For the infamous dollface, I hope you like it.
"I'm sorry," he whispers into her hair. "I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you." He gently kisses the top of her head, then lets his chin rest where his lips had been moments before.
She takes a deep, shaky breath, pressing her cheek to his chest. She presses her eyelids tightly closed. She wants to reassure him, tell him she is just as much at fault as he is—maybe more—but she can't find the words.
He continues. "I love you, you know that. Go—" he exhales loudly so that the word turns into a breath that she can't make out. He has suddenly lost all the words he was going to say.
He holds Narcissa closer, holds to her as tightly as he can. He's made so many mistakes, regretted so many things, but she was never one of them. And he knows it is not manly—not manly at all—but he blinks his eyes, watching his tears fall into her long blonde hair.
No, he thinks as he kisses where his tears fall, I'll never regret this.
"I love you," he whispers softly. The words hang in the air for a moment; the light breeze coming in from the open window blowing them around.
She still gets butterflies in her stomach when he tells her that, a childish grin always finds its way to her lips. Her head lifts up, and she looks at his stormy grey eyes. "I love you, too," she says.
Then she kisses him. It's firm, and messy, and urgent. Soon they are both out of breath. But this is all they ever needed.