Chapter 13 The cheating curve

Narcissa stroked his face gently as she lay on top of his faultless, strong body, smiling miserably to herself in the process. The forbidden couple was spending the day at Anton's place, for Narcissa was not sure whether her husband planned on being at home that day, and would rather not take any chances. She still has not forgiven herself for almost traumatizing Draco a few weeks ago, when she had recklessly invited Anton to the Malfoy Manor, forgetting that the boys were home.

Her lover was asleep, as he was always exhausted following their steamy get-togethers. Narcissa loved to watch him sleep, it was one of her favorite pastimes. She lay next to him and touched his hair lightly with the tips of her fingers, resisting the urge to plant her lips on his and wake him up. She closed her eyes and kept them shut for several minutes, trying to hold the white, hot tears in as long as possible, but couldn't.

A sob burst from her lips and she jerked her hand away from him to wipe hastily at her pale face, as the tears were now freely flowing.

She knew she had to end it. It could not go on for much longer, and the sooner she ended it, the better for the both of them it would be. And easier… she would give anything to make it all easier. She had to disengage her life from Anton's now, before it was too late, and she would not be able to find strength in herself to say no.

Eight months ago, she never even dreamed that this flirtation would ever get this far. Thus, it was with alarm that she shortly recognized the emergence of an irreversible affection toward this man who was not her husband. Narcissa was beginning to feel things for him that she had never felt for any other man before. Their affair was moving into a dangerous territory. A territory of feelings, of care, of love... Narcissa knew perfectly well that she was now playing with fire. What has started out as an innocent diversion had suddenly turned into an uncontrollable passion, which she could not allow herself to pursue.

She had to say goodbye to the sole source of happiness in her life. They had to end the affair.

Narcissa had reached that decision three weeks ago, and was now in the process of looking for the right moment to break it to him. She has not found it yet, and for many days now she berated herself for being so spineless, for failing so miserably. She saw it as a weakness – she was brought up to handle things with hardy vigor and bold daring. Not with passive longing and lament.

So she just lay there and sobbed quietly, while desperately repeating in her head- I'm an idiot! Idiot.

My parents would have been so disappointed, had they lived to see this. And my sisters would laugh and laugh and laugh. Oh and my son... My son! What am I doing! How can I be so selfish! Oh God. I have to think about my child!

Although she always worried that her son could one day find out about her, she never quite thought about it that way - hurting Draco's social chances had never before hit home. It would be societal suicide for her child, had the social scene been hit with a scandal of such a high-profile affair.

And that was all it took. As soon as she had thought about the atrocities that would inevitably follow her son everywhere lest her infidelity was found out, she sat straight up; her eyes were wide with fear. It had finally hit her - Draco. Thinking about Draco made her want to shake Anton awake right that second, tell him to never contact her again, run straight out of that room and never look back.

She had a son. She had no right to be selfish. She had always known, that someday her life was to be sacrificed for her children, and she was proud of the kind of mother she was aspiring to be. And now she had to follow through. Had there not been a child in her life, she probably would have stayed with this man until the last possible moment when he no longer wanted her. She would forget about her husband, her friends, her sisters and her "perfect" life. She would plunge headfirst into the world of passion. But she had a son. Draco's happiness and well-being was the most important thing in the world and if that meant that Narcissa had to stay with Lucius and pretend to have a lovely marriage that provided an illusion of security, love and safety to their child, then so it would have to be.

Draco was walking through the tiny streets of the Diagon Alley, having escaped through the kitchens of West London Brewery less than an hour ago. He was anxious and even a little bit scared, which he almost never was. The events of the past couple of days were not exactly going to his liking. In fact, he was more worried now about his upcoming fate, than he had ever before worried about anything else in his life. His meeting, which was accidentally postponed was something that worried him most of all, and hence he was even glad that it got "canceled".

Thus buried in thought, he walked rather absentmindedly, not noticing where his feet were taking him. Rounding a corner, he suddenly halted at hearing some familiar voices up ahead. Harry and Caleb were conversing rather loudly some dozen feet away. He retreated back against the wall and listened.

After several minutes of discussing Harry's present health condition, the two boys' minds have turned to broomsticks.

"… this one broom, that dad was telling me about …- … wicked speed… grip…wronski!" The wind and the noise of the crowd drowned parts of the conversation out, but Draco could still catch the main gist. By the sound of it Caleb was running away with himself over some silly broom. Draco snorted and shook his head.

"…nah, that one's nothing. Lucius had one for ages, I don't consider it anything special…" Harry picked up where Caleb left off. Draco rolled his eyes and a yawn escaped his thin-lipped mouth, - he was beginning to get rather bored.

He was about to step out from behind his hiding place when he heard something else.

Two people, an old man and a younger one were walking towards him; they seemed to be in a hurry and weren't paying attention to anything in their way. They were both wearing wizarding robes, and the older man was twirling a wand in his hand. The younger man wore a purple cloak while his companion sported a blue one, signifying that he worked for the Ministry.

They wouldn't have been considered anything out of the ordinary, if what they were talking about didn't peak Draco's interest. He stared at the younger of the two, the one that Draco could have sworn had just mentioned his mother's name.

Unable to move, Draco leered at the retreating figures and racked his brain for any kind of recognition. It was proving rather hard. After a thorough search through his fragmented memory, he appeared to truly not know who the men were. He was sure that he knew every single person that his mother was acquainted with, for she led a rather straightforward, mellow life; a life into which she included her son as much as possible. She didn't work, she didn't volunteer, she invited all of her friends over to the manor to meet her son and husband before she stroke up a real friendship with them, so Draco found it rather strange that she had not introduced this unknown fellow to him.

So who in the hell could the young wizard be? Draco didn't know quite why he felt this way, but he had a distinct feeling that something just wasn't right here and after a moment's hesitation decided to follow the pair up the street to find out more. Dodging Harry and Caleb's line of vision, he hid behind a newspaper stand and after making sure they weren't looking, sprinted out from behind it and ran after the two wizarding men.