Love Thy Enemy

CHAPTER 31: Realizing the Truth





It had been a lovely evening, at least as far as Lucius was concerned. He and Hermione had led the dancing as was customary, and then spent the majority of the evening dancing with their guests, only to partner one another again for the last dance of the evening, a waltz.





She had proven to be a better hostess than he would have imagined, given she had not been raised to place importance on such things. When the final guests had departed she had wearily climbed the stairs to change from her gown. Lucius was strolling through his home, a drink in his hand and a pleasant feeling warming him. He had been so proud of her, of the way she handled herself. He laughed as he remembered her comments to that Parkinson chit.





“An Army of half-blood Malfoys indeed.” He shook his head in amusement. Not that he would mind being a father again. He had enjoyed Draco, had taken the boy everywhere with him. Unfortunately he had not been engaging in the most child-friendly pursuits and that led to his son’s poor choices and ultimate demise.





He would have liked to have had more children, but Narcissa had refused to go through another pregnancy and birth. She was too delicate, she claimed for such an ordeal. Lucius stopped at the end of the hall and stared at the wooden door that opened into the rooms of his former wife. Maybe it was time for him to lay all of his old ghosts to rest, and move forward.





Lucius opened the door and stepped inside. He had not been welcome in her rooms, or her bed for that matter for the better part of their marriage. Sex was messy and inconvenient in her opinion. Maybe that was why he felt so attached to Hermione; she enjoyed it, reveled in and made no secret about her enjoyment.





The room was so flowery, so overly feminine. The gilt furniture with their floral patterns and lacy edges made Lucius want to laugh. Hermione would hate it. There was so much clutter atop every surface that you could barely see the furniture. Figurines and trinket boxes, frames and little dishes of potpourri were strewn all about the room. Next to the fireplace stood a gilded easel with a canvas cover thrown over it.





He approached it slowly, scooting an ottoman closer to the easel and sitting down with his fire-whiskey. He sat there for several long moments before tugging the cloth away and staring up at the portrait. Narcissa had been beautiful without compare. Soft, pale skin, long blonde hair and bright eyes; she was the epitome of beauty. Tall and stately, she had carried herself with grace. She knew society and her place in it and she would not let anyone forget it.





“Are you there?” Lucius asked the painting quietly. It took a moment, but eventually the still image blinked and looked around the room, then down at Lucius.





“Hello, Lucius.” She smiled slightly. “It has been so long.”





“Five years, Narcissa.” He said, staring into his glass.





“Time doesn’t seem to matter when you have crossed over. Are you well?” She asked, her voice so familiar, yet it did not evoke the emotion it once had.





“I am.” He said.





“Draco has told me what happened.” She said.





“So you are together?” He was relieved to hear that they were with each other.





“Yes. He also tells me you have remarried. Will you not look at me, Lucius?” She asked, looking down at the top of his head bent over his drink.







“I don’t know if I can look you in the eye, Narcissa.” He answered.







“Won’t you try?” He looked up slowly and gave her a weak smile. “That’s better. You know I can read your eyes clearly, even when your words say something else.”







“I am sorry for failing you.” He said.







“Lucius, you didn’t fail me. I was a woman grown and I made my own choices. It was fated for me to go. I’m not complaining, I am happy on the other side and forever beautiful.” She smiled.





“I am pleased that you still have your priorities so straight.” He laughed softly.







“Are you happy with her? Your new wife?” Narcissa asked.







“Did Draco tell you who she is?” He asked. Narcissa nodded, an amused smile lifting her lips.





“He did. Young Miss Granger, correct?”





“Yes. Her name is Hermione.” He spun the ring on his finger idly. “I am happy enough.”





“Do you love her?”







“This marriage has nothing to do with love, Narcissa. It was a sentence.” Lucius said, closing his eyes.







“You didn’t answer the question. You feel something for her; I can see it in your eyes.” Narcissa observed him in amazement. He really had no idea did he?





“She is smart, clever and passionate. I have never met anyone with a spirit quite like hers.”





“But?”







“She’s not you.” Lucius said. “She could care less about clothes or fashion in general. She would rather have a book than a jewel. She wants to talk to me, all the time. She asks a million questions about the house, the family, and my business interests. She argues with me constantly, calls me names. I’m sure Draco told you why we were forced to marry.”







“Something about the two of you dueling in public.” She said.







“Almost dueling.” He chuckled.







“Are you going to answer the question Lucius?”







“Do I love her? I can’t answer that. I loved you, and what I feel for her is nothing close to that. She hates me and I can barely stand her half the time, yet I want to be with her. It makes no sense.”





“There are many ways to love, Lucius. You can never love two people, especially two people so different, the same way.”







“You are not upset?” He asked, looking at her in amazement.





“No, Lucius. I am gone from your world. You should move on. You should think about how you feel about your wife Lucius. I think you may find that your emotions run far deeper, and hers as well.” Lucius took a deep breath and smiled at the portrait of his dead wife.





“Would you like to be placed with Draco’s painting?” He asked. “Hermione said it would not bother her, whenever I was ready.”





“No, this is not my home any longer Lucius and your wife should not have to see me everyday of her life. This is her home now; let her make it her own.” Narcissa folded her hands back into her lap. “Just leave my painting as it is, Lucius. I am your past, let me rest there.”





“As you wish.” He said.





“Goodbye, Lucius.” She said softly.





“Goodbye, Cissy.” Her painting went still once more and Lucius felt free, finally.