“It was an accident.”
The young boy stared at the rose in his hands, crestfallen. Shriveled, burnt black, a single petal fell off as the boy’s eyes welled with tears.
“Mother, I didn’t mean to. I only picked it to give to you.”
Narcissa bent and cupped his cheeks fiercely. “Love, it’s okay. These things happen. Why don’t you show me where it came from, so you can give me another one?”
As the boy’s grey eyes lit up with hopeful excitement, Narcissa let her reassuring face slide into a small frown as her young son led her along the paths of the Manor’s rose garden. It was concerning, they said, to have a tendency to cause death at such a young age. Perhaps from her side of the family tree… But no matter. She shook her head, freeing herself of those thoughts as her son excitedly showed her the roses.
He didn’t mean it.
~~~
“It was an accident.” Whispered this time, voice broken with grief as Draco held the limp body of the all-black owl he’d been so delighted by in Diagon Alley. He’d only been holding it, admiring its soft feathers when he stroked the bird from head to tail and it’d shivered before keeling over, dead.
Narcissa’s heart twisted with fear. There hadn’t been anything since the roses. She doubted he even remembered.
The boy’s eyes lifted to hers, pale, pointed face streaked with tears of grief and fear. “Mother, what did I do?”
The scared words echoed with her long after he’d left for Hogwarts.
~~~
She embraced him with relief as he stepped off the train for the winter holidays. There’d been no incidents. She’d debated writing to Dumbledore, asking him – but Lucius would have had a fit, and she didn’t quite trust the headmaster not to treat her son differently if he’d known.
“Oh my love, how I’ve missed you.” Narcissa smiled warmly, unable to stop the tears from pricking her eyes as she took him in.
Draco grinned in contentment. “I’ve missed you too. When we get home, can Dobby make us that banoffee pie? I’ve missed that, too.”
She laughed affectionately. “Of course, little one.” As her son turned his attention to his luggage, she touched her belly fondly. Soon, there would be more to celebrate.
~~~
Lucius held her for hours as she sobbed, stroking her hair in a gesture of comfort. As if she could ever feel comfort again. Her life, once whole, had fractured into jagged fragments that embedded themselves neatly into her being.
When she’d broken the news, Lucius had cracked a rare smile. Draco had beamed and asked when he could meet her. Narcissa had laughed and gestured to her stomach, just starting to swell. He’d approached in wonder, and shyly touched – and suddenly, Narcissa knew something was wrong. Draco distracted, she’d glanced panicked at Lucius, who understood without a word.
After her son went to bed, she’d broken down completely. She would never, could never tell Draco what he’d done. But when she looked into his innocent grey eyes, how was she to see anything other than death?
~~~
Apparently, the Blacks had a blood curse. Weak in that it only affected the first son in every seventh generation, Narcissa had not even known of its existence. But the illustrations in the ancient text laying open before her were clear. Draco possessed a brush of death itself deep in his veins… in his heart.
For the part that made Narcissa’s heart shatter further: the curse’s effects could only be brought about by love.
~~~
She’d had to change everything. Every dismissive letter, every missed holiday with Draco brought her nothing but heartbreak. But as his letters grew shorter over the years, colder – she felt a sense of relief. It was better than the alternative.
~~~
After the incidents in Draco’s fourth year, everything had changed again. A Dark presence loomed incessantly in the Manor’s halls. Narcissa had done her best to avoid it, avoid him, until Lucius’s drawn out screams had her running to the sitting room. Twenty minutes later, she laid on the floor, breaths short and painful, stars swimming before her eyes as the Dark Lord lifted his wand yet again – and a head of white-blond hair filled her vision as he stood defiantly between his fallen mother and a vengeful Voldemort.
“No.”
The quiet word spoke volumes.
Instead of responding, the Dark Lord merely snarled and lifted Draco off his feet with a burst of red light, leaving him shuddering on the floor.
Narcissa closed her eyes, thanking the powers that be for the ringing in her ears.
Her hand found his and squeezed it in comfort as another shriek of Crucio left them both screaming.
All the years of distance. The walls she’d built between her and her precious, loving, only son. Her grief for time lost spoke far louder than the cursed pain.
As Draco’s hand trembled in hers, he managed to squeeze back. A single tear slipped out of her eye, just as she felt an icy darkness pass from his hand to hers.
I love you too.