11 August 1980

A soft wail roused Narcissa from her slumber. She blinked sleepily, squinting in the darkness of her bedroom. Through the bars of Draco's mahogany crib, she could see that her two-month-old son was squirming unhappily in his swaddle. Narcissa sighed heavily.

"Lucius," she whispered, without turning around to face her husband. "Could you change him?"

Lucius didn't respond. Eyes half-open, Narcissa reached out to sharply prod her husband next to her—but her hand came into contact with only air. Suddenly completely awake, Narcissa sat bolt upright in bed. Lucius's half of the bed was made, his pillows neatly stacked against the headboard. Narcissa's breath caught in her throat.

Slipping out of her bedcovers, Narcissa hurried across the bedroom and scooped her whimpering son out of his crib. At once, he relaxed and settled against her shoulder, cooing. Then, heart pounding against her ribcage, Narcissa crossed the bedroom and sidled through the door, onto the second floor landing of the manor. Holding Draco more securely in her arms, Narcissa began to climb down the nearby staircase.

The first floor was dark and drafty, and Narcissa was suddenly very aware of the fact that she had left her wand in the bedroom upstairs. Clutching Draco so tightly against her chest that he gave a disgruntled cry, she stepped very slowly and very carefully into the manor's foyer, whispering reassuringly in her son's ear.

"Narcissa?"

Narcissa whirled around, heart pounding. "Lucius?"

There was a low crackle as the foyer lamps suddenly groaned to life. Narcissa blinked, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the new light. And there, by the front doors of the manor, stood her husband, one hand clutching his wand. The other hand, Narcissa saw with a jolt, was on the serpentine door handle.

For several, long moments, neither Narcissa nor Lucius spoke. Narcissa simply gazed at her husband's hand on the doorknob, feeling something raw and painfully familiar ignite in the pit of her stomach, twisting uncomfortably.

At last, Lucius cleared his throat. "Narcissa…" he began softly.

"Were you going to leave a note?" she asked in a clipped voice, eyes snapping up to meet his. "Or were you just going to come back in the morning and pretend you were here the whole time?"

"Cissa, that isn't—" Lucius broke off, closing his eyes. Then, swallowing heavily, he lowered his voice. "Narcissa, this is urgent. You know I wouldn't leave unless—"

"Unless what?" she asked sharply. "Unless what, exactly? Because as far as I know, it doesn't take much more than the opportunity to ransack a Muggle village to send you running into the night these days—"

"The Potters have had a boy," Lucius interrupted in a low, tense voice, stepping away from the door toward her. His gray eyes were glinting in the dim light from the torches. "The Dark Lord just received confirmation—the boy was born in July. He needs us—immediately."

Narcissa stared at Lucius in shock. "What?" she whispered. "What does this mean?"

"I don't know any more than that," Lucius said, shaking his head. "I shouldn't have even told you—"

"Lucius," Narcissa cried desperately, stepping forward. "I—you—you can't—!"

She wanted to tell Lucius that she had had enough—enough of these late-night escapades and half-told stories, enough of waking up in an empty bed, enough of discovering new burns on his back, new scars on his arms. She wanted to tell Lucius that the Dark Lord was wrong—that there was no way—no way—that this half-blood boy, younger than their own son, could possibly be a threat to the most powerful wizard in the world. But she was too afraid to say these words out loud, no matter how much they were tearing up her throat, begging to be screamed.

"Narcissa, listen to me," Lucius said firmly, seizing her wrist. "I must leave. This is not negotiable, do you understand? This boy may have power to change everything for us, and I cannot waste another second—"

"And what about our boy?" Narcissa demanded in a hushed voice, her eyes smarting. The words were sticking painfully in her throat, and she swallowed hard. "What am I to tell him if you never come home?"

Lucius closed his eyes, releasing her wrist. "Narcissa," he said in a pained voice.

"You may be a Death Eater, but you are also a father," Narcissa said, her voice breaking. Draco gave a sudden snuffle of distress, and Narcissa held him closer, patting his back. "Or have you forgotten already?"

Lucius's face filled with fresh sorrow. He took a step toward her, and she could see, plainly, from the way he was looking at her that he wanted nothing more than to stay here with her and never leave. Already, she was regretting her harsh words, but she couldn't take them back. She couldn't.

"Cissa, please," Lucius began in a desperate voice—but he stopped short, inhaling sharply. Narcissa looked up to see him clutch his left forearm, gritting his teeth in pain. Her heart stuttered to a stop. "I must go," Lucius said hoarsely, pulling his hood over his head. Narcissa watched, feeling her heart lodge itself further and further into her throat, as he walked to the front doors and pulled them open.

In the doorway, Lucius paused for a moment. Then, he turned and glanced over his shoulder—and, in an instant, Narcissa felt her breath catch at the expression on his face, which was blazing with despair, and love, and gratitude, and a million other things that made Narcissa's eyes fill with tears.

"It's the saddest part of my day, leaving you," he whispered.

And with a final attempt at a smile, Lucius slipped out the door, which swung shut behind him with a click.

Narcissa stared at the place Lucius had disappeared for several moments, her ears ringing painfully. Then, suddenly, Draco let out a soft coo, and Narcissa startled, looking down at her son. His large, innocent eyes were blinking sleepily up at her.

And suddenly, Narcissa was undone. With a strangled noise, she sagged back against the wall holding her son, squeezing her eyes shut as the tears spilled over.

Author's Note:

All this extra time has got me finishing up ancient, half-written stories I gave up on ages ago. :D This story was written for a massively old competition on HPFC called the Cinema Competition. My prompts were:

1. Love Actually (Write about a romance, in any sense, whether it be fluffy or angsty or tragic.)

2. "It's the saddest part of my day, leaving you."

I don't write Narcissa/Lucius often, but they were the first couple I thought of when I read the prompts.

Ari