Title: They Still Write Poetry in the Fifty-First Century
Author: ( Read more... )

The first expression on baby Draco’s face, once he had stopped wailing and had been passed from the Healer to his father, was a sneer. His lip curled up above toothless gums and he squirmed in Lucius’s arms, making whimpers of protest till his father deposited him in her arms.

She looked down at his red, still-sneering face. Damn, Narcissa ( Read more... )