A/N: Hey, y'all! I'm back. :D Have some MollyLucius, with some angsty Lucissa friendship.

Archaeology Task 10: Write about someone writing something important.

Word Count: 906

Enjoy!

Lucius held the quill lightly between his fingertips, posed above the parchment. He bit his bottom lip; he knew exactly how heavy the consequences of this letter would be. He should just set the quill down and burn what few words he had managed to write down.

He should pretend like he'd never considered betraying his family.

But as soon as his fingers twitched to do so, images flashed before his eyes: a dimpled smile, freckled cheeks, brown eyes, and fiery red hair—if he wrote this letter, he could have all of that.

If he didn't… if he went back to bed, he'd be married in the morning. Narcissa was beautiful. She was beautiful, proper, strong… but she wasn't alive. Not in the way Molly Prewett was.

He'd never thought anyone could make him want to leave everything behind, but Molly… She'd never let anyone get away with an insult unscathed. She could spar verbally like the best of them, but at the same time, she was kind. She was gentle. She was everything Lucius had been told that he didn't need, and yet, he realized that he did need it.

He needed someone who would fight him, who would take away his control. He'd never realized before how hard he pushed to find the limitations of how hard he could go; how he was willing to go too far to find it. Molly pulled him away from that edge—no, she never even let him get there in the first place.

But most of all, he needed someone to fight for him.

Narcissa was the perfect example of a pureblood. She was poised, powerful, perfect. But Lucius knew, if it came down to it, she would fight for herself, not for him.

And it was with that thought that he pressed the quill to the parchment.

My dearest Narcissa,

We are to be wed in the morning. Combining our families was all I ever wanted for a very long time. In truth, I know that you'd make a wonderful wife. We'd have a good life, you and I. No other couple could hope to compare to the power we'd wield together.

I realize that by writing this, I am giving up everything I've worked for. Wealth, political standing, reputation and respect—it will all go as soon as you read this. But I've made up my mind, Narcissa. I need someone who will keep me from going too far, from attempting too much, not someone who will push me towards the edge of that cliff, not caring if I teter.

You are a powerful woman. I have the utmost confidence that you will bring your family even closer to greatness, but I regret to say that you will not do it with me by your side. I hope you do not lose your good opinion of me when I tell you this, as I like to think that you've become a close friend to me over these past few months, but I would like, for once in my life, to chase something permanent.

Yours,

Lucius Malfoy

Narcissa folded the letter as soon as she read it, her lips pressed into a thin line. In all honesty, this didn't surprise her; she'd seen the way Lucius' blue eyes would linger on a certain girl they'd gone to school with. She'd sensed his discontent, his uneasiness. Still, it saddened her to lose yet another person she cared deeply about.

First, Andromeda had run off with a Mudblood. Now, her fiancé escaped into the arms of a blood traitor.

Narcissa sighed heavily, disappointed. She carefully burned the letter—she'd tell her parents about it in the morning and claim that it was destroyed in a fit of despair, but she didn't want to give them the details about the depth of his betrayal—and ignored the voice in her head asking her if Andromeda and Lucius didn't have the right idea after all.

She watched the parchment crumble to ashes as the candle flame ate away at it greedily. Part of her wanted to hate Lucius or be angry with him, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't muster up those emotions.

Narcissa was simply resigned.

But… she was also curious. And she knew exactly where Molly Prewett would be.

Lucius really was clueless if he thought that Narcissa didn't know exactly who he was running to.

Clenching her jaw decisively, Narcissa stood and went to grab a cloak, then Disapparated away. Moments later, she was standing in front of a small house on the outskirts of London: the Prewett residence.

Narcissa walked briskly towards the door. She didn't intend any harm, but she needed to see… she needed to see what Lucius had left for.

She peered carefully through the front window. She caught a glimpse of a plump young woman with her hands on her hips, staring down a frozen, straight-backed Lucius. If Narcissa listened closely, she could hear yelling.

He left for this?

But then—Molly Prewett's shoulders slumped and she rushed forwards, throwing her arms around Lucius after swatting his shoulder. He looked relieved, grateful—and hopeful. He was hopeful as he held her, like Molly was the ticket to his happiness.

And Narcissa understood.

She pulled her cloak tighter around herself and walked back to the street before Disapparating back home.

She'd keep Lucius' secret. And despite everything… she hoped he didn't live to regret it.