The Boy Who Lived, And The One Who Didn't
Narcissa stood in the doorway of his study, dressed head to toe in black, a grim look on her face. "So… you're really not coming down?" She whispered, stepping towards him. "You're not going to be there?"
It was the first time they had spoken to each other in a month, and she was already crying before he even opened his mouth.
Lucius studied her face for a second and nodded in confirmation. She looked horrified, as if he had struck her in the face. "To your son's funeral? Really, Lucius?" She spat angrily as she began to sob. Lucius turned away. He couldn't bear to make eye contact with her any longer.
"I don't deserve to be there."
"It was my fault. I don't deserve to be able to see my son laid to rest." He whispered, his voice breaking. "I killed him."
The silence hung over them. Narcissa stood there, shocked. Dumbstruck. She had no idea what to say. "You should probably get down there. Wouldn't want to be late." Lucius muttered. She moved closer to him. "Sweetheart, you didn't kill our son. That's… that's crazy. That's completely preposterous of you to say." "Oh, really? But it was my fault, wasn't it." He snapped. "I'm the reason he was at the battle in the first place. I failed to protect him, to save him, like I had sworn to do. I failed my responsibilities as a father completely." His lip began to quiver as he suppressed sobs. "And now…"
"And now our boy is gone."
"I don't know how you can even still look at me."
"...I can't." Narcissa whispered. "It's so hard to see what you've become. This isn't you, sweetheart."
"This is me. I'm sorry I convinced you that I was some sort of strong, upstanding, chivalrous man, but that cannot be farther from the truth. I am a failure. I'm a coward. I am a burden to all of those who must be around me. Even you. Especially you."
Narcissa could see him shaking, like he was teetering over the edge, about to collapse.
"Go without me. It will be easier for you and more respectful to his memory." He glanced out the window. "No one out there would care to see my face anyway."
"That's wrong." Narcissa responded. "Harry would."
Lucius snorted. "Harry? Harry Potter? The boy I attempted to kill in his second year? And then again in his fourth? Or was it fifth, perhaps? My memory escapes me."
"He loved our son, too, Lucius." Narcissa sobbed. "Anything that happened before or during the war doesn't matter anymore. We did what we had to. And in the end, we all suffered a great loss."
"That doesn't mean he's suddenly completely fine with me." Lucius retorted.
"He may be." Narcissa muttered. "He asked to see you specifically, after all."