The Affair

Chapter Seven: Life at Home: Part II







The most profound statements are often said in silence. Lynn Johnston (1947 - ), For Better or For Worse, 01-15-04







He was ignoring her and she didn’t like it. Narcissa was a vain creature and she could admit it. She liked having Lucius beneath her heel. She enjoyed having him try repeatedly to lure her into conversation, to have him seeking her attentions, her forgiveness, and she liked refusing him. She liked having the power in their relationship over the last several years. It was heady, addictive like a drug.







Over the last few weeks his attempts to connect with her had dwindled. He no longer tried to make small talk over dinner and when she went to him for her pocket money he didn’t slip her the extra galleons for “something special” as he normally did. He had been ignoring her. He did NOT ignore her; SHE was the one who did the ignoring.







He had been acting so strangely, smiling and humming to himself. He spent almost all of his time locked up in that stuffy old study but she had seen him out in the yard playing with those infernal dogs of his earlier in the evening. Something was amiss and she felt her hold on him slipping.







“You seem rather happy today.” She said coolly. He looked up from his plate, rather shocked to have her speak to him.







“I got some fresh air; it did me a world of good. I shall make the effort to get out more in the future.” He said, returning his attention to his meal.





“Don’t expect a warm welcome. Ten years has done little to soften your reputation.” She sniffed.





“I would never presume to be welcomed warmly or otherwise.” He said tightly, irritated by her snide remark.





Narcissa was a bit flustered by the irritation she heard in his voice. He had been so emotionless for so long that she wasn’t sure how to respond to the sternness in his voice.





“Well, it has been over a month, I suppose your needs are upon you. You may come to my chambers this evening.” She said loftily as though she were doing him a great favor.





He looked up and nearly laughed. His needs were upon him? She made it sound as though his sexual desire were something that came with the full moon, like lycanthropy or a woman’s menstrual flow. He stared at her for several moments. She really was beautiful, yet he felt nothing. Not a single stirring of interest.





He had no desire what so ever to share her bed. To have her lie beneath him stiff and unfeeling. It was punishment, not pleasure and he was tired of it.





“No thank you.” He refilled his wineglass. “I am in the middle of a very good book.”





A book? He was refusing to come to her bed for a book? He never refused her! Ever! In all their years of marriage he had never walked away from an opportunity to have her. Did he not realize that she was doing him a service by seeing to his needs? She didn’t care for intercourse, she never had. She only engaged in it because it was expected of her.







She was losing him. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t survive the shame of it if it were to become public knowledge that she couldn’t keep her husband happy. Or if, god forbid, he were to leave her. She would be destitute!





“Are you certain? I find myself quite eager for your company.” She said, trying to sound warm and seductive.





Lucius quirked a brow in her direction and the corner of his mouth lifted.







“I am very certain, Narcissa. And you are not eager for my company and you never have been. You have a reprieve from your wifely duties, I should think you would be pleased.” He saw the familiar disdain reshape her face and realized that his rejection of her offer had angered her.







"You never refuse me. Have you taken a mistress? Wait, of course not, no woman would have you with your background. Is it a brothel you are visiting?” She asked.





“There is no one else meeting my needs, Narcissa. I just find myself…uninterested….at the present.” He said.







“Well it is only logical that a man of your age would find himself with performance issues.” She sniffed. She was deliberately trying to insult him. How dare he refuse her offer?







“I am quite capable, just not interested.” He said unapologetically. He found her little digs rather amusing. She really was a conceited bit of fluff. It hadn’t always been so. She had loved him once, and he had loved her. Somewhere along the line between the dark lord, prison and war they had lost the warmth that they shared.







“Fine, I hope you enjoy your book!” She said, rising from the table and tossing her napkin down in a fit of temper. “Do NOT expect me to so generously offer myself to you in the future.”





“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He said, stifling his laughter as she flounced from the room. For once he enjoyed the silence as he ate his dinner. His mind filled with an afternoon spent outside with his dogs and Hermione. She was a breath of fresh air in his stifling, lonely life.







He finished his dinner and retired to his bedchamber, alone, where he settled into bed and into the book he had begun the night before. He didn’t regret his refusal to share a bed with Narcissa. While his body did have needs he found more satisfaction at his own hand than with her. Of course she would make him pay for his rejection, but it was worth it for the peace he felt with himself.