Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series. All rights belong to J.K Rowling.

Warnings: This story contains references to rape and abuse.

Beautiful

Narcissa Malfoy was beautiful. She always had been, and she imagined that she always would be. She had a slender, willowy frame with severe features set off by wide, pale blue eyes set in to a heart-shaped face framed by waves of long, golden hair.

She had been beautiful as Narcissa Black when she played with her dolls and had tea parties with her sisters. She had been beautiful when she caught the eye of Lucius Malfoy, and made it her personal mission the bear the Malfoy name forevermore. She was beautiful when she stood in front of her vanity in the gorgeous white dress, just staring at herself for her last few moments as a Black. She was beautiful when she walked down the aisle, as she stood at the altar and became the only thing she had ever wanted to be; the perfect pureblood trophy wife who served and obeyed her husband implicitly.

She had been beautiful as she watched Lucius draw deeper and deeper in to the dark arts, as she watched helplessly from the sidelines as he pledged the Malfoy family's allegiance to the Dark Lord. She was beautiful as she saw him throw their lives away, as she stood by and let him place the well being of their unborn child in to the hands of the most evil man to walk the Earth.

She was beautiful the day she gave birth to Draco Abraxas Malfoy. Even covered in sweat and blood, her face glowed as bright as the noon day sun with the pride of seeing her wriggling little baby boy. She was beautiful as she held him for the first time, as she felt him cuddle up against her neck. She vowed on that day that she would protect him, that she would help him to be a good person, that he would never be like his father.

She was beautiful the first time Lucius hit her. She had been wearing a gorgeous black dress with green edging when he came home with bloodshot eyes and clenched fists. She didn't make a sound as he threw her to the floor, taking his anger out on her just because he could. She was beautiful as he grabbed her silken blonde hair and dragged her up the stairs and threw her on to their bed. She stayed perfect and lovely as he forced himself on her in the most intimate of ways. She simply lay there with the moonlight dusting her closed eyelids as he abused her; body and mind, thanking God that Draco was at school, away from this. It was her one saving grace. She was beautiful.

She had been beautiful the day the news came that the Dark Lord had risen again. She was beautiful as she watched with tears in her eyes as Draco became everything she had desperately hoped he wouldn't. She saw how he looked up to Lucius, how he idolized him only to be demeaned and criticized in return. How hard he tried to be what his father wanted, only to find that it was never enough. She was beautiful as she watched her Draco grow in to a handsome young man, as he became bitter and astringent, as he iced over. She knew all was lost when she took in how his grey eyes, usually warm like pools of molten silver, had hardened. She recognized defeat as they became as impenetrable as flint, mirroring his father's. She cried herself to sleep that night, weeping for her only baby's lost innocence.

Narcissa had been beautiful when Draco watched Lucius beat her for the first time, simply because she had been wearing a red scarf. He hated red. She had hoped, for a fleeting moment, that it might change something, but as she looked back, she knew that she was naïve to have thought so. She was beautiful as she locked eyes with her only son, noting how for a split second they showed pain so incredible it nearly broke her heart. It was gone as soon as it had appeared. He stood and watched as his mother was broken right in front of him. He watched unflinchingly as the hand of his father cracked down over and over again. Narcissa didn't cry that night because she knew that it would do no good. Her son was gone, buried beneath layers and layers of hardened stone. He was suffocating, and soon enough, her Draco would die.

She had been beautiful as she was held back by the unyielding arms of her husband as she watched her only son have the Mark of Evil burned in to his arm. He didn't make a noise as his beautiful skin, white as virgin snow, was marred by the ugly black mark that lay there, forever imprinted on him, body and soul. She was beautiful as the silent tears coursed down her cheeks. She felt like she was receiving the Dark Mark herself, her pain so intense. She was losing him, the baby she had vowed to protect. Or maybe he was already gone, she couldn't tell anymore. Either way, he was lost, lost to the darkness that had already consumed her husband, the darkness that was responsible for the barely concealed bruises that covered her body. The darkness had taken everything from her, it had ruined every remotely good thing in her life, yet she couldn't bring herself to hate it, because she was a part of it as well. It had seeped in to her over the years, tainting the purity that she seemed to radiate. She was beautiful as she watched it devastate everything, as she watched it obliterate every single thing that mattered.

Narcissa was beautiful when she begged Severus Snape to help her, implored him to save what was left of her child. She felt her heart soar when he agreed, and felt it plummet when she realized that no matter how much help Severus gave, no matter how much help anyone gave him, Draco would still fail. Whether he completed his task or not, he would fail. She was beautiful as she contemplated what her life had become, the desolate, dark place she called home, the icy, cruel man she called a husband, and the broken little boy that was her son. The worst part was that she was powerless to change anything, incapable of stopping the vicious cycle of pain, hate, and anger that defined her very existence.

She had been beautiful when she pronounced Harry Potter dead, when she did one last thing, the only thing she could do, to try and save her son, to save herself. Her Draco was alive, and she felt tears of joy spill down her cheeks when she had seen him sitting in the great hall. She was glad that she had that last moment of happiness, that one second where she felt all right, like life was actually worth living. It was all for naught though, as she had known it would be. Draco was scarred, ruined by everything that had happened. Sometimes she could have sworn he was perfectly happy with his life, but then she would see the flash of pain, a glint of agony. She was beautiful as she watched him grow in to a man, as she watched him get married, as she saw how the stone mask became a part of him. She knew that he couldn't remove it even if he tried, and that fact saddened her beyond all others. Her Draco was dead, he had suffocated and bled behind the smoke screen of lies and deceit, just like she had known he would.

Narcissa had been beautiful the day Lucius was thrown in to Azkaban. It was bitter sweet, because although this meant she was safe, no more beatings, no more physical pain, it marked the end of a time where she was needed, the end of a time where she worth something to someone.

She was beautiful the day her grandson was born. She saw him rarely though, because she couldn't bear to see Draco's reincarnation toddle around, watch as he grew up to become just like his father. She couldn't watch it happen again. If she did, she would surely break.

She was beautiful as she walked the dank, stone corridors of Malfoy Manor, completely alone. She watched the seasons change, months turned in to years, but nothing really changed, not for her.

And now, staring at the small, framed photo of little Scorpius, she couldn't help but marvel at the innocence in his large grey eyes, the childlike curiosity. It brought tears to her own eyes, for she hadn't seen that innocence, innocence of any form in fact, for as long as she could remember. Draco had lost that naivety as soon as he could talk, as soon as he became privy to the horrors that defined the life he was destined for.

Narcissa knew that any innocence that she had was lost the moment she had kissed her husband as they were proclaimed man and wife. Narcissa Malfoy had always been beautiful; beautiful and doomed. And now, after everything, she was still beautiful, but no longer doomed. She was far past that. Narcissa Malfoy was destroyed.

FIN