AN: For Lexen.
The war is over. Everyone is rebuilding and healing. Everyone is breathing freely again and clinging to their hopes of peace and happily ever after.
Everyone except Narcissa.
She cannot heal. She cannot move forward.
"Cissy," Lucius murmurs, reaching out and caressing his wife's cheek with his fingertips. "Come to bed, darling."
Narcissa turns on her heel to face him, eyes wild. "Don't touch me," she spits.
It's his fault that she's like this. Lucius and his former loyalty to the Dark Lord. His loyalty had put them through hell during the war. His devotion is the reason everyone looks at them with cold eyes now that the Dark Lord is gone for good.
Oh, they know of her little lie that had kept the Potter boy alive. Harry had mentioned it when he'd testified on behalf of her family during the trials, and the word had spread. But they say her noble act had come far too late.
And it's his fault for putting their family in that position. It's his fault for filling their heads with his thoughts.
"Don't touch me," she says again before pushing past him.
OoOoO
Narcissa curls up in one of the guest bedrooms. Her husband's peers are no longer around, and she no longer has to worry about maintaining the illusion that they are not falling apart. Now, there will be no damage to Lucius' precious reputation, no ridicule from his master if the two are seen sleeping in separate beds.
The door opens, and she hears soft footsteps. Narcissa remains still, breathing softly in hopes that Lucius will think she's sleeping and move on.
Instead, he slides into bed beside, pressing against her back. "Our bed is much more comfortable, Cissy," he says.
She doesn't speak, just lies there and breathes. If she pretends, he'll grow bored and leave her alone.
"I know you're not sleeping. I'm not stupid. You did this the first time we fought," he continues, moving his hand slowly along her thigh.
It's hard not to react. However angry she is with him, he still knows exactly how to touch her. But Narcissa forces herself to shut down, willing herself not to notice.
She hears him sigh, his warm breath drifting between the pale stands of her hair and tickling her neck. "Don't talk, then," Lucius says, the strain in his tone painfully obvious. "I suppose I can talk enough for the both of us."
His hand trails higher up, pulling a sharp intake of breath and shattering her illusions.
"I'm sorry, Cissy. I know you're hurting, and I know it's my fault."
Narcissa groans as he grazes his fingertips over her bare hip. If only he'd stop doing that. It'd make it so much easier to be angry with him.
"Draco could have died because of me. If I hadn't followed the Dark Lord, our son would never have been singled out. Because of me, our family was on the brink of destruction."
His fingers continue moving, and Narcissa finds herself mentally cursing him. It isn't fair that he can ruin everything then sweep in and piece things back together with touch alone.
"Forgive me, Cissy."
No. She doesn't want to. They can't go back. Not from this.
"I'm begging you. And you know Malfoys do not beg."
She shakes her head. "Lucius-"
"Cissy." His lips are on her neck, gently grazing the skin.
With a groan, she rolls over, hating him and hating herself for giving in to him.
But tonight, at least, she can forgive him. Tonight, she can crush his lips to his if it means shutting him up. Tonight, she can enjoy his touch, even if it means letting him win.
Tomorrow, who knows?