Moments of Doubt
1
She has always fancied Lucius Malfoy. She fancied him from the moment he walked into the Slytherin common room, carelessly handsome as he talked animatedly to his club of admirers. At first, she tried anything to make him see her, to make him acknowledge her. Later she learned to abandon all pretenses and just be herself. It was then that he first began taking an interest in her.
She loves to spend time with him: sitting beneath a tree on a warm summer's day, watching him as he plays Quidditch, helping him with his Charms homework even if he is a year ahead of her. She likes to observe him when he isn't looking and take in every feature, every little detail of his proud face. She would love nothing better than to spend the rest of her life with him.
Still, as she lies awake in her bed at night, listening to the other girls' regular breathing and watching the moonlight fall in through the window, she can't help but worry about the dark shadow that always seems to follow him.
2
'I do,' he says, and his voice is clear and confident. She looks up at his face. He is looking away from her, focussing on the official who is marrying them. His nose is straight and proud, his chin is large and strong, his eyes are a breath-taking gray. He is the very epitome of handsomeness – overly so, perhaps. She glances around and her eyes come to rest on the empty seats in the front row: the place where Lucius' parents should have been sitting.
Very few people have come to witness their marriage, and Narcissa doesn't know whether she should feel unnerved by that. No one has come from Lucius' family. The few people he invited are friends at best and brainless admirers at worst. She represses a shiver when her eyes roam over his invitees. There are Wilkes and Travers, two of what she considers to be Lucius' most unfortunate friends. They are drawn to the darkness, just like her sister.
Bellatrix is sitting somewhere close to Lucius' friends. Her eyes are filled with something Narcissa can only describe as some sort of malicious glee. She draws in a sharp breath and suddenly becomes aware of the silence around her.
She twists her head to see both the official and Lucius looking at her with something akin to worry. She swallows thickly. It is too late for second thoughts. The darkness is already a part of her life.
'I do.'
3
She had never viewed the Dark Lord as an enemy. He had caused grief to other people, yes, but he had never personally harmed her. Now, looking at the new-born baby in her arms, she can't help but feel an incredible anger at him. He has taken from her. He has taken her parents, he has taken her sister, and now, he has taken her husband.
The room is hauntingly quiet as she sits in front of the fire. Even the baby in her arms is silent, and she knows that he, just like her, is waiting. Waiting for his father to come back. She can only pray that he will return in one piece.
She gently caresses her son's cheek and vows that she will never let the darkness take him.
4
She always thought of her son as innocent and pure.
When Draco had been younger, she had tried to shield him from the rest of the world, to protect him from the dangers that were no doubt ahead. Now he has grown into a fine young man, smart and loyal, and she is proud of him. Still, she knows that something is changing within her son. She has long sought to deny it, but tonight at last she is forced to admit that the shadow that always followed Lucius has settled on Draco as well.
She allows him to collapse into her arms, and she holds him as he cries over the things he has done. She strokes his short blonde hair and tries not to look at the Dark Mark that stands out angrily against his pale skin.
How cruel it seems that one tattoo can take away all of her son's innocence.
5
For too long she has allowed the Dark forces to control her life. For too long she has stood by, watching but not acting. The Dark Lord has never given her anything – he has only taken, again and again.
Her fingers creep beneath Potter's shirt and she presses her hand against his chest. Her own heartbeat quickens as she feels the boy's beneath her fingers. She bends her head and her hair falls around her face. Her lips almost touch Potter's ear. Her whisper is so quiet she can barely hear it herself.
'Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?'
For a moment, the boy does not answer and she fears the worst. Then his lips part and he breathes 'Yes.'
Her fingers contract briefly and her nails dig into Potter's flesh. She withdraws the hand and sits up.
'He is dead!'
AN: There you go, five moments of doubt in the life of Narcissa Malfoy. I hope I didn't mess up my tenses too badly - I kept accidentally switching between the past and the present tense while writing this. *rolls eyes*