InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "why the long face?"

Astoria Malfoy (porcelain_doll) wrote in wished,
@ 2010-01-27 13:52:00

Entry tags:

!1998: 01, !complete, lucius malfoy, narcissa malfoy

WHO: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy
WHAT: Lucius hasn't been telling his wife what he's been doing lately, and she's getting fed up with everything
WHERE: Malfoy Manor, specifically their bedroom
WHEN: Very, very late at night
RATING: TBD, but mostly they'll just be arguing about secrets

Everyone reached their breaking point sometime. Narcissa wasn't sure what exactly had sent her over the edge, whether it was Lucius being put in prison or Draco being Marked. Whatever it was, she'd reached it long ago. All she had left was her home, and now it had been reduced to nothing more than a luxury hotel for Death Eaters. Her name had been degraded, and while Lucius was out trying to build their reputation back up to what it once was, Narcissa was left alone with only her thoughts to keep her company. The company she kept with herself was not that of a happy sort. She felt isolated and alone, with no one to confide in. The holidays had been pleasant enough, but it was more like a bandaid covering a wound. They weren't going to heal until they cleansed the wound thoroughly, and there was no way to do that if they weren't together. Draco was not going to be home for a long time, but Lucius ought to be home now. However, he'd be coming home far later than what Narcissa would consider a reasonable time. It wasn't just him losing track of the time. Something was keeping him out, and he wasn't telling her about it. That did not set well with her.

Narcissa was trying to give Lucius the benefit of the doubt. He knew by now after so many years of marriage that she did not sleep until he came home (if he was expected, that is). Therefore he had to have some inkling that she knew how late he was coming home. She never said anything, but would lay in bed until she felt his presence beside her. Perhaps he thought she'd given up her habit of waiting up for him after all that had happened. She was hoping that he would tell her himself what he'd been doing and what was going on, but he hadn't. That meant she was going to have to demand it from him, and that was not a discussion she wanted to have with her husband. Quarrels were not her choice of activity to engage in with him when they had time together, but she had no choice. For the sake of her sanity she had to know what he was doing. It angered her that he was keeping something from her, after everything they'd been through.

Though she had long since dressed for bed, Narcissa was not intending to sleep or even lie down. She was not going to give Lucius a way to avoid talking to her tonight. Instead of waiting in bed for him, she remained sitting at her vanity, combing her long blonde hair. She wore no readable expression on her face, but only because she could not decide which emotion she felt the strongest. Anger, yes. Sadness, certainly. But because she'd already been pushed far past the breaking point of what she could react to, it was hard to know which emotion was the right emotion to convey. Why is he doing this, to me? she thought, staring at the reflection she hardly recognized.

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in_deep
2010-01-28 03:47 am UTC (link)

Lucius took the stairs quietly, and went carefully down the hall in darkness, his wand hidden away in his robes. It was a useless vestige of caution; if she were asleep, she wouldn't wake for him, and if she wasn't, no amount of stealth would see him to bed unchallenged. It may have been no more than an attempt to compensate for the extreme lack of discretion he seemed to be tumbling into, these days. He was still careful enough, of course - always someplace deserted, never twice the same, only generic spells that could be explained away if necessary - but he was doing it all unbidden, which troubled him. He'd done his fair share of violence as a younger man, under orders (usually), but had somehow expected - perhaps because of the long peace that had allowed him to raise his family - that he had left those days behind him. His skills hardly lay in the physical labor ... why his passion was trending there, he couldn't explain. Or didn't care to think through.

He silently unlatched the door, stepped inside the bedroom - and there she was. Not so long ago, he'd have been very pleased to see her waiting up. He walked by her, brushing his hand briefly along the back of her chair and meeting her eyes only in the mirror.

"It's very late," he said with half a smile before stopping at a chair to tug his shoes off, his back to her. "Surely you ought to be in bed?"

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porcelain_doll
2010-01-28 03:57 am UTC (link)

As soon as she saw him enter their bedroom she held her breath. In the not too distant past, it would not have been out of the ordinary for her to flock right to him when he returned home and shower him with attention and affection, expressing her happiness at his return. To her, it felt as though and entire lifetime had passed since those days. Narcissa made no move to stand at first, opting to watch him through the mirror as he began to go through the nightly rituals of undressing. Talk to me, she thought, silently trying to will her husband into just telling her the truth.

What got to her the most was that he knew she always wanted to know what was going on. He knew that she had to know something was going on, and yet he still said nothing to her. It hurt, and he had to know that, too. Perhaps Azkaban had really changed him; she could not bear to allow herself that thought and it was immediately erased as soon as it emerged.

"Surely you ought to be as well," she said quietly, resuming the combing of her hair.