As she placed her other hand into his, so they were both being held by him, she had tried to mentally prepare herself for what was to come. She had prepared herself for anger, perhaps frustration towards her for her quick temper and her inability to understand what he was meaning when he would not say. She had not prepared herself for this. Each word he spoke seemed to settle inside her chest like lead, heavier than the last, until breathing itself became an impossible task. She sat perfectly still, terrified that if she moved even an inch she would shatter into pieces too small to ever be gathered again.
Merlin...She remembered it with agonizing clarity. She remembered packing through blurred vision because if she allowed herself to stop, to think, to look at the photographs lining the corridors or the wedding portrait hanging above the fireplace, she knew she would never have found the strength to leave. She remembered taking off her ring and how her fingers had refused to cooperate. Her fingers were swollen and it barely budged at first, as if even her rings were fighting to stay. How she'd clutched it so tightly in her fist that the edges had left crescent marks in her palm. She remembered writing that letter over and over again, every version somehow crueler than what she truly felt because kindness would have made it impossible; It would have been impossible for him to see that something had to be done because she had tried countless times to explain to him that things had to change and they never did. She had convinced herself she was saving him, saving their children, their family, saving what little remained of the man she'd married before alcohol, grief, and guilt hollowed him out. She had told herself that one day he would realize and come after her, understanding what he was losing by his actions. Instead...
Every sentence falling from his lips dismantled her own belief that he never came after her. He had searched for her. He had looked through the entire manor, where he eventually found her letter and rings. Her stomach twisted so violently she thought she might be sick. Some instinct deep inside her already knew what was coming. It had known from the moment he'd said he was afraid to tell her. Her fingers tightened around his without her realizing. As Lucius spoke of bottles, broken glass, and blood, the world around her seem to give way and his voice became distant, almost mute.
The thought struck with brutal force. She had wanted him to wake up and realize what he was throwing away by his actions but instead, he was in so deep, that he tried to throw it all away, including himself. Even now, she knew she could not rewrite history. Staying would have destroyed them in another way. She left because she believed there was no future left to save without taking action herself, finding this to be her last hope. But she had never imagined that while she had been convincing herself he would survive, come out of the fog of despair to come back to her...he had been trying not to. Her chest constricted so painfully she instinctively pressed a hand against it, letting go of one of his hands to do so. Merlin...All those years. All those nights she'd laid awake wondering when would be the day that he would come and bring her home. She squeezed her eyes shut at the guilt, which traveled up her throat and threatened to spill out into an anguished cry. The worst part was that he was drowning, and she knew it, but left him anyways, all alone.
When he finally used his now free hand to begin unwinding the bandage, she instinctively wanted to stop him. She wasn't sure she could bear to see it, yet she couldn't look away. Her trembling hand reached forward as he revealed a multitude of scared cuts along his skin, cuts of pure distress and agony, cutting at the mark that had damaged their family. She hovered over his arm at first, afraid to touch him. When she finally did, she had only meant to comfort him by her touch, but soon the room fell away. The corridors of Malfoy Manor stretched before her, every piece of furniture and several family portraits exactly as she'd left them. She heard a noise and then she saw him stumble into view. His robes were wrinkled, his face drawn with exhaustion, his movements sluggish from drink and the remnants of the previous night. Gone was the immaculate aristocrat the world knew. This was simply her husband, but yet, it wasn't for he was so lost. So withdrawn and angry. He called for her, waited for a moment, and then called for her again, his voice echoing through the empty halls. Each time he entered a room, hope would flicker across his face and then it would disappear when he found nothing.
"I'm here," she said, running after him. "I'm right here." She reached for him, knowing what was coming in the memory. Her hand passed harmlessly through his shoulder. He couldn't hear her, couldn't feel her, because she wasn't truly there, only watching. She was made forced to witness this. At last, he wandered back into their bedroom. His gaze settled upon the bedside table, where her wedding ring lay like a final verdict. His expression didn't change immediately. For one suspended moment, it was almost confusion before it moved into a look of disbelief and denial as she watched him see her letter and moved to pick it up. "No...," she whispered before he'd even unfolded it. His eyes darted across every line, and she remembered writing those words. She wanted to tear the parchment apart, to snatch it from his hands. His knees buckled as though the strength simply abandoned him. He sat heavily on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing. Minutes passed. Or perhaps it was seconds...time had ceased to exist for her. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, as she knelt before him, even though he could not hear. "I'm so sorry."
Eventually, he stood and his movements had become strangely mechanical. He wandered the manor like a ghost haunting his own home. The silence became unbearable. Then a crash, as glass shattered somewhere beyond the corridor. She flinched as the crashing sounds continued, one right after the other. The sound echoed through the manor that she had once been filled with music, conversation, and her children's laughter. Now it was only filled with the sounds of things breaking. The room he was standing in now was unrecognizable as the memory forced her to move with him, fragments of crystal glittered across the floor, portraits hung crooked, and furniture had been overturned. Lucius stood in the middle of it all, breathing hard. She had never seen him look so utterly alone. Not during the war, not beneath Voldemort's shadow, not even in Azkaban. Eventually, his strength gave out, and he collapsed to the floor amidst the wreckage. She did the same, closing her eyes for a moment, not wanting to watch the next part as she sank to the floor against the nearby sofa. The anger in Lucius vanished as quickly as it had come, with only deep pain remaining as his shoulders shook and his lips moved. She couldn't hear every word he whispered, but they came in fragments. Her name. Draco's. Celeste's. Broken apologies. Promises made to no one as he laid there with no one to tell him that despite everything, despite her leaving, she had never once stopped loving him and he was much more loved than he felt in that moment. She crawled toward him and tried to embrace him, too caught up in the emotions to think clearly. He was beyond her reach. The memories came in fractured pieces after that. His eyes wandered and his breathing grew uneven. He stared at the Dark Mark upon his arm for what felt like an eternity. The sight of it seemed to extinguish the last flicker of hope inside him. "No." She was crying openly now. "Look at me." He couldn't. "Please, Lucius..." She watched him make a choice, not out of weakness, but out of an overwhelming sense of torment as he reached for the glass and began to use it upon his arm. A strangled sound escaped her throat before she even realized she'd made it. She couldn't speak. What words existed for something like this? Tears streamed silently down her face now, but she made no effort to wipe them away. "No!" She reached for him again and again, with every attempt ended the same way. She screamed until her throat felt raw. She begged, pleaded, promised impossible things: "I'll stay...I won't leave...We'll find another way...I'll fix it." She watched the color gradually drain from his face and his eyelids grow heavier as the fight began to leave his body. And she couldn't do anything as she knelt, practically laid, beside the man she had loved for most of her life, imprisoned behind the invisible wall of memory. She had never felt so utterly powerless. And it was then, the memory ended and she was back on their bed with Lucius across from her.
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