"Narcissa…" Lucius called gently to his wife; the two had awakened early in the morning, a week after her pregnancy had come to a disastrous end, to deliver their stillborn daughter to her final place of rest, in a private, secluded garden behind the Manor. The Lady Malfoy had been unsettlingly distant in the days following the stillbirth, shunning affection not only from her husband but Draco as well. Only when they began preparations for the burial did she order emphatically that their daughter would not rest within the family mausoleum. It was too cold a place for such a young life lost, and she wanted a location where she could just be alone with their daughter. Lucius made no attempt to argue, fearful that he would put further distance between them if he refused.
"Narcissa," Lucius Malfoy repeated, glancing upward at the grey skies; it rained as soon as they had arrived at the burial site, but the drops were growing larger and the clouds darker. Still, the lady made no effort to rise, and remained crouched over a small white marker engraved with the Malfoy family crest and below it, the name 'Lyra Carina Malfoy' with the date '1983'.
"No, Lucius…" Narcissa finally answered. "Leave me here."
"There is a storm—"
"I said leave me here," she repeated with quiet force, still not meeting his gaze.
"Cissa!—" Lucius stopped himself short; there was no point in arguing and the pain of it all still so raw, would only aggravate things further.
"Come back soon." He murmured, finding his voice again just as a flash of light illuminated the clouds.
Narcissa hardly noticed her husband leave her side as she continued to hover over their daughter's grave.
"I am so sorry," she choked, her voice catching with emotion, "Lyra, I…" Narcissa put a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes, trying to prevent an onslaught of tears from falling.
"I love you, my darling," she opened her eyes, "Lyra…"
The rest of Narcissa's words were drowned out by a sharp clap of thunder as the raindrops threatened to reach a torrent, soaking through her black robes. Even so, the lady Malfoy either didn't appear to notice, or didn't care; leaning heavily against the single white stone, she released her grief amidst the storm until she couldn't tell if the streaks on her cheeks were her own anguished tears or the rain that pummeled her hunched form.
"Muma?" Little Draco Malfoy tugged at the hem of his father's robes while Lucius stood statuesque , watching his wife from one of the windows in Draco's room.
"No," he reluctantly looked down at his son.
Draco frowned and let go of Lucius' robes, wrinkling his face.
"Draco," Lucius wasted no time with a sharp response, "don't start."
Draco plopped down with an expression of strong dissent but did not do anything further, and watched his father clench and unclench his fists until a drum of thunder, so loud that it echoed through the Manor, sent Draco screaming and crying away from the window; even Lucius had taken a step back.
"Draco," Lucius sighed and knelt down, "come here."
Whimpering, the little boy sidled up to his father's arms and Lucius tucked him snugly against his shoulder, giving Draco a reassuring kiss on his temple while rocking him to sleep.
"Mmm," Draco shoved his face further into Lucius' shoulder, clutching fistfuls of his father's robes for comfort. Lucius, meanwhile, had turned his attention back to the window, but Narcissa was nowhere to be seen.
"Mistress!" Dobby's squeaking voice echoed from the main atrium, immediately calming the upset that threatened Lucius' composure before it could take root, while Draco began to squirm in his arms, anxious to see his mother.
"All right you, we'll go," Lucius ruffled Draco's white-blond hair.
"No, Dobby, I'm fine, really." Narcissa wearily tried to wave the upset elf away.
"But Mistress is soaked right through! Dobby must make sure she doesn't catch ill—"
"Dobby!" Narcissa strained to raise her voice and the House Elf shrank back, "I don't need it—"
"Dobby." The House Elf dropped the towel he was trying to offer Narcissa in a panic as Lucius appeared at the top of the main staircase, clasping Draco in his arms. "Pick that up and draw a bath!" He snapped.
"Yes, Master! Of course!" Dobby squeaked, snatching the towel from the floor and disappeared with a loud crack.
"Cissa," Lucius' gaze came to rest upon his wife as she peeled back the wet hood of her vowel, her blonde hair sticking fast to her head and neck. With hesitation, she met his eyes and her mouth quivered.
"I—" Narcissa closed her mouth and shook her head, looking away.
"Narcissa," Lucius held up his hand and descended down the staircase with Draco.
"Uhh!" The young master could wait no longer and reached out for his mother.
"Not yet, Draco," Lucius tried to readjust his hold on his son, "Let Mummy dry off—"
But Draco would have none of it and let out an ear splitting scream.
"Here," Narcissa recovered, "Just let him."
"Very well," Lucius handed their son to his mother and Draco eagerly wrapped his arms around Narcissa's neck, completely ignoring her wet clothing.
"My little love," she cooed in his ear, holding Draco protectively to her. "Thank you…" Narcissa began to rock him side to side, taking comfort in their embrace. Still, she was unable to keep silent tears from forming in her eyes.
"Mum," Draco mumbled into her shoulder. Another volley of thunder sounded and again, the young master Malfoy cried out in fear, tightening his hold around Narcissa's neck.
"Draco, come now," the lady Malfoy pried one of his arms off of her neck. "Everything is all right," she sniffed, stemming further grief.
"Draco, let Mummy catch her breath." Lucius stepped forward and wrestled his son from his wife's arms. "Upstairs," he mouthed to Narcissa, casting her a piteous look.
"Thank you," she let them go, briefly hugging herself before she followed, up the main staircase and into the private wing that housed their sleeping chambers.