The Dementors of Azkaban didn't want his soul. It was too dark, too lost in it's own shadow to be of any interest to them. Besides, he supposed it would be too easy wouldn't it, if he simply died like that? The Ministry would hardly be satisfied with such a demise for the feared Lucius Malfoy, who they broadcast as one of Voldemort's closest aides. And even the Dementors, foolish, instinctive creatures that they were, knew to keep the Ministry happy.
No, they wanted what was closest to his tiny, shrivelled, little heart. His memories. The happiest ones he had, of course. No less would do. But he could be stubborn just as they could be persistent. Even if it meant he would sit forever in his dark, damp little cell, waiting for them to visit him each day. It was the only way he could keep track of time, for his meals were few and far between, and could hardly be called regular.
When the Dementors did arrive, however, it was little less than a war for Lucius. Their very presence would drain everything out of him; every possible thought of joy, and he would struggle to retain control over what they took. Sometimes, a few of his happier memories slipped out, and into their grasp. A piece of his past, that would be lost forever to him. But he had made a resolution to never let them take the most beautiful memories of them all. All of his time with her.
And so it would come to pass, that nearly eight years later, he would be found nearly dead in his cell, with no other memory except those of her, and the wizard who found him would run to him, just in time to hear him mumble her name one last time.
Narcissa.
Notes: For the Through the Universe Challenge: Prompt: Lucius/Narcissa
100th work on , posted on International Fanworks Day 2018!