"Lucius, you know it's not safe to be seen here, especially not for us. Please, Lucius, let's just go home and…"
Lucius spun round, his knuckles white where he clutched the handle of his cane painfully. That demonic glint was in his eyes again, the desperate grasping look she'd come to associate with losing. "And what, Narcissa?" he hissed, pushing his face so close to hers his pointed features were thrown into much sharper relief. She stepped back in alarm. It was hideous. Like a madman. The smooth mask he had worn and used so confidently only a few short months ago, like an old friend, had gone. Replaced by this frenzied, wretched wreck of a man. Her husband. Even those words sounded poisonous to her now.
"What would you have me do? If I don't find something, anything, soon, it's over for us. Our time is up. Are you going to help me?" He spat the words at her, sounding suddenly so depraved and snake-like he seemed barely human. The irony hit her like a stunner to the chest. The shock knocked any resistance out of her and she nodded meekly. He spun back around and strode up the empty street away from her, until only his hair was distinguishable from the surrounding blackness. She followed him, a few steps behind as always.
The windows and door were boarded up and plastered with peeling wanted posters, remnants of the Ministry's last attempts to restore order – Narcissa stared haughtily down her own nose at herself from one of the windows. She felt shamed by her own photo. The name printed in gold over the door, just above her poster, was the only clue to a past not influenced by fear and desperation. Ollivander's. The ancient date next to it seemed ridiculous now. Such a long and prosperous past destroyed so quickly, without fanfare or flourish. Of course she never voiced these thoughts aloud. How could she dare?
Lucius ripped the boards from the door with his bare hands. He didn't think to ask to borrow her wand. It was as though he'd forgotten he could do magic. She didn't think to stop him. As though he was no longer the husband she'd once cared so much for. The door fell off its hinges; the boards had been holding it in place.
There was a moment of heavy silence once the sound of splintering wood had faded. The sense of magic was palpable. Narcissa felt it like an ache pulsing in her soul. "I don't like this, Lucius." The shop had already been ransacked, boxes pulled from their shelves, wands strewn carelessly across the floor like twigs.
Lucius stepped over the broken door and took slow, measured steps into the shop.
"Lucius…"
He bent to pick up a wand, the movement of his cloak sending wands rolling across the uneven floorboards.
"Lucius…"
He ran his hand over the smooth wood of the wand, wiping the dust off slowly with the hem of his cloak.
"Lucius, please…"
Narcissa gasped as he dropped the wand. It clattered on the wood in the silence. Then something snapped in him. He threw himself at the shelves, grasping at boxes, flinging wands to join their fellows on the floor in his desperation.
"Lucius!"
He turned. "Help me!" His eyes danced maniacally and, hoping to calm him, Narcissa picked up a wand from the floor with little hope. He ran to her, careless of slipping on the loose wands.
"Is that it?" he gasped, gripping her arm painfully in his madness. "Will it work? I need it…for the Dark Lord…"
"N-no, Lucius," Narcissa's words caught in her throat in her fear. "There aren't any here…"
At that his face cleared, the madness left his eyes and his hand slipped from her arm. Still holding the wand, Narcissa eased him gently to the floor, her own hand firm on his shoulder, and she held him as he dissolved into dry, desperate sobs.