I don't own these two. However if a certain someone would like to sell Lucius, I'd be more then happy to take him off yours hands. ;)
Lucius swept his fingers through her hair- the thin, bony digits cradling her close against his chest and encasing themselves in the silk blond tresses. Her tears had stopped and turned to dry sobs; her heaving chest attempting to draw in air faster then the rest of her body could manage to consume it. The torturous months that had very nearly destroyed the man had affected the woman in his arms as well. He swallowed the lump in his throat and bent his head to look upon the pale, hallow cheeks that once blushed so very prettily whenever he looked upon her.
So this was freedom?
To spend months awaiting it; waiting to feel her warm body pressed against his, wanting desperately for the comforts of his childhood home, and willing himself to not give into the insanity so many had before him.
The small, sorrowful woman that was once his wife had been tortured of the possibilities of his condition. Many would say she was better off knowing the extent of his harms now, her imagination unable to run wild with ideas. But he knew the truth; his petite, naïve wife could never imagine the pain and tortures he'd gone through.
And he would never tell her.
He might forever be trapped by those haunting memories, escaping only physically from there, but he would never take away her freedom. He should never have returned in the first place. He was better off dead. She could at least mourn and move on; Narcissa had the ability to do so eventually. With him alive they'd both be tortured by the past- and inevitably the future.
As he breathed in the scent radiating from the scalp pressed under his jaw he let out a soft sigh. They'd only been parted once before; at the end of the first war. It had only been for a week. Even so she'd coddled and nursed him for days. Partially because she couldn't stand to see him weak and sick. Partially, he knew, to keep close to him. She never was the type to be alone. And now he knew that she, who was ill and mentally tortured because of him, would push herself past her breaking point for him.
He'd condemned her.
So this was freedom?
Another, short little snippet. Maybe I'll write longer ones some day. Criticism is appreciated and reviews are adored.