Winter of 1972
Narcissa Black sat still on the bench. Sitting as sat as marble, she wouldn’t be moved, though winter winds blew tugging her hair astray. She could feel him slowly approaching her, the steady noise of his walking stick giving him away. He sat next to her, not saying a word as tears trickled down her face.
“She’s gone,” Narcissa finally managed to whisper, still choosing to not look at him.
The deep timber of Lucius Malfoy met her ears, “Good,” he announced, “Good riddance,” he declared, but before he could say more, Cissa stood suddenly, making a move to go, as more tears rushed down her face.
Before she could make her leave, he grasped her hands, and she hadn’t realised how cold they were until they were engulfed in his warm glove clad hands one.
She didn’t dare look at him, barely managing to utter a strangled “Lucius,“ tugging uselessly at her hand.
Instead she felt herself being enveloped in warmth as his long fur lined black coat was placed around his shoulders. She turned to look at him.
There was a silence for a second too long, before he whispered, “Sorry, I’m not good at this…” He didn’t meet her gaze, looking away, his face drawn into a pinched expression, as he added “Stay.”
She knew how hard that must have been for him, to say he was sorry, the Malfoy family after all was a proud one and so she rearranged the coat on her shoulders, nestling into the warmth of it before returning to the bench. Lucius tugged the black leather gloves from his fingers, placing them in the pockets.
He sat with a groan before reaching for her face, to swipe her tears away. His warm fingers trailed to her chin, tipping her face up towards hers. She looked up trying to still her trembling lip, and not openly weep, but Lucius just watched with his icy blue eyes waiting.
Clearing her throat she tried to dislodge the lump in her throat as she whispered, “Aunt Walburga blasted her off the family tree…” trailing off helplessly before adding, “Mum and dad aren’t talking to her and I know she ran away with that filthy mud blood,” she spat, “But I didn’t think it would come to this…”
Lucius let his fingers drop to hers, capturing her cold hands in hers, before whispering a spell that sent warmth pulsing through her frozen fingers, “And Bellatrix?” he asked.
“Bella?” she asked, a strange smile twisting on her lips, “Bella thinks we let her off too nicely… She was talking of the unforgettable curses…”
Narcissa sat back on the bench making herself comfortable as Lucius mimicked her movements, though he never released her hands, tracing the lines of her hands absent mindedly.
She looked sadly off at the winter landscape and asked, if only to get her mind off the subject, “How’s your leg?”
Lucius winced at the subject, “I’ll be as good as new soon, Madame Pomfrey promises as much… but I won’t be playing Quiditch anytime soon…”
All Narcissa said was, “Pity, you were good,” before adding, “We’re going to loose the House Cup to Hufflepuff.”
A wry smile pulled his lips at that comment. “True,” he said as he raised their entwined hands placing a soft kiss on the smooth skin of hers, “That would be an spectacle indeed.”
They sat in a warm silence again, and in that time, Narcissa Black found she had tears upon tears trailing down her cheek. She tried to keep quite not wanting to ruin the moment in that winter landscape. But Lucius heard, he always heard her, even when she wasn’t speaking.
“What’s wrong Narcissa?” he asked desperately, his eyebrows knit in confusion.
She couldn’t speak for a long while, the sobs racking her body, as Lucius brought her close to his body, holding her as she mumbled, “Why Lucius? Why would she leave me? She loved me? Why?” repeatedly.
Lucius Malfoy sat completely still trying to comfort this woman. He didn’t know much about woman or crying, what he did know was that he would do anything to make her stop and smile again. Instead, all he could whisper was, “I won’t leave Narcissa, I promise…” as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close and placing a kiss on the crown of her head.