Narcissa wearily stepped into her own foyer and debated with herself concerning what to tell Draco. As far as she was concerned it was nothing but bad news all round.

But news was still news, and it was better than always wondering.

Davis was obviously heartbroken, and had to put an entire ocean between herself and Draco, which confirmed Narcissa's suspicions that Lucius had somehow convinced Draco that he needed to let Davis go.

The only question that remained was what exactly did Lucius say to convince him, and then in turn, what Draco told Davis.

Narcissa was determined to get to the bottom of things, wedding or no.

Father and I sat down in the middle of a stranger's living room. It was fully furnished and quite lovely, but it was still foreign. All the same, this living room was going to be ours for the next few years.

The fluffy brown armchair, the ornate and slightly ugly orange chaise with the ridiculous golden tassels, the dark brown fleur de lis pattern of the carpet, all of it was going to be home to us.

"Pretty, huh?" I said. My father gave a half-snort.

"If you say so, Davey." He said. He was in the midst of bringing in all of the heavier items from our rental car, another commodity I wasn't entirely familiar with.

I went gingerly into the kitchen, as this would be the room that would determine my ultimate happiness.

It was small, with an angled ceiling, but the quaint hardwood floors and the cheery window in between stove and fridge made me smile. My father would make this kitchen his own in no time. And then I would be happy.

I drifted into one of the bedrooms and was overcome by the dark gray and much depressing carpet and the blue bedspread. I sat down gently, afraid if I moved too quickly that I would make myself cry somehow.

The tears slipped out anyway.

Draco examined his reflection with grim satisfaction. He knew he looked handsome, but it pleased him to realize that he looked much better on his wedding day with Davis. He owed her that at least. And so much more.

He barely noticed when his mother slipped into the room and closed the door after her, coming up behind him and staring into his reflection.

"How do I look, Mother?" Draco asked. It was a curt kind of question that wasn't really a question, but just something to say. Everything Draco said these days was just something to say to fill the void. Lines from an empty script.

"Terrible." Narcissa said. She was beginning to tire of all this charade. Draco's eyebrows raised a bit, but he still continued to mess with his tie.

"Draco, look at me." Narcissa pulled Draco's face toward hers. Draco seemed bewildered but he retained his icy cold and slightly bored demeanor.

"I've wrestled over these thoughts a great deal, wondering if telling you would only hurt you more…" Narcissa began. The truth was ready on the edge of her tongue, but something kept her from releasing it.

Draco stared into her face, trying to understand. His face was already trying to mask such intense pain and longing that she nearly wept just looking at him.

Eventually Draco looked down and began to straighten his suit jacket, examine his shoes, and run a hand through his bedraggled hair.

Narcissa understood that she had waited too long and somehow…the moment had passed. Draco's eyes had hardened and all the pain she had seen was now erased. She had missed her moment to explain, to tell him of Davis.

If she told him now, she doubted he'd even care.

"Do you love Astoria?" She asked him point blank. Draco stopped what he was doing and turned again to face Narcissa. His expression was cold and haughty.

"Does it really matter, Mother?" Draco said snidely. Narcissa was taken aback. The pleasant change she'd seen in him had completely disappeared in the weeks after Davis had gone from their lives.

Was this all really because Davis was the daughter of a squib?

The strong desire she had to resolve this problem was now tempered by the fact that both husband and son seemed vehement in their privacy and captured behind an icy wall of indifference.

There was nothing to be done, it seemed. Except for, perhaps, not letting another moment pass by without letting Draco know what had happened to Davis.

My father sat beside me in this chilly room with dark walls and dingy carpeting. He held my hand for what seemed like an eternity. I couldn't tell if he was trying to comfort me, or we were both trying to comfort each other.

We had been so excited and ready for a change in our lives. Ready to shed all of the things that had been weighing us down for so long. We were both extremely self-conscious and did not often think very highly of ourselves. This trip was to be somewhat of a salvation for the two of us.

This might very well be our last chance to make something of ourselves.

"This isn't so bad. Once I shampoo the rug and add some pretty lamps and curtains." I said somewhat cheerily. If this was to be my last chance, I wasn't about to waste it by staring at a door that had long since been closed for me. Homesickness was just a feeling. It would pass eventually.

"Yes. That sounds nice." My father said absently. Resolved to make the both of us feel excited again, I took him by the arm and led him to the kitchen.

"You know what this kitchen is missing, Dad?" I asked. I went from cabinet to cabinet, shelf to shelf, noticing absolutely nothing in the drawers.

"What's that, my angel?" My father said, his voice shaky.

I smiled at him and slowly twirled around the kitchen.

"Blueberries." I sang. I grabbed his hands and together we danced in a funny little circle around the tiny kitchen. Perhaps if we created a memory for this kitchen, it would be much easier to come back to it once we'd left.

In my imagination I could see my father holding my child as he tottered around the kitchen, feeding him a blueberry and chucking his nose. I would join them and together we roll up our sleeves and make our family traditions stronger at the same time we were creating new ones altogether.

I could see Christmastime when Julianna would join us, and opening gifts and lighting candles and singing together.

Suddenly I began to feel a peculiar sense of familiarity about this place, as if I'd known it in another lifetime. It did not seem so foreign anymore.

Father and I were going to be all right.

I smiled as we continued to dance in the little kitchen that was now part of our home.

Draco let Lucius handle his tie, though there was nothing wrong with it. It had been straightened perhaps fifty times since morning.

"Nervous, Father?" Draco asked somewhat rudely. Lucius frowned heavily and began to pace in one of the downstairs rooms of the grand church.

They were only waiting for an usher to guide them to the entrance of the vestibule where they would stand for the duration of the ceremony.

It seemed that Lucius struggled with a strange fit of anxiety he could not readily explain. He knew it had something to do with the way his wife had looked at him that morning. As if she knew what was going on.

As if she knew what he had done.

Lucius was determined never to tell Draco of what he had done to Davis. He didn't know exactly what he would do if Draco ever hated him. And if everything had to come out in the open, Lucius was certain he would be the devil in everyone's eyes.

But the fear…the control…it was necessary. Without it, Draco would get hurt. Davis was a siren that had lured Draco into bed, created a child, and somehow exerted a powerful spell over him to keep him utterly intoxicated by her.

The pain would hurt far worse when he realized he'd been fooled. That the child was not his. That the love wasn't real. That it was all for naught after everything he'd been through.

Lucius truly knew what was best. He wasn't afraid to be the monster in order to protect his only son. Sometimes the villain in the end was the only one who truly knew suffering and loss, and sacrifice. They gave as much as the hero, but without the happy ending or the recognition.

Lucius made up his mind to keep the truth hidden. No one would understand, and no one would ever forgive.