Alibi

Alibi

"Lucius!" Narcissa cried out, leaving the door wide open and dashing out into the midnight air. The crack of light illuminated the stone steps and her silhouette as she ran to catch her husband in her arms. Her lips met his feverishly. He was wounded, yes, but he was alive. A trickle of blood ran down his forehead as red as the fallen leaves on which they stood. A cut near his temple stained his white-blonde hair with a deep, rusted mahogany tint. Narcissa held his face in her spidery grasp and met his steely, exhausted gaze with her worried sapphire orbs.

"I was listening to the radio… it can't be true…" She trailed off tearfully, "It's not possible…"

"I'm afraid it is true, Narcissa," Lucius coughed, "And His supporters are already showing signs of disloyalty. This could be very difficult for us. We are, what you might call, big tickets for those who are looking to save their own skins."

She knew what he meant. The Dark Lord had fallen and all of his supporters, save perhaps her deranged sister, would be looking for a potential escape from the coming consequences. She couldn't entirely blame them; they had families… some had children Draco's age or younger. She felt nauseated at the prospect of what she knew was coming. Lucius was of high standings and turning him in would be a release for someone else.

She looked into his face, noticeably blanched even in the dim light cutting into the night from the house. The concern on her stoic knight-in-shining-armor's face sparked a nurturing drive in her. She grabbed his hand firmly and led him back into the ivy-crested manor, "Please, Luce, come in and lay down. Let me get you cleaned up."

She led him into the drawing room and helped him gently onto one of the sofas. His black robes were covered in powdery white debris and splatters of dried blood. He rested his head on the arm rest and grasped onto the ornately carved woodwork, closing his eyes as his loving wife attended to his wounds.

Lucius sighed deeply, his eyes remaining shut, "I took the mark to give both you and our posterity a good, secure life and I may not even be here to see my son grow up," He swallowed hard, "I could very well spend the rest of my life and the vast majority of his in Azkaban… I grew up with a drunken shadow of a father and now my son could have even less than that."

His silver eyes opened and focused on her. She held the bottle of dittany and the rag stationary, stalling in the intensity of his anxious stare. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly, so lightly that his eyes hadn't closed fully and his lips were left slightly agape in her wake, "We'll make it through this, Luce. You have your alibi and I will stand beside you no matter what."

As she reached to his forehead to brush back the blood-crusted hair from his wound, Lucius took her hand and kissed her fingers. He pulled her in to him and kissed her with the same fire as when he had first kissed her, as when he had first made her his, as when he gave her his name… "

"Lucius—" She began as they pulled apart, but he put a finger to her lips and stroked her golden hair gently. She rested her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes, holding onto him lovingly. He whispered almost silently in her ear, "Ya vas lyubyu."