Chapter Text
The moment the news reached Malfoy Manor, the air turned glacial.
Lucius Malfoy had always been a composed man. Aristocratic, poised, a silver-tongued diplomat who could weave his way through any situation with little more than a well-placed sneer. But today, as he stormed into St. Mungo’s, his normally impassive face was a mask of cold fury.
He had barely registered the mediwitch who tried to stop him. A mere flick of his wrist, a whisper of a spell, and she was frozen in place—not harmed, but certainly not in his way anymore. He would not be stopped.
The corridor felt endless, and the sound of his boots against the floor was the only thing keeping his temper from unraveling completely. He reached her room and threw open the door without a second thought.
And there she was.
Narcissa. His Narcissa.
Pale against the pristine white bedding, her two-toned blonde-and-black hair spread across the pillows, her brown eyes dull with exhaustion. Bruises bloomed along her arms, peeking from beneath the loose hospital gown, and a thin cut marred her cheekbone. But worst of all—the thing that made his breath catch and his hands curl into fists—was the heavy bandage wrapped around her side, where he knew she had been struck.
She looked up at him, and despite everything, she smiled.
“Lucius.”
He was at her side in an instant, dropping to his knees beside the bed. He took her hand, fingers ghosting over her knuckles as if she were made of porcelain. “Who?” His voice was deceptively calm, but the ice in it could shatter bones.
She sighed, shifting slightly, and he could see the effort it took. That only enraged him further.
“Some fool at the Ministry,” she murmured. “Young, reckless. Thought he’d be clever. Said something about traitors.”
Lucius’s jaw tightened, a sharp breath slipping through his nose. “What did he do?”
“Blasted me into a wall before security stopped him.” A wry smile. “It was quite the scene.”
He closed his eyes for a brief moment. When he opened them again, his fury had not lessened; it had merely become sharper, more focused. “Is he dead?”
“Lucius.” Her tone was amused, but there was something soft beneath it.
His fingers traced up her arm, brushing over the bruises, his touch featherlight. “He should be.”
“Lucius,” she repeated, this time firmer, squeezing his hand. “I’m here. I’m alive. I don’t need a bloodbath in my honor.”
The truth was, Lucius had never been a particularly violent man—at least, not in the way people assumed. He preferred politics to brute force, manipulation to mindless aggression. But there were exceptions.
And no one touched Narcissa Malfoy without consequence.
He exhaled slowly. “He will regret it.” It wasn’t a question. It was a promise.
She sighed but didn’t argue. She knew him too well. Instead, she shifted slightly, wincing, and he immediately stood, adjusting the pillows behind her, fussing in a way he rarely allowed himself.
“Narcissa, you should have called me the moment it happened,” he murmured, smoothing a hand over her hair.
“I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Worry me?” He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his pale eyes sharp. “Cissa, I felt it the moment something happened. I knew something was wrong. And when the call came—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what it did to me?”
Her expression softened. “Lucius…”
He sat down beside her, his composure finally cracking. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a reverent kiss against her fingers.
“I cannot—will not—lose you,” he murmured against her skin. “Not to some reckless fool who doesn’t know his place. Not to anyone.”
Her fingers traced along his cheek, grounding him. “You won’t,” she promised.
Lucius held her gaze for a long moment before sighing. “You will be coming home immediately after the Healers approve it. And until then, I will not be leaving your side.”
“Lucius, I—”
“Not up for discussion, dearest.” He smirked, though the worry never left his eyes. “You know how terribly stubborn I am.”
She let out a soft laugh. “I do.”
Gently, he pulled the blanket up higher around her. He hated seeing her like this—hated knowing she had been hurt. But for now, all that mattered was that she was here, with him.
And whoever had done this…
They would pay.