Prologue

Life's humor is sharp, its timing unfair,
It gives what you seek when you're least prepared.

A small and plump mediwizard with rosy cheeks grinned wildly as a couple entered the room. This mediwizard wore mismatched socks, and his stubble had grown immensely. His breath stank slightly of alcohol, as his relationship with his wife was deteriorating. Last night, he had caught her in the arms of another man. Consequently, he was rather scatterbrained and ill-prepared for work.

The couple that had entered were both fair-haired, and judging from the luxurious dark robes they wore, they belonged to the upper echelons of society. The woman was tall, lean, and ethereally beautiful. She wore a thin frown on her delicate features, while her husband donned a broad smile; his white teeth sparkled under the bright light of the clinical room, and his large hand was wrapped firmly around his wife's waist, almost predatorily.

"Are you ready?" asked the mediwizard.

The witch did not respond. Her face froze, and her soft skin—already pale—grew paler. However, her husband nodded, and his smile widened. He clenched her waist harder, and she flinched.

That night, in an opulent chamber, the couple slept. The woman's eyes were wide, wet, and starry. Her husband's hand slid across her abdomen, and she grimaced. Beneath the tender skin of her abdomen, in her womb, life was beginning.

And she wondered if she had wanted this life.

And she worried if she would be a good mother.

And if he would fail to be a good father, again.

Whilst adrift in her thoughts, a pearly tear fell from her silver eyes. So, this was it? Another heir for her dearest husband. She thought of a boy with blonde hair and grey eyes, much like her own. This child could not replace him. No. Never. A fist clenched resolutely. Pink splashed on her pale cheeks, and her teeth gritted.

This had been a mistake. She was sure of it. Little did she know, it was quite a grand mistake, but not the sort of mistake she had led herself to presently believe.

Meanwhile, in another part of London, a man and woman lay together in bed. The woman, once a bright-eyed girl untouched by the weight of war, had been irrevocably changed. Her fuzzy brown hair lay tangled against the pillowcase, a matted mess, while her brown eyes, ringed with dark circles, stared into the quiet. She had wept earlier that day at the hospital, her tears leaving a raw ache in their wake.

One hand rested on her abdomen, wishing for life to have finally taken root within her. The other brushed softly through her husband's fiery red hair, a gesture that brought no comfort, only questions she dared not voice. Would she ever make him proud? she wondered.

But her wish would not come true. There was no life in her womb.

And yet, despite everything and against all odds, she would bear a child.

Author's Notes

What do you think? Do you want me to continue this fic? I'm sure you guys already know who Hermione is in the story and who Narcissa is. You might also have an inkling as to what the 'mistake' is (has to do with the mediwizard's absentmindedness).

So, this story will be slightly AU in the sense that Draco has died in the war (thus, Lucius and Narcissa are trying again- well, judging from the prologue, Lucius really wants another heir, but Narcissa isn't sure if she wants to have a child again, especially with Lucius, as she feels like his pawn).

Hope you're all doing well! Reviews are love!

Updated: January 20, 2025. Fixed the grammar and flow.