Don't Close Your Eyes

Don't Close Your Eyes

Catch me as I fall

Say you're here and it's all over now

Speaking to the atmosphere

No one's here and I fall into myself

This truth drives me into madness

I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away

The door opened with a clank. Lucius looked up from where he stood hunched in a corner. He squinted and cocked his head, trying to discern a shape in the divinely bright illumination from the hallway.

A slender, youthful form. Tumbling, golden hair. Brilliant blue eyes.

"Narcissa?" he rasped, stumbling forwards. "Narcissa, what are you -" His toe caught on a stone and he fell forward. Sprawled on the floor, he panted, and peered up through a curtain of limp blond hair. Narcissa had disappeared, replaced by a solemn Azkaban guard.

"Get up, Mr. Malfoy," the man grunted, aiming a light kick towards Lucius's arm. Lucius got up quickly and the guard pulled him forward, out of the cell. He glanced down the hallway; Narcissa was gone. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" Lucius asked as they were quickly flanked by more guards. No Dementors, yet. Luckily.

"The execution chamber."

Ahh, that was right. He had almost forgotten. No, that was a lie - one could not forget about one's own execution. But he had been in a steadfast state of denial.

*****

Don't turn away

Don't give into the pain

Don't try to hide

Though they're screaming your name

Don't close your eyes

God knows what lies behind them

Don't turn out the light

Never sleep never die

He wondered vaguely how he could be sarcastic in times such as these. He remembered his father telling him that 'you only die once - make the most of it.' Of course, his father had been hit by an automobile in London. His mother had had a hell of a time trying to get his body back from the officials. Damn Muggles.

Lucius remembered his father's body laid out in the family crypt. His long blond hair spread out across the pillow, his hands clasped on his chest; clothed in his finest clothing and resting in a marble sarcophagus.

Lucius had been only nine, and was utterly devastated; he was too young to truly remember the death of his mother. His older brother, Abbadon, had told him to pull himself together, but all he had been able to think about was his father's cold, dead body, his grey Malfoy eyes forever closed.

It had been only seven years later when another death graced the household. This time it was his brother, murdered by a political assassin - presumably sent by the Argentinean ministry.

Abbadon had been a good master of the Malfoy estate, establishing a good many political connections - especially with the Black family, whose daughter Bellatrix he left widowed but well financially endowed.

He remembered Bellatrix at the funeral ceremony, all large eyes and red lips behind a black veil. And next to her, her younger sister, a third year at Hogwarts - Narcissa.

He recollected how Abbadon looked. How could he not? They were only five years apart, after all, and Lucius was almost grown - they could have been twins. The only thing Lucius could think about, as he bent over to kiss Abbadon's cold cheek, was how easily they could have been reversed, switched. And perhaps they had been switched, souls going from one set of grey Malfoy eyes to the other - Lucius had never felt the same since.

*****

I'm frightened by what I see

But somehow I know that there's much more to come

Immobilized by my fear

And soon to be blinded by tears

I can stop the pain if I will it all away

Lucius shivered, shaking himself out of memories he'd rather have left forgotten. His family might have died, but he still had Narcissa and Draco.

No, not Draco. Not anymore.

Lucius had never been so proud of his son as on the day the boy had died. In school, Draco had never been the best in anything - academics or Quidditch. But he had been a regular Prince of Slytherin, and when he joined the Death Eaters, so did many others. And Draco always had excelled at the Dark Arts - the result of too much bitter, pent-up energy, perhaps.

It had showed, out there on the final battlefield. Draco had been Hell's own avenging angel, all green light and silver fire.

But their side had been losing, driven back from Hogwarts centimeter by centimeter. It had been quite clear that they would lose, and no one had ever accused Slytherins of being brave; many young Death Eaters turned sides that day - Blaise Zabini was one of them. Lucius had watched in horror as the two words left the lips of Draco's classmate and a wave of green rushed towards Draco, enveloping him. Draco had looked towards his father in the few moments that he realized his doom. The boy's eyes closed, his knees bent, and he crumpled.

Lucius had seen three generations of Malfoys close their eyes for the final sleep. But life wasn't supposed to work that way, was it? One wasn't supposed to bury one's father and brother and son.

*****

Don't turn away

Don't give in to the pain

Don't try to hide

Though they're screaming your name

Don't close your eyes

God knows what lies behind them

Don't turn out the light

Never sleep never die

The guard gave Lucius a push, and he stumbled through a set of open doors into an area that reminded him, perversely, of an opera house. Was his death to be the entertainment of the day, then? Dozens of journalists sat in the audience, waiting to report the execution of Lucius Malfoy. Lucius sneered. He'd probably make the front page of the Daily prophet - one last kick before the end.

His smirk disappeared quickly, however. Two Dementors waited in the middle of the floor - one to kill him if the other did not. No Malfoys had ever been Kissed by a Dementor. Every body lay in the Malfoy crypt, which had been built eons before, when the first Malfoy came over from continental Europe.

In that moment, Lucius realized he didn't want to die - not like this, anyway.

"We are gathered here today," came a bodiless voice, "to witness the execution of Lucius Vladimir Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy has been sentenced to the Kiss for a multitude of charges, including but not limited to the possession of Dark artifacts, murder, ownership of Polyjuice brothels, bribery of Ministry officials, and illegal cauldron trafficking."

A snicker rose up from the crowd. Lucius felt a grin tugging at his mouth, but hid it behind a stoic face. Amusing how they'd kept track of the trafficking, he had to admit - that had been some 25 years before.

"Mr. Malfoy, you will be granted audience with one person before you are executed. Who do you wish to speak to?"

*****

Fallen angels at my feet

Whispered voices at my ear

Death before my eyes

Lying next to me I fear

She beckons me shall I give in

Upon my end shall I begin

Forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet the end

"Narcissa Malfoy, my wife."

"Mrs. Malfoy, do you wish to speak with the convict?"

"Yes," said a clear voice from the audience. Lucius had always fancied that if a voice could sound like a bell's, Narcissa's definitely qualified.

Narcissa Malfoy stood and walked towards the magical barrier which separated her from her husband. She tested it with a leather-clad foot before stepping through, and thanked the gods of Muggle fashion that pointy-toed boots were in season.

A guard asked her for her wand. She looked down her nose at him, and he flinched away. Of course he would not take her wand - she was a Malfoy, and a Black.

She strode towards her husband, unconsciously smoothing the front of her blazer as she went. She mustn't look bad around Lucius, not on the day he was to be - her heart contracted - executed. A vulgar custom, that. Narcissa had never liked it much, she thought it brought the government down to the level of the criminal. Not, of course, that Lucius was 'below' the Ministry - quite the reverse.

Narcissa's heart fell as she came closer to Lucius. The strong, powerful man she loved seemed to have been replaced by a pathetic creature. How could a week in Azkaban have broken him so completely?

She stopped in front of him, hands on hips. "Lucius, you're a wreck. Look at you -" she reached out to adjust his collar, and he felt the smooth leather on his face - "you look like you haven't bathed in a week. Smell a bit like it, too. And your hair ..." She sighed.

Lucius smirked. "Good to see you haven't changed, darling. Beautiful and cocky, as usual." He pulled her towards him, and he was amused to see her put her hand on her wand holster. "Not planning to use that on me, are you?"

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "The guards are probably on the verge of a fit, worrying that you're going to grab it."

"Mmm, grab what?" he drawled, and held her against him. She was so warm, as warm as he was cold. "Not even a kiss for your dying husband?"

Narcissa looked him in the eye. "Don't try your tricks on me, lover," she warned. They both leaned in for a kiss at the same time. Narcissa wrapped her hands in his hair, and he held her in his arms like a drowning man.

"I love you," she murmured.

"I love you, too," he replied softly.

Narcissa rested her head on his shoulder. "I miss you already."

"You can come see me gallivanting around in a great black cape."

She gave a very undignified snort. "I won't know which is you. I won't even have a body to visit. You'll be the first Malfoy not to be -"

"I know.

"When is Draco to be buried?"

"Next Monday. Half of the United Kingdom is coming, it seems. They're all coming to see an infamous Malfoy buried. None of them knew him, knew the little boy that came running to our room when he was scared by a thunderstorm, or broke his pinky when he fell off of his first broom, or -"

"Narcissa, you're getting sentimental."

"Right." She straightened and sniffed, dashing tears from her eyes. "It's not fair, you know. How dare they take away both my son and my husband. And Bella committed suicide last week - otherwise she'd be executed today, too ..."

"Bellatrix committed suicide?"

"Mhm, stole a guard's wand and Avada Kedavra'd herself."

Avada Kedavra, Avada Kedavra....

Suddenly, Lucius got a wild notion. "Narcissa?"

"Yes?"

"Kill me."

"What!?"

"I want you to draw your wand - very discreetly, of course - walk off about a meter, and then turn around and perform the Killing Curse. Will you? And don't tell me you don't know how."

Her eyes widened. "Lucius, you've gone mad."

"Hardly, darling." He pulled her into a tight embrace. "IT makes perfect sense, don't you see?" he whispered into her hair. "I don't become a Dementor, I'm buried in the Malfoy Crypt, you have a body to visit, and you won't even get in trouble because the Unforgivable Curses aren't unforgivable any more!"

"You're serious, aren't you," she stated, mouth dry.

Grasping her by the shoulders, Lucius said "Grant me this one last wish. I don't want to die like this."

"I-I don't know if I can. You have to want to, and I -"

"You must have conviction - it can be positive or negative. We love each other. You're doing it for me."

She closed her eyes. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

He kissed her tenderly. "I love you, he said, pulling away.

Narcissa looked up at him sadly. "I love you, too." She turned, and Lucius saw her pull out her wand in one smooth motion. She took two slow steps, and pivoted.

Blue eyes met grey for one eternal moment. "I love you," they both mouthed.

"Avada Kedavra," she said.

Lucius smiled as the green light rushed towards him. He savored his wife's face for his last seconds of life, and then his eyes closed for the final time.

"I love you, Lucius."