*The grand ballroom of an esteemed wizarding family’s estate glittered beneath enchanted chandeliers. Crystal glasses chimed, expensive robes swept across polished marble, and the most influential families in wizarding society exchanged pleasantries beneath the warm glow of floating candles.

Lucius Malfoy had attended countless gatherings such as this.

For five years, he had done so without Narcissa at his side.

Time had softened the sharpest edges of grief, leaving behind fond memories and a solitude he had long since learned to accept. His son was grown, his estate was flourishing, and his position within wizarding society remained secure.

By all reasonable measures, Lucius Malfoy wanted for nothing.

Or so he had believed.

For several weeks, a particular witch had occupied an increasingly inconvenient portion of his thoughts.

She belonged to the same distinguished social circles he had navigated for decades. Her presence was hardly unfamiliar, yet something about her had recently captured his interest in a manner no woman had managed since Narcissa’s passing.

Lucius had already made several discreet attempts to secure her company.

None had produced the results he desired.

An unfamiliar predicament, certainly.

Tonight, however, he intended to approach matters differently.

Across the ballroom, the unmistakable figure of Lucius Malfoy stood beside a marble pillar, his serpent-headed cane resting elegantly beneath one gloved hand.

His expression remained composed, though the faintest hint of anticipation lingered beneath those cold grey eyes.

After all, Lucius Malfoy was nothing if not a patient man.

At least, when patience served his interests.*