Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Jason Isaacs
She lay in a corner crumpled up, scared to breathe, scared to open her eyes. She didn't want to see if he was sitting on the bed staring at her, waiting. She didn't want to see what was left of their room and what wasn't. Knowing that she would have to clean it up as not to anger him. Knowing that if she didn't she was, according to him, inadequate with her duties. Oh how she hated him at this moment. Hated him for everything. Hated him for beating her and her son. Hated him for putting their lives in danger. Hated him for being so manipulative and attractive. What had happened to her life. She was so happy when she was first married. She was so happy when she first held her son in her arms. He was happy too, for once, happy to see his son in her arms. Proud was the only word to describe the one emotion that passed through his features. It lasted for about two days. After that he put on a scowl that would hold him for the rest of his life. He never smiled again, except for that evil smirk when he was destroying her confidence or her body.
She remembered the first time clearly. Draco was only three weeks old. She had just put him down for his nap. She walked through the swinging doors and into the large busy kitchen of the Malfoy mansion. Dobby had rushed up to her and said that she shouldn't be there and that the master might come home and be upset. She had pushed past him, oblivious to his existence. She was so tired and she needed a drink so badly. She grabbed a brandy glass and exited the kitchen and headed towards Lucius' bar. She knew that if he came home and found her there would be hell to pay. She didn't care. She hadn't slept in 3 days. She took a bottle of whisky from the cabinet over the bar. She dropped down onto a stool and poured a healthy amount into the glass. She had filled three glasses before he got home. He had had another long grueling day at the Ministry. She didn't even hear him coming down the steps to the billiard room until he threw open the doors with a bang. She had turned her head and saw him standing there with this crazed look in his eye. "What the hell are you doing here?" Lucius screamed at the top of his lungs.
She had finally gained a little control over her senses and realized what she had done. She stood up quickly forgetting that she had a half filled brandy glass in her hands that shattered to the floor. She looked down and saw the glass break into a million pieces. Before she could utter a sound he was on her. He grabbed her arm and pushed her into the table which caught her in the stomach. She fell to the floor onto her knees and held her midsection. She tried to stand up but she barley got to her feet when Lucius pulled her up by her beautiful blond hair. He threw her against the wall and she hit her head. Lucius slapped her across the face and she put her arms up in defense. This went on for about an hour and a half. He told her that she better have the mess cleaned up before he came back. She sobbed for forty-five minutes and cleaned until the room was spotless. From that day on he hit her whether he had a reason or no.
Narcissa slowly opened her eyes to see that there was furniture thrown across the room and glass was shattered. She had bruises all over her arms and cuts. One cut looked like it might need three stitches, maybe four. Narcissa was just glad that this time she didn't have a concussion. Narcissa slowly and painfully lifted herself from her sanctuary. She took uneasy steps toward the center of the room. As usual Lucius had said that she better have that mess cleaned up by the time he got home. Something triggered in her while looking at the damage and trying to figure out what she had done this time and why she was such a failure. She realized that the life she was leading was not right. She was always told to be obedient toward her husband but she was never told that she was to be hit by her husband and act totally defenseless.
In that one moment Narcissa made a decision. It was him or her. She wanted to live. Needed to live. For her son. Her baby boy. Not really a baby anymore. At age six he was already good at most of the spells he was taught. The things he did would make any father proud of his son. Not Lucius. Anybody but him. Lucius the cold hard bastard. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to get out. To hell with the room. She wouldn't be here when he got back anyway. She was leaving and no one would stop her.
But where would she go. She couldn't go to Bellatrix. She would tell Lucius. That wouldn't do. Then a thought came to her. Yes. She would go there. He would never look for her there. Narcissa began to rush around the room collection her things and putting them in her cases. She went to Draco's room and gathered a few of his toys. Draco was sleeping soundly and she hated to wake him. She was glad he didn't wake when Lucius started beating her again. Oh, her beautiful son. Her only light in the darkness of her life. The only male she could truly love. She would protect him, whatever the cost. No one would hurt her little boy. Not Voldermort and not her husband. Not anymore.
Narcissa ordered a house elf to take her things to the carriage and then she went back up to get Draco. She picked him up and he curled his arms around her neck moaning slightly in his sleep. "It's ok sweetie, Mummy's got you. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you." Narcissa made her way through the mansion and out of the door. She walked to the carriage sitting out front and got in. She then ordered the driver to take her to her destination. She made the man promise to never tell Lucius where she was.
The carriage pulled up in front of the house and she woke her son. "Where are we Mummy," Draco asked.
"Safe," she replied.
Narcissa knocked on the door. After about a minute or two she heard footsteps and voices. "Who could be calling at this hour?" and "I've got my wand."
The door opened to reveal a disheveled woman with pink hair. "Narcissa?"
"Hello Tonks. I need your help."
Well that's my first chapter. Tell me if you like it.
Much love,
Lillian Rose
