Gray Sky Morning

By: Meghan~Jinx

Authors note: All I'm gonna say is that this song makes me cry. ::sobs:: I'm a weakling. I hope you like. :) Took me a month. That's a long time for a fic this short. See, this was a fic I could only write when the inspiration hit me, to keep it fresh. And I'd like to thank my wonderful beta-reader, Starfish Girl, for her great constructive criticism and good eye when it came to spotting mistakes. (To think, I couldn't find a thing wrong with it!) I couldn't have done it without help.

I'd go as far as to say, acted as though they didn't exist… when they knew perfectly well in their mind that they did, in fact, exist, because without this 'ignored person', they were nothing.

They wouldn't love without this 'ignored person'.

They wouldn't even have a son without this 'ignored person'.

They would be your average sinning and selfish human being, wrapped up in his own self… like the rest of us.

But who am I to talk? Am I some heavenly angel, on her perfect cloud, watching the corrupted world through her tears of pity and sadness? Nay, I'm not anything of the sort.

And I could go out on a limb and say I'm even worse and more selfish than most are. Most people would

expect that of me, you know. The way I carry myself, my personality is not that of a particularly one to be fond of.

At least I know Lucius exists. I even love him.

But with all these years I've put forth, could I at least have some sort of light, instead of sitting in the dark,

watching life from lonely eyes?

Not that I'm downright invisible. It didn't used to be this way. No. He used to love me…adore me… worship the earth my feet graced.

To think of it, we never really got along either. It was like sticking two different people, with different views in the same household, and expecting them to reach some sort of agreement on how things work. We always though the other was wrong… especially when Draco was brought into this world. Parenting turned out to be one huge argument. He wanted to do this, I wanted to do that… and there we went.

But armed with my memories, I can recreate this perfect world we used to live in.

Everything was perfect.

Except, at the same time nothing was so special at all. I find it personally sick if your world is so perfect that the smallest change with cause so many tremors in it that the ground will shake, and your building will fall, and you'll knock it down.

I'm guessing that's what's happened to me.

Sometimes, when I'm alone, and it's dark, and half-baked thoughts race through my mind, I wish I could just leave my world.

Maybe I will.

Maybe I will.

But who would notice I was gone?

The rain thundered outside, and raindrops and wind beat the windows with such force, that it seemed that invisible hands were knocking against the glass. Terrible bolts of lightening illuminated the otherwise dark house and caused me to jump with each crack.

I sank deeper into my chair, keeping a firm eye on my hands as they flew across the soft yarn. I didn't like being by the sea on a stormy night like this one. The ocean looked so terrifying.

But afterwards, it was back to being smooth and calm.

And that's what I braved these storms for.

I shivered as the house walls shook.

My eyes drifted towards Draco, who was sitting in a high-backed chair, a book I didn't recognize in his thin fingers, his huge, beautiful silver eyes floating over the words delicately, and quickly with such grace.

The crackling firelight shone off of his pale face, and the shadow of his body in the pieces of furniture moved in time to the flames behind his head.

I smiled. It was a sad sort of smile, reminiscing about something my face couldn't show. Looking at that face, (solemn as a priest), it was somehow painful.

You know, the greatest feeling of all has to be motherhood. I remember holding his small form in my arms, wondering about all the great things he'd do, and the great person he'd be.

But not everything turns out the way you see it in your mind's eye. It was a bit like a painting you messed up, but you couldn't quite place you finger on the mistake. You knew the problem was there, but you didn't know how to find it, or how to correct it.

I stared back into the fire, hypnotized by its rhythmic dance.

I remember when we found this house. We were young, foolish really. Just married, and ready to take on anything, and like most 19-year-olds, believing ourselves to be invincible.

What could be more romantic? An old house on the beach.

He fell in love with that house.

He was a typical male falling in love with useless, worldly possessions.

Like he fell in love with that boat.

Like he fell in love with that house.

Like he fell in love with that beach.

Too bad he never really fell in love with me.

I felt hot tears prick my eyes, and one, lonely tear run down my cheek.

The tear dropped and fell onto the delicate yarn. And no one noticed it falling. Lucius and Draco were so indifferent sometimes.

Did no one notice?

Or did no one care?

The loud chimes sounded through the night, and reverberated off the silence that hung so thickly in the morning air.

One o' clock.

And I was still awake, lying noiselessly, watching the rain splatter against the window, and still just thinking.

Underneath the terrible, black clouds, I saw the nearly full moon casting a silver glow around the mass occasionally.

I rolled over as quietly as possible, and slid my arm under my pillow, and laid my head back down on it again.

I watched Lucius. His blonde hair was in perfectly neat disarray. His eyes were barely closed, and his mouth in a thin line. He's such a light sleeper. I can nudge him ever so slightly, and he'd awake. But at the very same time, he can sleep through anything. He's just like that. He contradicts himself often, a mild-mannered person, but the at the slightest annoyance, his horrible temper will go off like lit fireworks, barely able to contain themselves.

He's much like Draco. Not only in appearance but also in the way they live. It's as thought they both have some personal little universe, their own little dreams, and thoughts, and fantasies. And they understand their worlds.

And they won't let anyone in.

So mysterious.

Exactly like a riddle, which keeps getting more complicated every time you attempt to solve it.

An enigma.

I remember someone telling me once, that Malfoy's were extremely odd, and difficult at times, and they 'couldn't be trusted… but don't doubt their integrity, completely, either'. My grandmother said that. She had known Lucius's grandfather, very closely, until he broke her heart over some pretty part-Veela, whom of which besides her social status was 'a tramp, when you really got down to it'.

That 'tramp' was Lucius's grandmother.

They were very intricate, indeed. Lucius's great-grandfather was murdered in his early twenties, by his wife, a girl from Italy, when their son was four.

Then she killed herself.

Tragic things have happened in their family history of the Malfoys. It scares me sometimes, wondering if the family is cursed. My grandmother, of course, says it is. Said to me, if I married a Malfoy, something bad was bound to happen.

Nothing ever did.

Maybe now I was living the curse.

Lucius shifted a little, drawing me away from my pondering.

Then he began to move more, and eventually, his eyes opened, very groggily, and very slowly. But when they were open, they were alert, and that seductive, eerie gray color they are.

The look in his eyes took me by surprise, even though I'm used to seeing it.

It's so intense, as though he's reading you, or evaluating you, and after all these years, I think maybe he's trying to judge me, in a sense, but if it's anyone he should judge, it should be his own reflection in the mirror.

And sometimes, it seems as though he's a stranger, and he still intimidates me to a certain point, like he's the hawk, and I am but his defenseless prey, quailing under the gaze of his hungry, skillful eyes.

But these eyes also questioned. As though the predator was an intelligent animal, skeptical about his own instinct, but attacking anyway.

And it scared me.

Deep down, to the depths of my fears, it scared me.

"Lucius!" I said. "You surprised me. What are you doing up?"

His mouth twisted into a smile. "What are you doing up? Watching me like this… is anything bothering you?" he asked, a concerned look overcoming his curiosity. Now, like the predator was resentful at what it had done, and felt the pain of its prey.

"I can't sleep," I replied.

He nodded, and propped his body onto his elbow. "You can't sleep."

"I was just up. Thinking."

"Thinking. Really. About what in particular?"

I wasn't expecting this question. I looked into those eyes and said, "To be truthful, about us."

"Us? You and I?"

I nodded; my finger tracing a circle on the sheet underneath me.

"I am. Lucius," I started quickly. "What's happened to us?"

"What's happened to us?"

"What has? We used to be so close. Now it seems as though we barely know each other. And I don't like that. It tears me up inside… it…" I ran my fingers through my tousled hair, and let my words hang in the air.

And hang they did.

An uncomfortable silence settled, mingling with my words, and finally, canceling them out entirely.

"Are you saying something, Narcissa? I mean, is this about something else I—"

I cut him off in mid-sentence. "I meant, bluntly, is this the end?"

He seemed very taken aback from the inquiry. "The end? Of you and I?"

"The end. Are we finished? It's like we're strangers… I feel so overwhelmed… I just feel like… I need to clear my head."

He cast his eyes to my hand, which was lying haphazardly on the pillow, and slipped his strong one into mine and held it very tightly. It felt warm, and secure, and so unlike the world around me.

"So, what's that mean to you?"

"What would you do if I said I wanted to leave?" I burst quickly, leaving hardly any room for air.

"You want to leave?" he asked, squeezing my hand tighter.

I let go of his hand. "Yes!" I said, tears for the second time, pouring out of my eyes. "I feel like I'm trapped…screaming with no answer. And everything I do is shoved aside callously, and kept in the dark. And... and... no one listens! It's as if no one cares anymore. E-especially you."

He looked very hurt, and confused and angry all at once. "I don't do that to you, do I?"

"Yes and… I am. I think that's what I'd like to do sometimes, just start over. No me, no you, no D—" I stopped. No, I didn't want to take back Draco. He was the best thing that ever happened to me.

He was maybe the reason I didn't leave Lucius.

Well, maybe that was about to change.

Lucius laid his head back down on the pillow and I followed the action shortly after.

I wriggled slightly under the covers, and lied very close to him, to where my head was at level with his chest, and

I could faintly hear his heartbeat. He reached out a comforting hand to stroke my head.

"Maybe I will leave," I whispered, my tears profusely running down my face, and dripping onto his shirt.

One by one.

I awoke the next morning from the burning sunlight in my eyes. Blinking, trying to wake up, I looked around the yellow room.

I've never really understood the expression 'sunlight streamed in' until right about now, when the sunlight washed over the room very brightly, enough to awake me.

I sat up, stretching my tired joints, and yawning in a slightly dizzy manner. My eyes flicked to the clock (which read 7:02) and then to the spot next to me, which was empty.

Narcissa was certainly up early. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, and winced as my bare feet hit the cold, polished wooden floor.

I crossed the room, still a bit stiff, and pulled back the curtains slightly, to peer out. The sun was still coming up, and from the looks of it, was a perfect, blue-sky day.

And there, on the sand, sat Narcissa. She gazed onto the open sea, as though there was an article so fascinating, that her eyes couldn't bear to drag away from it.

She looked very lonely, for lack of a better word, sitting all by herself, on the huge beach, that seemed to swallow her figure. Her dark blonde hair was blowing in the fierce wind and the sun gleamed off of it perfectly, looked more as though she had a halo, more than the gorgeous locks she possessed.

I pulled myself reluctantly away from this image.

It hurt.

It hurt like daggers.

I didn't like her to look like that. It was almost like I was lonely, and broken-hearted, empty and drained, wondering how it all went so fast, like the blink of an eye.

Fifteen minutes, I walked down the hard stairs, my boots clicking against the smooth wood.

I paused briefly at Draco's room, wondering if he was going to wake this morning, or not. Then I wondered if he was up already. But this thought was quickly canceled by a loud snore.

I headed into the kitchen, where, by surprise, I saw Narcissa sitting at the table, a cup of strong black coffee in her hand. She sipped it slowly, and then smiled up at me.

"Morning, Lucius," she said, still smiling her tired smile.

"I saw you outside," I answered, pouring myself a cup.

"Oh, yes," she said.

"How long were you out there?" I asked, taking a sip of the frothy liquid, which filled my mouth with a pleasant, warm, indescribable sensation.

She nodded, swirling her spoon aimlessly in her cup.

"Since five. I couldn't sleep. I awoke when the clock chimed five… and I couldn't sleep. So, I just got up, and watched the sun rise. Very romantic and beautiful, you know."

She lifted the cup and took a small sip.

Then she spoke again, her eyes shining with nostalgia. "We used to do that… do you remember?"

I nodded as I took a seat opposite her.

"Of course I remember. In the summers…I do."

"C-Could… we do it again?"

"What, watch the sun rise?" I said dryly.

"No… not exactly, anyway. I mean, everything we used to… cycling, walks… we don't do anything anymore.

I-it's like you don't love me anymore."

I searched for the emotion on her face, but I couldn't place it.

"Remember what we talked about last night?" I asked.

"Yes. And I do feel that way sometimes. It's almost as though I feel left out."

"Left out of what?"

"Of… you! Of what you think! Of you and…Draco…and…"

"So, some of it is about Draco—"

"Yes, it is… some of it."

"What about him?"

"I'm not… not exactly…maybe… it feels like I'm almost jealous of him."

"And what on earth are you jealous of?" I asked, dumbfounded.

"Of you and him. You know each other…so much better than I ever knew you. And I just don't understand

Draco."

I had nothing to say to this.

She took the silence as an answer, though unsatisfied.

"It feels like I'm not loved… like you love him more than me, and that seems so very selfish, and downright horrible, to feel envious of your own child, but I do. I envy your relationship. I just wanted so much to know you! To understand your mind…it's so different, and I can't! It's like there's a block between you and I. And Draco and I. He never acknowledges me. Only when he wants something. It's like I'm in the dark," she finished, shaking her head.

A sound of footsteps. I looked up. There stood Draco, still in his pajamas, tousled haired and bleary eyed.

"Morning," he yawned. Then he turned to Narcissa. "Mother, what's for breakfast?"

Clunk!

Narcissa had set down her mug forcefully.

Slam!

Narcissa had left the house, slamming the door after her.

Draco stood, nonplused. He looked from the door, to me, and then back again.

"Was it something I said?"

I walked away.

I walked away from there.

I knew where I was going—yet, I didn't exactly.

Try and make sense of that. Try and make sense of anything. Try and make sense of me… if you can. If anything now, could make sense. Now? Did it ever make sense? Will it ever make sense?

Out across the beach, I strode, the sand crunching under my shoes. The morning was gorgeous, like most summer days. And the water was calling out to me in its indistinct song. As though arms of waves, reaching across the sand, the gentle lull of the sea's pattern, like a sleepy dream, mesmerizing the senses into one's own personal utopia.

I let its sound wash over me, as my shoes made a quick departure from my feet.

I inserted one bare, pink foot into water.

Instantly, the soft, cool water came crashing over my foot. It was so pleasing, and wonderful.

I stuck both of my feet in the water this time, walking across the moist sand that melted at my touch.

It would sound so tragically cliché, to say that the wind felt as though 'invisible hands were coursing their fingers through my hair'. But despite that, that is what they were doing. If you could call the wind a thing, exactly.

It was more like spirit, I guess.

"Mother?" said a soft, apprehensive voice.

I whirled around.

There stood Draco, a long black cloak billowing around him, his eyes burning brightly in confused hurt.

The look was so classic. I remembered the look from when he was a little boy. It was his 'injured-feelings' look, and seeing it, (though his face held no emotion, it was in his eyes, and mind) nearly broke my heart in two.

"Draco."

"I-I need to talk to you."

He stepped forward and sat down on the grassy bank, created by erosion and time. His forearms resting on his legs, a thoughtful expression etched on his face, filled with sadness, beyond his young teenage years.

I sat next to him.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" he said, after a short while.

"What is?"

"The sea. It's… just beautiful."

"I know. I guess that sometimes I wish I were like it. Water, I mean. It never has to stay in one spot because it must. It can just move like it likes…"

Draco turned his head to look at me, his eyes now questioning. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

His sharp response took me by surprise.

"It didn't mean anything."

He continued to stare at me. "And I know it did. What's the matter, Mother?"

"Draco… have-have you ever felt like you were trapped inside something, but the harder you tried get out, the more you were sucked in, until it was nearly impossible?"

He cocked his head to an angle, as thought trying to analyze what exactly I was getting at.

"I can't say that I have. Is…that how you feel?"

"Yes! Yes, that's exactly how I feel."

"And, are we your hole?" he asked, his voice adopting a cold tone.

"No, Draco, that's not what I mean…"

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean… sometimes I think about leaving."

"Leaving us? Leaving me?" he asked.

I barely nodded.

"How could you?"

"Sometimes, Draco… I feel like I just… like no one listens. And no one cares anymore."

"Of, course," he replied, a sarcastic edge sharpening his tone a bit. "No one cares for you. You think it's all about you don't you? Do you even care what I feel? How could you honestly say that I don't love you, or appreciate you, or whatever sort of crap you're trying to feed me, when you don't even take the time to know me?"

I felt a sick, guilty wave wash over my body.

"You…you never acted like you cared," he said, in a voice of disbelief, shaking his head, slowly. "You never knew me… Father always—" He climbed to his feet and stood over me, looking down. How quite symbolic. His condescending mannerisms were almost too much to bear. Like his father, he often judged people.

"Never knew you?" I asked, lifted myself up, to where I could look him straight in the eye. He was nearly as tall as I was, and our eyes bore a direct line into each other, as though trying to figure out each other's originally intended motives. "You never let me know you."

"I did. You were too egocentric and self-absorbed to see. Because you were blinded by your own problems, your own self-pity, expecting everyone to feel sorry," he spat, saying the word as though it was a vulgarity, "for you. When you didn't realize I wanted to love you, Mother, but you didn't even notice I existed."

"I did, though," I pleaded, trying to convince myself that every word wasn't true… it couldn't…but it was so obviously clear…

"Rich, beautiful, and a social butterfly. Here, there, flitting between this direction to the next, never staying at the same flower to realize what kind it is, or even taste the sweet nectar. I was that flower, and you never stayed on me long enough to even make a lasting impression."

And then, for not the first time, I felt hot tears pricking my eyes, stinging as they rolled silently down my face, my hand not daring to wipe them away.

"You'll never understand," he whispered. Then, as though he had reached into me and withdrew a piece of myself, and was now violently squeezing my heart in his hand, he turned and began to walk away, towards the house.

Then he paused, and hissed, "Nor will you care."

I heard from the next room, the sound of heavy breathing. I heard next to me, Lucius's quiet voice, drawing in each breath slowly, and releasing it with a lower of his chest. The moonlight shone through the windowpanes, casting a four square pattern on the mattress, illuminating the room with its cold, bluish glow. The moon was almost gone from the sky. Only a powerful sliver of it remained.

I turned and looked at the clock I seemed to be a slave to. It was now two.

I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, and let the sleep grasp its strong hands over my mind, and pull me into a fantastical world of my dreams.

But a sudden blow of thoughts knocked me out of my slumber world. It was night. I was alone. I had my things.

I had my wild musings.

I had my dreams.

I had my time.

I had my guilt.

I leaned over, and watched Lucius intently. The gentle rhythm of his breathing was a lulling hypnotic trance in itself. I desperately wanted to reach out, and tell him I wasn't leaving and to stay. But ultimately, we both knew what was to become of us now.

I inclined my head forward, and felt my lips connect with his. I placed my arm in a strong grip across his chest, and pushed forth all my energy in this long, last kiss.

This woke him suddenly. As his eyes snapped, I reluctantly pulled away, my lungs shuddering in an attempt not to cry.

"Narcissa… what?"

"Good-bye Lucius," I whispered, quietly. "I love you more than words right now can say. I can only hope, with an inkling of hope, that…that you will feel the same. Maybe after I'm gone. I wish you would now."

And not missing his confused protest, I crossed the room to my closet, and extracted my suitcase.

I sat up straight.

"Narcissa!" She walked back to the bed, the suitcase in her arms. She dropped it onto the bed, unlatched it, and began to remove clothing from the dresser, folding it into the open bottom.

"Narcissa!"

She ignored me, and continued to pack. I finally threw the covers back and stalked towards her, and grabbing her firmly by her shoulder hissed, "What are you doing?"

She turned her body sharply, and broke loose of my grasp.

"I'm leaving, Lucius. I threatened. I said I would. I am."

"Leave, how can you leave?" I snapped, just noticing afterwards that my voice had come out more harsh and callous that I intended it to.

"Like this." She wrenched a small band of gold that gleamed, even in the dim light, and placed it into my hand.

Her wedding ring.

"How selfish are you?" I asked, more begging and indignant anger overthrowing my stern tone completely, as she closed the trunk with a snap.

She really leaving.

"Selfish?" she countered, her eyes holding a maniacal glitter, giving the chance I could describe them as such. "The ONLY selfish being around here is you," she said, jabbing her finger sharply into my torso. "Lucius Malfoy."

"Narcissa! Narcissa, wait… what is it you want I—"

"What I want?" she repeated, in a tone barely recognizable to my beautiful wife's. "Why didn't you care days ago? When I told you? No. You only cared when I finally did what I said I would do. Admitting your faults is a last resort, Lucius, and I might as well add that you are known for diving in at the last minute, knowing that the worst has come, trying to stop it after the damage has been brought on. You never take it seriously when the trouble itself speaks to you in whatever form it may. You only react when it reacts to your own ignorance. Which I hope you drown in." She opened the door, and slammed it in my face.

"Wait Narcissa! I love you! I do! Is that what you want?" I called, plowing down the stairs after her.

Narcissa stopped.

"No," she said flatly. "What I want, I see now you can't give me."

"Answer me! What do you want?!"

"I want love," she breathed, dropping her baggage next to her ankles.

"I love you—"

"No, Lucius, I do not want false words. Broken promises. This isn't about you. This isn't about Draco. This isn't even about me. It's about us."

"Where will you go?" I asked, dumbly, half-shocked that I was losing this battle.

"The Muggle bus. There's a stop not far from here."

"Narcissa, you realize you're making a big mistake?"

"I know my mistake. Not seeing through you. Let me tell you what happens when a person is taken for granted. They are like a rubber band. Pulling. Stretching. And then it snaps." She lifted her bag and opened the door.

I felt unshed tears lump in my throat. I would not cry. I have never cried.

And, in her cold blue eyes, I saw something. For a split second, I saw sadness. I saw loneliness. I saw what she wanted to tell me. If only I had understood then.

They never lost that look. Even when she uttered in a miserable, melancholy whisper that wavered when she spoke. "Snap."

The grabbed her bag, and shut the door after her.

The clock upstairs rang out. It was four.

I snatched the door open, and stepped out onto the porch, the freezing morning air surrounding me like a haunting aura.

The sun was but a line over the ocean, and the sky was still a deep, rich purple.

And I watched her.

I let her go.

I let her snap.

The next moment, I heard feet barreling down the stairs and Draco's frantic voice as he stepped onto the porch with me.

"Where is she?" he said, whipping his head around.

He spotted her walking away, but a pinpoint in the distance.

"I never said sorry…" he murmured, shaking his head slowly. "No…no…"

He sprinted across the dewy lawn

"I love you now, Mother. Mother! Mo- oh, lord…" he stopped, and began to sob, shaking his head, muttering, "I'm so sorry."

I was the one who was sorry. But instead of comforting him, I gave the path a last disgusted glance, before turning away. I couldn't bear it any longer. I shut everything out but my thoughts.

I knew what had happened. She was right.

I would drown. I'd drown myself in my own oblivious ignorant ways, and guilt, and resent that I knew would swallow me. I'd already started.

And I was right.

She was like a boat; left tied up at sea too many nights. Then when a storm hit, the boat finally broke free.

And sailed away.