14.12.2010, 00:52
Title: Comatose
Summary: Lucius after the Battle of Malfoy Manor
Characters/Pairings: Lucius Malfoy // Narcissa&Lucius
Genre: Angst, Drama
Rating/Warnings: R
Word Count: 727
Chapter: 1/1 // 2/3
A/N: Lucius' PoV. Find Part #01 of the trilogy here!
He would never forget the sight of the drawing room when he left the house. The drawing room, that was now lying in ruins, after an hour of desperate fighting. He wouldn’t forget Narcissa, leaning against the wall, trembling with fear and pain after the Dark Lord had tortured her for more than twenty minutes to punish her for deeds she hadn’t committed. Leaving her behind in this condition had almost broken his heart, but his Master had forced him to join the meeting he had just called and Lucius didn’t dare to refuse Lord Voldemort’s orders, too afraid of what would happen to him if he did.
The meeting had lasted for only a few minutes and now he was on his way back home, worrying about his wife, whom he had neglected for months, without being able to tell her how much he still loved her. He had always tried to protect her as well as he could, to ensure nothing would harm her during this war, but he failed. Failed and hurt her even more by keeping clear of her. He sometimes heard her crying in the middle of the night, but still kept on pretending he was asleep in order not to put shame on her.
He heard a scream, somewhere in the dark, and suddenly found himself standing in the drawing room again, observing the Dark Lord punishing his family.
Lucius had never cared about watching people being tortured, but seeing Narcissa lying on the floor, squirming with pain, bearing everything silently, too proud, too self-controlled to scream, had hurt him as much as the Cruciatus Curse seemed to hurt her.
He’d never forget the day his eyes had filled with tears for the first time, while watching his wife being tortured almost until unconsciousness, waiting for it to stop, waiting for the same to happen to him only a few minutes later.
Narcissa’s and his glances crossed, shortly before the Dark Lord raised his wand against him, but he couldn’t hold her gaze for more than just a second.
He knew that he had lost her in the moment he disapparated to follow his Master, that he had lost her by leaving her behind when she seemed to need thim the most. He was too rapt in thoughts to pay attention to the Dark Lord’s speech, rather to pay attention to anything else.
He felt like he had dropped off to sleep full of nightmares, like he had collapsed unconscious, being comatose, with only Narcissa who’d be able to wake him up.
He slowly opened the door, entered the house as quietly as he could, in order not to frighten her even more. She had been so anxious lately, winced almost every time she heard a noise that didn’t seem familiar to her. „Narcissa?“, he shouted, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t talked to her alone for longer than a week. He sighed, remembering how much they once had talked together.
Lucius headed for the drawing room, like he had gone into a trance, tried to open the door. He couldn’t hide his astonishment when he realized that it was barred. It took him only a few seconds to open the door by magic, to finally enter the room.
He gasped for breath when he caught a glimpse of Narcissa, who was lying motionless in a corner on the ground. Lucius started to run, without caring about the shards on the floor. He could see blood streaming down her hands, where the shards had cut into her flesh, carefully tried to sit her up, but her body just sank inanimately into his arms. He could see, could feel her heart breathe, knew that she was alive, but the reproaches seemed to almost kill him. He never should have stopped talking to her, never should have left her alone under these circumstances.
If he only knew what had happened to her while he was gone... „Narcissa“, he whispered gently into her ear. „Wake up... Wake up, Cissy, please...“
Her eyes opened, only a second afterwards, as if she had heard, had understood his words. She looked at him for a long time, too weak to talk, even to move. Hours seemed to pass until she was finally able to raise her voice, to nothing more than just a whisper. „Who... who are you?“
Summary: Lucius after the Battle of Malfoy Manor
Characters/Pairings: Lucius Malfoy // Narcissa&Lucius
Genre: Angst, Drama
Rating/Warnings: R
Word Count: 727
Chapter: 1/1 // 2/3
A/N: Lucius' PoV. Find Part #01 of the trilogy here!
Comatose
He would never forget the sight of the drawing room when he left the house. The drawing room, that was now lying in ruins, after an hour of desperate fighting. He wouldn’t forget Narcissa, leaning against the wall, trembling with fear and pain after the Dark Lord had tortured her for more than twenty minutes to punish her for deeds she hadn’t committed. Leaving her behind in this condition had almost broken his heart, but his Master had forced him to join the meeting he had just called and Lucius didn’t dare to refuse Lord Voldemort’s orders, too afraid of what would happen to him if he did.
The meeting had lasted for only a few minutes and now he was on his way back home, worrying about his wife, whom he had neglected for months, without being able to tell her how much he still loved her. He had always tried to protect her as well as he could, to ensure nothing would harm her during this war, but he failed. Failed and hurt her even more by keeping clear of her. He sometimes heard her crying in the middle of the night, but still kept on pretending he was asleep in order not to put shame on her.
He heard a scream, somewhere in the dark, and suddenly found himself standing in the drawing room again, observing the Dark Lord punishing his family.
Lucius had never cared about watching people being tortured, but seeing Narcissa lying on the floor, squirming with pain, bearing everything silently, too proud, too self-controlled to scream, had hurt him as much as the Cruciatus Curse seemed to hurt her.
He’d never forget the day his eyes had filled with tears for the first time, while watching his wife being tortured almost until unconsciousness, waiting for it to stop, waiting for the same to happen to him only a few minutes later.
Narcissa’s and his glances crossed, shortly before the Dark Lord raised his wand against him, but he couldn’t hold her gaze for more than just a second.
He knew that he had lost her in the moment he disapparated to follow his Master, that he had lost her by leaving her behind when she seemed to need thim the most. He was too rapt in thoughts to pay attention to the Dark Lord’s speech, rather to pay attention to anything else.
He felt like he had dropped off to sleep full of nightmares, like he had collapsed unconscious, being comatose, with only Narcissa who’d be able to wake him up.
He slowly opened the door, entered the house as quietly as he could, in order not to frighten her even more. She had been so anxious lately, winced almost every time she heard a noise that didn’t seem familiar to her. „Narcissa?“, he shouted, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t talked to her alone for longer than a week. He sighed, remembering how much they once had talked together.
Lucius headed for the drawing room, like he had gone into a trance, tried to open the door. He couldn’t hide his astonishment when he realized that it was barred. It took him only a few seconds to open the door by magic, to finally enter the room.
He gasped for breath when he caught a glimpse of Narcissa, who was lying motionless in a corner on the ground. Lucius started to run, without caring about the shards on the floor. He could see blood streaming down her hands, where the shards had cut into her flesh, carefully tried to sit her up, but her body just sank inanimately into his arms. He could see, could feel her heart breathe, knew that she was alive, but the reproaches seemed to almost kill him. He never should have stopped talking to her, never should have left her alone under these circumstances.
If he only knew what had happened to her while he was gone... „Narcissa“, he whispered gently into her ear. „Wake up... Wake up, Cissy, please...“
Her eyes opened, only a second afterwards, as if she had heard, had understood his words. She looked at him for a long time, too weak to talk, even to move. Hours seemed to pass until she was finally able to raise her voice, to nothing more than just a whisper. „Who... who are you?“
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]