Grace of the Devil
Part Twenty:
Grace knew that what Micheal said was true: she DID let her father control her. But she didn't try to do anything about it. He loves me, and just wants the best for me, she thought, whenever the reminder of the conversation she and Micheal had came back to haunt her.
Five years had passed. Grace had been Head Girl their seventh year, and she and Micheal were amoungst the top students in their year. Grace knew that her father was very proud, but worried: her brother, Draco, had died just days after leaving school.
Grace and Micheal had moved in together, in a flat in London in one of the few all-magical complexes in the city. Lucius still didn't know about Micheal, and sent Grace money every month for the rent. She and Micheal both trained: she to be a Healer, he to be an Auror. Both passed their training at the age of 21.
Grace knew Micheal's family, and the Weasleys had accepted her. In spite of the fact that she was a Malfoy, and Grace was aware of the rivalry between Malfoys and Weasleys, they were kind to her from the beginning. Grace loved to visit Micheal's childhood home, where his French mother Fleur baked all sorts of lovely dishes and his father Bill told stories of working with goblins in Egypt. They never mentioned Grace's father.
She still went to see him. They had a sceduale worked out: she'd go to the manor every Wednesday afternoon for tea, and visit for one weekend a month. Micheal complained that she was away too much, but Grace would ignore his protests. While at the manor, she had to lie to her father. He didn't know that she was living with someone...a Weasley, no less! All he heard about was her job, and a little bit about her social life. Grace had a feeling that Lucius didn't like hearing about these things very much; they just reminded him that his little girl was all grown up. Well, I AM, Grace thought. But she continued the charade.
Her job was also very busy. She worked in the potion accidents department of St. Mungo's, working long hours from early morning to late evening. And she had to be ready at any time of the day or night to go in if the bracelet she wore around her wrist lit up. It was a signal that a patient needed her. Grace was lucky to get her one weekend off, and be able to have tea with her father on Wednesdays. If she didn't show up, she knew that he would worry and start asking questions.
Micheal sometimes asked why she didn't tell Lucius about him, and she would smile and say, "Darling, we need some extra money. If my father found out, he'd get upset and stop sending." That wasn't the truth, but it seemed plausable enough. The young couple was looking for a house of their own, and wanted to have enough money saved up for a stable future.
Then, it happened.
One weekend at her father's, when Grace was 22-years-old, she began to feel sick. That night, she went into the bathroom and threw up, as quietly as she could to not wake her father. As she threw up her dinner, a sudden thought came to her: I'm pregnant. She knew this was the truth: she'd been late for nearly two weeks now, and feeling sick most of the time.
Grace tried to sneak out of the bathroom as quietly as she could, but when she came out, she found Trixie waiting for her in the hall, a candle in her hand. "Trixie!"
"Is Miss Grace okay?" the elf asked, a look of concern on her face. "Trixie is hearing you be sick."
"Oh...no, Trixie, I'm okay," Grace said, dropping her voice.
"Should I fetch Master-"
"No!" Grace cried. "I mean...let's not worry Daddy with this, alright? It's not a big deal. I'm fine, really."
Trixie looked skeptical, but she let Grace go back to bed. As Grace lay awake in her childhood bedroom that night, she began to panic. She was pregnant. Well, she and Micheal HAD wanted to get married and have a family. But not this soon! Grace thought. I want this baby, and I know Micheal will, but...now I'll have to tell Daddy everything!
Grace went back to her home in London the next evening, walking into the flat to find Micheal sitting on teh couch, reading the "Daily Prophet". He looked up when Grace walked in, and stood to greet her. "It's been a long weekend without you," he said, coming to help her with her bag. But he stopped before he reached her. "Grace, what's wrong?"
Tears began to fill Grace's eyes. She dropped her bag and threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her close, rubbing her back soothingly. "What is it, Grace? Is it your father again?" Grace could only nod. She couldn't help it: after her visits with Lucius, she got so upset. Why? she wondered. Everything went fine...except that he doesn't really know me at all.
They sat down on the couch, and Grace took Micheal's hand. "Honey," she said softly, "I'm pregnant."
"Pregnant?" The concern in Micheal's eyes faded as he smiled. "You...truly?"
"Yes. I...want to keep it. Do you?"
"Of course!" Micheal cried, throwing his arms around Grace. "Oh, Gods! Our child! Wait until my parents hear! We'll have to get married, soon. No big wedding for us."
"We don't need one."
"Maybe after the baby is born." Micheal jumped to his feet. "I can't believe this. A baby! OUR baby! Grace!" He picked her up and hugged her again. Then, he looked at her face and stopped. "What's wrong now?"
"It's...my father..."
"Him again!" Micheal thundered. He sat back down on the couch, seething. "He won't ruin this for us, Grace. Don't think of him now."
"I can't help it," Grace said softly, sitting down next to Micheal and putting a hand on his. "It's his grandchild, you know." She sighed, and there was a long silence. "I'll just...have to tell him. About us."
Micheal nodded. "You should've done that long ago."
"You don't understand how hard it is!" Grace cried. "Your parents are so sweet and understanding. I love Daddy to death, I do, but he's so damn STUBBORN." He's also selfish and childish, she thought bitterly, but she couldn't say it aloud. It was bad enough to think it. A betrayal. Forgive me, Daddy. "He's so...intimidating. And I have to face him, by myself, and..." Grace suddenly had an idea. "Come with me!"
"What?"
"On my next weekend trip. Come with me."
"Grace, are you crazy?" Micheal asked.
"No! It's perfect!" Grace cried. "I NEED you there. You have your Gryfindor bravery. When I'm around you, I feel brave, too."
"You ARE brave."
Grace snorted. "I can't even stand up to my father. But with you there..." Grace put her head on his shoulder. "Will you go with me? For me? For our baby?"
Micheal sighed. "I suppose..."
Grace smiled. "Good. We're going to tell him...together. Come what may and hell to pay."
"I don't think you know what you're saying."
He was right. She didn't.
Two weeks later, Grace was working at the hospital. She'd just been taking care of a patient with little shoes growing on her nose from a tap-dancing potion gone wrong, and she was definatly ready for a break. But when she headed to the Healer's Station, another Healer came up to her.
"Healer Malfoy? I'm sorry to bother you, I'm Healer Dolmont, from the hexes department?"
"How do you do?" Grace said, politely extending her hand, but really wanting to get this over with so she could enjoy some tea. No coffee for the expection mother.
"Well, we have a patient in our floor, and she's asking for you," the Healer said. "Her name is Narcissa Wilcox...says she's your mother..."
"Thank you, I'll see her," Grace said, trying to hold back her anticipation. Her mother was HERE? Last she'd heard, she was living in Barcelona. Healer Dolmont led Grace up the stairs.
Grace had rarely been in the hexes department, only a few times when she was a Trainee. After being placed in the potions department, she'd never come back. Grace stared around at the drawn curtains of the ward as Healer Dilmont explained: "She was brought here a couple of nights ago. Hexed, you see. Just woke up a few minutes ago, and when she found out where she was, she asked for you." Dilmont led Grace to a private room, and threw back the curtain. "Here she is."
Grace stared at the woman lying in the bed. She had greying, curly blond hair, and cold, empty, blue eyes. She was currantly sitting up, flipping through an old copy of "Witch Weekly", but she threw it down when the came in. "Well it's about TIME," she said impatiently. "I thought you'd never show up."
"I'll, uh, leave you two alone," Healer Dilmont said timidly, backing out. Grace had a feeling that the other Healer was afraid of her mother.
"You're damn right, you will!" When Dilmont was gone, she muttered, "Incompitant bitch." Narcissa's eyes met Grace's, and she snapped, "Well? Are you going to sit, or what?"
"Yes," Grace said, lowering herself into the plastic chair beside the bed. Narcissa stared at her for a moment, unsmiling.
"Well," she finally said, "you're grown up, now."
"Yes," Grace said. She wasn't sure what eles to say.
"You'd be, what, 23-"
"22, actually," Grace corrected softly. Narcissa clucked her tongue.
"Just reminds me of how old I am," she said. "If Draco were still alive, I'd probably be a grandmummy by now. Imagine!" She cackled with laughter. "But I'm not as old as that father of yours. How is he?"
"Just fine," Grace said simply. She was starting to feel uncomfortable around this woman, whom she hadn't seen in 12 years.
"Still as protective of you as ever, I wager?" Narcissa asked spitefully. "I always was jealous of that."
"Jealous?"
Narcissa smirked. "My DEAR child. I didn't just hate you because you were an unwanted Mudblood brat. I hated you because you made Lucius's heart open up. Something I was never able to do."
Grace took this information in silently. "Well-"
"But enough of old things," Narcissa said with an impatient wave of her hand. "What've YOU been up to?"
"I'm pregnant," she said, without hesitation. If only it were so easy with Daddy, she thought.
Narcissa looked thoughtful. "Out of wedlock, I presume? You still have the Malfoy title."
"Yes."
Narcissa nodded. "That means that your father doesn't know?" Grace nodded. "Whose the unlucky father."
"Micheal Weasley."
Narcissa cackled again. "Well, good luck telling the old man, then!" she laughed. "You'll be lucky if he lives through it!"
Grace couldn't take anymore. She got to her feet and was about to take off, when Narcissa reached over and grabbed her arm. "Well, daughter, I'm disapointed. You're flighty, just like me."
"I...I'm not flighty."
"Then sit your pretty little ass down and listen to me." Grace obeyed, though she wasn't sure why. I have nothing to prove to this woman, she thought. Narcissa examined her daughter again. "A Healer. Well, what a surprise. How much did ol' Daddy have to donate to get you this job?"
Grace dug her nails into her palms to fight back the anger that welled inside her. "Nothing," she said slowly. "I did it on my own."
"Uh, huh," Narcissa said patrionizingly. "Well, you've made something of yourself. That's good, I approve. Not," she added, "that I think you care for my approval, either way."
"I don't," Grace confirmed, and Narcissa nodded.
"I can understand that. I mean, look what my life has gotten me!" She gestured to herself. "I've taken many lovers, taken their money, their hearts. Well, the one in Barcelona had the final straw when I said I was leaving him and going to India. He hexed me. Not even exactly sure what he did, but there you are. I'm a fool, and I'll kill you myself if you ever turn out like me."
This shocked Grace, more then anything eles her mother had said. "Don't worry," she finally managed to say, "I think my father would kill me first."
"Ah, Lucius," Narcissa said with a sigh. "Don't you worry about what he says. It's your life. Just don't mess up."
This was a lot different then what her father had been saying her whole life. He'd never given her enough freedom to either mess up or not. Grace just nodded.
"Your father...he's quite a contral freak," Narcissa continued. She took Grace's hand, which shocked Grace so much that she nearly pulled away. But she didn't. "Have you stood up to him yet?"
Grace shook her head. "I'm afraid to."
"Don't be," Narcissa said. "I know Lucius. You HAVE to stand up to him, or he will control you until the day you die. Look at me," she said again. "I broke free of him! Of course, I didn't make the right choices, but there you go: an anti-example for you, my daughter."
Grace kissed her mother's hand and let go of it. "I have to go."
"Yes. I expect that I'll never see you again," Narcissa said with a smile. "Good luck...with everything."
"Thank you, Mother," Grace said. "I'll never forget this."
"It's a shame," Narcissa said, "that the best thing I've ever given my daughter is some crappy advice."
But Grace didn't think the advice crappy at all.
It was just what she needed.
Part Twenty:
Grace knew that what Micheal said was true: she DID let her father control her. But she didn't try to do anything about it. He loves me, and just wants the best for me, she thought, whenever the reminder of the conversation she and Micheal had came back to haunt her.
Five years had passed. Grace had been Head Girl their seventh year, and she and Micheal were amoungst the top students in their year. Grace knew that her father was very proud, but worried: her brother, Draco, had died just days after leaving school.
Grace and Micheal had moved in together, in a flat in London in one of the few all-magical complexes in the city. Lucius still didn't know about Micheal, and sent Grace money every month for the rent. She and Micheal both trained: she to be a Healer, he to be an Auror. Both passed their training at the age of 21.
Grace knew Micheal's family, and the Weasleys had accepted her. In spite of the fact that she was a Malfoy, and Grace was aware of the rivalry between Malfoys and Weasleys, they were kind to her from the beginning. Grace loved to visit Micheal's childhood home, where his French mother Fleur baked all sorts of lovely dishes and his father Bill told stories of working with goblins in Egypt. They never mentioned Grace's father.
She still went to see him. They had a sceduale worked out: she'd go to the manor every Wednesday afternoon for tea, and visit for one weekend a month. Micheal complained that she was away too much, but Grace would ignore his protests. While at the manor, she had to lie to her father. He didn't know that she was living with someone...a Weasley, no less! All he heard about was her job, and a little bit about her social life. Grace had a feeling that Lucius didn't like hearing about these things very much; they just reminded him that his little girl was all grown up. Well, I AM, Grace thought. But she continued the charade.
Her job was also very busy. She worked in the potion accidents department of St. Mungo's, working long hours from early morning to late evening. And she had to be ready at any time of the day or night to go in if the bracelet she wore around her wrist lit up. It was a signal that a patient needed her. Grace was lucky to get her one weekend off, and be able to have tea with her father on Wednesdays. If she didn't show up, she knew that he would worry and start asking questions.
Micheal sometimes asked why she didn't tell Lucius about him, and she would smile and say, "Darling, we need some extra money. If my father found out, he'd get upset and stop sending." That wasn't the truth, but it seemed plausable enough. The young couple was looking for a house of their own, and wanted to have enough money saved up for a stable future.
Then, it happened.
One weekend at her father's, when Grace was 22-years-old, she began to feel sick. That night, she went into the bathroom and threw up, as quietly as she could to not wake her father. As she threw up her dinner, a sudden thought came to her: I'm pregnant. She knew this was the truth: she'd been late for nearly two weeks now, and feeling sick most of the time.
Grace tried to sneak out of the bathroom as quietly as she could, but when she came out, she found Trixie waiting for her in the hall, a candle in her hand. "Trixie!"
"Is Miss Grace okay?" the elf asked, a look of concern on her face. "Trixie is hearing you be sick."
"Oh...no, Trixie, I'm okay," Grace said, dropping her voice.
"Should I fetch Master-"
"No!" Grace cried. "I mean...let's not worry Daddy with this, alright? It's not a big deal. I'm fine, really."
Trixie looked skeptical, but she let Grace go back to bed. As Grace lay awake in her childhood bedroom that night, she began to panic. She was pregnant. Well, she and Micheal HAD wanted to get married and have a family. But not this soon! Grace thought. I want this baby, and I know Micheal will, but...now I'll have to tell Daddy everything!
Grace went back to her home in London the next evening, walking into the flat to find Micheal sitting on teh couch, reading the "Daily Prophet". He looked up when Grace walked in, and stood to greet her. "It's been a long weekend without you," he said, coming to help her with her bag. But he stopped before he reached her. "Grace, what's wrong?"
Tears began to fill Grace's eyes. She dropped her bag and threw her arms around her boyfriend's neck, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her close, rubbing her back soothingly. "What is it, Grace? Is it your father again?" Grace could only nod. She couldn't help it: after her visits with Lucius, she got so upset. Why? she wondered. Everything went fine...except that he doesn't really know me at all.
They sat down on the couch, and Grace took Micheal's hand. "Honey," she said softly, "I'm pregnant."
"Pregnant?" The concern in Micheal's eyes faded as he smiled. "You...truly?"
"Yes. I...want to keep it. Do you?"
"Of course!" Micheal cried, throwing his arms around Grace. "Oh, Gods! Our child! Wait until my parents hear! We'll have to get married, soon. No big wedding for us."
"We don't need one."
"Maybe after the baby is born." Micheal jumped to his feet. "I can't believe this. A baby! OUR baby! Grace!" He picked her up and hugged her again. Then, he looked at her face and stopped. "What's wrong now?"
"It's...my father..."
"Him again!" Micheal thundered. He sat back down on the couch, seething. "He won't ruin this for us, Grace. Don't think of him now."
"I can't help it," Grace said softly, sitting down next to Micheal and putting a hand on his. "It's his grandchild, you know." She sighed, and there was a long silence. "I'll just...have to tell him. About us."
Micheal nodded. "You should've done that long ago."
"You don't understand how hard it is!" Grace cried. "Your parents are so sweet and understanding. I love Daddy to death, I do, but he's so damn STUBBORN." He's also selfish and childish, she thought bitterly, but she couldn't say it aloud. It was bad enough to think it. A betrayal. Forgive me, Daddy. "He's so...intimidating. And I have to face him, by myself, and..." Grace suddenly had an idea. "Come with me!"
"What?"
"On my next weekend trip. Come with me."
"Grace, are you crazy?" Micheal asked.
"No! It's perfect!" Grace cried. "I NEED you there. You have your Gryfindor bravery. When I'm around you, I feel brave, too."
"You ARE brave."
Grace snorted. "I can't even stand up to my father. But with you there..." Grace put her head on his shoulder. "Will you go with me? For me? For our baby?"
Micheal sighed. "I suppose..."
Grace smiled. "Good. We're going to tell him...together. Come what may and hell to pay."
"I don't think you know what you're saying."
He was right. She didn't.
Two weeks later, Grace was working at the hospital. She'd just been taking care of a patient with little shoes growing on her nose from a tap-dancing potion gone wrong, and she was definatly ready for a break. But when she headed to the Healer's Station, another Healer came up to her.
"Healer Malfoy? I'm sorry to bother you, I'm Healer Dolmont, from the hexes department?"
"How do you do?" Grace said, politely extending her hand, but really wanting to get this over with so she could enjoy some tea. No coffee for the expection mother.
"Well, we have a patient in our floor, and she's asking for you," the Healer said. "Her name is Narcissa Wilcox...says she's your mother..."
"Thank you, I'll see her," Grace said, trying to hold back her anticipation. Her mother was HERE? Last she'd heard, she was living in Barcelona. Healer Dolmont led Grace up the stairs.
Grace had rarely been in the hexes department, only a few times when she was a Trainee. After being placed in the potions department, she'd never come back. Grace stared around at the drawn curtains of the ward as Healer Dilmont explained: "She was brought here a couple of nights ago. Hexed, you see. Just woke up a few minutes ago, and when she found out where she was, she asked for you." Dilmont led Grace to a private room, and threw back the curtain. "Here she is."
Grace stared at the woman lying in the bed. She had greying, curly blond hair, and cold, empty, blue eyes. She was currantly sitting up, flipping through an old copy of "Witch Weekly", but she threw it down when the came in. "Well it's about TIME," she said impatiently. "I thought you'd never show up."
"I'll, uh, leave you two alone," Healer Dilmont said timidly, backing out. Grace had a feeling that the other Healer was afraid of her mother.
"You're damn right, you will!" When Dilmont was gone, she muttered, "Incompitant bitch." Narcissa's eyes met Grace's, and she snapped, "Well? Are you going to sit, or what?"
"Yes," Grace said, lowering herself into the plastic chair beside the bed. Narcissa stared at her for a moment, unsmiling.
"Well," she finally said, "you're grown up, now."
"Yes," Grace said. She wasn't sure what eles to say.
"You'd be, what, 23-"
"22, actually," Grace corrected softly. Narcissa clucked her tongue.
"Just reminds me of how old I am," she said. "If Draco were still alive, I'd probably be a grandmummy by now. Imagine!" She cackled with laughter. "But I'm not as old as that father of yours. How is he?"
"Just fine," Grace said simply. She was starting to feel uncomfortable around this woman, whom she hadn't seen in 12 years.
"Still as protective of you as ever, I wager?" Narcissa asked spitefully. "I always was jealous of that."
"Jealous?"
Narcissa smirked. "My DEAR child. I didn't just hate you because you were an unwanted Mudblood brat. I hated you because you made Lucius's heart open up. Something I was never able to do."
Grace took this information in silently. "Well-"
"But enough of old things," Narcissa said with an impatient wave of her hand. "What've YOU been up to?"
"I'm pregnant," she said, without hesitation. If only it were so easy with Daddy, she thought.
Narcissa looked thoughtful. "Out of wedlock, I presume? You still have the Malfoy title."
"Yes."
Narcissa nodded. "That means that your father doesn't know?" Grace nodded. "Whose the unlucky father."
"Micheal Weasley."
Narcissa cackled again. "Well, good luck telling the old man, then!" she laughed. "You'll be lucky if he lives through it!"
Grace couldn't take anymore. She got to her feet and was about to take off, when Narcissa reached over and grabbed her arm. "Well, daughter, I'm disapointed. You're flighty, just like me."
"I...I'm not flighty."
"Then sit your pretty little ass down and listen to me." Grace obeyed, though she wasn't sure why. I have nothing to prove to this woman, she thought. Narcissa examined her daughter again. "A Healer. Well, what a surprise. How much did ol' Daddy have to donate to get you this job?"
Grace dug her nails into her palms to fight back the anger that welled inside her. "Nothing," she said slowly. "I did it on my own."
"Uh, huh," Narcissa said patrionizingly. "Well, you've made something of yourself. That's good, I approve. Not," she added, "that I think you care for my approval, either way."
"I don't," Grace confirmed, and Narcissa nodded.
"I can understand that. I mean, look what my life has gotten me!" She gestured to herself. "I've taken many lovers, taken their money, their hearts. Well, the one in Barcelona had the final straw when I said I was leaving him and going to India. He hexed me. Not even exactly sure what he did, but there you are. I'm a fool, and I'll kill you myself if you ever turn out like me."
This shocked Grace, more then anything eles her mother had said. "Don't worry," she finally managed to say, "I think my father would kill me first."
"Ah, Lucius," Narcissa said with a sigh. "Don't you worry about what he says. It's your life. Just don't mess up."
This was a lot different then what her father had been saying her whole life. He'd never given her enough freedom to either mess up or not. Grace just nodded.
"Your father...he's quite a contral freak," Narcissa continued. She took Grace's hand, which shocked Grace so much that she nearly pulled away. But she didn't. "Have you stood up to him yet?"
Grace shook her head. "I'm afraid to."
"Don't be," Narcissa said. "I know Lucius. You HAVE to stand up to him, or he will control you until the day you die. Look at me," she said again. "I broke free of him! Of course, I didn't make the right choices, but there you go: an anti-example for you, my daughter."
Grace kissed her mother's hand and let go of it. "I have to go."
"Yes. I expect that I'll never see you again," Narcissa said with a smile. "Good luck...with everything."
"Thank you, Mother," Grace said. "I'll never forget this."
"It's a shame," Narcissa said, "that the best thing I've ever given my daughter is some crappy advice."
But Grace didn't think the advice crappy at all.
It was just what she needed.