word count: 928
Warning: infidelity, fade to black mentions of sex
Druella feels sick to her stomach as she makes an excuse to leave the house. Does Cygnus care at all? Would he have noticed her absence if she hadn't spoken? Druella wishes she could believe he would, but she has her doubts. After all, he's never noticed before, always so caught up in his own life.
She leaves instructions for the house-elves to look after Bellatrix and Andromeda, and it only sours her stomach more. Silently scolding herself, so afraid she's going to get caught if she lets her nerves get the best of her, she forces herself to walk away. Her girls will be fine. Everything will be fine.
Not everything. It's such a lovely thing to believe, to try and convince herself that she isn't falling apart with every step she takes. Her chest aches; it feels like someone has stabbed her in the heart. How easily everything can collapse. How easily everything can go wrong. Tears sting her eyes, and she blinks them away.
Now is not the time for tears and sorrow. Druella has to keep her head high and stay strong. If she clings to those scraps of strength, maybe she can get through this without falling apart.
…
Abraxas is waiting for her in the Malfoy summer home with a soft smile on her face. "My Druella," he says. "You look as radiant as ever."
His words make her blush like she's still a silly schoolgirl. Druella covers her mouth, a giggle bubbling from her lips. It's so easy to relax around him, to remember how much he loves her. Cygnus never speaks to her the way Abraxas does, nor does her husband touch her like her lover does. This is why she's fallen into bed with Abraxas time and time again.
Her thoughts bring her back to the present. Heat creeps into her skin as she remembers she is not her for another moment of passion, for an escape from her life as a Black. Under different circumstances, it would be a joyous occasion, and the two of them would celebrate with wine and kisses and talks of the future.
That won't happen; it can't happen.
"Abraxas… I am…" She takes a deep breath. "I am with child."
"I shall send a fine cigar to Cygnus."
She shakes her head, hands trembling. "It isn't Cygnus'. I can hardly remember the last time he's touched me."
"I see." Abraxas clears his throat and adjusts the collar of his shirt. "I take you mean this child is mine?"
"Of course. Whose else would it be?" she whispers, her voice cracking with emotion.
The last hints of strength have broken. Druella feels her knees threaten to give way. Why did she even bother to come here? They are not children anymore. There's no happy, optimistic dream of running away together and having some pretty hope of forever. They have their own lives, and maybe those pieces are not meant to fit together.
Color stains Abraxas' cheeks. "Rumors of my infidelity, I can handle," he says, shaking his head and exhaling heavily. "But this? Proof that I was unfaithful to Acanthia? My reputation cannot handle such a blow, Druella."
His reputation. Of course that is all he would care about now. Malfoys have only ever really cared about themselves and how the world sees them. She should have known it would end like this, in pain and tragedy, with no hope of a brighter tomorrow.
"You must promise me you will never speak a word of this," he tells her, rushing forward and gripping her so tightly by the forearm that she can feel her bones grinding together. "Not a word, is that understood?"
"I promise." It hurts to say, but she knows she has no choice. As much as this kills her, she will always do whatever it takes for Abraxas to be happy.
"And we cannot meet again," he adds. "This will have to be goodbye, my Druella."
His. Why does Abraxas still have to use such language, as though there's still a future for them, as though there is any hope she could ever belong to him? It isn't fair. Still, they both know what is expected of them, and the roles they must play. She should have known that goodbye was always bound to happen. Maybe she had so foolishly hoped it would be different, only to delay the inevitable.
"Goodbye, my Abraxas."
…
Druella stares at her reflection in the mirror. She wears the finest silk nightgown, a seductive black number that makes her look like a woman on a mission. Really, she is. Cygnus is a fool, and she knows she can convince him this child is his if she acts quickly. She only hopes he will not try to do the math and discover her deception.
"Cygnus, my love," she says, stepping into the bedroom, "I was thinking that perhaps we could make love tonight."
Her husband takes the bait, pulling close and throwing her onto the bed. He is not gentle like Abraxas, and his lips are more bites than kisses as they explore her skin. Still, this is her fate now. She will never be able to have Abraxas again, and she has to accept that.
This is her life, the results of her own mistakes, and she will endure whatever punishment the universe throws at her until she earns her absolution.
