Author's Notes: Last chapter. Thank you to those who have been commenting and following along. I'd really appreciate your final thoughts.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is copyrighted to and belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just playing in her sandbox and own none of her associated characters.

Chapter 7

"Your absence has gone through me like thread through a needle.

Everything I do is stitched with its colour."

—W.S. Merwin

May 3, 1998

Lucius made the slow, agonising progression towards his family sitting room. The accompanying silence that followed him down the once decorative hallway of his stately home, now vacant and destroyed by a vanquished Lord Voldemort, overpowered his echoing footsteps. His thoughts were a jumbled mess of emotions, ricocheting to and fro like miscast jinxes unable to hit their targets. Hot tears prickled his eyes as he reached out a trembling hand to grasp the doorknob, knowing whom he would encounter on the opposite side of that door...and whose heart he was about to shatter.

The arresting silhouette of a quiet Narcissa greeted him upon entering. Her hip-hugging robes were grimy and ruined from the battle,—she, Lucius, and their son hadn't yet found the will to change their clothing—and yet, her posture wouldn't have indicated that the strong-willed witch was at all recently ruffled by war. Her blonde locks too were tousled, strands falling loose from her ornate bun, but, to him, she was still radiant to behold.

As Lucius noiselessly shut the door behind him, his wife turned, as if in slow motion, and greeted him. Her haunting eyes acknowledged his presence, gentle, yet understated. Her cheeks contained a few minor cuts from the battle but she remained as stunning to Lucius as the day they first met, if not made more divine by the aurora of her strength.

"I put Draco to bed," she murmured, sounding quite exhausted, her arms drawn protectively across her chest. "I instructed the elf to give him some Dreamless Sleep to help him rest."

"Good." Lucius visibly hesitated to approach. His watery eyes were suddenly noted by Narcissa, whose gaze, at once, sharpened.

"What is it, Lucius?" she inquired, half dreading whatever information he might bring.

Lucius seemed to need another moment to collect himself before he forced himself to cross the room and join her. "I...have news," he began in a slow drawl.

Narcissa gathered his hands in hers. "Good news, I hope?" She stared up at him beseechingly, though her heartbeat had quickened. It wasn't like the old Lucius to hold back his emotions in front of her when they were alone.

"I... I'm afraid not, Cissy." He paused, inhaled an unsteady breath, and released it with a lamented sigh. "Severus is dead."

Narcissa continued to stare at him, at first unreactive and unblinking to this turn of events. The entire world seemed to have gone silent and still in her ears, however; the earth beneath her feet ceasing to rotate. It took her considerable time to find her voice, though her quivering tone didn't appear to grasp Lucius's heart-stopping announcement. "Wha - What?" she stammered and jerked back, her chest rising and falling more rapidly.

"The Dark Lord," Lucius tried to explain, with calmness, his hands clutching his wife's tighter. "He was dissatisfied...about the Elder Wand. He blamed Severus."

"Where is he?" she demanded. Her eyes, widened and jolted beyond what mere words could convey of her feelings, bolted towards the heavy door.

"Cissy—" Lucius started.

"I want to see him!" she screamed, startling Lucius into momentary silence.

"My darling, you can't." He seized her by the arms and pulled her closer against her will. Her breathing was erratic, her eyes wistfully unsettling as they stared somewhere beyond his reach. "There's no body."

Narcissa shook. "What do you mean, 'There's no body'?" she exclaimed accusingly.

Lucius ignored it, sensing the depths of his wife's pain. "The Shrieking Shack... There's only blood now, Cissy. He's not there."

"NO!" she exclaimed and burst into tears. She wiggled uselessly against her husband's firm hold. "He might be out there! He might still be alive!"

"No, Cissy," Lucius insisted, as a stray tear trickled down his face.

He hadn't expected to cry; he had no acceptable reason to. Yet, the devastation knocking him off balance was enough to bring Lucius to his knees. Despite all of the rage and disappointment still wrestling for dominance within his heart, he had lost a brother. He wanted to keep it together for Narcissa's sake but found that he too was faltering.

"Potter witnessed it all, my darling. He watched Severus die..."

"NO! NO!" Narcissa began shaking uncontrollably, her voice skyrocketing to a level of hysteria unlike anything Lucius had ever witnessed from her small frame, as she proceeded to cry until she was hoarse, "He may still be alive! He may still be alive!"

Lucius forced an emotionally wrecked Narcissa into his embrace, eventually shushing her gut-wrenching wails with persistent rubs to the back of her neck. "He's gone, my love," he muttered, crumbling alongside her, as he repeated the news over and over again in a pained effort to help them both come to terms with their loss. "He's gone."

May 2, 1997

"In a perfect world, I'd have you both."

From behind, a low, spine-tingling growl tickled Narcissa's earlobe. "That makes you greedy and deranged."

She chuckled, containing a contented smile against the convenience of her plush pillow. "I've made it a habit of getting what I want," she reminded her chosen company, her fingers mindlessly stroking the wiry arm that hugged her around the middle. She could sense his enjoyment by his even breaths that kept the nape of her neck warm.

"No one can have it all, 'Cissa," he whispered after some time had passed in silence. "Not even you."

"I don't believe that," Narcissa insisted.

She rolled her head sideways to decipher her lover's worn, hard face. It rather befuddled her at times how much older Severus looked as compared to either her or her husband. For now though, his deeply-set worry lines were free from tension, offset by that dominating hooked nose and a weary pair of eyes that tended to carry the weight of the world in their depths. To her, he was grotesquely beautiful in all of his gross imperfections, both prominent and subtle. She brushed his chin to maintain his attention.

"I must say," she chided faintly, as she leaned in to capture his lips, "I've come pretty darn close to having everything I could ever want."

"When did I become one of your prized possessions?" he inquired in a casual grunt that broadened Narcissa's grin. She knew that Severus was, in actuality, quite curious as to her answer.

"The moment I fell for you," she confessed, with surprising ease.

Severus's scowl deepened. "I thought we agreed to hate one another for the rest of our miserable lives."

Narcissa broke into soft laughter. "It would seem that neither of us was able to keep that promise."

"So it would seem..."

It was the closest Narcissa had ever gotten to admittance from her long-time lover. She didn't require a reply anymore, for she had long since realised that a declaration on top of a hilltop or on bended knee wouldn't secure her anything more than what Severus Snape was willing to provide: fragments of an irrevocable broken heart; never whole and never to entirely belong to her.

Still, in that moment, a stunted awareness washed over Narcissa. She was hearing the deeper recesses of the wizard's quiet, messy affections. He did care for her and had basically conceded to it, even if it was upon the heavy throes of sleep. Why else would he have not put a stop to their dangerous liaison years ago, Narcissa had too often argued with her fragile feelings, or ceased holding her in bed in the manner that he did now: closely nestled together, his embrace suggestive of a certain dedication as to be daringly compared to the other dead witch who still held claim over him?

Yes... Surely, he must love me too...

Secretly gratified, Narcissa continued stroking Severus beneath the chin. His thick eyelashes fluttered at her attention. As the silence prolonged and Narcissa's persistence held, a satisfied purr slipped a relaxed Severus's mouth before he could stop it.

"I can't love you the way that you deserve, 'Cissa," he averred, his sluggish words unexpected and somewhat apologetic-sounding.

Her caressing momentarily paused. "No," she avowed after a moment and inclined into him for a deeper, reaffirming kiss, "but you can carry on loving me, Severus, as much as you are able to..."

Severus's eyes opened halfway and, this time, regarded her without judgment or ire or derision. They were considerate, even slightly kind. He tilted further into the kiss and amplified it, his passionate conveyance expressed without purple prose or a heartfelt confession.

Narcissa unfurled herself to receive him fully and sealed the kiss for all time, committing it to memory. Yes... In his own mucked up way, he does love me too.

January 9, 2000

Lucius observed his captivating wife's elegant movements from a short distance away, remaining half hidden behind an abundance of Mme Plantier white roses: her favourite. Like the remainder of their picturesque outdoors, the flowers had been charmed to withstand England's frigid winter chill. He reached out to delicately finger a few of the soft petals with one gloved hand, inhaling their pleasant aroma. His lips swung into an appreciative smile and returned to Narcissa in the garden, unaware of her husband's thoughtful study of her figure.

She had been overseeing the painstaking renovations to their gardens ever since the end of the war, spending much of her time in the outdoors, whether the weather was suitable or brutal. She had replanted and tended to many of the blooms herself, and it was still a bit of a shock to Lucius to witness his wife bent over in the soil, the bottoms of her robes dirtied and sometimes torn by such absurd manual labour. He didn't understand its physical practice, but he understood Narcissa's emotional need for it in her private world.

She took tremendous pride and care in her work, and it showed. The Malfoy gardens were more bountiful and breath-taking than ever, a testament to all of the witch's hard-placed exertions over the past several years. Every now and then she would resort to using her wand to lighten the load, however, and today was no exception, as she clipped the charmed hedges in front of her with a few short flicks of her wand.

Narcissa was busily inspecting an assortment of flowers that had never been planted in their garden until shortly following the war—white lilies—when Lucius came up from behind to more closely survey her work. He rested his hands on her shoulders and commented into her ear, "They're looking splendid, my darling." He pecked her neck in admiration.

Narcissa cocked her head to the side, her gaze quietly considerate. "They are, aren't they?" she mused as well.

The atmosphere here was reflective and soundless, the couples' expressions matching the solitude of this special sanctuary mostly shielded to outsiders by the other larger blossoms within the garden. It had become a place to mourn openly without scrutiny; to contemplate and remember.

Here, before an assortment of white lilies, was Severus Snape's final resting place—a homage to a man whom the Malfoy's had loved and lost and, alone, sought to pay their respects—though his body had never been recovered. If one of them was nowhere else to be found around the manor, the other could almost certainly find them here, standing or seated before the lily bush, sometimes speaking to the small plaque in front of it that read, in simple letters, Severus's full name, date of birth, and date of death.

Lucius had taken himself aback by how much he frequented this spot, seeking to make peace with his old friend. He had forgiven him, knowing he wouldn't be able to move forward if he didn't, but forgetting and understanding was tougher. His wife visited the place daily. He didn't question why.

Lucius kissed the back of Narcissa's head and spoke casually again, "I think he's enjoying your efforts immensely, Cissy."

"I hope so..."

The ambiance returned to its quietude. After a while, Lucius gently shook Narcissa's shoulders, drawing her out of her reflections. "Come." He gently looped her arm through his and tugged her away from the lily bush. "Draco will be along soon. We should be inside to greet him."

The expression Narcissa bore him wasn't exceptionally happy, but her eyes were softer and a touch consoled as they stared into Lucius's. It was a positive indication that she was having a relatively good day and that heartened him too.

Narcissa nodded agreeably. "Of course."

The Malfoys turned their back and strolled towards the estate arm in arm. A short pause later saw Lucius compelled to ask, as he lovingly squeezed Narcissa's hand, "Are you happy, my dear?"

She peered up at him without speaking—at first—her mind reserved and meditative for a period. Then she answered, with infallible honesty, "As much as I'm able to be, my darling."

Lucius didn't press her to elaborate. Narcissa brought his knuckles to her lips and adamantly kissed each one, bestowing on them all of the love that her delicate body still contained; that remained attached and loyal to him as she had ever been at the start of their relationship.

Narcissa chanced a fleeting glance at the lily bush over her shoulder, smiling sadly for it alone, as she kept pace at her husband's side and re-entered their house. She would guard that portion of her heart like a protective shield, wearing it muted and locked for the rest of her days.

Happy birthday, my love. You were right... I could never have it all.

A/N (cont.): Thank you for reading. Reviews are always greatly appreciated.