-the path to destruction-
Destruction: de-struc-tion. -noun: the condition of being destroyed.
"Don't go."
Her voice is the sound of the sweetest sin. Silky, soft, understanding. Always pure. So why does it sound edgy, almost angry? He could feel his body tearing apart, his blood boiling, his stomach tied in knots. She's watching carefully; she sees his expression turn sour, his fake smile curl down into a frown. Like always, a silence hangs over them, mocking and teasing the two. He shuts the door behind him, his fingers lingering on the wooden finish. He doesn't move. This is the epitome of what a good marriage shouldn't be, Lucius thinks to himself. He glances at his wife, and he sees misery swimming in her eyes. He says nothing, because what's the use of speaking when silence says everything?"
"I have to."
His voice is the sound of unforgiving pretenses. He doesn't have to go. No one is forcing him. She could feel the tears already, the almost sadness filling her eyes. She could feel his eyes searching hers for an answer, something to tell him what he should do and should not do. She senses the deluding normalcy of this scene: his leaving, her sadness, their silence. She tells herself everyday that she shouldn't mind, that hey, at least they're not fighting like her sister and Rodolphus. But at least Bella and Rod talk, despite the volume and intensity of their voices, she reminds herself.
"Who's forcing you?"
The question is disgustingly straightforward, and he can tell that she doesn't care anymore. The reason for the Mark he bears on his arm is no longer of her concern. He raises his voice to emphasize the deceiving importance of the Dark Lord, but it doesn't matter anymore.
"You know who we serve, Narcissa."
The answer pricks her with little needles, and she scowls when he turns the knob. He's not going to leave her, not yet anyway.
"I know where my loyalty lies. Do you?"
It's as if she stabbed him with thousands of knifes. He hesitates, then closes the door again. They are facing each other now, each of them with anger boiling inside. Their voices are full of gravel, and they are impetuous and fiery.
"It's not as if I had a choice."
"You've always had a choice!"
"Do you know what you're talking about?"
"I know what the hell I'm talking about! I'm always bloody alone in this bloody house! This is about our marriage! It's like you don't give a fuck about me anymore."
"I care, Narcissa!"
"Oh, but you don't, Lucius! You're never here."
"I am!"
"Bullshit."
"Narcissa, please!"
"I hate you."
And then Lucius grabbed her forcefully by the shoulder, bringing her dangerously close to him. Breathing heavily, they stare at each other for what seems like an eternity.
"I love you, okay?"
She stares at him with wide, blue eyes. Cue his overrated kiss to her temple. Cue his disappearance.
Narcissa Malfoy stands alone in the empty house, hand pressed to her belly. The ghost of his kiss lingers for awhile on her skin, but like Lucius, the feeling fades away. She chokes back sobs when she climbs the stairs, the locket that hangs around her neck burning. The bed they share (but not really) is accustomed to her loneliness, and for once, she doesn't feel so alone. His side of the bed isn't made, the blanket crinkled to his shape. In the middle of the bed sat a letter, addressed to her of course.
Dear Narcissa,
Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.
Lucius.
Her wand presses the parchment, and she burns the message. The ashes collect on the bed, and she blows them away. She lies on her side of the bed, waiting. She murmurs, and hand resting on her stomach, "I want you...I really do." But does she?
In the end, everyone ends up alone. She knows that. But she didn't expect the end to come so soon. Life just started.
The path to destruction never seemed so lonely before.
A/N: Review, please! I like this oneshot.