Narcissa looks on over the green lawns that surround the manor, keeping the moors at a distance. Presumptuous peacocks are scattered across it, puffing chests and proud tails like they know today is different.

It will not be a grand celebration like they used to host. No, those days of haughty pureblood ladies hanging from the arms of pureblood aristocrats in their best attires are gone. They are dead now, or locked in Azkaban, or living in the most discreet way possible. Theirs is a time gone by. She misses it, dearly. A daughter of the House of Black is raised for society life. A Lady of the House of Malfoy joins the family with the purpose of being a perfect hostess, so that her husband's prestige grows. She even misses the tea parties with other Ministry wives, bothersome as they could be.

But it is all over, the war took it and the peace never brought it back. Today is a simple family reunion, and they are so few now. There will be a small party, a cake with two pink little candles sticking out of the white frosting, some singing, lots of presents, half of them from Draco, and a quiet afternoon.

Delphini is turning two and Narcissa cannot help but remember how it all started. How the very cord of fear was stricken inside her just two years ago.

X

His chamber was off limits to everyone but her. So she had not been bedridden there but in a smaller adjoining blue room. Her temper kept getting the best of her; she loathed being cut off from action these past months. She wanted to have been in Hogwarts for Dumbledore's death, and also to protect her nephew, though she never mentioned it. She wanted to be outside that night, coming down on Potter and his blood traitors friends. And on their bloodtraitor niece.

But the child and their Master bent her will and so she stayed. A month before, the Dark Lord had actually held her wrist and pulled her close, just enough so that she wouldn't follow Carrow. He had whispered something to her, and that left a dreamy smile on her lips. She was doing that an awful lot those months and Narcissa worried that her mind was drifting deeper into madness, that she was building up a fantasy and that it would be the end of her sanity when it didn't come true. That night it was both of them that kept Bella from fighting. And she was positively dangerous now, ever since her body had decided to join their side. Her back hurting all day, walking becoming torture; so that she stayed in bed or on the chaise long in the parlour. She would gladly take it out on her Master's enemies. Thankfully, she slept for quite a while too, even if only for a few minutes at a time. Narcissa had thought it wise to keep her wand away from her lest she be hit by an angry hex. Bellatrix did not like it at first, but after wiping out a house-elf for startling her awake, she had worried about pointing her wand at her Lord, and that made it perfectly reasonable in her mind.

Now, in the morning, Narcissa beholds her older sister, thankful that she is not downstairs. Thankful, for the first time, for this pregnancy that keeps her here, watching over Bellatrix, seemingly safer than all the others.

He had been furious upon returning. Potter had escaped between his fingers once more. The Death Eaters downstairs are suffering failure at his wand, she can hear them from her sister's room. Bella remains asleep, undisturbed by the screaming. Not that screams ever bothered her.

Narcissa's breath hitches. She is suddenly very aware of the absence of sound. And of a presence coming closer. His presence. Her Master in a rage. She looks over to Bella, fearing for her sister. A tiny corner of her mind tells her that He will not harm her. He never did on all these months. No matter how furious, how aggravated, how temperamental, how cruel He has become, he does not hurt her. He walks in a storm and is always peaceful when he leaves. Narcissa has seen it time and time again and still does not believe it.

Bella's temper never flares after He leaves. She is peaceful too and that is very strange indeed. Bella was never peaceful before Azkaban, and the Dementors took any shred of peace there might be.

But they sooth each other. The child dulls their edges. Narcissa never sees them together, she is always ordered outside. She sees them afterwards and can't wrap her mind about it. It makes no sense. Could it be? Nonsense, Narcissa, nonsense. What if he hears your thoughts? So she drops them, just in time.

"Out!" He barks the second He is past the doorframe. Narcissa curtsies and leaves. Over her shoulder, she can see Bellatrix awakening, a groan escaping her lips, her left hand flying to her back. She closes the door behind her and feels the wards fly up.

She sits down by the door and tries to keep her mind empty. She is no Occlumens and is very conscious of it just now. But her mind will not stay empty. She thinks of Lucius and of how much he had shielded her before, of how he had kept the Dark at bay for her. Not this time, though. This time she is acutely aware of her Master's nature.

Something startles her then. She cannot hear what is going on inside, but no wards keeps them from feeling unease when their Master is upset. The door opens and Nagini's head comes forward. Her yellow eyes examine her and she knows her Lord is summoning her.

Narcissa gasps when she enters the room again. The Dark Lord is holding her sister close. They stand by the window and his hand is on her lower back, applying pressure.

"Get the healer." He simply states. When she takes a second too long to move, He raises his head from Bella's curls and glares. She can feel a shock of pain then, a wandless wordless Cruciatus snaps her to rights. Just a hint of the Unforgivable, so that she will move.

It is night again when a piercing cry sounds in the blue room. Bellatrix tosses yet another damp cloth from her forehead and releases Narcissa's hand, gone blue in her powerful grip. She lunges forward from the pile of pillows at her back and demands her child. His child. The healer quickly wraps the crying baby in a soft blanket, afraid of the new mother's skill with pain, and places the bundle on Bellatrix's chest. "A girl, Madam. Healthy." The woman dares not say another word.

Narcissa looks at her sister. The unforgiving, proud, warrior witch of the House of Black sobs overtly, caressing her daughter's features with her fingertips. There is black hair atop the baby's head, and just a hint of green in the slits of her eyes. She becomes quiet in her mother's embrace, not even the tears that land on her little face disturb her.

X

That little girl is on the crib beside her. She will rise in a couple of minutes, turn her eyes steel grey, like she so often does, and then go back to green and settle for Narcissa's grey eyes. She remembers her Master's words, just before she closed the bedroom door that day. How Narcissa had worried at those words, feeling fear being pumped through her veins along with her blood. Delphini had gone paler and her eyes must have shined red. "Well done, Bella", a hint of a smile on his voice. How she still worries that she might just be much more than a magical child of uncanny abilities.

Author's Notes: I am still alive and so is this fic. I got you a nice (I hope) big chapter as an apology. I had a frantic week and could not upload sooner because this chapter kept derrailing into Bellamort writing... It has been a loooong process for me. So, big time jump, this will be the norm from now on. It does not mean I won't write tiny bits that somehow fit in between, but not all of them will be part of this story.

Thank you for sticking around. Please share your thoughts... they are greatly appreciated