Narcissa walks into her son's rooms. Past the sitting room and the ajar door that leads to a small office. There is slumber here. The pearly bundle and the child in it lay still on the bed. Lucius' first instinct was to send her away from them, to clear all connections to the Dark Lord, to the Dark Arts. Just like before. But this time he could not. For this time around, there is blood binding them. He is a Malfoy and she is a Black. Dark Magic was never too far from them. It is in their family's blood lines, in their own blood. It sang inside them at the beginning. It sings in hers when she is near her niece, along with love. She hopes they were not wrong, that keeping her is right.
She sits on the bed, ever so lightly as not to disturb the sleeping baby. But she stirs almost immediately. Her Slytherin green eyes burst open and evaluate her surroundings. She looks at Narcissa and a happy little squeal comes from her lips. Stirring in the blankets, trying to break free. Narcissa picks her up, sits her on her lap and pulls the pearl white soft blanket down. Delphini kicks her feet, reaches for her aunt and smiles. Little hands touch Narcissa's lips and chin.
"Hello, little girl. How is my precious Delphie today?" A warm smile in her lips, brightness to her grey eyes from the tears she cannot shed. She must be strong for her. Protect her. Make sure she knows her mother loved her. Of her father's love she cannot tell her. She must not know. She will be a Lestrange, even if just in name.
Delphini grasps her aunt's clothes and pulls. Her soft hands hold her up higher and she plants her tiny feet solidly on Narcissa's thighs. She looks into her eyes and changes hers. First to steel grey but loving eyes "Mama is not here, darling", then to a red glare that Narcissa only knows as menacing but that looks almost kind. So the Dark Lord cared for his daughter too. "He isn't here either" This is going to be much harder than she had thought.
"Let's get you some breakfast, shall we? Yes, Aunt Cissa will have the elf bring you warm milk, darling." It is all she can say, as she stands with the child in her arms, running her pale fingers over soft ink black curls. Delphini cuddles against her. Then rises again and makes her eyes icy blue while looking at her with a question in her face. "Draco is coming. Don't worry." Although she does. She can't be sure her son is coming home. The war is not over yet.
In the corridor she finds her husband.
"Cissy... I went to the nursery and she wasn't there so I came looking."
"I'm taking her back there. For breakfast. And safety. I don't want Potter and his people seeing her the minute they walk in our home."
"Yes, good thinking..." He trails off. Lucius just stares at his wife. She is beautiful. The war took its toll, still does, but she remains. And then there is the child in her arms. Were she blond and blue eyed and she could be their long wished for daughter. But that did not come to pass. It was so hard bringing Draco into existence, so very dangerous for his most beloved that he decided against it. Maybe this is a second chance. A very twisted one, but a chance none the less.
"Will you be so kind as to tell Wabby to send her milk to the nursery? I'll go ahead and change her first." She walks past him with softness in her eyes, in her smile, in her voice as she says sweet things to the baby. So soft and yet his rock through it all.
x
Lucius stands by the window in the nursery. It's a regal one, but airy and light too. His wife's work. His eyes fall upon Narcissa feeding Delphini on the rocking chair next to him. She is a content child, he thinks. Almost ten months old and already her magic whirls in the air around her, much too young to control it, creating little storms when she is not pleased, her hair in a convulsion of colours and piercing cries seeping through the walls. They will teach her, he thinks. She will be the perfect little scion of her Most Ancient and Noble House, proper and poised like a Malfoy, and probably powerful as the last Gaunt. Not quite so much. Not quite as unhinged as her mother, he hopes, and Merlin allow it, not as hungry for power as her father, he prays.
He tosses such thoughts aside. There is calm before a storm and he will enjoy it. Cherish it. And so he gazes at his wife holding their niece and hopes they have made the right choice. He takes a step forward and touches Delphini's forehead, almost smiling when both heavy-lidded green eyes and kind grey ones turn his way.
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