A / N : Haha. Poor Lucius. If it isn't obvious, this is set after Lucius loses his wand in Deathly Hallows. (I couldn't resist – there was just too much wand / emasculating imagery in that scene.) The problem is only implied, so I don't think this needs to be M rated. But please let me know if you think otherwise.
His wife swallows.
"Well," she says dully. "That's never happened before."
Lucius stares at the canopy of their four-poster. "No."
"Perhaps you could try . . . not thinking about the wand," Narcissa murmurs, with weary tact.
Lucius flexes the fingers of his wandless right hand, lost for words. Someone, somewhere in the house, screams.
"Perhaps I could also try to function without my head," he snaps.
His wife casts him a withering look, and Lucius realizes that he can sink no further. This, surely, is his lowest point.
Narcissa sighs, and touches his arm.
He is pathetically grateful.