Disclaimer: Everything you recognise belongs to J.K Rowling and the Harry Potter franchise. I own nothing.
AN: Co-written with TheGeekyWeirdo, she's brilliant! Please don't take this fic too seriously; it's just a bit of fun. Also, some of the years have been altered to fit the story – Bellatrix is around in this fic though Draco is 3 years old in stead of being in Azkaban. As I said, just a bit of fun and not to be taken too seriously. From Narcissa's POV. Enjoy!
The Peacock PredicamentIt wasn't Draco's fault. The peacock just happened to put its head on the ground at the wrong time… when Draco just decided to sit there… on it… Innocent really. My son did absolutely nothing wrong! I mean really, who could blame an innocent little three year old for an accident like that? They'd have to be insane. Well, that's what I think anyway. Lucius didn't seem to agree. He's more worried that Draco's taken on tendencies like his Auntie Bellatrix… Oh… actually, putting it like that does slightly worry me… But that's away from the point. Lucius is only distressed by all of this because of the way he found out. Or should I say, the way he found it…
Draco had looked up to me with such big, innocent, teary eyes clutching his Babbity Rabbity teddy. My bitterness at his accidental murder of the peacock suddenly evaporated and I could only try to protect him from his own, however big, mistake.
Of course I had wanted and still want him not to dwell upon the event. More importantly, however, Lucius should not have found out. So, I sent Draco into the kitchen and drew the curtains looking out into the back courtyard while levitating the bird, I set it alight… well, I tried to set it alight. Irritatingly I was interrupted before I could do so by the drunken arrival of darling Bellatrix. I didn't get the chance to properly dispose of the creature due to that.
Naturally so, Bella wanted quite a bit of attention from her baby sister so admittedly I was distracted from such happenings as the door to the kitchen opening and the dead bird disappearing through it in Draco's arms. After enduring ten minutes of Bella's slur and re-enactments of her latest adventures at the bottom of a Firewhisky bottle, the 'crack!' of Lucius Apparating snapped her back to reality.
"Oh Christ, the peacock!" I suddenly thought to my own horror. Spinning round I was faced with not the dead peacock but an empty space where it had been and a discrete trail of blood leading into the main part of the manor.
Trying to bolt from the room I was stopped by Bella who decided to latch onto me and deliver a rather long monologue about how much she loves me. Charming, indeed, but not in the circumstances. I tried to stop Lucius as he left the kitchen to check on his son but Bella was currently wrapped around my neck and I couldn't quite choke out a warning.
My sister then leaned into my face and with the most revolting smelling breath planted a big wet kiss on my forehead which lasted far longer than was comfortable. Not that a shorter time would change how disgusting it had been.
The sudden sound of Lucius screaming, "PEACOCK!" had been enough to cause Bella to tumble backwards in fright and pull me over with her as she hit the ground.
"Oh Merlin!" I exclaimed, desperately clambering to my feet as Bellatrix dissolved into a fit of drunken giggles. I hurried out of the kitchen and bolted upstairs to where Lucius' yell had sounded from.
I thought I might pass out as I reached Draco's nursery. Draco was sat on the floor, his legs crossed and clapping noisily as he giggled wildly at his father's horrified expression. Lucius turned to me with an expression of disgust and disbelief as he whimpered, "P-peacock?"
I looked over to Draco's toy collection and saw it. It. The peacock – the dead peacock – was nestled between his toys as prize attraction. I felt a bit sick. Bella chose that moment to lurch into the room and with great pride she yelled, "Go Draco!"
I can gladly say that burning that wretched bird and the contaminated toy collection was one of the most satisfying things I ever did.
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