Word Count: 640
This isn't what she wants in her life. Narcissa is so tired of keeping secrets, of weaving this web of lies. When was the last time she was honest with her husband? When did she last feel anything but sadness and guilt when she was around him.
This is her own fault. Her betrayal is like a poison, slowly spreading through veins. Darkness hangs over her, and she thinks that she may be losing her mind.
And yet she still steals away in the middle of the night, enveloped by shadows. Lucius never asks. She wonders if he suspects; he has always been far more clever than most give him credit for.
A fresh wave of guilt washes over her as she slips through the ornately-carved mahogany doors. She wants to turn and run away, but she doesn't. A bitter laugh escapes her throat. Perhaps Bellatrix wasn't the only monster in the family.
Pansy is waiting for her, and seeing her makes Narcissa's heart skip a beat. The younger woman looks beautiful in black lace.
"You kept me waiting," Pansy says, plump lips forming a pout.
How is it possible for anyone to be so irresistible? It isn't fair. She wishes it could be easier to break things off and walk away.
She is supposed to be the perfect wife, but look at her. Unfaithful, unable to resist temptation. Really, Lucius deserves so much more than this.
Narcissa swallows down the guilt and takes a step closer. "I'm sorry, darling," she whispers.
Pansy grips her hips and pulls her in, kissing roughly. Once, her touch was comforting. Now, it feels so wrong. It burns, reminding her that she is a failure, that she can't even be faithful to the man she swears she loves.
And yet, despite it all, she can't walk away when she knows she should.
…
"You've been quiet tonight," Pansy says, sitting up in bed and tucking a cigarette between her lips. She lights it and inhales deeply before blowing out a cloud of menthol smoke. "What's on your mind?"
Narcissa opens her mouth, prepared to tell the familiar lie about how everything is perfect and she is fine. Instead, a strangled sob comes out. "I just wanted to be loved," she says, her heart breaking at the admission. "How did it go so wrong?"
Her intentions had never been pure. Affairs are not innocent. Still, she had tried to do what she thought was best for herself. She's always had so much love to give
Now, everything is falling apart. The guilt is going to consume her.
Lucius is spending another night alone. Will he wait up for her? Does he lie awake at night and wonder where she is or why he isn't enough?
And then there's Pansy. She is so beautiful, so perfect. She deserves to be more than some dirty little secret, hidden away like something to be ashamed of.
But what Narcissa is really ashamed of is herself, and she doesn't know how to fix it.
"You still love him, don't you?" Pansy asks.
Narcissa tenses. They never talk about Lucius. It's an unspoken rule between them.
"Yes," Narcissa whispers.
Pansy crushes her cigarette in the ashtray before leaning in, kissing Narcissa's forehead. "Then go home, Cissa."
Narcissa can feel her heart breaking. She should have known she would eventually lose Pansy, but it doesn't make it any less painful.
Pansy offers her a sad smile. "I know you won't make the choice," she says simply, "so I'm making it for you. Go home."
Maybe it's for the best. Maybe her heart will find a way to heal from this, and she just needs to let go.
Still, as she dresses and brushes her fingers through her hair, she bites back a sob. Why does growing feel so much like shattering.
