I ignore the scowls as I lead my small son down Diagon Ally. I know why they scowl, why they look at me with nothing but the most utter discontent, they hate me. They think I am one of the most horrible people to walk the earth, they think I am evil in its purest form – Malfoy.
People didn't always react like this when I walked down the street. They used to greet me, even stop for a conversation, and even have coffee with me. That was before I married Lucius, before I fell head over heels in love.
My Lucius is not a bad man. In public he wears the mask of someone who is cold, distant, someone wicked. With me, he is never like that. He is kind, gentle, loving, never harsh or cold. I watch him play with our son, with love and pride shining from his eyes. My Lucius is not a bad man.
I knew certain sacrifices would come with becoming a Malfoy. I gave up my life's passion in order to become a subservient house wife. I gave up healing to join a family of killers. As passionate as I was when it came to healing, the art was replaced by another, more precious, something I loved more than anything – motherhood.
I love my darling Draco. He is a kind boy, always aware of others and his feelings, still too young to truly realize what is going on in the world around him, the world of the Dark Arts. My Draco is still too young to realize what it means to be a Malfoy.
Draco is patient and respectful. He doesn't make a peep as a pull him from shop to shop, picking out books to teach him from, and having him fitted for new dress robes. His eyes light up when I ask him if he wants ice cream. I can't help smiling when more ice cream ends up on him than in his mouth. I utter a simple spell to clean his clothes, and gently wipe his face clean. I cherish moments I spend like this with my son, moments when I'm just Narcissa, just another mother to a child. Moments when I don't have to worry about wearing my Malfoy mask.