Troubled Past, Troubled Future
By dracoisahottie
A/N: If you know what's good for you, please don't read any of my other stories. Its been a while since I've written, so hopefully I've gotten a bit better. And this time, I'm going to stay in character ) Please tell me what you think…I hope everyone likes it.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the other characters. If I did, Draco and I would disappear into a bedroom, never to emerge again )
Narcissa Malfoy glanced down at the creature freshly borne of her loins. Covered in thick yellow vernix streaked with blood, it hardly looked like the heir Lucius had hoped to produce. The thing in her arms, which were safely covered with a blanket of course, looked weak, fragile and stunted. It's tiny red face scrunched up, squeak of a cry coming from its toothless mouth. She stared. What now? For a moment it continued producing noise—a midwife bustled over, and accepted the baby from a willing Narcissa.
"Missus Malfoy, you got'a comfort your chil'. Offer 'im your breast or summit. I 'spect 'es quite the 'ungry bugger, after that difficul' birf and all…" She wiped at the baby,cleaning his new skin, turning him rosy pink.
"So, I've delivered a male?"
"O'course, see 'is little bits there? Course they're probably a bit swollen righ' now, but 'es a boy fer sure."
The gorgeous blonde woman blinked, accepting the fact that she'd successfully completed her wifely duty, and now could perhaps be free of Lucius' needs. She hated sex and anything pertaining to it…glaring quickly at her child's genitals as she accepted it back. It was a boy, the midwife, as foolish as she was had been correct.
"Go on then, feed 'im. Jus' flop it out and out 'im nex' to it. Eel do the res'"
Slightly shocked at the crudeness of the order, she did what she was told. The tiny being quickly latched onto her swollen nipple, and Narcissa sighed. It felt, different, for sure, but that wasn't such a bad thing. Lucius never neglected her breasts, but now she felt as if they served an actual purpose, opposed to objects she hated because they were a constant reminder. The rhythmic suckling of the baby was soothing and for a moment, she thought motherhood might not be the hell she'd envisioned for nine months. Then Lucius arrived.
Without a word, he took two fingers and pried the baby's mouth away.
"Now, now, my wife. Those are for me. Not for my little Oedipus, hm?"
"Yes. I understand."
"He shall be called Draco…perhaps in hopes that he will someday surpass his namesake's deeds. Now, you-" Lucius summoned the midwife, "take him to the nursery, and let my wife relax. She's just given life to my heir. She needs not be bothered caring for it when we are affluent enough to make others do our dirty work." He wrapped his arm around the small frame of his wife. "Let us hope you've produced someone of value. With blood of the two greatest wizarding families coming together in one child, he has huge expectations to live up to. But…" He looked at his gloved hand, "We both know the consequences if he proves to be anything less than, ah, satisfactory."
Death. It was always death. That was simply how it was for the Dark Side. She'd know it since she was old enough to remember, and twenty years later, she accepted that it just happened this way. She'd never known any other way, however difficult it was sometimes to accept the fact. As long as it wasn't her being punished, she would be ok. Perhaps someday it would be Lucius. She wouldn't allow herself to hope.
"I have no doubts about our son. He looked powerful and strong-willed from the moment he left my womb." In an intricate web of words, she spun the story he wished to hear. Lucius stroked her sweaty hair, pulling it so that she would look him in the face.
"You lay amongst your own bodily mess, and yet you're still the hot fucking cunt I married. Oh god you filthy whore…" He pressed his mouth to hers, his tongue probing roughly. Narcissa made no move, she was exhausted, let alone the fact that she hated this. Hated it. She sat perfectly still, not responding to anything her husband attempted to initiate. As quickly as he had come at her, he broke away and slapped her across the face.
"Bitch." He turned on his heel and walked out of the room. She didn't need to cry, the pain muddled with a numbness spell, wearing off after its pre-birth application. And she was used to it. She'd rather have the few moments of torture than the hours of pretend pleasure with her sweating pig of a husband.
Now alone, Narcissa briefly wondered what would become of her tiny Draco.
