A/N: Vanessa's POV, this chapter is dedicated to reader and reviewer danceegirl92. Thank you for your thoughtful reviews!
-C
The screams were maddening, taunting, and for a split second I was actually pleased that I wasn't pregnant, that I wasn't going to be pregnant.
Except I wasn't glad, I remembered, because if I couldn't get pregnant I would be dead.
But death had to be better than this.
"You need to be with her," Jack said firmly.
"I can't," I whispered, rubbing my temples.
"She requested you specifically, Vanessa. Do your duty and go in that room."
It was not up for debate. I wanted to be sick, but Jack demanded that I go and hold Narcissa Malfoy's hand while she was in labor. Lucius was pacing outside of the door when I got there. I blinked at him.
"Vanessa," he said softly. "She's…she's…"
"She's going to be fine," I said hollowly.
Narcissa gave another horrific shriek.
"How?" Lucius said, swallowing. I'd never seen him so disheveled. Perhaps this was what I looked like, as well. "How can she be?"
"If she were not," I countered, "someone would have told you by now."
Narcissa had been in labor for twenty hours already, and she was likely to be in labor for another ten, the midwife had said when she was fetching more towels. I had been present for about sixteen hours. It was a good thing, really. I was supposed to meet the Dark Lord, but it had been put off so that I could be present for the birth of Narcissa's son. I hadn't really expected to be allowed to be present, but now that I was walking into the room I thought that perhaps I would rather meet the Dark Lord than watch such a scene.
"How is she?" I asked the midwife, coming up with any reason not to look at Narcissa as she screamed.
"Oh, doing fine, love," the woman chirped.
I dared a glance over at Narcissa.
That did not look like fine to me. The expression on her face as she shrieked was hellish. I'd seen the Cruciatus Curse a time or two, even Bellatrix's version of it, and that was the closest I could come up with to what it looked like Narcissa was experiencing.
"Is it always so…loud?" I said, moving toward Narcissa, whose hand was beckoning me.
"Well, she has a strong voice," the midwife said with a shrug. "There's not always so much screaming, though, no."
That, at least, was a comfort, not that I needed a comfort. I was half-way through stage two and still had not progressed to the point where Severus would like me to be. The further through the potions I got, the more times he checked in on me, the less hope I had of ever having children. I hadn't completely given up on life, but there was little hope left.
"Vanessa," Narcissa sobbed, squeezing my hand. "Vanessa, go tell Lucius that I'm fine."
"But you're not fine," I pointed out before I could stop myself.
"I'm fine!" she shrieked.
"That's it," the midwife said happily. "Very good. You can start pushing soon."
She wasn't even pushing yet?
"Ice," she said as well, choking. "Get ice."
"Right," I muttered. "I'll be back, then."
I stepped out into the hall where Lucius was still pacing and he looked at me expectantly.
"She says she's fine," I said simply. "And she needs ice."
Lucius nodded, eyes wide.
"Dobby!" he called. A house-elf appeared and bowed. "Bring your mistress ice."
"Lots of ice," I clarified.
"You heard her," Lucius said, waving away the elf, who bowed again and disappeared, presumably to fetch ice. "You're sure she's fine?"
No.
"Yes, she's fine."
"Is she going to be much longer, do you think?" he asked nervously.
His feet were probably beginning to hurt. Without him noticing in his frantic pacing, I cast a charm that would dull his pain, although in the morning he wouldn't thank me. He frowned slightly as he took another step, but my wand was already away.
"I'm not sure, Lucius," I reminded him. "I'm not a midwife."
"Of course," he muttered. "Of course. She'll want you back, I expect?" I nodded. "Very well, return to her, then."
I went back into the room where Narcissa was shrieking.
Three and a half hours later, Narcissa gave birth to Draco.
He was hideous.
Small, shrieking, wrinkled…. Even after they'd wiped him off his disgustingly translucent skin that he'd obviously gotten from his mother made me want to vomit all over again.
"Oh," Narcissa cooed. "Oh, he's beautiful!"
It took quite a lot of inner strength not to roll my eyes. Why was it that people always thought newborns were beautiful, even when they were so obviously hideous?
"Shall I get Lucius?" I asked.
"No," she said, grabbing my arm with surprising strength. "No, help me freshen up a bit, first."
We cleaned her up, combed out her hair, and arranged her on the bed in a way that was becoming as possible, putting the ugly, wrinkly baby in her arms before I let Lucius into the room. It was stupid, really. Lucius had to know that she had looked disgusting moments earlier, as his son looked utterly disgusting. He had to be clever enough to see through this veneer of charming childbirth.
"Oh," he said softly, like one enamored as he walked into the room. "Oh, Narcissa, he is handsome!"
I couldn't help it. I really did roll my eyes.
"I'll just be going, then," I muttered. Neither of them paid me any mind, and when I went out to Jack he nodded, no smile, and we went home to freshen me up before visiting the Dark Lord.
"Who will be there?"
"I don't know," he said from our bedroom as I went through my closet.
"Well, what should I wear?"
"I don't know, Vanessa. Something pretty. Now hurry up. We shouldn't leave the Dark Lord waiting."
I quickly dressed in a champagne-colored set of silk dress robes and came out to meet my husband.
"All right," I said, holding my hand out to his. "I'm ready."
"No, you're not," he said darkly, but before I could respond he took my hand and Disapparated us on the spot.
It was Lestrange Manor. I would know it in any context. This meant that Bellatrix and her odious husband were nearby, if not in the very place I would be meeting the Dark Lord.
"Keep your eyes averted, Vanessa," Jack said. "It is very important that you not look at him."
What, would I turn to stone or something if I did?
But I said nothing, nodding and following Jack's lead. My heart was racing as I realized I was about to meet the one man who held my life in his hands.
The door opened and I glided forward, not looking up, as Jack had warned me, but staring at the perfect marble of the floor.
"Vanessa Avery," said a high, cold voice that made me feel my blood had turned to ice. "At last we meet. Come closer."
I did as bid, stopping when he told me, when I was right at the foot of his chair. Swallowing, I continued to look down. A long, thin, pale finger reached out and lifted my chin, though, so that I had to look at him. His eyes were red and inhuman, terrible and all-seeing, and I felt instantly like I wanted to cry.
"Lovely as you described, Avery," he said lazily. "It's a pity, her condition." He continued to survey my face. "Severus says it might still be reversible, but we shall see."
My stomach was tied in knots.
"Yes, my Lord," Jack said behind me, his voice submissive and supplicant. It sounded very strange, my husband with that voice. My mind didn't seem able to process it all.
"Do you speak, Vanessa?" the Dark Lord said, amused.
"Yes, my Lord," I managed to choke out.
Normally, I would have been appalled by the fear in my own voice, but I felt this was a moment worth being afraid in. He was not a man to be trifled with. If he was a man at all, anymore. There was something highly bestial about him, and I had the distinct impression that he had not always looked this way. There was something about him that suggested he had disfigured himself with magic. I wondered if whatever he had done had actually made him stronger. Something in me doubted it.
"Charming voice," he said dully, turning back to Jack and letting go of my chin. I looked down at my feet. "She is obviously more suitable than the blood traitor's wife, if not for her twisted womb."
Well, there was a minor vindication in that. I was a better pureblooded wife than Amy in everything by childbearing ability. That was good, except childbearing ability is sort of the most important thing.
"Of course, my Lord," Avery muttered.
"Report on the status of the potions, Severus," the Dark Lord called, and Severus stepped out of the shadows.
My stomach immediately dropped and I turned to see Severus standing there, his black eyes gleaming in the candlelight.
I tried not to shiver. Why was it that the Dark Lord called my husband by his surname, but Severus by his first name? Severus wasn't even a pureblood! Was it me? Had my condition brought dishonor on my husband?
Normally I would merely be irritated by this sort of notion and find a way to combat it, but this was the Dark Lord. If he wanted me to have children or die, there was no combatting that. There was only accepting my fate.
"My Lord," Severus said, bowing his head, but now bowing properly. The Dark Lord didn't seem to mind.
"How are the potions coming along?"
"She is making satisfactory progress," Severus drawled, and I just barely stopped myself from gasping.
That wasn't what he'd said yesterday, when he'd examined me. Was he lying then, or could he actually be lying to the Dark Lord? The thought was absurd, but I said nothing. If he was lying to me, I could hash it out with him later. If he was lying to the Dark Lord and I exposed him, he'd be dead where he stood.
And he was my only hope.
"Very well, continue on with it, then," the Dark Lord said, and I saw his fingers waving us dismissively away. "Report regularly, Severus, and I expect, if things continue in this manner, that I will see your wife again, Avery."
We all bowed and I followed Jack, feeling his hand in mine as the door closed behind us.
"Severus," I began, but he shook his head.
We were not to talk about his lies in the Lestrange Manor, I realized. I nodded my understanding.
"Would you have time to come for tea sometime soon, Severus?" I said. Just because we weren't discussing it there and then didn't mean that he would get off the hook. I wanted answers, especially when my life was on the line.
"I will make an arrangement with you by owl," he said sternly. "I am unsure at present as to my schedule."
A mission. He was doing something for Voldemort other than making my potions. I agreed that this would be fine and I left with my husband, returning home and instantly peeling off my clothes when we arrived at our room.
"What are you doing?" Jack asked, not upset, merely curious.
"I need to get the feel of him off me," I said, rubbing at my chin. "What has he done to himself?"
"You think I'm stupid enough to ask?" Jack asked with a snort. He touched my bare shoulder and I looked at him. "It's going to be alright, Vanessa."
"Yes, everything's alright for you, isn't it?" I snapped. "Because if I can't give you children, you'll just take Sirius's wife and she will!"
He said nothing as I stormed into the bathroom and drew a bath. After a moment he called that the house-elf could draw the bath for me, but I ignored him. Of course an elf could do it for me, but it gave me a reason to ignore him. I tapped my wand on the faucet to ensure the right temperature.
It wasn't just suspicion anymore. Jack really would take Amy for himself if it turned out that I was beyond redemption and that the Dark Lord would kill me. Perhaps he would also raise the brats she conceived with Sirius, since he could no longer beat out Lucius for a son to marry to Sirius's eldest daughter.
I didn't expect for Jack to love me. We had long ago agreed that we didn't believe in the usefulness of such foolish notions. But Lucius and Narcissa clearly cared for each other in a way that I couldn't believe that Jack cared for me. How easy would it be for him to throw me aside in favor of Amy? How could he possibly prefer her to me in any way?
But it was the children. I sank into the bath and allowed myself to cry. My mother had always said that tears were cathartic, that it would be good for me to let things out on occasion.
The warm tears splashed into the bath and I began tapping my fingers against the edge of the tub, thinking of ways I could improve my standing. Severus was helping me, I realized. Why he was, I didn't know, but he was lying to Voldemort, risking his own life, in order to buy me time to improve, if I was going to improve. I wasn't going to waste a gift, though.
Even if I could not have children, there were ways I could find to be useful, still. Peter, for one, was my doing. If I could make him dependent on me, if I could somehow be the key to keeping Peter in their grasp…. It would take careful planning, but that might save my life.
"Because they might give up on waiting otherwise," I muttered, blowing at the bubbles in my bath.
I was afraid. I was not ashamed to admit it, not to myself. Amy, Evans, they hadn't scared me in school because there was only so much they could and would do to me. Detention, yes. A little superficial physical injury? Nothing Madam Pomfrey couldn't fix. But they did not have the guts to kill me, to actually hurt me, to destroy me. They were good. They were weak.
There was nothing weak or good about the Dark Lord. If he wanted me dead, if he was done with me, I would be dead and he would move on to some other task without a second thought. I'd seen Bellatrix's work. I knew that the side my husband was on, the side I by extension was at the mercy of, had no qualms with destruction. There was nothing they wouldn't do to me.
I closed my eyes and thought of my first day at Hogwarts, first meeting Amy and Sarah….
"That necklace is beautiful!"
I touched my neck and looked at the willowy, plain girl who had complimented my jewelry. Beside her was a girl I'd seen but never spoken to, Amy McAuley, second daughter of an unfortunate family that only had daughters to its name. Lots of them, but still, no sons.
"Thank you," I said graciously. "It was my mother's. It is tradition, in the Brown family, to pass on a valuable family trinket upon starting school."
It was true. I saw Amy wrinkle her nose slightly. Perhaps she did not approve of such traditions. I knew the McAuleys were walking a fine line between pureblood society and being blood traitors, which was largely why I'd never spoken to her before. But surely, now that we were roommates and she was the only pureblood I would be sharing space with, it wouldn't hurt to befriend her.
"I wish my family could afford such beautiful things," the other girl sighed. "My name's Sarah, by the way, Sarah Kelly."
Probably a half-blood based on the fact that she already seemed comfortable with her wand and robes.
"Vanessa Brown," I said in the way I'd practiced in the mirror for four hours that morning. "And you're Amy McAuley. I've seen you at parties."
"You're a pureblood too?" Sarah gasped. "We have so many in our year!"
She was likely referring to James Potter and Sirius Black, who had also been Sorted into Gryffindor. I didn't want to be Black when he had to explain it to his mother, Walburga. That woman practically worshipped Slytherin. His placement in Gryffindor was bound to a poor beginning to his years at Hogwarts.
"Would you like some chocolate?" Sarah asked. "I still have some from the train."
"Sure, yeah," Amy muttered, running her fingers through her long, brown hair. I was instantly envious. She clearly had the kind of hair that was beautiful without taking extreme maintenance measures, unlike my own frizzy disaster.
I also agreed to have some chocolate, and as I consumed the sweets with these two girls, it felt as though we had formed some strange, inextricable bond of friendship, just over a bar of chocolate.
Life had been so much simpler at eleven, I mused, running my fingers across my lips. Slightly chapped.
They had been good friends. Perhaps not the friends I would have dreamed up for myself, but they were the kind of friends I'd needed as a young girl, silly and fun and willing to get their hands dirty where I wasn't.
Sarah was already dead, but that was hardly my fault. And Amy…. What would happen to Amy? What would become of her, whether I lived or died? It was my fault, either way. I brought Peter into the fold, I used him for my own revenge purposes.
Did I regret it?
I closed my eyes again and pictured my husband looking at Amy's feet in the photograph with that thoughtful expression.
I regretted nothing.