Two knocks, then the door swung silently open, just as on every Monday and Thursday, as of late. Narcissa sat rigidly below her sheets, and before her husband could begin undressing, she cleared her throat nervously.
"Lucius, could I have a word?" She requested, twisting the silky fabric in her lap. He nodded once, and moved beside her, hovering awkwardly by the bed before Narcissa decided to move over just enough for him to perch uncomfortably beside her.
"I… I'm pregnant." She blurted. She'd found out only this morning, but would waste no time in relaying the information.
For a moment, nothing happened. When it started, it was as the vague glimmer she'd seen before in his eyes, one which indicated happiness. However, it didn't stop there. The corner of his mouth twitched, and slowly, terribly slowly, in the way of an unpracticed, unused movement, it began to curl upwards. And then, he was smiling.
She'd never seen him smile before. Gone was the icy, aloof manner, and he suddenly seemed far more human, far more likeable. He had his father's charming grin, though it was used so rarely, it seemed much more meaningful.
She was speechless, and it seemed that he was as well, albeit for different reasons.
"Narcissa," He breathed, adding another little unexpected shock; he'd never called her by her given name.
He'd very near immobilized her with surprise, but when he reached out to place a gently cradling hand at her jaw line and leaned forward, she quickly shook off her paralysis and jumped back.
Abruptly, the smile vanished and the somewhat disbelieving joy disappeared from his gaze. His hand was immediately retracted, and in less than a heartbeat, all the humanizing transformations were gone. He stood up and proceeded with the task of undressing; Narcissa tried to ignore the tingle of alarm in the pit of her stomach.
"What are you doing?" She asked loudly. The scathing look he gave her caused her to flush. "What I mean is, why. I'm pregnant, so we don't have to… you know. And if I have a boy, we'll never need to do it again." Her tone was bright at the prospect, and her husband gave her yet another of his long, unreadable looks. Without a word, he swept from the room.
Narcissa fell back onto her bed, delighted at the release from his presence. However, she knew she could no longer postpone thinking about the child that was not within her. Part of her wondered if she ought to hate it. She certainly hated its father enough, but was that really the child's fault? No. No, she decided, not at all. For the next nine months, while a tiny little being was forming inside of her, this wasn't even Lucius's child. It's was hers. If the baby relied solely on her for sustenance and life, it was going to be hers alone. She might legally be a possession of her husband's, but the little human was going to be all hers.
She rolled out of bed and padded across the room to her desk, and summoned parchment and ink with a flick of her wand.
Bella,
I'm pregnant. I just found out today, as I've been checking each morning. You've no idea how I'm hoping for a son. Lucius seemed pleased too, perhaps he was getting impatient. I've already decided to love the baby, if not its father. I wonder if this is how impregnated rape victims feel, just knowing that there is an entirely innocent soul within them, untainted by their sire.
I just though to write you and let you be the first to know. I'll tell Mum and Father next time I see them.
She wanted to write more, but decided to deal with it in the morning. She left the parchment and quill upon the desk, returned to her bed, and curled up to sleep, hand upon her stomach.
…
Narcissa pushed open the door to Abraxas's study, desperate for escape from preparations for the ceremony tomorrow. The whole house was swarming, and she figured that she would be better off out of the way. She wandered towards the bookshelves, opting for an unexplored corner. The books here had wide flat spines, and she drew one out to discover that it wasn't a book at all, but a photo album. Curious, she carried it over to a cozy seat she secretly thought of as her own, and flipped it open.
I only took her a moment to recognize Abraxas, not a day older than sixteen. He strongly resembled his son, but he was laughing. He stood in a group of similarly aged Slytherins, one arm flung over the shoulders of a young man with brown hair and black eyes, and the other arm curled around the waist of a tiny brunette. The other boy was embracing a tall blonde, and they were all jostling and chattering with one another. There were others on the outskirts, clearly wistful but utterly ignored by the close-knit group. She turned the page and again found Abraxas and the girl, curled up together on a settee in the Slytherin common room, making faces at the camera. Narcissa began to flip the pages, faster and faster, her heart pounding. In every single picture of Abraxas, the girl was there too, and they were happy, so obviously happy. She finished with that album and moved on to the next, but the first page held a photograph of Abraxas on his wedding day. Aethel looked breathtaking, if a bit uneasy, but Abraxas seemed perfectly at ease and content, smiling reassuringly whenever she nervously met his eye. A quick overview of all the other albums proved the brunette entirely absent. She's clearly vanished from his life after Hogwarts, and she knew Aethel had been chosen by his parents- but why? And why did he seem so happy with the wife he hadn't had a say in?
"Narcissa? I though I might find you in h-"
"Who is she?"
Abraxas paused, taken aback. "Of whom do you speak?"
"Her." She lifted the photographs and jabbed her finger at the picture. Abraxas glanced at it and smiled gently.
"Lovely, isn't she? That's Charlotte." His voice was warm when he spoke.
"Charlotte. But who…?"
"Charlotte and I were involved in our school days. It ended, of course, when my engagement to Aethel was announced."
"I thought you loved Aethel." Narcissa muttered softly. Abraxas looked taken aback.
"I do."
"But you loved Charlotte; I can tell."
"Of course I loved Charlotte. I still do."
Narcissa was entirely and obviously nonplussed.
"You seem confused, Narcissa. Does it shock you that I can love both of them? Women are odd in that way- believing that a person has only the capacity to care deeply for a single individual. I chose Charlotte, we had much in common and we shared a sense of humour, but Aethel is the mother of my children, wise and beautiful and has the ability to solve any problem she is faced with- how can I want one over the other? The idea of Charlotte upsets my wife very much and so I do not see her; I assume Charlotte's husband would be very perturbed by my presence in his wife's life as well. We exchange letters several times a year and no more, and I love her as I do Aethel. I feel no guilt; one does not suffer because of my feelings towards the other."
"But surely you wanted to marry Charlotte, to spend your life with her?"
"I knew Aethel when our betrothal was announced; we went to school together, although we weren't close. I knew she would make an excellent wife, and so I did not protest."
"Do you not miss Charlotte? Do you never regret…" Narcissa could not go on, and Abraxas noted her forlorn expression with a soft sigh.
"You are so lonely here, aren't you Narcissa? I realize you don't get on well with my daughters or wife, and my son has always been rather distant. You ought to have you sister visit more often, perhaps her new husband too?"
"I just…" She couldn't explain Rodtimer to him, it wouldn't be at all proper, even if he was her only confidante.
"I understand it's still difficult for you here," He murmured sincerely, sitting down beside her. "But I should hope that you can become more comfortable and content here." He placed a reassuring hand upon her shoulder, and Narcissa turned, wrapping her arms around his neck.
"I miss everyone; especially my parents, and my home, and just being happy!"
It felt wonderful to be held. Abraxas' tender hand gently patting her upper back reminded her of how her father would embrace her, efficiently erasing all of her worries with the security only a father could offer. She hadn't been comforted or cared for in the longest time.
"Abraxas, Lucius and I were wonder-" Aethel stopped abruptly. "Abraxas?" Her tone was alarmed, and Narcissa pulled away and looked over to see a horrorstruck Aethel in the doorway, her son behind her, grey eyes sharp and angry.