Title: For Better of For Worse
Pairing: Druella Black/Abraxas Malfoy, Druella Black/Cygnus Black, with reference to Narcissa Black/Lucius Malfoy
Request: Druella Black/Abraxas Malfoy, spiralling out of control
Rating: PG-13, I think.
Word Count: 1, 248
Summary: They never remember that all great lovers die in the end.
Author's Notes: My idea was to go with the whole every action has a consequence. So the flash forward, to me, is merely a possibility she doesn't see coming. You can take it as either a possibility or an actuality though. I hope you like it.
The further into the maze she runs the darker it becomes. Light from the Manor dissipates until nothing but the stars break the night sky. Still she runs, holding her skirts up to avoid tripping, turning each corner with an ease that suggests she could run the whole maze with her eyes closed. In all honesty she probably could. She can’t hear anyone. Her own heavy breath and footsteps drown out anything else. So it’s not so surprising when she turns a corner and runs straight into his broad chest. His hands grip her arms and he turns her roughly, her world spinning as he presses her against the hedge. She can feel small twigs poking at her through her dress, the abrasive touch of leaves against her skin, and she loves it. His lips claim hers fiercely, passionately, desperately. There’s no correct way to describe it. But words don’t matter. They never have. Not when his body is pressed up against hers, his heart beating with hers.
As they break for air, his hands loosening on her bare skin, she grins mischievously and snakes out of his grasp like a true Slytherin. She walks backward, watching and tempting him. The grin remains, that of a cheeky school girl. It reminds him of those moments, what seems like a lifetime ago, when they would sneak off together into the darkened corners of Hogwarts. She beckons him towards her, kicking off her heels because Merlin knows she’s never liked the things. As he follows her lead she makes a break for it, her laughter ringing out across the night sky despite the fact they should be silent. But she’s always been that way with him, and him with her.
They’ve been too loud or too rough, too sneaky or too quiet. They’ve run the risk of getting caught more times than they are willing to count and they both know that eventually it will come back to bite them. Gradually they’re becoming too old for these games. They’re not children any more. In fact, they both have children now to other people. The childish nonsense should have stopped when they were legally bound to others. But it hasn’t and it won’t because despite the risks she can’t resist him and despite the scandal he could never say no to her. So their games continue, their dance speeds up, and their world spins together at a pace that leaves them dizzy and breathless.
“Cygnus, please, do not agree to this union,” you say firmly, standing your ground in his domain. The study seems cold and heartless, it’s lost the warmth it once had when you would bring the girls in to kiss him goodnight. “Surely there is another choice – a better choice.”
“I see no reason not to,” he tells you, raising an eyebrow questioningly as he glances up from his papers. “You said so yourself, my dear, it would be a good match. And as Bellatrix has already talked me into letting her marry the Lestrange boy, there is no other daughter to offer. The boy seems quite taken with her too, wrote to me himself. So unless you can put forward some reason as to why this engagement should not go ahead, I don’t see why I should object. Is there a reason, Druella?”
You meet his gaze, unable to look away, and it’s clear in that moment that he knows. He’s doing this to spite you because he knows. Your own marriage may have been one of circumstance but he has done nothing but love you, all the while knowing the truth. This is how he shows you he knows of your betrayal. This is what it all comes down to. Confess now and be done with it.
At the centre of the maze she spins on her toes, surveying the beautiful garden her husband has built her. It doesn’t matter that her stockings will be ruined. It doesn’t matter that her two children, four and three respectively, will likely inspect the bruises as she dresses the next morning and ask a number of questions she couldn’t possibly answer. What matters is the man that catches her around the waist, breathing heavily against her ear as he brushes back her hair and kisses her neck. She’s certain her heart will burst from her chest as it beats furiously with each steady breath.
“I caught you,” he breathes, his hands caressing her through her dress.
“Mm...” she rocks her hips back against him, his arousal evident. “But just what do you intend to do to me?” her voice is heavy as she turns her head, resting back against his shoulder. Her hand is in his hair, long blonde locks much like her own, and their lips meet again with an unbridled hunger.
When it comes to the act itself nothing has changed. They know each other inside and out. This is how it should be. This is how it will always be as far as she’s concerned. Because she doesn’t love her husband the way that he loves her and his wife is too prim and proper to understand the carnal desires they harbour for one another. That’s what it comes down to. It’s a natural attraction, a base animal instinct. Raw and powerful, fuelled by a love she’d only read about in her history books. Yes, that’s what it was. Antony and Cleopatra, Tristan and Isolde, Lancelot and Guinevere... They could conquer the world together if they truly tried. They’re not really hurting anyone, after all.
He stands, leaning forward on the desk. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
“No,” you find your voice, it’s shaky but you find it. This is it. You can’t go back on it now. If you confessed he would make it known. He would drag you through the mud with your own scandalous ways and it would ruin Narcissa. She would hate you and you cannot bear to lose another child, not when the pain of losing your second born is still so fresh. Straightening your back, you raise your chin and repeat the word with crushing finality. “No. I see no reason. But you allowed Bellatrix a courtesy at least allow Narcissa the same. You wouldn’t want your little Princess marrying someone she did not love, or even like.”
He holds your gaze a moment longer. “Invite him to dinner. They can take a turn in the garden together.”
You thank him with a smile and leave, praying to Merlin that she doesn’t approve of him.
She watches from her balcony as he leaves, a wicked smile threatening to break free at the corners of her lips. And all she thinks about is next time. The next event, the next chance her husband is away on business, the next moment she can sneak away to meet him. It’s not going to stop. As long as they keep others out it will never stop. She tells herself that over and over, her fingers running over the cover of the book Cygnus has given her for her birthday as she steps back into her bedroom. Within lies one of her favourite love stories, a complete documented history of Sir Lancelot and Lady Guinevere. She’s too in love to consider that it may be a message from her all too observant husband, and she’s too caught up in her affair to remember that all great loves die in the end.