My first fanfiction! I hope you like it. Constructive criticism is appreciated.
Happy New Year! R&R, please, it'd really help me improve. :-)
She is six today, she thinks as she sits on a small couch, watching the snow fall outside from the window. It's her daughter's birthday today, but all it does is send her in deep despair; feeling deep longing for the child she had lost all those years ago. The child she was forced to let go, only mere minutes after her birth, her entrance in the world. She wonders if the child is well, if she has a family that's taken care of her from infancy, built her from the ground up—probably the only family she's ever known. She wonders whether she'll be able to find her or not—or if she's even alive, for that matter.
Of course she is. Severus promised, didn't he?
But Severus is dead.He had died, along with the secret of where he'd brought their daughter—Lucius' and hers' daughter—when Lucius had asked him to hide her; to protect her from the Dark Lord's wrath. He'd just got back from the Ministry; from a failed mission that was likely to get him punished more than he'd deserved. And Narcissa had just given birth; a short while after the labour pains started and her water had broken. Lucius had narrowly escaped getting caught by Aurors, and didn't have time to explain what exactly had happened but instead frantically told her to hand him the child—the child that did not even have a name yet, all because she had opted to wait for him to come home—and that was exactly what she'd done.
It was then she knew what he was going to do. "Give her back, Lucius, please give her back to me," She had pleaded, tears threatening to come out from her eyes, but she already knew she was not going to get what she wished for. She'd started to scream, beg, cry as Lucius crossed the threshold after giving her a sad, haunting look. She knew that this hurt him, as well, but he knew better than to show his emotions. "Severus will keep her safe, Narcissa," was all he had said before he got out of their shared room, his voice cracking slightly.
Lucius had come back half an hour later, shoulders stooped low and eyes weary; and in that moment Narcissa thought he'd aged a decade within those minutes he'd been gone. And after a moment of silence, words lost between them as they looked at each other, a loud sound was heard below and an elf quickly told them that Aurors had stormed their home and were demanding the arrest of its master. Narcissa's eyes widened, and Lucius had only nodded as he offered his hand for her to take. Too much tragedy, she had mused, He can take no more. I can take no more. Narcissa refused, hoping to spare herself the pain of being there, watching the scenes unfold as they arrested her husband and condemned him to Azkaban. She supposed this was one of the Dark Lord's punishments: letting Lucius be arrested, attested of his crimes—but she somehow knew that Lucius was going to escape, somehow, and be rewarded his real punishment, much worse than the former had been—
But that did not matter now. The war has been over for four years, everything had come and passed and somehow, thankfully, all of them had managed to avoid Azkaban and be acquitted of their crimes—due to the courtesy of one special Mr Potter. Immediately after being declared not guilty by the Wizengamot, Lucius and she resolved on finding their daughter—she was two at the time, and now she was six they still had not come closer to finding her. They—no, Lucius—had given up on trying to find their child two years back. She knew that it had pained him; he had loved the child as well but had had to think rationally and tried to move on. Too soothe her, he had instead hired a Muggle detective to go from orphanage to orphanage, just as Narcissa had been doing.
But they still had not been able to find her, after all these years.
Narcissa's thoughts were perturbed by the quiet closing and opening of the door behind her, and she knew at once who it was—Lucius, no doubt. They were the only ones inside the manor—with the exception of house elves, of course—as Draco was with Astoria in France, visiting her family and would not be returning for a week or so. And besides, Draco had always known better than to disturb her in her current state.
She could hear Lucius' quiet footsteps as he strode over her, his cane clacking as it hit the ground, the only sound that could be heard. Narcissa at once knew what he was going to say—because it was what he would tell her endlessly, as if his pleads would convince her to stop doing what she could to find their child. Just as soon as Lucius started to talk, to say that line once more, for what seemed to be the hundredth time he was going to do so, she intervened.
"Narcissa, darling—"
"I trust you've put your affairs in order?"
"Yes, dear, but there are more important things we—"
"You know full well that you cannot stop me, Lucius. I do not intend to, especially since she has not been found still."
With a nod and a soft kiss on her husband's cheek, Narcissa swept away, walking out of the room. Lucius had tried to grab her arm, but she'd been too quick for him and he'd missed by an inch. He did not follow her outside, either, as he already knew that his pleads would turn to dust, irrelevant. Manoeuvring her way out of the labyrinth-like hallways, she then proceeded towards the manor grounds, wherein she could apparate freely to her destination.
She landed in a deserted alley, full of garbage—and stank of it, too—and surveyed her surroundings. The orphanage should at least be a block from here, Narcissa thought. Conveniently, the alley was barely looked upon by passers-by and lacked life—except for the rats, of course—which made it easy for her to slip into the streets unnoticed. She looked Muggle enough, and certainly knew how to dress like them, which made her sudden appearance raise no suspicions. And besides, the Muggles couldn't care less, for they were running about doing whatever Muggles do during the weekend.
As she walked on the paved sidewalk, she could see the orphanage looming in the distance. The red-brick, three-floored building seemed large enough to occupy two lots, not counting the large expanse of land surrounding it. Children's laughter could be heard as they ran around, chasing each other, not having a care in the world. It seemed like a good place for a child to grow up, Narcissa thought, and found herself hoping that her child would be found here, among the children that were playing. Muggle children, but she did not care. She imagined a white blonde-haired little girl with long, flowing curls, eyes like Lucius' and a face like hers.
Walking up on the stone steps and stopping just in front of the orphanage's massive wooden doors, she read the sign placed beside them before knocking, which said: Hastings Orphanage for Children, printed in expensive-looking gold lettering on a black marble slab.
When no one came to open the doors after she'd knocked, she decided on letting herself in. The doors were unlocked, and gave way to the main lobby, which was painted beige, and was, overall, a quiet place—not minding the muffled sound of children's laughter coming from outside. Numerous picture frames adorned the walls, each filled with either children's drawings or photographs of the children fostered there. She surveyed them, and noticed that only one woman seemed to be present in all of them: a brown-haired, soft-faced, doe-eyed, slightly plump woman that didn't seem to be past her 60s.
"Hello, how may I help you?" A voice suddenly said, snapping Narcissa out of her reverie.
She turned, and found that the owner of the said voice belonged to the woman in the photographs. She looked just as she did in them, but seemed to be kinder in personal—not that she had looked unkind in the pictures, but now, seeing her, she seemed to ooze somewhat of a positive aura that made Narcissa automatically like her—even if she was a Muggle. She reminded Narcissa of Molly Weasley, who took care of all 7 of her children: Ronald, one was named, and the only one she could remember, anyways.
Narcissa smiled back, before saying, "I was wondering if I could have a… tour of some sort? See the children? If I may,"
Mrs Hastings, she supposed this woman was, immediately turned her eyebrows up in delight and set the basket full of laundry on the lobby's reception desk and said, "Why, of course you can! I'd be happy to accompany you, Ms—?"
"Malfoy. Mrs Malfoy," Narcissa replied.
"You can call me Diana or Mrs Hastings, either of the two is fine," She said in return, and nodded to Narcissa, beckoning her to follow.
They proceeded onto the corridor right of the lobby, as Mrs Hastings showed her the numerous rooms the orphanage had. The hallway they were in was just as clean and orderly as the main lobby, which was saying something as children tend to make a mess most of the time, especially the young ones. How Diana kept it clean was beyond her—they didn't have house elves like she did, but Narcissa supposed there were maids who lived here as well.
"The children would be happy to see you," Diana said with a cheerful tone. "They've always loved visitors!"
Narcissa felt her heart pound as Diana showed her around, as there was a chance that this might be it; that her daughter might be inside one of these rooms.
"And here, on the last floor, are the dormitories," Diana said as they stepped on the last stair leading to the 3rd floor. "The boys are on the right, and the girls are on the left."
Diana then led Narcissa to the right, to the boys' rooms. Some were thoroughly clean, yet some looked like a pigsty—boys, Narcissa thought. There were three occupants per room, and each room looked the same—except for the personal things inside, of course—painted white, with wooden linings at the bottom; two wardrobes, one desk, and three beds: two on one side, placed horizontally, and one on the other side. There were also wooden trunks placed at the end of each bed, where the children could put their personal things—if they had any.
"Almost all of the children are outside right now or in the library, which is why the rooms are empty, I'm afraid," said Diana as she led Narcissa onto the other side of the floor, wherein the girls resided.
"Well, here we are," said Diana. "I think everyone's downstairs, there isn't much to see, but if you'd like we can go through every room just to check."
Narcissa nodded in reply, and went through every room with Diana—each had looked just like the boys' rooms were, except the walls were painted lavender. Aside from the wall colour, nothing much was different. Just as they were about to reach the last room, a quiet, small voice could suddenly be heard from the room they had just passed, but was muffled and barely understandable as the door to the room was closed.
Narcissa looked at Diana, who merely nodded and smiled as she knocked on the door. "Come in," The voice had said quietly again, and Diana opened the door, beckoning Narcissa to follow her inside.
"Don't worry, Penny, we can play with each other!" Narcissa heard the voice whisper to someone—or something.
A little girl of about six—or seven, Narcissa assumed—was sitting on one of the beds—hers, presumably, and was holding a ragged doll that was somehow familiar to Narcissa but couldn't remember when and where she'd seen the thing. The room was just like the others, but the wall at the top of one of the beds was adorned with posters of unicorns, rainbows, and cartoon characters. Books were piled on top of the desk, and one of the trunks was opened, revealing numerous colouring books and crayons scattered inside.
"Why, Aquila, dearest, why aren't you playing with the other children?" Diana said, her brows furrowing in worry.
"I don't want to play with them, Mrs Hastings," The girl—Aquila—muttered in reply, as if sad and frustrated.
"I'm sure they do, darling," said Diana, smiling slightly. "What about Bella? I'm sure she would like to play with you," Diana countered.
Narcissa found herself staring at the little girl and was unable to look away. Aquila, the child was called, had long, white-blonde hair that cascaded in soft curls at her back, reaching her waist. She had a long, sharp nose and full, luscious red lips that were pouted in irritation. Familiar, Narcissa thought. The girl also had blue eyes—flecked with grey, Narcissa observed, if you looked at them closely. A silver, heart shaped necklace with the initials A.M engraved on it was hanging on her neck.
It was then the circumstances dawned on her; it was then her eyes started to glass as they were slowly filled with tears.
A.M
Aurelia Malfoy, Lucius' mother's name.
"She doesn't," Aquila countered, pulling her legs up and depositing them on the other side of the bed so her back was facing the door, away from Narcissa and Diana both. "Please go away."
Diana sighed, and said, "If you never try, you'll never know, Aquila," then beckoned Narcissa to follow her, presumably to lead her outside where the other children were. Narcissa then shook her head and smiled, and, thankfully, the woman seemed to understand her.
"I'll leave you two for a while, then," She whispered, smiling as she exited the room and went on to continuing her duties.
Narcissa proceeded towards Aquila, who was now sitting quietly and staring outside longingly, where the children were merrily playing; their laughter heard even three floors above. She could tell the girl was jealous; she'd wanted to play with them too but for some reason, was afraid to do so.
Narcissa now stood slightly in front of Aquila, putting on a big smile for the child to see. "Hello," said Narcissa, garnering the confidence and courage to do so. This is it, she'd thought. "H-hi," Aquila quivered in reply, no doubt nervous to be left behind with one of the parents. Narcissa wondered why the girl hadn't been adopted yet—she was pretty, that was plain to see, and if you asked her, she would have adopted the girl in a heartbeat.
"May I sit with you?" Narcissa asked, to which Aquila nodded, and stood up to get something from her trunk. She reappeared mere minutes later, holding a brush in her hand and a doll in the other. She then sat next to Narcissa and started to brush her hair quietly, to which she winced whenever she encountered a split end. It was clear that the child did not brush her hair often, due to how she was handling it now, but her locks were in excellent shape. She supposed the girl felt intimidated by how Narcissa looked, and felt ashamed of her own looks—but she did not need to feel so, really, because she was a wonderful little thing to look at—a perfect mix of both hers and Lucius' looks.
"Would you like me to brush your hair, Aquila?" Narcissa then offered, to which the girl smiled brightly and shyly nodded. Aquila then gave her the brush, and turning sideways so Narcissa would not have a hard time brushing the girl's hair. "You must be wondering what my name is," Narcissa chuckled slightly. "My name is Narcissa, but you may call me Mrs Malfoy, if you'd like,"
"Now, tell me: why don't you want to play with the children?"
Aquila took a moment to reply—to think if Narcissa could be trusted—then said, "They don't like me much."
"Why is that so?" Narcissa asked, curiosity getting the best of her.
"Because they think I'm not normal," Aquila said quietly, lips quivering. "And they're right."
"You are," Narcissa breathed. "You're a very special little girl, Aquila. You're perfect, just perfect,"
"You really think so?" Aquila asked, turning her head to look at Narcissa, wanting reassurance. Narcissa had wanted to hug her then, but could not do so until she was sure the girl was comfortable enough and would not be frightened. It took her every amount of self-restraint, but thankfully, she was able to force a smile instead.
"Yes. I do," Narcissa replied, "Now, since I've finished brushing your hair, why won't you tell me a little bit about yourself?"
"There's not much to say," said Aquila in return.
"How about your parents, Aquila dearest? If you'd like to tell me,"
"Diana—Mrs Hastings—told me that they left me here, with Penny and this stupid locket," said Aquila, pointing to the locket on her neck. The child probably did not know what the locket meant, and how grateful Narcissa was to have found her wearing it; signifying her identity. And Penny, her so-called raggedy doll, was the same doll Narcissa had had when she was a child. Narcissa remembers playing with the same doll, but instead of naming her Penny, she'd named the doll Cassiopeia, after her second name.
"I didn't have a name, so Diana gave me one," Aquila continued. "Aquila, after the star, and to match the locket."
"My parents didn't love me, that's why they gave me away," said Aquila, looking down and fisting her dress.
"Every parent loves their child, my darling," Narcissa replied, words stuck in her throat. "I am one,"
When the child did not reply, Narcissa continued, opting to change the topic as the child clearly did not like talking about it.
"I have a son," said Narcissa, smiling. "His name is Draco, and you remind me of him,"
"Would you like me to tell you about him?" Narcissa offered, and the girl quickly nodded, grateful for the change of topic. Aquila had seemed curious about her, and seemed to want to know eagerly why she was visiting the orphanage and spending her time on her. Oh, if you only knew, Narcissa thought.
And the rest of the day was spent with the child, telling her about Draco; about Lucius; about her supposedly lost daughter. And Aquila had had stories to tell as well, about her 'adventures' with Penny, how she'd somehow ended up on top of the garden shed when the girls were chasing her, wanting to take Penny away from her and claim the doll as their own. And in the end, when it was time for Narcissa to go, the girl had hugged her and had asked her to come back; and then whispered, "I wish you were my real mummy," thinking that Narcissa would not hear but full well did.
Oh, how Lucius would be surprised.