Author's Note:
 There will be times where I will be adding other's perspectives — whether to give an alternate perspective from the main character's or to "fill in" until she's (Laura/Draco) is able to think for herself. Considering she's a baby, there's only so much that can be done with her at this time.

So who better to meet than Narcissa herself?

TW: Mention of r*pe and marital r*pe.

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"Sometimes we want what we want even if we know it's going to kill us."

― Donna Tartt, The Goldfinch

Narcissa

"It's a boy!"

The midwife exclaimed the instant Narcissa Malfoy felt the baby slip from her body. For the briefest second, a wave of disappointment washed over her as she heard those words.

It's a boy.

For eight months, she had hoped—secretly prayed—to the gods that the child she carried would be a girl. In truth, the longing had begun on her wedding night. With Lucius freshly spent inside her, she had whispered her prayer for a daughter. She repeated it for the first two months of their marriage, until she finally conceived.

Growing up not only as one of three daughters but also as the youngest, Narcissa understood how much a male child was desired as a firstborn. Wanting a girl would have been counterproductive for her, as the cycle of conception would continue until she produced a son. This was more than just common knowledge among the newly wedded women of her social circle—it was a harsh reality, one that Lucius often reminded her of after he rolled off her during their many so-called "love-making" sessions.

Perhaps because she was the youngest, she had once been allowed to daydream about her future partner and the life she wished to build with them. With the exception of Andromeda—whom she was no longer permitted to speak of, though not by choice—both the eldest and youngest of the Black sisters had been effectively arranged to marry the men their parents deemed appropriate.

For Bellatrix, the eldest and proudest of the Black sisters, this had not been a burden. She had been more than happy to marry Rodolphus Lestrange and seemed genuinely content in her marriage, despite having no children of her own yet.

As for Narcissa, she had entered her courtship with Lucius—though it had been a mere formality, as their union had already been decided—blissfully unaware of his true nature.

Naturally, she had attended school with him and witnessed his academic excellence while he simultaneously flaunted the proud heritage he came from. She had truly believed in the facade he presented, convinced that her marriage to him would not only enhance and strengthen her family name but also bring her personal advantages. After all, he was handsome, well-respected, and an upstanding citizen—or so she had thought.

Her female friends had been openly envious of the attention and lavish gifts he had bestowed upon her during their school years and she was more than happy to lose her virginity to him at the age of thirteen though she would have preferred the circumstances surrounding the event to had been more… romantic but given he was seventeen, older, wiser and her future spouse, she would follow his lead no matter the discomfort she felt.

As time passed and she became privy to her friends' romantic encounters with their boyfriends and husbands, Narcissa realized that her own experiences with Lucius did not align with what seemed to be the norm. Given her closeness to Bellatrix, she brought up the topic during tea one afternoon and soon discovered that her situation was quite… unique.

However, she did not reveal everything—especially not the times when Lucius had forced himself on her. Ever the obedient wife, she had accepted his rough treatment, knowing his sole objective: to produce a male heir.

So yes, she understood that having a daughter first would change nothing. Lucius would still demand a son, still put her through the same treatment whenever he pleased. But—this was the thought she clung to—her daughter would be hers alone. A bond untouched by him, a love untainted. And for that, she would endure anything, so long as he left her in peace with her child.

So when she heard those words…

Something inside her broke.

Exhausted, lightheaded, and aching, she watched as they placed her son against her bare chest. Her breath caught as she felt the tiniest body pressed against her clammy skin. A whimper escaped her lips as she hesitantly moved her arms around him, hovering over his fragile form as if uncertain of what to do.

Tears pricked at her eyes. She was so used to brushing them away, swallowing them down before they could fall. But this time, she let them gather.

"Oh, baby…" she whispered, looking down at his still-wet body. Whether it was the feverish haze of exhaustion or something else, she swore she felt him stir against her overheated skin.

"My son…" The words left her in a dreamlike murmur as she gently placed the flat of her palm against his back which was soon followed by an awkward embrace.

"I'm sorry…"

He wasn't the daughter she had longed for. She wanted to say more, needed him to know more—but she was so tired, so weak from bringing him into the world. The last thing she heard was Bellatrix's sharp cry before the darkness swallowed her whole.