That was hesitancy, wasn’t it? Not a game, not a coy step forwards when she paused or when she looked up at him, breathing deliberate. His every muscle was tense, anticipating some sort of outburst, either from her or himself, the emotions inside him, flaring and sparking until it felt like a thousand spells releasing, and he had no way of describing the roil of something in his stomach.
Or was that anger, her knuckles whitening as she stood by the chair, and then again in the center of the room, her lips pressed tight as though trying to prevent the words from flying out and attacking him. Would it be anything more than he deserved? Would he be able to take it?
Or was it determination and understanding, as she moved infront of him with the grace of a otherworldly queen, bearing and poise that made him feel insignificant as he stayed seated infront of her. Lucius couldn’t bear to look up.
But then she sat, and they were at equal levels, as they always had been, giving and taking and taking for themselves, as was the way that they only knew how, unable to deal with their own humanity. But he stayed until he exploded, while Narcissa never seemed to crack, the perfect pureblood bride.
Yet here they were, exchanging words of emotion, and it felt like the world was going to end. Then her words filtered through, and something in the air changed between them. Was she forgiving him? Narcissa had always blamed him for the direction that their lives had met and then continued in, blamed him for destroying what she had. Somehow, though, there was no lie here.
Lucius took the words and held them close to himself, letting them emblazon itself across his heart and brain, feeling some of the tension in him begin to bleed away. “I-.” His voice cracked, and Lucius had to look away again, away from the serenity and peace and forgiveness and goodness that she excluded. “Thank you.”
There was something more that he should say, some similar token of appreciation or something, but the words, for once, fell dead upon his tongue. A flicker of panic sparked when the moment continued to stretch, and Lucius tried “But that doesn’t mean my decision was right. There are many things I have done wrong since we started this relationship, and many of them I regret.”
He didn’t want them to start the relationship again, as though the misunderstandings had never happened, or to ‘turn a new leaf’ and change everything. Yet he couldn’t bear to continue the way they had been, or without the knowledge he now had. That he did, in fact, love her.
“How are we going to continue, with these words, and that text, hovering between us? What should -” I? We? You? “What can I do for you?”
gummygunk
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