The war had broken him. He was once a man of such glory, such status and pride. She had been entranced. Dazzled, even. Nothing could touch that man.
Where his robes had once been resplendent, they were now threadbare. Where he was once haughty, his face was now writ with the lines and scribings of paranoia and long duress. Where he had once been so infallibly confident, he now second guessed their every movement.
But horrifically, where their marriage had once been a trophy and loveless, they now depended on one another. He had realised that he needed her, and in his depths of despair and fear, he had turned to his wife and in that moment, the respect that they had harboured for one another all those years turned to love. And now, it seemed, he treasured her above all things. And it near broke her heart with joy.
They lay in bed, he asleep and she dozing as she thought back on the days where all they had between them was Draco and the estate. She allowed her head to turn and she surveyed her husband's face. His brow was twitching; he was having another nightmare. She reached out one pale hand to cherish his face, her thumb smoothing out the furrow between his eyes, and he started awake. His eyes were wide with fear, his pupils dilated with panic and the dark, and he caught his breath on her name.
"Oh, Narcissa," he breathed, his voice hitching. She smiled sympathetically at him, reached about him and drew his body to hers in a comforting embrace. His face nestled against her neck, so much more vulnerable than he had ever been in the years before, and with his eyelashes fluttering against her skin, she felt him calm. She cradled his head in her hands, smoothing away the darkness from his mind, and soon after felt his arms sneak about her middle. He moved his head to look up at her. No words were needed; he was grateful, she was worried, he loved her, she loved him. They knew it, it didn't need to be said aloud for them to know that. She raised her eyebrows in silent question, and he shook his head minutely; the nightmare was nothing new and didn't need talking about. In a way that might have appalled the Lucius of five years past, she leaned toward him and he accepted and returned her kiss, tender and emotional.
Then again, the Lucius of five years past didn't need looking after.
Narcissa's eyes were starting to close with impending slumber, so Lucius turned her away and pulled her against his body, like two spoons locked together in a drawer. His arms held them both safely away from the terrors of the world that they had been party to, and he kissed her hair lightly, breathing in its scent, as the night closed in around them.