There were certain things about his wife that Draco Malfoy didn't want to know, despite the fact that he knew them anyway. He didn't want to know that his wife had obliviated her parents' memories. He didn't want to know that mere weeks after the final battle she had been kidnapped and tortured for hours upon hours. He didn't want to know that on the seventh day of her kidnapping she was taken to Australia and raped before her newly restored parents' eyes. He didn't want to know that she was forced to torture them to death under the third unforgivable. He didn't want to know how she gutted her mother like a pig and cut out the woman's tongue and chopped off her fingers before doing the same to her father. He didn't want to know that her parents thought she was a monster because they didn't know about the curse. He didn't want to know that she killed them by slashing their throats after 48 minutes of torture.
But he did, because he was there for ever agonizing second.
He could remember it like it was yesterday. His crazy aunt had taken him along, telling him that despite his traitor father's influence he would finish growing the right way. He was forced to watch his classmate be tortured. He knew she was strong, but even she couldn't last forever. Every day after her torture sessions he would go to her side, heal as many of the wounds as he could and clean away the blood and dirt. The first day was alright, she was visibly shaken by the events, but she was still strong. He would talk with her and for the first few days she talked back. The second day she wasn't strong anymore, even though she tried to be. The third day she didn't try, simply stared at him, no longer trying to convince both of them that they would be freed from their prison. The fourth day any remaining light in her eyes died. The fifth day she remained quiet, her eyes dark and sad. The sixth day is the one that broke her after 16 consecutive hours of torture. The seventh day destroyed her. When the curse was removed and the death eaters left, leaving him to clean up their mess, he pulled out his wand and sent a patronous to the only two people he could think of that could help him.
After a moment to make sure the death eaters were not coming back, he went to her side. He kneeled down before her and gently took her hands. He whispered her name gently and she slowly lift her head. She was hugging her knees to her chest, slightly rocking back and forth. Her eyes were dark pools of pure misery, filled to the brim with tears. When they heard the familiar pop she let out a fearful cry and put her hands over her ears as she continued to sob into the darkness.
When his parents entered the small Australian house they embraced him, having not seen him in a month. When they pulled away they noticed the bodies, the blood, the smell, and the girl. His mother looked at her son in horror before whispering a tearful "What happened?"
Draco explained to her, trying his hardest to avoid falling apart. Nodding in silent understanding the Malfoy matriarch approached the girl he had at some point in time claimed as his.
"Sweetheart," the blonde whispered as she kneeled before his tearful girl. With a graceful hand, Narcissa Malfoy brought the distraught girl's eyes up to meet her own. "Oh baby, would you like to come home with me? I promise we'll take very good care of you." Narcissa put as much love into her expression as she could in hopes to ease his girl. The brunette female's frightened eyes jumped back and forth between the two blondes that had approached her. Narcissa however, understood what Draco did not. "He's coming too dear. Would you like to come with us?"
After a moments thought the teenager nodded in a childlike manner before throwing herself into the socialite's arms. The blonde woman gently shushed her and picked her up with ease do to the lack of food in her. With the smallest of smiles Draco popped out, followed by both his parents.
For months after what they had started to refer to as "The Event" Draco's young damsel continued to resemble a small child in everything she did. She was quiet and liked to read and play with his old toys and slept with his mother in her bed. She refused to sit in chairs except for meals and she didn't go anywhere without her favorite doll. She responded to no name other then Annie, despite the fact that it wasn't her name. Their family psychologist assured them that it was relatively normal after the extent of her trauma. He talked to her every morning, but for the most part he said they'd have to wait it out, till her mind was able to cope with reality.
Finally, after nearly six months, she returned to the mind set of a teenager. Draco wasn't sure which one he preferred. As little Annie she had not remembered the trauma, but as herself she remembered every detail. Every night he woke up to terrifying screams. When she was awake she'd walk around listlessly, present, but only in body. His mother dressed her every morning in long dresses with wrist length sleeves and box necks. He often felt the need to remind the blonde woman that she wasn't a doll.
After a year of it she seemed to slowly grow out of that as well, in a way. She had no middle, she was either completely present in mind and angry, cold, and cruel, or she was listless and ghost like. He tried to date, really he did, but every girlfriend didn't understand why he felt compelled to look after her. They didn't understand that he couldn't leave her because he loved her dearly and that if he left her she'd have no one.
After another year when it became apparent that he was never going to marry some nice girl because of his affiliation with her, he decided to marry her. They got married in secret, because the world thought she was dead after being missing for so long and Draco felt no need to correct their inaccurate assumptions.
During her forth year since "The Event" he went back to work. Three months later he took her for a walk by the lake during one of her episodes. A journalist had somehow snuck onto the property and took a photograph of the two of them.
The next morning in bold letters the headline read: OUR HEROIN IS ALIVE AND MARRIED TO DRACO MALFOY
Despite Draco's extreme anger with the photojournalist, that picture was the only one of her that he allowed in public dwellings such as his and his father's offices. He liked that picture, because in all reality was so fake. Her dark honey hair was caught in the wind, her head slightly turned so the soft strands fluttered across her face. She was smiling a childish smile with her hand firmly clasped in his. Her dress was a floor length summer dress, sleeveless, and white, making her seem like an angel. His eyes showed a mixture of love and patience as he looked back at her, a few steps behind him despite their joint hands. The double rings could be seen on her fingers curled around his own, stating their marriage to the world.
It was the only picture of his wife he had that didn't make him want to cry. It was the only one were she looked normal, happy. The people who gazed on that photo with jealousy didn't know the circumstances. They remain unaware that she was in a complete daze and speaking nonsense the entire time as he gently pulled her along.
Not two hours after the newspaper came out did Draco get a stern letter from the newly appointed Minister. After calming the seething brunette Draco recited the story his parents and himself had come up with should an event like this ever happened. He told Harry that the two had been dating in secret and had planned to tell everyone a few months after the end of the war when everyone's grief had dulled somewhat. His wife had gone to Australia to find her parents only to find their corpses only hours after the murders. She immediately ran to him and told him she couldn't deal with the media after they caught wind of it. She stayed in Malfoy Manor with him and his family and used a glamour when she went out so she wouldn't be recognized. After a while they got married, but she still didn't feel ready to return to the world just yet.
Harry seemed to by it, insisting that the two of them attend a Ministry luncheon. Despite Draco's warning that his wife was not the same person she was four years ago, Harry insisted.
The next day Draco brought her along, thankful that she was at least of sane mind, holding her warm body close to his own. She was dressed elegantly with her hair straightened and framing her face, black pencil skirt that stopped mid-thigh, and a form fitting bold blue blouse. She was greeted with warm welcomes but all they got in return were ice glares and short, curt responses. Draco didn't really blame her, she was angry with the world because they had betrayed her in every possible sense. There had been no attempt to rescue her despite the fact that they were aware of her location. They had destroyed her trust in everything she thought she knew. However Draco also understood their side of things, while they knew of where she was, rescuing her would have recuired at least 200 wizard bodies, nearly half of which would have been killed. In the end, while sadly, it had been decided that no rescue attempt would be made.
A few years went by and being married to her began to take its toll on the Malfoy heir, despite his never ending love for her. She was cruel and almost evil to almost anyone, but especially him. She kept her nails razor sharp so any time she slapped him (which was frequent) she would leave long, ugly scratches down his face that had to callous over. She yelled at him and called him worthless and evil before shoving him down to their bed. Sometimes he refused (he couldn't imagine doing such an intimate act so violently) and she'd get up and storm away in a huff, but most times he didn't, because she wasn't really angry with him. When she yelled and screamed she never saw his face, she saw the face of the monsters that still haunted her nightmares. Some days she broke down into sobs and begged his forgiveness which he always gave her. Soon they had a son and instead of warming her heart she refused to look at him, keeping him shut away with a nanny on a specific floor of the house, high above their own were she would never lay eyes on him or hear him. She had never once set eyes on their beautiful son, refusing to even glance his way after giving birth to him. She couldn't see any child of hers as being anything but a monster.
Four years after their son's birth, his wife had a girl. Unfortunately she wasn't as kind to her female child as she was with her male. With flashes of the night she murdered her parents across her eyes she demanded they kill the baby girl.
She was institutionalized for a month before she returned home, once again paying her child no heed. Like their son, his wife shut their daughter away, content and happy at the thought of never seeing their faces.
He'd go up to visit his children every day, waiting for his wife to be gone doing things he had no care of knowing. They were on the second highest floor, shut away with their nanny, sun rarely touching their skin. They were deathly pale with a hint of grey and despite having all the food they could possibly want their bodies looked thin and malnourished. They were starved for sunlight and fresh air.
His mind screamed at him to take his two children and run but his heart wouldn't let him. He couldn't leave his wife. He turned to their nanny when Abigail turned four and her older brother Edmund was eight and wordlessly handed her a small satchel of coins and a skeleton key. She nodded in a sad understanding. She pulled Abigail into her arms, the small girl to weak to stand on her own and took Eddie's small hand in her own. She left, took them with her to a small village in France. She rarely used the key to the Malfoy vault, but liked knowing it was an option. As the years went on she sent him pictures of his two children. Both of them had grown and blossomed in the sunlight. She wrote to him long letters, explaining every detail of their lives.
Nearly 22 years later Draco came home to find his wife's broken body in the garden. It appears that after six years without an episode his wife relapsed. She had been in a dazed state like all the other times, speaking nonsense about roses and flower petals according to the servants as she opened their large windows and pulled herself up. They'd tried to stop her, but she fell after letting go of the framing.
With his wife gone, Draco felt empty. His children were gone and his parents were dead, and now so was his wife.
Three months later Draco found himself in a small village in France. His hands were shoved in his pockets and it'd been a few days since he'd shaved. When he spotted the large white house that he had only ever seen in pictures, he stopped. Standing in the front yard was a beautiful young lady with long dark blonde hair dressed in a white summer dress. She was chasing a beautiful little boy with curly blonde hair, a large smile on both their faces. Sitting on the front porch was their nanny turned mother, Krista, laughing as she watched the two. Sitting next to Krista was a handsome man with dark green eyes and dark blonde hair dressed in a white dress shirt and a pair of jeans. Standing on the porch, leaning against the pole was Edmund, laughing as he watched his sister and nephew play. With a roar, Abigail's husband ran out and swept the giggling toddler up into his arms. Abigail danced around him like ballerina, twirling around his body in a different version of peek-a-boo with her son.
With a sigh Draco stepped back into the shadows, knowing he could not ruin this perfect family. As he walked away, he didn't notice the dark blue eyes that spotted him. They belonged to his only daughter. She stopped her fun to watch him for a moment. She didn't call out to him or run to embrace him because both of them knew that he would ruin their perfect family. She didn't love him anymore, he wasn't her father, never had been. Her mother, Krista, would tell her and Edmund stories about him, trying to paint him as a hero and showing them pictures so they would remember his face, but that's all he was to them. He was pictures and stories; however, despite the fact that she did not love him she still cared deeply for him.
"Mummy!" her son yelled, launching himself into her arms from his father's.
"Mama's boy," her husband teased. Abigail laughed lightly to herself as she fixed her son's collar. She opened her mouth when she spotted the time.
"Do you want some lunch Draco?"
A/n Abigail named her son after her father. :) She doesn't love him but she cares for him.