Time passed. Draco grew ever more dismayed at the relationship that was blossoming between his mother and the Boy Who Lived. Every night Draco would lie in his bed, the sounds of his mother and Potter drifting through the house as they made hard, fast love to one another. They seemed not to care, or maybe not even to notice, that Draco was still in the house and was able to hear every moan of ecstasy that passed between the two lovers. His broken heart would beat in sync with the sounds emanating from his mother's room, and a single tear would roll down his pale cheek.
A month after the destruction of the Dark Lord, Draco was sitting alone in what had once been his father's study. A book lay open on the desk before him, but his gaze was not focused on the pages. He was staring out of the high bay window, watching as his mother and Potter traversed the grounds. Narcissa looked more alive than she ever had with Lucius, whose body was now residing in the Malfoy tomb, rotting underneath the house in which his widow and sworn enemy were now cavorting their love affair. As Draco let out a sigh of misery, Potter looked up. He stared straight through the study window, meeting Draco's pale grey eyes and letting a smirk curl his lips. Draco blushed, turning away. When he looked back, Narcissa and Potter had moved on past the window, and were now kissing underneath a large willow tree near the small mass of water that rippled in the Malfoy grounds. Slamming the book in front of him shut, Draco stalked out of the study and stormed up to his room, his heart beating furiously underneath his black robes.
That night, as Draco lay in his bed waiting for the predictable sounds to drift through the lonely Manor, he kept his mind carefully blank. He did not want to think about the look that had passed between him and Potter that afternoon. It was half an hour later that he realised the sounds which usually permeated the still night were not happening. He sat up in his bed, confusion clouding the proud Malfoy features. Why were they being so quiet tonight? A floorboard creaked outside his room, causing him to shoot up out of his bed and reach for his wand.
"Draco?"
The voice of his mother drifted through a crack in the now slightly opened door way. She sounded concerned, although for why he could not think.
"Draco, might I come in?"
"Yes," replied Draco, his voice cracking from lack of use.
Narcissa entered the door, her face eerily pale in the candle light.
"Draco, I must tell you something, but I fear it will upset you," she whispered, looking down at the floorboards as they did so.
"Say what is troubling you, Mother," replied Draco calmly.
"As you know, Harry and I have been together for nearly a month now," she began, and Draco felt his stomach drop. She wanted to talk about Potter. "And he and I have perhaps not always been as careful as we should have been with the contraceptive spells…" was she suggesting what he thought she was? "I have fallen pregnant, Draco. You are to have a younger brother or sister."
Draco felt as though the large room were spinning dangerously fast. He stumbled, the ground rushing up to meet him at an alarming rate. He heard Potter's footsteps rushing into the room- and everything went black.
When Draco came around, he was lying on his bed, his mother holding a cold, wet sponge to his face as Potter looked on, his face a blank mask. Draco's heart felt more broken than it ever had before, and his mind was spinning- his mother was having a child with the man he so desperately coveted. How was he supposed to live in the Manor, helping to raise the younger sibling who was fathered by his deepest love? It seemed an impossible feat.
Blimey, Narcissa, quite a shock for poor Draco! Hope you enjoyed this chapter- it is very difficult writing HP fanfiction when you have teachers wandering around behind you and looking at what you're doing every 10 minutes. The chapters do get longer as the story goes on and as our boredom in lessons grew, so bear with the short chapters as the brilliant ones are coming?
Dementia xxx666xxx
