THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SENSITIVE CONTENT. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

Without further adieu, I present to you...

Me and My Husband

Lucille Granger

"Draco," I spoke softly, knocking on our bedroom door, "Have you eaten yet?"

He grumbled. Disregarded my question and took another glass of bourbon.

"Draco?"

"I haven't," he replied flatly, sipping on his glass shortly after. "Have you?"

"I have," I said. "Jack came a few minutes ago. Dropped off some sweets from Belgium. Narsa, too. Do you want me to bring you some?"

"No, I don't want to eat anything."

I sighed, closed the door, and pressed my back against it. I refuse to cry. Nope. Not doing it. I take another deep breath before heading downstairs.

I've always hated this new home. I can never get used to this fucking house. This isn't the house that Draco built. This isn't the house I designed.

The creaky floorboards, worn-out furniture, the horrible color schemes. Picture frames with no bloody pictures.

This isn't home.

I decided to clean up the kitchen, hence that I have nothing else to do. I look around to see if there are any messes I haven't gotten to yet. Turns out I've done almost everything.

Great, now I really have nothing to do.

I can hear the footsteps of my husband descend the stairs. Reluctantly, I hold my breath preparing for whatever is about to come.

His hair is dull. He's wearing a white t-shirt and worn-out Christmas pajamas tied together with a pair of slippers.

"You said Jack came here? Narsa?" Draco mumbled, inching closer with the glass in his hand. Please don't break that glass. Please don't break that fucking glass. "Did they even want to say hi? Did they leave me a postcard? Nothing? Just dropped off some fucking sweets from fucking Belgium?"

"They send us postcards every time they see a new location, Draco. I show you all the time—"

"Those bloody postcards never have my fucking name on it! They're for you! They're not for me!"

"Draco, you're being irrational—"

"Oh, would you just shut it? Admit it, Lucille. They hate me."

"They don't hate you, Draco—"

"Lie again—"

"They don't—"

"Lies—"

"Draco, why would they hate you—"

"Fuck's sake, Lucille! You and I both know that our children hates me! Oh, but they just cherish you! What do you have that I don't?"

"Well, maybe it's because I don't have alcoholism, Draco. Ever thought of that?"

And there it was. The fuse that met with water.

Draco clenched his jaw and his hand around his glass. I had nothing to fear anymore. Younger me would've been at the edge of my seat.

With four kids and two homes with Draco, he couldn't scare me even if he tried.

"You don't mean that," he gritted through his teeth, inching closer. I stood still with my arms crossed, looking right at him. "Take that— back."

"It's the truth, isn't it? You come down to eat, and you go right back up into our bedroom to drink and drink your whole life away."

"Lucille, you don't know what I've been through. You have no idea—"

"Oh, I don't?" I softly chuckled. "Well, go on. Enlighten me! Tell me what you've been through. Let's compare struggles!"

He scoffed, slamming his glass on the kitchen counter. "You're a fucking joke, Lucille. For starters, I've been lied to—"

"No, we've been lied to, Draco! It was you and I! You and I have been lied to! But it's you who won't heal from it! It's you who won't accept it. It's really just you!"

"I have accepted it! I have! But how about you have a close family member lie to you for 19 straight fucking years—"

"He lied to the both of us, Draco! What the fuck is not clicking? Our children forgave him. I, for fuck's sake, healed from it! Why can't you, Draco? Why did you turn your anger into your bloody addiction?"

"Because why don't we face it, Luce? Poor little Luce can't fathom life without Lorenzo. What, you think I'm stupid? That I don't see right through you?"

My throat tightened. "What are you talking about?"

"You don't think I know where you go every damn year on January 1st? For the past 5 years?"

"Draco—"

"You have dinner every year with my—" Draco clenched his fists, "fucking enemy. Every. fucking. year. After he lied to us, too. About our son. Hell, is Jack even mine? Since you want to keep secrets?"

"God, do you hear yourself?! I mean, seriously! Yes, Draco. I eat dinner with Lorenzo. And you know who else? I eat dinner with Luna. And their children. Because unlike you, I care for our other side of the family."

"You're stupid for that."

He yanked the refrigerator door open and looked for some alcohol, I assume.

"How am I stupid, Draco? Tell me."

"For starters, you forgave someone who hurt you. Someone who hurt us. Our whole family, in fact—"

"And you didn't? I mean, how many times did I let you step on me! You used me as a source to escape your reality back in school, but I was never able to escape mine! You turned into your father, treated our children like your father did you, and yet here they are still asking how you are! You are probably one of the biggest hypocrites I know, Draco Malfoy."

Draco's mouth laid flat.

"You know so much about being hurt, yet have you ever stopped and wondered who you hurt? Scarlett, Oliver, Narsa, Jack," I stepped closer, a tear almost leaving my duct, "Me. Draco, I clean your vomit every night. And you call me a cunt, a bitch, a betrayer. Do you— are you aware of the things you say when you're under influence?"

Draco closed the refrigerator, facing me with his jaw clenched. It's like he had nothing to say. Like he couldn't choose the right words to say.

"I—. I'm sorry."

"There's no way you're sorry when it's something you keep doing."

"Lucille—"

"Clean our fucking bedroom. I want all the alcohol bottles gone from the dresser. I want the sheets changed. Pillowcases changed. And your wine cellar? Empty it. They're all empty bottles, anyways."

"Luce, I—"

"And you still keep talking. Draco, I have spent nearly my whole life listen to you complain about everything around you. Every little thing that you can't stand? I've heard you complain all about it. The children we had? The children that you wanted? Let's be honest. And let's be really honest. Who raised them all? Sure, you tucked them in to bed. Read them bedtime stories. Played ball. Took them to games. But do you remember any of that?"

"Of course I do, Luce. How could I?"

"Maybe because you've been drunk through all of it."

He gulped.

"I have an issue, don't I, Lucille?"

"Heard that line before."

"I—. I need to get help."

"I took you to Onyx. Hell, I even took you to Amelie who specializes in addictions and traumas. You still couldn't help yourself!"

"It's hard, Lucille—"

"It's like talking to a fucking wall, Draco. You say you want help but you can't pull your fucking head out of the gutter and help yourself. You have a lot of excuses. And I have heard them all. When are you going to start making real change?"

"I'm sorry," was all that he could say. I had nothing else to say as well. I watched him open the refrigerator again, pull out a bottle of whiskey, slam the door closed, and drag his body up the stairs.

And I stood there. Dumbfounded. It was as if I had no energy to cry over this. I was, once again, emotionally and mentally drained.

In attempt to numb out the urge to cry, I took the glass he left on the counter and brought it to the sink to wash it.

Suddenly, I hear Draco descend from the stairs. I turn my head to see him bringing empty bottles. He's holding onto them for dear life.

Turning back around, I continue washing the cup. Placing it onto the drying rack, Draco throws the bottles in our trash. I dry my hands and turn around, leaning on the counter while facing him.

Draco faces me as well, hands in his pockets and back slouched.

"I want to know why you forgave him," Draco mumbled. "I want to know what made you decide to forgive him.

"He's family—"

"No, that's not it, Lucille."

"That's not just it," I added. "I don't want to keep living my life angry at someone for something irreversible—"

"Why, Luce?"

I looked at him with an arched brow. "What do you mean 'why?'?"

"I'm going to ask you again, Lucille," Draco snarled slowly. "Why did you forgive him?"

"I already told you why."

"You love him, don't you?"

"Excuse me?"

"Do you love him, Lucille?" Draco sighed as he took a seat at the table located in the middle of our kitchen. "Sit across me."

"Draco—"

"Sit. Across. Me."

Rolling my eyes, I dragged the chair from the table and sat onto the chair aggressively, mainting eye contact.

"Do you love Lorenzo?"

"I love him and his family—"

"No, no, no," he chuckles. "I asked you if you love him. Him only."

"No, I don't love him."

He laid against his chair, still looking into my eyes.

"He doesn't deserve your forgiveness."

"You don't deserve me."

Draco rolled his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "I don't?"

"No."

"I put you in a house. Two, actually. I gave you children. Got you everything you asked for. And now you're saying I don't deserve you?"

"Because you don't."

"And who does?"

"I'm not a fucking object, Draco."

"Now, I didn't say that."

"You're talking like I am—"

"And you're putting words in my mouth!"

"You came down here to ask me stupid questions! Suddenly I'm putting words in your mouth? Please waste your time somewhere else."

He scoffed. "Give me one good— and a good reason why I don't deserve you."

"I can give you 5."

"Go on."

I leaned closer, eyes still in tact with his. "You were aware of my naivety when we were younger, so you went ahead and decided that one day it'd be nice to have sex with me to numb whatever you were going through. The only moments we shared were in the bedroom. Most of them, at least. You asked me to marry you after you had sex with me. When we 'lost' Jack, you went out with your father. The day after Narsa was born, you went out with Blaise and got really high. And I'm talking really high. When I got pregnant after Narsa and told you I was no longer able to take care of anymore kids, you got angry and left for three weeks. I had to terminate the pregnancy with Narsa. Narsa was 3 years old, and I had to take her with me. To the fucking clinic. Because no one could watch her."

Draco stayed silence. He looked down at the table and fiddled with his fingers. Speechless and lips ajar, he sighed.

"That was 6."

"What?"

"You said 5 reasons. That was 6."

I bursted from my chair, tears running down my face and my blood nearly boiling. I clenched my fists while stomping upstairs. Quickly as possible.

And I knew Draco was following me.

I stormed into the room and slammed the door, locking it.

I pressed my back against the door and eventually fell to the ground. Tears flowed fast. Passing my lips and seeping through, the taste fueled my anger even more.

Though I didn't make a sound.

Draco knocked on the door gently.

"Let me in, Lucille. I'm sorry."

Just shut up. Please leave me alone.

"Lucille?"

I exhaled. Sniffled a few.

"Lucille? Can you let me in?"

I got up and jolted towards my sidetable. I pulled the drawer and took out my wand. At an instant, I apparated.

The whirling and spinning came to a hard stop as the wind knocked air out of my lungs.

The beeping of the heart monitor almost felt like music to my ears. I approached the hospital bed and slowly smiled, wiping the tears away from my eyes.

I reached for her hand as she woke up. Her eyes widened, then she raspily chuckled.

"You scared me," Onyx spoke softly. "You were just here yesterday. You okay?"

I wanted to tell her everything. But I couldn't dump everything on her out of nowhere, especially in the situation she is in. Instead, I smiled and nodded.

"Now I am."

***
D I S C U S S I O N
I am sorry.
Book isn't over yet.
I apologize for any errors. I'm writing on my phone.