Mythology, task 12: Write about someone receiving a second chance

Word Count: 1315

For Amanda

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Narcissa asks.

She still remembers when Draco had been a child. He would find a way to avoid getting dressed and ready for these portraits. Now, at eighteen, he is far too old to be sitting around with his shirt unbuttoned and his tie missing.

She takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. It isn't the end of the world. She's only stressed because of the constant attention her family has recorded after the war.

Still, no amount of reassurances seem to assuage the tension. Her heart races, and she just feels this terrible rush, like she is doing something wrong.

Draco looks up at her, thin lips pursing into a pout. "Father should be here."

Maybe he's right. They've never done a family portrait without Lucius. Despite everything that's happened, Narcissa still misses him like crazy.

Her posture straightens, and she forces as much authority into her words as possible. "Your father made his choice, and it nearly killed us all," she reminds him.

It's easy to say she's still angry with him. If Lucius hadn't been such a bloody fool, if he hadn't followed the Dark Lord so blindly, their world wouldn't be falling apart right now. It doesn't matter that Narcissa would do anything to be with her husband again; he has no place in their new life, and no amount of pain can make her change her mind.

Draco's pale cheeks darken to a heated red, and he looks down at the black-and-white tile floor. Narcissa knows that guilty expression. She braces herself, preparing for the worst.

"What have you done?"

"I sent word to Father last week," Draco answers. "He will be here for the portrait."

As if conjured by the conversation, Mitzy, their newest house-elf, appears. She bows low, her long nose nearly brushing against the floor. "Master Lucius is here," she says brightly.

Lucius enters the room, smiling. This isn't her Lucius. He has always been lean, but he is thinner now–almost malnourished. Purple-grey shadows stain the skin beneath his icy-blue eyes, and Narcissa wonders when's the last time he's been able to sleep through the night. His white-blond hair is as well-groomed as it always is, though Narcissa can see how it's thinned out. The aftermath of the war has not been kind to him.

Regardless, seeing him makes Narcissa's heart flutter. Some silly, girlish part of her wants to rush forward and throw her arms around him, like nothing has changed between them. It's been half a year since the final battle, and she has spent every single day ricocheting between loving and missing him, and blaming and despising him.

"You look well, Cissy," he says, thin lips quirking into a small smile that makes her heart melt.

Narcissa nods politely. Even though she wants to pretend that everything is okay, she can't. "It's nice to see you, Lucius," she says.

"I was surprised you asked me here."

"I didn't. Your son did," she assures him, and she hates the way his expression changes, and his pale eyes flash with pain. "But I don't mind."

His smile brightens for a fraction of a second before he notices their son's disheveled appearance. "We are due to have our portrait painted in less than half an hour," he says sternly, gesturing for Draco to hurry up. "Why aren't you ready?"

Draco moves quickly, jumping up within seconds. "Sorry, Father," he says, slender fingers fumbling with the buttons on his grey shirt.

Narcissa chuckles. "Some things never change."

…

Lucius stands beside her, his arm wrapped lovingly around her waist. She wonders if he can hear the way her heart races in her chest; it feels as though it's going to burst from her body at any moment.

She has missed this. Though she has put on a brave face and pretended that she is strong and independent, there has been a void in her life. This is the first day she's actually felt complete again.

"Smile, Cissy," he whispers in her ear. His warm breath tickles her skin and she shivers. "You always looked so beautiful when you smiled."

…

She studies the painted portrait with narrow eyes. They look like such a happy family, and it makes her chest ache. Oil and canvas cannot show the trauma and tension that hides beneath their smiling faces.

"I always thought you looked like a goddess in green," Lucius says, appearing at her side.

Narcissa swallows dryly. She brushes her hands over the emerald satin that clings to her subtle curves. "I thought you would have left by now," she says, keeping her eyes pointedly fixed on the Lucius that's painted onto the canvas.

That Lucius is made of oil instead of bad decisions. That Lucius knows nothing of war and risk and fear.

"I plan on leaving soon," he says, his voice tight. "I wanted to speak with you first."

She forces herself to look at him now. This man may be a shell of the man she had fallen in love with, but she can't help feeling like her Lucius is still in there somewhere. "What about?"

"I want us to be okay, Cissy," he tells her.

Her breathing grows unsteady at that. Narcissa sucks in a deep, trembling breath, forcing herself to remain calm.

Can they ever be okay again? She wants to believe that there's hope for them, but it's so hard to find a reason to keep trying. Is it worth the risk? If she had been a Gryffindor, she might say yes and take him back without so much as a second thought.

But she is a Slytherin, and she cannot act on impulse. She has to do what is best for herself and her family.

He takes her hand, squeezing it gently. His skin is rough and calloused, and it feels so strange. He has always lived a life of luxury, and everything about his appearance has always reflected that. Now, something as simple as his touch reminds her that everything has changed.

"We don't have to rush anything," he says. "You are free to continue to live in the manor, and I will stick to my flat in Liverpool. I don't mind."

"We're already living separately, Lucius," she reminds him. "I'm not sure what you're asking."

"I'm asking for a second chance."

She wishes her heart would stop racing; she can barely even think over the noise. "Lucius…"

"I know I've made mistakes," he says. "You have no reason to take me back and let me try again, but I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me."

She takes a deep breath. Lucius is far too prideful to admit to his faults. That alone should be enough proof that he has changed.

"We can take things slow. Our parents arranged our marriage before we could even properly date," he says with a chuckle. His eyes light up at the memory, and Narcissa can see a youthfulness there that reminds her of better days. "Maybe we could try that. May I court you, Cissy?"

Her cheeks burn, and she wouldn't be surprised if she looked like a tomato.

This is it. She thinks that this might be the moment and decision to make or break them. Should she take the chance? Is this new life without her husband the better choice? She doesn't know what's for the best, but she knows what her heart tells her.

Narcissa nods and wraps her arms around him, hugging him tightly and breathing in his familiar scent of cinnamon and sandalwood. This is the first time in a long time that she's felt like she might not fall apart. "Yes," she says.

Maybe it's a mistake; maybe it's the best decision she will ever make. Whatever the outcome, all she knows is that Lucius feels like home.