Fic: For Love and Duty
Title: For Love And Duty
Username: flyingharmony
Pairing: Narcissa/Lucius
Type: Het
Prompt #: #11
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1733
Warnings/content: Mentions of miscarriage, general thoughts about pregnancy
Summary: In a society where a wife's worth is based on only one thing, Narcissa Malfoy must prove herself.
Notes: I absolutely loved this prompt! The fic went its own way a bit, but I still hope that I managed to do it justice. Lots of thanks to heartsignite for the fantastically quick beta work and the title/summary help, as well as to shy_of_reality for hosting this fest!
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
For Love and Duty
It was her duty. She knew that it was her duty, had always been aware that after the wedding she would be forced to give her husband an heir, that she had no choice. That, if she failed, the consequences would be unspeakable.
"I will not fail," she had sworn to herself on the night before their wedding, making a silent vow that in the following years had proved to be sheer impossible to keep. "I will not fail…"
Of course she had heard the whispers. Of course she had felt their gazes burn on her skin. Of course she had noticed how the way they spoke to her changed over the years. She knew what they said, knew about everything. Six years. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had been married for longer than six years, and there was still no heir.
Perhaps she refused, they gossiped. Perhaps she spared herself, secretly escaped her obligations as a wife. Perhaps he had grown tired of her, or perhaps she was worthless…
No. She was not worthless! She wasn’t worthless. She wasn’t.
Narcissa would have laughed at the rumours, would have spat on them and forgotten a minute later, but what if it was the truth? What if she were…
Even Andromeda had given birth to a child. Her traitorous sister, whose foolish values were so different from her own, who had never understood what it meant to carry the name of Black, who seemed not to care about honour. Even she was mother to a daughter.
"Do you want to end up like your sister?" her mother had once asked her after dinner when Lucius had already adjourned to the library, her voice sharp, nearly cruel, yet full of despair, like it had been only in the weeks after Andy had run away. "Tell me, Narcissa, do you want to end up like Bellatrix? She’s nearly thirty years old, and still without a child! She wants to convince me otherwise, but I know that they are sleeping in different bedrooms. For Merlin’s sake, I beg you, do not fail to give your husband an heir. Do not disgrace our family even more! If Abraxas Malfoy were still alive to see you, how furious he would be…"
Narcissa had barely slept that night, had woken every hour, opening her eyes only to close them again a moment later, until she had risen from her bed at last, long before dawn broke. Her mother’s words still resounded in her ears, over and over again, and she could still feel the tight grip around her wrist. Do you want to end up like your sister?
Of course she didn’t. She was very well aware of her obligations, very well aware of what she had once promised herself. She wouldn’t bring shame to her family, not in the way Bellatrix or Andromeda had; she would bring honour to them as was her duty.
She was not worthless.
The thought of pregnancy had always disgusted her, had always driven a shiver down her spine whenever she closed her eyes to imagine what it would feel like to have a child growing inside of her, to...
And yet, she had yearned for the day she would hold her baby in her arms for the first time.
Only Lucius knew about her miscarriages, Lucius and no one else, not even her mother, not even her sisters. She had been nineteen when she had lost her first child, the second barely two years later, days after the Healers had confirmed her pregnancy. How devastated had he been, and how desperately had he held himself back so he could be there for her, to comfort her whenever she needed him. The agony had taken her breath away, had caused tears to stream down her face incessantly, but what had followed was nothing but emptiness. Nothing but numbness, deep inside of her.
She was not worthless…
It all had begun like years before. How dizzy she had been in the morning, nauseated by the smell of her breakfast. She had vomited what Lucius had attempted to feed her, swore to herself that she would never eat again. How confused she had been at first, and how soon she had understood.
Once more, the Healers were only capable of affirming what she had already known. She was with child. Again.
She had never seen her husband happier than when he carefully wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her into a gentle embrace. She recognised the same glow his eyes had shown the night of her wedding. It seemed hard to believe that a man like Lucius Malfoy could find joy in such a message, and yet, she could find nothing but pure happiness, nothing but pure love in his expression. But no matter how desperately Narcissa forced herself to smile, she knew that he had the ability to see right through her, that she wouldn’t be able to fool him.
"You need to tell your mother," he said and she would only shake her head, eyes wide open with fright. No… No, she wouldn’t tell her mother, wouldn’t tell anyone, not until…
She dared not finish her thought. Dared not remember the stinging pain in her abdomen that had woken her from her sleep twice before, dared not close her eyes to imagine the time that lay ahead of her…
The Healers were confident, she knew, had smiled at her as though to guarantee what no one could guarantee, and yet, they had warned her about the risks. If she were to follow their directions, however, if she were to rest, to take whatever potions they prescribed, and was careful, it was likely that everything would be all right, and she would bear a healthy son.
She would give him an heir. She would finally give him an heir. She was not worthless.
She was not worthless. Yet, Narcissa dreaded the thought of the following months, felt her entire body tighten as her palm accidentally brushed over her belly. She would be a mother. A child was growing inside of her, living inside of her, soon she would be…
Everything would change. And despite his promises, despite his assurances, she knew that before long, even looking at her would disgust him beyond belief; before long, he would cease to touch her. Before long, she would refuse to even glance at the mirror, incapable of standing her own reflection, not recognising herself any more, the once beautiful and slender woman who would disappear too soon. How she wished for a child, she thought, but how she despised pregnancy. Nothing would ever be like before, nothing at all. But she would give him an heir.
-----
It was not until months later, when the swelling of her belly had become impossible to conceal beneath her robes, that Narcissa had truly begun to realise what it meant to be with child, how much her body changed, more and more every day.
She had hesitated to tell Mother, had hesitated even to tell Bella, afraid of their reaction, but they had seemed nearly indifferent, as though it were a matter of course. Perhaps it was, she thought, but not to her. Nothing was a matter of course any more, nothing at all.
They would name him Draco. They had decided on his name together at Lucius’ proposal. He was so unlike her own father, who had left the choice entirely to her mother. Draco, the dragon. The fighter. And he would fight. He would be strong, so incredibly strong. She knew it deep inside of her.
Any aversion, any reluctance seemed to be forgotten now, had disappeared in the first moment she had felt her son move inside of her. What a fool she had been to worry about what could not matter less, she thought, slowly shaking her head and smiling. But Lucius? Lucius had been so gentle at first, but now? Now, hardly two months before the Healers’ estimated date of birth, her presentiment seemed to have come true. Now, so suddenly, he seemed to have lost any interest in her, seemed to have lost any interest in his child.
But they were at war now.
"Lucius," she whispered, reaching out her hand to touch his cheek, but he would only absently kiss her fingertips, turning away from her a moment later with a quiet sigh.
"Later, Cissy."
Again, she smiled sadly as she left the room. Perhaps it was the war. Perhaps it was the fighting that took its toll on him, the fighting that seemed to draw him away from his wife and their unborn son, or perhaps it was true. Perhaps it was true that he could no longer stand to look at her, true that he was disgusted by her body that he had once loved so much, but that had now changed, and would change still.
No. No… It couldn’t possibly be true, not after everything they had gone through. He had stood by her when they all had turned away from her, had silenced the whispers, comforted her in moments of greatest despair, and always kissed her like he had kissed her on the day they had become husband and wife.
How softly had he stroked over her growing belly, his smile shattering every last doubt left inside of her, and now? Now should everything be over? Should he have changed more than she was able to admit?
You worry too much, she told herself in silence, forcing herself to sit down on her bed instead of restlessly pacing around the room. They were at war now, a war that meant everything or nothing; he was not yet thirty years of age, and yet the unburdened felicity of his youth had vanished from his face, and nothing but a deep line of worry was left behind.
Dark times lay ahead, she knew, lay ahead of them all.
But soon, they would be parents, parents to a boy who was to become the heir of Malfoy Manor, who would connect their bloodlines into all eternity. Soon, a part of their lost bliss would return, even to him, soon he would smile again, holding his child in his arms, strong and healthy. Soon he would understand that together, as a family, they would overcome anything, anything at all. And to her, that was all that mattered.
Username: flyingharmony
Pairing: Narcissa/Lucius
Type: Het
Prompt #: #11
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1733
Warnings/content: Mentions of miscarriage, general thoughts about pregnancy
Summary: In a society where a wife's worth is based on only one thing, Narcissa Malfoy must prove herself.
Notes: I absolutely loved this prompt! The fic went its own way a bit, but I still hope that I managed to do it justice. Lots of thanks to heartsignite for the fantastically quick beta work and the title/summary help, as well as to shy_of_reality for hosting this fest!
Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.
For Love and Duty
It was her duty. She knew that it was her duty, had always been aware that after the wedding she would be forced to give her husband an heir, that she had no choice. That, if she failed, the consequences would be unspeakable.
"I will not fail," she had sworn to herself on the night before their wedding, making a silent vow that in the following years had proved to be sheer impossible to keep. "I will not fail…"
Of course she had heard the whispers. Of course she had felt their gazes burn on her skin. Of course she had noticed how the way they spoke to her changed over the years. She knew what they said, knew about everything. Six years. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy had been married for longer than six years, and there was still no heir.
Perhaps she refused, they gossiped. Perhaps she spared herself, secretly escaped her obligations as a wife. Perhaps he had grown tired of her, or perhaps she was worthless…
No. She was not worthless! She wasn’t worthless. She wasn’t.
Narcissa would have laughed at the rumours, would have spat on them and forgotten a minute later, but what if it was the truth? What if she were…
Even Andromeda had given birth to a child. Her traitorous sister, whose foolish values were so different from her own, who had never understood what it meant to carry the name of Black, who seemed not to care about honour. Even she was mother to a daughter.
"Do you want to end up like your sister?" her mother had once asked her after dinner when Lucius had already adjourned to the library, her voice sharp, nearly cruel, yet full of despair, like it had been only in the weeks after Andy had run away. "Tell me, Narcissa, do you want to end up like Bellatrix? She’s nearly thirty years old, and still without a child! She wants to convince me otherwise, but I know that they are sleeping in different bedrooms. For Merlin’s sake, I beg you, do not fail to give your husband an heir. Do not disgrace our family even more! If Abraxas Malfoy were still alive to see you, how furious he would be…"
Narcissa had barely slept that night, had woken every hour, opening her eyes only to close them again a moment later, until she had risen from her bed at last, long before dawn broke. Her mother’s words still resounded in her ears, over and over again, and she could still feel the tight grip around her wrist. Do you want to end up like your sister?
Of course she didn’t. She was very well aware of her obligations, very well aware of what she had once promised herself. She wouldn’t bring shame to her family, not in the way Bellatrix or Andromeda had; she would bring honour to them as was her duty.
She was not worthless.
The thought of pregnancy had always disgusted her, had always driven a shiver down her spine whenever she closed her eyes to imagine what it would feel like to have a child growing inside of her, to...
And yet, she had yearned for the day she would hold her baby in her arms for the first time.
Only Lucius knew about her miscarriages, Lucius and no one else, not even her mother, not even her sisters. She had been nineteen when she had lost her first child, the second barely two years later, days after the Healers had confirmed her pregnancy. How devastated had he been, and how desperately had he held himself back so he could be there for her, to comfort her whenever she needed him. The agony had taken her breath away, had caused tears to stream down her face incessantly, but what had followed was nothing but emptiness. Nothing but numbness, deep inside of her.
She was not worthless…
It all had begun like years before. How dizzy she had been in the morning, nauseated by the smell of her breakfast. She had vomited what Lucius had attempted to feed her, swore to herself that she would never eat again. How confused she had been at first, and how soon she had understood.
Once more, the Healers were only capable of affirming what she had already known. She was with child. Again.
She had never seen her husband happier than when he carefully wrapped his arm around her waist to pull her into a gentle embrace. She recognised the same glow his eyes had shown the night of her wedding. It seemed hard to believe that a man like Lucius Malfoy could find joy in such a message, and yet, she could find nothing but pure happiness, nothing but pure love in his expression. But no matter how desperately Narcissa forced herself to smile, she knew that he had the ability to see right through her, that she wouldn’t be able to fool him.
"You need to tell your mother," he said and she would only shake her head, eyes wide open with fright. No… No, she wouldn’t tell her mother, wouldn’t tell anyone, not until…
She dared not finish her thought. Dared not remember the stinging pain in her abdomen that had woken her from her sleep twice before, dared not close her eyes to imagine the time that lay ahead of her…
The Healers were confident, she knew, had smiled at her as though to guarantee what no one could guarantee, and yet, they had warned her about the risks. If she were to follow their directions, however, if she were to rest, to take whatever potions they prescribed, and was careful, it was likely that everything would be all right, and she would bear a healthy son.
She would give him an heir. She would finally give him an heir. She was not worthless.
She was not worthless. Yet, Narcissa dreaded the thought of the following months, felt her entire body tighten as her palm accidentally brushed over her belly. She would be a mother. A child was growing inside of her, living inside of her, soon she would be…
Everything would change. And despite his promises, despite his assurances, she knew that before long, even looking at her would disgust him beyond belief; before long, he would cease to touch her. Before long, she would refuse to even glance at the mirror, incapable of standing her own reflection, not recognising herself any more, the once beautiful and slender woman who would disappear too soon. How she wished for a child, she thought, but how she despised pregnancy. Nothing would ever be like before, nothing at all. But she would give him an heir.
-----
It was not until months later, when the swelling of her belly had become impossible to conceal beneath her robes, that Narcissa had truly begun to realise what it meant to be with child, how much her body changed, more and more every day.
She had hesitated to tell Mother, had hesitated even to tell Bella, afraid of their reaction, but they had seemed nearly indifferent, as though it were a matter of course. Perhaps it was, she thought, but not to her. Nothing was a matter of course any more, nothing at all.
They would name him Draco. They had decided on his name together at Lucius’ proposal. He was so unlike her own father, who had left the choice entirely to her mother. Draco, the dragon. The fighter. And he would fight. He would be strong, so incredibly strong. She knew it deep inside of her.
Any aversion, any reluctance seemed to be forgotten now, had disappeared in the first moment she had felt her son move inside of her. What a fool she had been to worry about what could not matter less, she thought, slowly shaking her head and smiling. But Lucius? Lucius had been so gentle at first, but now? Now, hardly two months before the Healers’ estimated date of birth, her presentiment seemed to have come true. Now, so suddenly, he seemed to have lost any interest in her, seemed to have lost any interest in his child.
But they were at war now.
"Lucius," she whispered, reaching out her hand to touch his cheek, but he would only absently kiss her fingertips, turning away from her a moment later with a quiet sigh.
"Later, Cissy."
Again, she smiled sadly as she left the room. Perhaps it was the war. Perhaps it was the fighting that took its toll on him, the fighting that seemed to draw him away from his wife and their unborn son, or perhaps it was true. Perhaps it was true that he could no longer stand to look at her, true that he was disgusted by her body that he had once loved so much, but that had now changed, and would change still.
No. No… It couldn’t possibly be true, not after everything they had gone through. He had stood by her when they all had turned away from her, had silenced the whispers, comforted her in moments of greatest despair, and always kissed her like he had kissed her on the day they had become husband and wife.
How softly had he stroked over her growing belly, his smile shattering every last doubt left inside of her, and now? Now should everything be over? Should he have changed more than she was able to admit?
You worry too much, she told herself in silence, forcing herself to sit down on her bed instead of restlessly pacing around the room. They were at war now, a war that meant everything or nothing; he was not yet thirty years of age, and yet the unburdened felicity of his youth had vanished from his face, and nothing but a deep line of worry was left behind.
Dark times lay ahead, she knew, lay ahead of them all.
But soon, they would be parents, parents to a boy who was to become the heir of Malfoy Manor, who would connect their bloodlines into all eternity. Soon, a part of their lost bliss would return, even to him, soon he would smile again, holding his child in his arms, strong and healthy. Soon he would understand that together, as a family, they would overcome anything, anything at all. And to her, that was all that mattered.