Chapter Seventeen

A/N: No reviewers.

Weeks and months followed the tragic attack on the Rosier household, leaving Narcissa without her aunt, uncle, cousin Amorette and, most terribly, her dear mother as well, and still the young woman had not recovered from the shock of the awful act of murder that had decimated her family.

Since that fateful night, the blonde had not left her home of Malfoy Manor, bar the very occasional twilight trip to the gardens, though even those ventures were few and far between. She had hardly eaten and had lived out the days alone in her bedroom with the curtains drawn tightly shut, as if she was determined to separate herself from the world, as her family had been so cruelly separated from her.

His wife's behaviour was something that had become extremely worrying for Lucius, as he watched her deteriorate further and further with the days and weeks that passed. He was not surprised that she had been so broken, as she had suffered so harshly during her childhood that to see the constant support of hers, her mother, stolen by Death, must have been agonising to experience.

Despite the extent to which he had wished to, the Malfoy patriarch had decided not to say anything to her, knowing from experience that the young woman needed her time and space to herself, so that she could have a chance to grieve. He had never lost a close member of his family, only distant ones and acquaintances of his parents, and most certainly never in the horrific manner that his wife had, but he had seen enough of her pain over the years, both from up close and from a distance, to know how hurtful it would have to be to experience, and also how wounding it was for him to watch her undertake such a terrible routine on her own.

Finally, he could stand it no longer, and so he had entered their bedroom that evening, as Narcissa had just climbed beneath the sheets herself and was about to extinguish the light and rest her head for the evening. He had been sleeping in a guest, though he was loathed to do so, as he had wished to allow the woman her time to grieve, but had truly wished for nothing more than to hold her as she cried.

The moment she heard the door click shut, the blonde raised her head from her pillow, her hair falling down over her shoulder as she sat up. It was obvious from the expression on her face that she had not anticipated his coming, nor had she heard his footsteps.

"Lucius." she greeted, unable to keep the note of shock from her voice. As soon as she seemed to realise that her husband had entered the room, she stood from the bed, a courtesy that she had been taught as a child, for use when her elders entered a room, but she had also used it in the presence of her husband as a matter of routine, as her mother had always done for her father. The thought stung her for a second, but she took her mind off of it by speaking once again. "Are you alright?"

Though it was not the first thing he had expected for his wife to say, the man replied with little delay, stepping further into the room, so that he was positioned in the illumination of the ceiling fixture. "I am absolutely fine, thank you. It is you that I'm worried about."

"Lucius, I am fine as well, I'm just as well as you are." she answered him, both of them aware that she was speaking only in falsehoods. They both knew that she was not fine in the least, and he knew for certain that he was not either, as he was extremely pained by the fact that she was so hurt, but more so by the fact that she would not share her burden with him, as they had always done for each other.

"Cissa." he sighed, catching the woman's full attention in a moment. Seeing no negative response from her, he moved forward to where she still stood beside the bed, before sitting down on the edge of it, beckoning for his spouse to do the same. Once she had done so, the man spoke once again. "I know that you are not alright, I know that you are still grieving and that you are in so much pain from this. I just wish that you would let me share the pain with you, like we've always done. I really do wish that you would let me help you."

For another minute, silence reigned over them, and over the entirety of Malfoy Manor, as the House Elves were the only other ones present, and they had silencing charms cast over themselves, so as not to disturb their master and mistress unless they were needed. It was something that did not cause a problem, and had never done, until the silence fell between the two of them. After they had both had their fill of the howling wind and the rustling of leaves in the trees, Narcissa finally spoke, seeing no other option for them to consider.

"I don't want to be a weak person, Lucius." she began, her gaze directed at the silk nightgown covering her lap, the emerald colour all that she really saw, though even that was blurred through the glaze of tears on her eyes that she was doing her best to blink back. "I am a Black by birth and a Malfoy by marriage. I am a member of the two families with the purest blood in Britain, if not in the world. I can't be weak, because if I'm weak, I'm nothing."

For once, and amazingly for a man who always had the last word, Lucius did not give a vocal response. Instead, he wrapped his arms tightly around his wife, so tightly that she could not escape, though she struggled for a moment before ceasing to do so, letting the tears fall as her husband pulled her to his chest and held her there.

Long after his wife had submitted to slumber, the Malfoy patriarch remained awake, stroking the woman's golden curls over and over again and praying to any deity who would listen that nothing worse would have to hurt his flower.

A/N: Please review!