Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling. No money is being made.

Written for the Quidditch League – Season 5 Fanfiction Competition – Round 8

Round 8 - The Wonderful World of Head Canons

Do you remember when we asked for a head canon from each team member? Well, this is the round we are using it in. But we aren't just sharing it with your team or your opposing team, like you might have thought – we are sharing it with the whole league. Meaning anybody could get your head canon (someone in your team, someone in your opposing team, someone you don't know, or if you're lucky, maybe even yourself.) Everything has been randomly generated and will be PM'd to the first person to post in this thread. We will distribute in groups of 8 in the order of teams replied to this thread (one person from each team post here with your team's name). Your prompts MUST be used in the order received (eg. Captain will use the first one, Keeper the 2nd and so on). Good luck and have fun!

CAPTAIN: [Keeper, Firediva0, Arrows]-Whenever he's overwhelmed, Severus Snape goes to his long-standing best friends, Lucius and Narcissa, for a romantic tryst.

Word count: 991

Captain of the Wimbourne Wasps

Love Is Forever While It Lasts

Lucius stood beside Narcissa, arms at his side and hands fisted. He was barely aware of his nails biting into his skin, forming little, bloody crescent shapes on his palms. He glanced at Narcissa for the corner of his eye and quickly looked away. She wasn't doing any better than he was.

Lucius' breath hitched as Potter walked forwards and laid a wreath of lilies over the coffin. He looked away, wand-hand twitching with the need to grab his wand and set the cursed thing on fire. Lilies… how he hated them.

As if they needed a reminder. As if they didn't know.

Severus… No matter how many times Severus had graced their bed, he had never been theirs. No matter how much Narcissa and he had deceived themselves otherwise.

"Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius' attention snapped to the boy standing in front of them. How long had he been out of it that he hadn't even noticed Potter making their way over to them?

"Potter." He gave a slight nod.

It wouldn't do to be rude to the Savior. Even if Lucius wanted to do nothing more than to shake the wizard and ask him why. Why Severus had to die? Why couldn't he have stopped the Dark Lord before? Why? Why? Why?

"I'm sorry for your loss," Potter whispered, looking him in the eyes, and Lucius' heart missed a beat.

There was knowledge in those eyes, knowledge that shouldn't be there. They had been so discreet. Severus had made sure that no one knew. It had been one of Severus' main demands when they had started this, so many years back.

"He loved you," Potter whispered, still looking at him, and for the first time in his life, words failed him.

They didn't fail Narcissa, however. She stared at Potter, eyes shimmering with tears and a bitter twist to her lips.

"No, Mr. Potter," she said, "he loved your mother. Loved her enough to die for her son, instead of living for ours."

A single tear ran down her cheek, and she turned away. Lucius reached out to her, but she shied away from his touch—as she had done since news of Severus' death had reached them—and his shoulders slumped.

He looked back towards Potter, humiliation churning in his gut, but he held his head high. He despised the flash of pity that shone in Potter's eyes. Still, it was gone soon enough, and for that Lucius was grateful.

He excused himself and Narcissa, and both made their way out of Great Hall where the wake was being held for the heroes of the war.

Lucius' lips twitched. Hero… that was the last thing that Severus had ever wanted to be.

Lucius leaned against the door to their bedroom. He closed his eyes, containing a sigh.

"Narcissa," he muttered again, an edge of despair entering his tone. "Please, let me in." He waited, seconds feeling like a lifetime. "I lost him, too, you know," he whispered, trying to ignore the burn behind his closed eyelids. "I loved him, too."

"Lucius."

Lucius grinned at the whispered moan of his name. Nothing brought him more pleasure than to break that emotionless mask that Severus hid behind of.

Lucius shook his head, trying to dislodge the haunting memories. The last thing he needed was to lose himself in them.

He heard movement from inside their bedroom and opened his eyes. He waited with bated breath to see if the door would finally open; however, just like the previous times, it remained locked.

"Lucius," Narcissa's voice reached his ears after almost a week with not even a word from her. "He never loved us."

Lucius closed his eyes again, shaking his head. "He did."

He heard a faint chuckle. "You always were such a fool," she said softly, though he could still hear the fondness in her tone. "We gave ourselves to him. We were the ones that invited him into our bed, into our hearts. He only accepted the bed."

"He wasn't using us, Narcissa."

No matter what Severus might have been, Lucius was sure of this. Severus would never have done such a thing to them, especially after they had asked him to be Draco's godfather.

"He sought us out when he needed a break from life. He came to us when everything became too overwhelming. He graced our bed when nothing but the end of a bottle would be there to greet him at the end of the day. You call that love?"

Lucius remained silent.

"If he had loved us he wouldn't have died for her son."

Lucius flinched, staggering back from the door as if struck.

"Narcissa…"

Silence was the only thing that answered him for the rest of the night.

Lucius stood still, arms at his side and hands fisted. He was barely aware of his nails biting into his skin, forming little, bloody crescent shapes on his palms. Nor was he aware of the condolences slipping past the guests' lips.

His eyes remained locked on the dark coffin in the middle of the room.

Aftereffects of the war, they said. He had wanted to snort. These days, everything was a consequence of the war, even when it wasn't.

Narcissa had just… given up.

A little over two months after burying one lover, he was burying the second one.

He closed his eyes, drowning out the soft whispers of his guests and losing himself to memories of better times.

Lucius slumped into the soft cushions of the sofa in his office, tumbler falling off his limp fingers.

At the end of the night, there was nothing to greet him but the end of the bottle. Long gone was the time where his sorrows could have been drowned in the arms of his lovers.