Prologue
It was a chilly day and all the windows were tightly shut. There was a heavy stillness throughout the house, broken only by occasional soft footsteps—and even these seemed to be drowned out and swallowed by the stifling quiet.
Though it was frigid outside, the sky was a bright sapphire blue, completely unmarred by traces of any clouds. The ground was covered with pure, untouched snow. The windows were laced with thin layers of frost in various winding designs. In a bare tree near the frozen-over pond, a mother bird fed her chirping babies. All around, the cool air was filled with an invigorating, refreshing quality. This was the kind of winter day Narcissa Malfoy people lived for, and yet she was oblivious to it all.
This particular room was dimly lit by a few flames in a fireplace near the door, which gave off an unpleasantly yellowish glow. Various sharply angled pieces of furniture around the room cast grotesque shadows against the walls and on Narcissa's pale face, amplifying the circles under her eyes and the raw, bitten quality of her lips. She was in the bed in the center of the room, propped up into a sitting position with pillows. The young nurse had tucked soft sheets and wool blankets around her as though to comfort her and had timidly suggested that Narcissa try to sleep—and she had tried—but no matter what, all Narcissa could seem to do was stare at the vacant doorway. She scarcely dared to breathe, as though she thought breathing might disrupt the fragile balance in which everything seemed to be. It had been nearly two hours since they had taken her child away.
Narcissa was almost sure what Anita, the newest addition to the every-growing list of pretty-faced Malfoy servants, would say when she returned. She had felt it in her stomach when they had taken her child away. Truth be told, she had even felt it when they had first told her she was pregnant. What use was there in hoping if she knew that the very thing she dreaded was sure to happen? Time after time she had waited, only to have her heart broken again, and each time she took it equally as hard. But Narcissa couldn't help hoping, as she sat there, silly as she knew it was to do so. Looking into her newborn girl's slate-grey eyes, gazing up at her questioningly, had given her hope. It was blind hope, but it was something. Maybe this time, things would be different; maybe this time, she would be lucky; maybe Anita would come back, cheeks flushed with excitement, with the little girl; maybe, in just a few minutes, Narcissa would have her baby in her arms, stroking her hair, playing with her hands, touching her face and whispering to her, telling her not to be afraid…
Narcissa was jerked out of her fantasy when Anita reappeared in the doorway, looking nothing short of miserable. Immediately, Narcissa didn't like the expression on the nurse's face. It was too familiar. But maybe…
"Well?" Narcissa prompted gently after a few moments, because Anita seemed disinclined to speak. She sat forward involuntarily and eagerly, her eyes filled with a sort of manic desperation and excitement. "Where is she, Anita?"
The young nurse gazed miserably at her mistress for a few moments and then hung her head, her lower-lip trembling a little. Narcissa felt her heart plummet into her stomach; she lowered her eyes and looked away.
"Where's Lucius?" she said quietly after a minute, letting go of the sheets she had been gripping.
"Mr. Malfoy's working," Anita mumbled, still staring fixedly at the floor. "Would you like me to owl him?"
"No," said Narcissa immediately, sitting back heavily. She suddenly felt very exhausted and ashamed. She wanted to be alone. "No, that won't be necessary. You may leave now."
"Yes, Ma'am," said Anita. She clumsily half-curtsied and left the doorway a little more quickly than seemed necessary.
Once Anita's light footfalls had receded, Narcissa sighed and sank far into the depths of her fortress of pillows, closing her eyes. How idiotic. How utterly stupid she was to have believed for even a second that her luck might change. She was stupid to hope, stupid to pray, stupid to fantasize about it all…how it might feel to hold a little bundle of life in her arms and know that it was hers…to watch it grow and smile and laugh…and maybe, one day, watch it learn to love her just as much as it was loved by her…
"Narcissa."
The voice was almost inaudibly soft, but the tone of it made Narcissa's eyes snap open. Suddenly alert, she heaved herself into sitting position. And feigning composure, though her heart was beating wildly, looked straight at the doorway.
"Yes, Lucius?"
*
Please let me know what you think. Suggestions are more than welcome, as I have no idea where I want this to go.
