Something different I Severus/Lucius/Y/N

new scars

I had taken a sleeping pill the previous night, overwhelmed by the cacophony of distressing thoughts that refused to quit. My sleep, however deep, was abruptly cut short by an aggressive banging on my hotel room door the next morning. Groggily, I stumbled to the door, my heart pounding with a mix of fear and annoyance.

As I opened the door, I was immediately confronted by an irate Lucius. In his hand, he brandished a copy of the Daily Prophet, the headline blaring about an alleged scandalous relationship between me and Snape. His eyes burned with fury and betrayal as he thrust the paper in my face.

"What the hell is this?" Lucius shouted, his voice laced with anger and disbelief. "You and Snape? Seriously? Is this some kind of joke?"

I took a shaky breath, the accusation and his tone cutting deeper given the recent emotional roller coaster. "Lucius, it's not what it looks—"

But Lucius was not in a mood to listen. "That thing in Rome with me and him was a one-off! I thought you had feelings for me!" His voice escalated with each word, a crescendo of wounded pride and misunderstanding. "And now this? You're just playing games, aren't you? Playing with me?"

His words stung, and anger flared within me. "Am I a whore?" I retorted sharply, my voice rising to match his. "Me? What about you, Lucius? Promising me the world, the future, when you can't even provide honesty!"

In a fit of fury, I grabbed the bouquet of roses he had given me—the symbol of his supposed sincerity—and swung it at him. The thorns scraped across his face as I struck him with the flowers, leaving red marks in their wake.

"Especially since you meet attractive women in cafes like yesterday," I spat out, my voice trembling with rage and betrayal.

Lucius recoiled, a hand going up to his face where the thorns had scratched him. The shock on his face from the physical blow seemed to mirror the shock of my words. For a moment, he was speechless, and then his expression hardened.

Lucius's face hardened as he reached into the back pocket of his trousers, pulling out a small stack of papers. His movements were stiff, each action deliberate, as he also retrieved a wedding ring and today's newspaper. With a swift, bitter motion, he flung them at me. The papers fluttered and the ring clinked against the floor, a stark sound in the tense silence.

"It's done," Lucius stated coldly, his voice cutting through the air. "These are the divorce papers—signed and finalized. Narcissa and I are officially divorced."

He paused, his gaze sharp and unyielding. "Anne, my friend and lawyer, brought these to me yesterday. Everything is settled."

With a dismissive gesture, almost as if shedding the last vestiges of his previous life, he added pointedly, "I wish you a pleasant rest of the day." The formality of his tone couldn't mask the underlying sarcasm and bitterness that coloured his words.

The pile of papers on the floor, now a symbol of Lucius's newly granted freedom, lay between us.

As Lucius turned to leave, the finality of his actions left me both disappointed and angry. The cold manner in which he had delivered the divorce papers and dismissed everything between us cut deep. He didn't even give me a chance to explain, to tell my side of the story amidst the chaos stirred by rumours and misunderstandings.

"And I thought I was starting to love you," he said, his voice cracking with a mixture of hurt and frustration. His words echoed down the hallway, a desperate plea for him to pause, to listen, to understand.

"Lucius, wait!" I called out as he continued to walk away, his steps firm and resolute. But he didn't stop or turn around; he didn't even hesitate. It was as if his decision was made, his mind closed to any further discussion.