm in the direction of her voice. His fingers touched smooth cloth, so he grabbed it and pulled. It was her turn to yelp as she became visible.

“Hey, that’s not nice!” Siriana snapped. 

Strands of her hair floated in the air because he had yanked off the cloth. He snickered at the sight. She resembled a Kneazle whose fur was rubbed in the wrong direction.

“I don’t remember telling you that I’m nice,” Lucius repeated, throwing her own words back at her. It was something he did fairly often—a part of the game they played. Sometimes, she just made it too easy.

“Copycat,” she muttered under her breath.

Lucius focused on the shimmering fabric he held in hands. An invisibility cloak, he realized. It didn’t have any imperfections that he could see. Most invisibility cloaks had small patches where the weaving wasn’t as uniform, which allowed for small bits of the person hiding beneath it to be seen. That was why he hadn’t even considered the thought that someone under an invisibility cloak might be tailing him. 

“Where did you buy this?”

Siriana’s eyes widened. “I didn’t.” She coughed into her hand. “Buy it, that is.”

Lucius stared at her in disbelief. She hadn’t bought it? “You’re telling me someone gave you a cloak of invisibility of this quality as a present?” 

He was skeptical on that front. In general, people were selfish. If he had ever had an urge to buy someone an invisibility cloak as a present and received this one, he would have kept it for himself and let the weaver make another, which would assuredly be less perfect, and, therefore, less useful.

A blush covered her cheeks as she said, “Not exactly.”

It didn’t take Lucius long to fill in the blanks. He chuckled and shook his head. She was trouble, and a little trickster at that. “So, who did you steal it from?” he inquired. He wanted to ask the owner where it had been purchased, so that he could order one for himself.

“Borrowed!” Siriana declared as she pointed at him. “I borrowed it, Lucius. I’m not a thief.” She turned her head to the side and sniffed disdainfully.

Lucius smirked. He loved it when Siriana acted all haughty, because it was so rare. “And did this borrowing occur with or without permission?” he inquired, hoping to keep her dander up.

Siriana spluttered for a full minute before ripping the cloak out of his hands and saying, “That’s beside the point.” She balled it up against herself and then winced.

“What’s wrong?” Lucius asked. 

He felt the humor drain out of the situation. In all the time that he had known her, he had never seen Siriana react like that. Had someone cursed or hexed her, and she was too proud to go to the Hospital Wing to have it removed?

“You don’t want to know,” Siriana said as she walked around him and headed down the corridor.

Lucius swore under his breath and followed after her. Why did people even say that? All it did was make someone more curious! Now, he was even more worried because she never bothered to care if he wanted to hear what she had to say or not; she just yammered away at him day after day.

He caught her hand and pulled her to a stop, only to regret his actions when she sucked in a pained breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Lucius said. He wanted to make Siriana’s pain go away, not cause her more. Why did her sudden lack of trust hurt so much?

“It’s not your fault,” she gritted out, shoulders hunched.

Lucius walked around her, so that he could see her face. Her eyes were scrunched shut with pain, and her lips were tugged down in a frown. Her skin was paler than normal. He didn’t like it—not one bit. “What’s wrong?” he asked again.

Siriana peered at him through her eyelashes, as if the torchlight in the corridor only caused her pain when it pierced her eyes. “Do you really want to know?”

“Obviously,” Lucius snapped, losing his temper. “I wouldn’t have asked otherwise.” 

Sometimes, just sometimes, he hated how difficult she was. Did everything have to be a battle with her? He only wanted to help! What was wrong with that? Why did Siriana have to be so close-mouthed all of a sudden? Lucius couldn’t stand not knowing when it came to her. She had trained the indifference out of him.

“I finally started my menses,” Siriana admitted, cheeks fiery, “and it hurts! It hurts all the time!”

Lucius made the foolish mistake of speaking before thinking. “It’s highly inappropriate to discuss—”

“Highly inappropriate?” Siriana hissed like a Kneazle who saw a Muggle. “Highly inappropriate? I’ll show you highly inappropriate, Lucius!” 

She cast a tripping jinx at him, glaring as he tumbled backward into an open broom closet, bound him while he was still in shock, and then slammed the door in his face.

Was it wrong that Lucius felt his greatest blunder was misspeaking to Siriana and not being ambushed and overpowered by a thirteen-year-old witch? He never meant to upset her; he didn’t want to remind her of her family. Lucius knew how much she hated going home. 

However, her words had completely stunned him. Before tonight, she had always been a little girl that he deigned to amuse. In five words, she had transformed into a young lady he bantered with on a regular basis. The abrupt change in their relationship had been jarring and unexpected.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Siriana asked, voice pained and shaking as it came through the door. “It sounded like your title was attempting to speak to mine.”

Lucius grumbled a few swears at her tone. She sounded like her world was crumbling down around her. It was his fault. “Sorry, Siri,” Lucius said as he stared up at the cobwebbed ceiling. The house-elves needed to stop being so lazy; cobwebs were utterly unacceptable. “If you want, I can help with the pain.” 

He wondered if her mother had even bothered to explain anything to her. He doubted it, seeing as she and her mother had a blatantly distant relationship.

It seemed like forever before the door opened, but open it did. There were traces of tears on her cheeks. His heart twisted in his chest at the sight of them. 

Her “Finite!” was almost inaudible.

A short hug completed his apology, and Lucius tried not to notice that her body had changed. He didn’t succeed. He would have time later to sort out his conflicting emotions; right now, he needed to help her. Lucius cast the pain relieving charm he had seen his mother use, and breathed a sigh of relief when she relaxed against him.

“Thank you, Lucius. It’s much better already.”

“You’re welcome. I have to finish my rounds now,” he said, before clearing his throat and stepping away from her. 

“And I think I’ll finally be able to sleep,” Siriana said. She patted his shoulder as she walked past him, and then swirled the cloak over herself once more. “Have fun!”

Lucius waited until he knew she was gone before mumbling, “How am I supposed to do that without you?”

Fourth Year:

Lucius was attempting to meditate by the Black Lake, but he wasn’t having much success. If he hadn’t been distracted, then he was sure that he would have been able to figure out his Animagus form by now. Unfortunately, every time he started sinking toward his magical core her laughter jolted him back to the outside world.

Siriana and a few other witches were splashing about in the shallows. Occasionally, one of them would jump off the long dock. He couldn’t make out their words from this distance, but the sound of their laughter carried. 

If it had been just her laughter, he might have been able to tune it out. However, he couldn’t stop the blasted memory of her walking past him in a swimsuit from popping front and center in his mind. The sight of her body outside of robes set his blood on fire, and with how many wizards were ‘playing Gobstones’ along the shore of the Black Lake, he knew he wasn’t the only one affected. 

True, there were other girls in the group—over ten in all—but none of them compared to her. Siriana’s skin was porcelain and unblemished. Her waist was impossibly tiny and her legs seemed to go on forever. And the dove gray swimsuit barely covered the rest of her curves, which had developed a great deal in the past few months.

The thought of anyone else looking at her body and thinking what he did made Lucius want to march down to the dock and order her to cover herself up. But he didn’t have any right to do that, and he didn’t believe for a second that Siriana would obey him.

Lucius closed his eyes and attempted to sink into his magical core, only to be met with failure again. “It’s useless,” he spat, disgusted with his lack of self-control.

He tumbled backward and threw an arm over his eyes. It didn’t help. The sight of Siriana in the swimsuit only sharpened. 

“Oh, the legs on that one!”

“Think anyone is courting her?”

“Who cares? I’ll convince her that I’m the better choice.”

They could’ve been talking about any of the girls, but each comment only made him think of Siriana. Which, in turn, enraged him. Lucius was plotting how to send them all to the Hospital Wing without getting caught when someone stopped beside him and blocked the sun.

“Feeling alright, Lucius?” Siriana asked.

Lucius whipped his arm away from his face and opened his eyes. She stood beside him, her arms wrapped around her waist as she shivered. The swimsuit was plastered against her skin. He watched in a daze as droplets of water escaped her hair, trailed down her face, and then slid down her neck and into the top of her swimsuit. 

“Lucius?” Siriana asked, sounding worried now.

It jolted him back to awareness. With a scowl on his face, Lucius rose with alacrity. He spared a passing thought of gratitude that he had worn open-front robes over his shirt and trousers, before tearing them off and throwing them around her shoulders. 

“Cover up. Your manner of dress at present is most unseemly,” he snapped. His tone of voice was harsh and cruel, even to his own ears, but he didn’t care. She deserved to be thought of as more than a fit body. 

Tears welled in Siriana’s eyes. 

Before Lucius could speak again, and attempt to preserve her modesty, she Levitated him over the Black Lake and dropped him in.

Lucius struggled to reach the surface, his clothes and shoes weighing him down. He spat the filthy water out of his mouth and swam to shore. His magic lashed out, causing a wide series of ripples to mar the lake. He bottled his magic back up as his feet finally touched the silt, and stormed out of the water. 

People were pointing and laughing at him. Yet somehow, despite all that, he felt more betrayed than angry. Oh, he was enraged, there was no doubt about that, but the betrayal hurt more.

He stalked past Siriana without even looking at her. If she wanted to parade around in a wet swimsuit, he wasn’t going to stop her. She had made it perfectly clear that she didn’t mind being ogled by hormonal teenage boys.

When she spoke behind him, it was only the tears he could hear in her voice that made him stop long enough to reply. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Siriana asked, her voice quavering. “It sounded like your title was attempting to speak to mine.”

Lucius fisted his hands and bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. Why couldn’t she ever understand? She couldn’t be that thick! Not everything was about their blasted heritage! Some things were a lot more human than that. 

“No,” he said, tired and defeated, “that was Lucius warning Siriana that she’s about to be fantasy material.”

“W-what?” She stumbled against his back and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her face rested between his shoulder blades. “Would t-they r-really—?”

“Still so innocent,” he whispered. Lucius rubbed her white-knuckled hands and told her a truth she didn’t want to hear. It was a truth that he didn’t want to hear either. “Yes, they would.”

Her breath hitched in her throat and she tightened her hold on him. “Lucius,” she whispered, voice shaking, “can we make another promise?” She twined her fingers with his. “I promise to never wear anything ‘unseemly’ in public, and you’ll promise to Obliviate them.” She sobbed, and his chest ached. “Please.”  

“It’s a deal,” Lucius replied. 

He spun around in time to catch her as her knees gave out. Then, his magic shot outward and fulfilled his end of the bargain. 

It didn’t go unnoticed that she didn’t ask him to remove his own memory of the afternoon.

Fifth Year:

Lucius sat in the chair with the highest back in the Slytherin Common Room, observing his fellow Slytherins. There was a great deal of chatter, seeing as it was the first day of the school year. Everyone was doing their best to catch up on all the summer news and gossip. 

Lucius did his best to tune it out as he stared at the crackling fireplace. 

Something was wrong with Siriana. He had noticed it during the Sorting, but hadn’t had the chance to speak with her. He didn’t even remember seeing her on the Hogwarts Express at all. The Head Boy duties were at least twice as involved as being a normal prefect. 

A laugh that reminded him of a Crup barking drew his attention. Ah, perhaps he would be able to find out the problem tonight, after all. “Master Black!”

Master Regulus Black glanced away from Master Rabastan Lestrange. “Yes, Heir Malfoy?”

“How’s your sister?” Lucius asked, already anticipating the silence that would consume the room. He knew there were countless wagers involving him and Siriana.

“I’m unsure. I haven’t spoken with her since Mother banished her,” Regulus said with a frown. “She isn’t even allowed to owl me.”

Lucius felt every muscle in his body go rigid. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right. Lady Black and her daughter didn’t get along, obviously, but no pureblood lady would ever banish her only daughter! It was beyond unthinkable. 

“I beg your pardon?” Lucius asked.

Regulus straightened his shoulders and huffed with annoyance. “Mother banished Siriana the third week of the summer holiday. Mother has forbidden her access to all the Black family properties until she repents of her rebelliousness and acquiesces to Mother’s order.”

Siriana had been forbidden access to all of the Black family properties? Where in the world had she been living the past few months? Lucius’s heart thundered in his chest, and he considered the wisdom of declaring a personal Blood Feud against Walburga Black. 

A sharp knock came at the common room entrance. 

“See who it is,” Lucius commanded, thoughts preoccupied by what Regulus had just revealed. What could Siriana have possibly done to inspire such a harsh punishment?

Siriana walked past the second-year student who opened the door and stomped into the Slytherin Common Room as if she had every right to be there.

“I hate my mother!” Siriana spat as she dodged around some first years playing Exploding Snap. “I hate her!” She absently ruffled Regulus’s hair as she walked past him. “She’s stark raving mad, Lucius! I knew she hated me, but not this much.”

Lucius only had a few seconds to realize what Siriana intended to do. He got his arm up just in time to support her back as she sat on his lap sideways and folded her legs across the arm of his throne. She smelled like hollyhock. 

Eyes widened in disbelief around them, but Lucius didn’t care what his fellow Slytherins thought about their socially unacceptable closeness. He was too worried about her.  “Your brother said you’ve been banished from the Black properties—all of them.” 

Lucius gritted his teeth, regretting for the first time that they didn’t write letters during the summer months. If he had known, he would’ve made sure she was somewhere safe.

“I have,” Siriana agreed. She leaned her head against his shoulder; there was no way she could miss the sound of his heart pounding. “I spent the summer at Potter Manor.”

It felt like ice had replaced the blood in his veins. “What?”

“Aunt Dorea took me in. She was really nice about it, too. My favorite part was when she spent an hour dictating a Howler to my mother. It was absolutely brilliant,” Siriana rambled, unconsciously setting Lucius at ease. “James and I got up to so many shenanigans that—”

“Why?” Lucius asked.

Siriana snorted. “Because they’re fun, Lucius.” 

She removed Lucius’s wand from its holster and started twirling it expertly through her fingers. It startled him, because he was the only person who had touched it since he bought it. He didn’t take it away from her, though, and that didn’t go unnoticed by their audience.

“Obviously,” Lucius drawled. She was very playful tonight, wasn’t she? “I was asking why your mother banished you, as you well know.” 

She was much cleverer than she led people to believe. He wouldn’t let her pull the ignorance card on him—not on this subject.

Siriana laughed, though it was hard and brittle. “Oh! Why didn’t you say so? She banished me because I threatened to humiliate her by breaking the bonding contract she intended to sign for me by whatever means necessary.” She spoke as if the words were unimportant, but her back muscles bunched against his hand in protest.

“What?” Lucius asked. He knew he sounded dense, but he didn’t have a retort prepared for this scenario. His brain was still struggling to process what she had said.

“When I got home for the summer, Mother informed me that she had chosen ‘an eminently suitable’ pureblood to be my lord-husband and that I was to prepare myself for a Courtship Date by the end of the week,” Siriana said with a shudder. She fisted one hand in the front of Lucius’s robes and grasped his right knee with the other, declaring, “And I told her that if she dared to sign the contract, I’d break it by any means necessary.”

The thought of Siriana bedding anyone but him sent Lucius’s magic spilling from his skin to cover her with a protective shield that would maim anyone not of Malfoy blood. He turned to face the fireplace and then pressed his cheek against her hair, terrified of what must be visible in his expression.

Whispers spread through the common room, rising to a dull roar in the background.

Siriana relaxed against him fully, and then her voice came in a whisper as a vicious tease of words as she confessed, “If it came to that, I would’ve come to you.” 

Lucius gulped, his mind diving into fantasies that he did his best to always lock away with Occlumency. She deserved better than where his mind traveled on occasion. “Such topics are—”

Huffing, she didn’t let him finish. “I’m sorry, what was that?” Siriana asked, stroking his knee. “It sounded like your title was attempting to speak to mine.”

For the first time, Lucius let her have the last word. He couldn’t bring himself to voice his true thoughts. His title speaking to hers was the last thought on his mind. Right now, his body wanted to converse with hers. 

And he couldn’t let it ... not yet.

Sixth Year:

Lucius found Siriana in Gladrags Wizardwear, after it felt like he had searched every shop in Hogsmeade. He hated being away from her for so long, but Siriana could only leave school grounds on Hogsmeade weekends and for the holidays. He had entertained the thought of repeating seventh year, solely to keep an eye on her, but she would’ve hated him for it. The last thing in the world that he wanted from Siriana was her hatred.

The shopkeeper approached him with a smile. “How can I help you, Heir Malfoy?” she asked.

Lucius dropped a pouch of Galleons in her hand and said, “Close up shop for an hour.” He didn’t want Hogwarts students wandering in and disturbing them. He had to share her with the whole school over nine months a year; he wanted some time to himself.

“Heiress Black is—”

“She can stay,” Lucius interrupted, uncaring if he offended the woman. He didn’t even want to hear a suggestion of Siriana leaving right after he arrived. He was here for her, after all.

“Of course, Heir Malfoy.” The witch bobbed a curtsy, flipped the sign, and locked the door. “I’ll just be at the counter if you require anything.”

Siriana exited a dressing room and walked over to a three-paneled mirror. “What do you think?” 

The mirror tutted. “That’s not your color at all, dear. You look much too pale. Why don’t you go back in and try on the next one.”

“Okay,” Siriana said before returning to her dressing chamber without noticing him. 

Lucius wished she was even half that biddable when he spoke to her.

He walked over to the wall that displayed shelves of fabric in neat rows. There was a thick, ivory wool that was the softest he had ever felt. He rubbed it between his fingers, imagining it wrapped around Siriana. White was one of the Malfoy family’s heraldry colors, and he knew she would look magnificent in it. Her ebony hair would make a striking contrast. 

He glanced at the shopkeeper and she bustled over to his side. “Yes, Heir Malfoy. How can I be of assistance?”

“A hooded cloak, made from this. The Malfoy crest is to be embroidered on the back of it,” he ordered. Lucius couldn’t wait to see it on Siriana. It was about time that he made his intentions entirely clear; she was sixteen now, nearly seventeen, and he wouldn’t let anyone believe that she was available.

“I’ll need your measuremen—”

“It’s for Heiress Black,” Lucius said, interrupting her once again. “I assume you already have her measurements?” Despite his best efforts, Lucius’s mind wandered to the last time he had hugged Siriana. He probably knew Siriana’s measurements better than the seamstress did.

The witch grinned and winked at him. “Of course, Heir Malfoy. This will just take a few minutes.” She removed the wool from the shelf and then worked her magic, crafting a beautiful cloak. When she finished, she suspended it in the air and spun it slowly, so that he could inspect it from every angle, asking, “Will this do?”

The sight of his family crest, massive and pale blue, brought a genuine smile to his face. “It’s perfect,” Lucius said, offering a rare bit of praise. “How much do I owe you?”

Glowing, the shopkeeper said, “You’ve more than paid for it already, Heir Malfoy.”

“Very well, Madam. Thank you,” Lucius said, before draping the cloak over the nearest mannequin. 

He spent the next twenty minutes casting a series of charms on the cloak. It came with the standard ones, so he didn’t bother with those. Instead, he laid protection spells one after the next. By the time he was done, it radiated with Malfoy family magic and his magic in particular.

Lucius headed back through the racks, so that he would be able to see the mirror by the dressing chambers again. Siriana’s voice reached his ears before she was in sight. 

“How about this one?”

“You look stunning, dear. Wizards will throw themselves at your feet if you wear that.” The mirror chuckled. “Or tear it off you, if you catch my drift.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! He’d never be so crass as to tear my robes off.” 

She better be referring to me, Lucius thought, before his mind abruptly stalled as he laid eyes on her. 

Siriana stood before the three-paneled mirror in a pale blue gown that shimmered like ice. It had three-quarter sleeves that belled just past her elbows. The bodice laced up the front, which brought his gaze to her chest. Siriana had enough cleavage on display to draw his eyes, which meant other men would look as well. Unacceptable. It had an empire waistline and was exceedingly flattering.

If anyone saw her in those dress robes— He could picture pureblood wizards throwing themselves at her, and Lucius didn’t like it. But he couldn’t gainsay the mirror’s other opinion either. Because if he and Siriana were already bonded, he would happily tear them off her and carry her to bed.

A grin split Siriana’s face when she noticed him in the mirror. She spun around and said, “Lucius! What are you doing here?”

He swung the cloak around her body and fastened it, not giving her a chance to examine the back of it. His breath caught in his throat at the sight she made. Siriana looked like a Malfoy bride. His voice was gruff as he answered, “Hand-delivering your Yule present.”

“Oh!” Siriana glanced downward and flushed. “Are the dress robes unseemly?” she asked, her voice tentative.

Lucius stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “Not if you’re wearing them on my account, Heiress Black.” 

He had listened to her on-going conversation with the mirror while he was spelling the cloak. She had been adamant about finding the perfect gown, and, given the color she had settled on, Lucius could only hope all the trouble she was going to was on his behalf.

Siriana’s voice shook as she asked her oft-repeated question, “I’m s-sorry, what was that? It sounded like y-your title was attempting to speak to m-mine.” She raised her head to meet his gaze. 

“You’re more beautiful than I can bear,” Lucius whispered, before brushing his lips against her cheek as his control rapidly frayed. When kidnapping Siriana started making sense in his head, Lucius forced himself to let her go and hurried out of the shop. 

Seventh Year:

The sound of silence drew Lucius’s attention away from the platter of crumpets. His mother's companions for afternoon tea were many things, but silent was never one of them. The pureblood ladies likely couldn't stop gossiping and matchmaking if their lives depended on it.

If just one more of them suggested that he offer for Lady Narcissa Black, solely because her coloring complemented his, he would start casting curses without bothering to think of the consequences. 

Lucius glanced over his shoulder and sucked in a sharp breath.

Siriana, bundled up in the cloak imbued with his magic—which, come to think of it, had to be how she had gotten through the wards without an invitation—was scanning the crowd. As soon as she saw him, she marched toward him with a look on her face that was altogether alarming. It was equal parts terrified, enraged beyond the point of sanity, and relentlessly determined.

"What are you doing out of school, young lady?" Walburga snapped from a nearby table.

Ignoring her mother, Siriana stalked right up to Lucius. She wrapped both her hands in the front of Lucius's robes and yanked him down. Her eyes fluttered shut—and his widened—just as his lips settled over hers. He moaned into her mouth as a betrothal bond sparked between them, woven and blessed by Mother Magic.

Gasps of disbelief and outrage filled the room, only for giggling to echo soon after.

"S-Siriana?" Lucius stuttered. He stared at her slightly swollen lips, awed and desperate to kiss her again. Merlin, he had waited what felt like forever to take her in his arms and taste her.

"I thought you'd be better at that," she muttered, her eyes still closed.

Affronted, Lucius hugged her against him and kissed her as he had wanted to for the past few years. It was not a kiss meant to be given or received in public. Lucius didn't care. She had bloody well challenged his ability to satisfy her, and he would die before letting that challenge go unanswered.

Siriana nipped his bottom lip when he withdrew, and then opened her eyes. "Better."

"Lucius, what is the meaning of this?" Lady Lucretia Malfoy inquired. Her tone was utterly disapproving, but her eyes sparkled with blatant approval.

"My apologies for barging in unannounced, Lady Malfoy," Siriana said before leaning away from Lucius just enough to offer a perfunctory curtsey. "Someone tried to steal my first kiss for a dare about half an hour ago."

"What?" Lucius clutched her to his chest and tried to push away the image of anyone else's lips upon hers. He had never wanted to hurt someone as much as he wanted to hurt this faceless person in his imagination.

Siriana patted his arm. "I refused. I think he'll understand the message if he ever wakes up in St. Mungo's." 

“I hope he never wakes up,” Lucius muttered.

She leaned to her left and said, "By the way, Mother, you should expect a lawsuit from Muggles; I just put their only son in a coma."

"St. Mungo's? You should've put him in the graveyard!" Walburga snapped, her eyes full of fury. "Wretched filth trying to despoil a maiden of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black! How dare he?" Walburga sneered, and then turned a calculative gaze to Lucius. "Why didn't you ever say anything, young lady?"

"Because you hate me, Mother," Siriana said. "Why would I tell you about anything that matters to me, just so you can destroy it?"

For the first time ever, Lucius witnessed all the color draining from someone's face. Walburga was as pale as the Bloody Baron. She stood and smoothed her hands down her robes. Lucius had never seen her make a nervous gesture like that in public in his entire life. 

"You might not believe me, young lady, but I don't hate you. Your father and I love you," Walburga said. She smiled, but it was distorted, as if she couldn't even remember how. 

Siriana stared at her mother and said, "You're right, Mother. I don't believe you."

"Siri—"

She ruthlessly interrupted her mother, saying, "If you loved me, you wouldn’t have banished me from the family properties for refusing to bond with the pureblood wizard you chose. Political and social power don’t keep a heart warm. I love Lucius. He’s all I need."

“Please excuse us for a few minutes,” Lucretia said before herding Lucius and Siriana away from the guests and into a separate room.

"Lady Malfoy?" Siriana asked, her hands desperately clutching Lucius.

"I know I raised you better than that, Lucius. Don't you have something to say?" Lucretia prodded, her amethyst eyes narrowed in admonishment. 

Lucius stared into Siriana’s gray eyes and said, "I love you, too. Bond with me on the next solstice."

She blushed and leaned her head against his chest. "That didn't sound like a question, Lucius," she retorted.

Lucius smirked and said, "That's because it wasn't."

Siriana didn't speak a single word in response. She merely nodded once against his chest. That one gesture was enough to send Lucius’s heart soaring with victory. After years of laying siege to Heiress Siriana Black’s heart, she finally surrendered it to him.