Azkaban had changed the man Narcissa Malfoy had once knew. Lucius' time behind the rusting bars of the dreary prison had unleashed the undesirable within him. His psyche had boiled down to little more than animalistic instincts and the thirst to 'seize the day', casting any morality that remained aside. On his first night back at their family home, Lucius spent very little time in Narcissa's company, and instead shut himself away in his father's study, scribbling down disjointed sentences on a spare bit of parchment and sending it to his desired. That night, Lucius did not retire until three o'clock in the morning. When exiting his office, he found Narcissa asleep on a chair, drained from all her nights of despair and intense turmoil. Unable to communicate with her by voice or touch, Lucius left her alone, choosing to spend the night in one of the many spare bedrooms the Manor had to offer.
There had been a time when Lucius had enjoyed making love to his wife. In their twenties, they spent more time in each other than anywhere else, but as the stress of raising Draco tore them apart, the romance began to wither, like the roses in the gardens during the height of autumn. As they distanced themselves from one another, Lucius' view of his wife began to diminish, and he set his sights elsewhere.
Once, during a drunken escapade, Lucius had been lured into spending a night with Bellatrix, at the very mercy of her six-inch heels and her sharp canines. The animosity between them seemed to only act as a natural aphrodisiac, making their passionate affair one of the best nights Lucius had ever had. After their extra acquaintance, nothing more was said, and Lucius and Bellatrix returned to their normal lives, Bellatrix turning her sights back to Voldemort now her physical needs were satisfied.
For the most part, Lucius had rampaged the brothels of Central London, paying over the odds for a night of pure pleasure with the finest girls they had to offer. All were young, fresh out of education, and had not a scar that marked their otherwise-seemingly pure beauty. Whilst Narcissa was satisfactory for a brief session, Lucius caught himself thinking of somebody much fitter and younger, whose body had not been damaged, or in his view, tainted, by childbirth. On his third night home from Azkaban, Lucius had given into his wife's needs, purely out of a sense of duty and pity for her. Prior to his incarceration, Lucius had hated the thought of being separated from his riches, but as time passed, Lucius enjoyed his solitude, away from his needy and insecure wife. Narcissa bonded to him once more post coitus, but all Lucius could think of was meeting with his illicit lover. He knew she was waiting for him, and the thought alone was arousing.
Mid-September came quickly, and the night Lucius had been planning for days was finally upon him. Narcissa had been at the mercy of Voldemort for the majority of the day, doing her best to obey his every command, and whenever possible, Lucius had taken himself off, throwing things together in preparation for his speedy departure. Once the Death Eaters had dispersed themselves around the Manor, Narcissa shot into the bedroom, trembling.
"I can't go on like this." she murmured, perching on the end of the bed. "Every hour of every day."
Lucius, a glass of single malt whiskey in hand, looked over the Malfoy gardens, seeing what a ruin the place had become. All the flowers his parents had buried had wilted and died, reminiscent of his outdated relationship with Narcissa. There was no light that could be rekindled, not even with the strongest, most brightest flame. Everything that they had, had died.
"We have a duty," Lucius responded coldly, gasping as the whiskey touched his lips. "And you will stick to the arrangements made."
"Do I have much of a choice? They roam around the Manor like uncivilised children! I can't even retire to the library in peace."
"Then that is your fault, not mine."
"What has gotten into you?"
"Nothing," Lucius was defiant. "Nothing has gotten into me. Quite the contrary, actually. I have never felt better."
"Have I offended you? You don't even sleep next to me as of late, never mind sleep with me. If your feelings toward me have changed, I would like to know. Why bother keeping up appearances?"
"You make everything personal Narcissa. Have you not thought that, perhaps, I might just like some space? Being enclosed in a small cell next to dozens of fellow prisoners starts to take its toll."
"I thought you would be happy to see me?"
"I thought so too, but then I remembered just how insecure you can be."
Lucius knocked back the rest of his whiskey, dropping the shot glass to the floor carelessly. Narcissa jumped as the glass smashed, but Lucius did not flinch.
"Where are you going? At this time?" Narcissa turned cold as Lucius grabbed hold of a bag, throwing his jacket over his shoulder.
"Out. I have an appointment."
"What do you mean 'out'? You can't go out."
"I didn't realise I needed to ask for your permission to go out? You do not require mine, and I would appreciate it if the courtesy was extended to me."
Lucius exited the room, slamming the door behind him. As he descended down through the Manor's many levels, he could hear Narcissa's ear-piercing scream of frustration, however, he ignored it. He had to meet his lover.
Lucius looked at the address, scrawled in her perfectly-neat handwriting. Yes, the place was most representative of her. Curvy, fashionable, bright, classy; Lucius was pleased to see something else other than black. The very name of the colour made him shiver, as it only reminded him of his burden of a wife back at home.
Knocking at the door, he waited to be let in, and so he soon was by the house-elf that had been assigned to his mistress. Dropping his jacket on the poor elf, Lucius hastily removed his outdoor clothing before he then sought out his darling. Every time they met, she hid in a different bedroom, waiting to see which ones he would mistakenly open before hers. On this occasion, Lucius had opened three before he came across the right one, and there she was, in all her glamour, posed in nothing more than a sheet of bright cerise silk.
"I wondered when you would show up,"
Her voice purred as she lay in wait, anticipating Lucius' body writhing against hers. For too long they had been out of action, and now her lover was free, they could continue their sordid affair.
"I would never keep you waiting. Our bond is far too intense to ignore."
Lucius started with the tie, undoing the knot he had only created an hour or so earlier, and seductively, he pulled it from his neck, dropping it to the floor. His mistress blushed as Lucius shed his clothing, item by item, drinking in the sight of her exposed body as she waited for him excitedly.
"How dare that rat claim you as hers! You are mine, Lucius, mine!"
Lucius smirked back at her, imaging a distraught Narcissa lying lonely in their bed, whilst he enjoyed a night of rough sex with his woman, his one and only lover. All the others were just objects.
"Your hair," Lucius approached her, fingering the tight curls that stayed poised to her clips. "Strawberry and..." he inhaled deeply. "Watermelon."
"Just for you. I know how much you like them."
"Come to me, Lucius, come to me! I have waited long enough!"
"My pleasure," Lucius kissed along the side of her neck, nibbling at her earlobe as his hand wandered below the silk sheet. "Dolores."
Dark'ness - Primarily for Dementia, because I planned to gross her out as much as possible.