A/N: I haven't written a serious story since Dog Star, and I've been itching to write some angst. So I did. Although I have this story listed under Narcissa,it can be viewed as either slash or het, as the sex of the narrator isn't really all that important.
Rated for: Language, adult situations
DISCLAIMER: Harry Potter is not mine.
Simplicity
Lucius is late tonight.
Not that I expect anything less, mind you. He is a Malfoy, always running off to parties, intimidating Muggles, bribing certain Ministers...
But I know, in my heart of hearts, the real reason he is not here right now...
I've learned to accept his promiscuous tendencies.
For a man as beautiful as he is, it's a wonder he's not fucking all of Europe. Man or women, it doesn't matter to him... he likes them any way he can get them, and they all taste the same.
I have stayed celibate throughout the course of our relationship. It is not a matter of morals, nor is it because of some undying devotion of mine. The fact of the matter is simply this: I feel no need to fuck anyone else. One is more than enough.
A psychologist might remark that Lucius is an addict of sorts, and I suppose he or she would be right; Lucius is enslaved by his carnal desires. He has taken many lovers; each torrid affair quick in both commencement and conclusion. He does not stay with any one person for very long... for he tires of them, tires of the monotony of their "relationship," if one could even call it that. Each lover gets his or her turn to be hit with the cold realization that Lucius never cared about them. Oh, I'm sure there were those that had the same aspirations as he does, and were only looking for a quick fuck. But more often than not, there were those poor souls who took solace in his beauty, who believed that Lucius saw something in them that was special, that made them worthy of him in some way. Lucius couldn't be bothered with the feelings of those that he hurts. His mind is too preoccupied with the search for new meat.
They are nothing to him but side dishes in some perverse, all-you-can-eat buffet. Every last one of them.
I suppose you could call me a side dish too, but Lucius disagrees. He tells me, with all the emotion of an unwashed sock, that I am special to him. He tells me that he does care.
He even has the temerity to say that he loves me.
I should be inclined to disbelieve him. I mean, how many people has he given the same exact speech to, only to toss them away like so much garbage a few days later?
Ah, but he swears, he swears on the Dark Lord that I am the only person he says these things to.
Again, I should be inclined to disbelieve him.
But then, I often wonder why he stays with me. It's not the sex, for he could get far better service if he were willing to go to the nearest street corner and part with a few well-spent Galleons. It's not nostalgia, for though we have been together since our Hogwarts years, Lucius despises such sentimental bullshit.
I have asked him about this numerous times, and each response is the same: "Because I want to."
His simplicity both astounds and infuriates me.
I hear the door squeak open in the next room and I know it's him... an hour and six minutes later than he said he'd be.
I see him framed in the doorway moments later, his beautiful white-blond hair tousled and messy, and his pale cheeks ruddy with exertion. Instantly I know where he'd been... or at least what he'd been doing. And he knows I know.
I close my eyes for a brief second and wonder, painfully, if it was a man or woman whose heart he broke tonight.
Looking back into his eyes, I see that the cold grey has melted into a barely discernible slush.
He wants to say that he's sorry, I can tell, but his pride keeps him from uttering a single word of apology... like it does every other night.
There is an uncertainty in his step as he walks over to where I sit by the crackling fire. He bends down to kiss me; it is more of a question than anything.
If I really wanted to, I could ask him to stop these affairs of his. He'd probably do it, however reluctantly. Because he loves me. But it would change him. He wouldn't be the same Lucius Malfoy that I fell for all those years ago. I couldn't do that to the man I love, no matter how his infidelity hurts me.
It is simply a part of who he is.
I suppose a more intelligent person would leave him in a heartbeat. I suppose the smart thing to do would be to leave him, wouldn't it?
But I won't.
I am the one he comes home to at the end of the day, after all. Me.
Lucius Septimus Malfoy is my first, last, and only. Call it sentimental bullshit if you want, but I will stay with him to the bitter end...
And as we embrace by the hearth, a single thought pops into my head...
Because I want to.
FIN