Chapter 9
The bathroom was huge and intricate, and you began to really wonder where you were in the house. It was too feminine inside for it to be shared with Lucius, decorated with some soft pinks and purplses, along with smelling strongly of flowers. So did that mean the Malfoys had a shared bedroom and separate ones?
It would make sense. You were sure Lucius got busy with work sometimes and didn’t want to disturb Narcissa. Even married couples need their own space, no matter how much they love each other.
Turning on the shower head and removing your blood-stained clothes, you audibly gasped at the scars now criss-crossing your body.
This had to be the work of Professor Snape’s sectumsempra. You only knew the spell existed because he told you about it (you and Snape rarely held secrets from each other).
There was crusted blood around each mark; several gorged through your chest and torso, shoulders, and from what you could see when you turned to look, even your back.
The sight brought tears to your eyes. Sixteen years-old and already scarred and maimed. You were ruined.
You finally tore your gaze away, tears blurring your vision, climbing into the shower, which was hotter than you intended. You kept it that way, hoping maybe the heat would wash the events of this morning away.
The water going down the drain was tinted red with your own blood, which only made you choke on tears again.
You were also exhausted, brain unfocused. How could your mother ― your own mother ― use the Cruciatus Curse on you?
You could feel the after-effects of it now, and once again felt pathetic. How could you let that happen to yourself? You’re a Death Eater for crying out loud!
Which is exactly why she attacked you.
You should have never come here.
You got out of the steaming shower, clearing the mirror of fog to pathetically stare at yourself again. There was a gash on your cheek you hadn’t noticed before, and your upper arm was bruised where you landed roughly in the driveway.
You removed the towel to take a better look at your scars, now clean of blood, but still terrible looking.
It wasn’t fair.
There was a knock on the bathroom door, startling you so badly that you leapt in the air, spinning around to face the sound, leaning on the porcelain sink to hold yourself up. Your heart was racing; why were you so jumpy?
“Are you alright in there, darling?” Narcissa’s voice asked from the other side. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”
“Y-yeah,” you replied, voice shakier than you had intended as you turned back to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’m fine, Narcissa.”
“I’ve made us tea,” she replied. “I’d love it if you could come out and join me.”
You didn’t reply, giving your ruined body one last look before finally pulling Narcissa’s pyjamas on.
They were so comfortable. A little too warm and fuzzy for summer pyjamas, but the house was cool enough for you to not die of heat.
You made your way out to see Narcissa curled up on the sofa, clearly having showered as well when you were in there. A tight braid wove itself down her back, draped over her shoulder, and she was wearing comfortable-looking pyjamas as well, a steaming mug of tea in her hand.
“Chamomile and rooibos,” she said, motioning to the other mug on the table. “To help calm your nerves. You need it.”
You settled yourself down next to her, grabbing the mug and taking a sip. It was warm and comforting, and you took another.
“C’mere,” Narcissa murmured after a moment of comfortable silence, adjusting her position and opening her arms.
You stared at her, debating for a moment. Feeling pathetic and childish, you found yourself moving toward her outstretched arms before pausing.
As much as you wanted that, you didn’t want her to think you’re weak.
You were scared, as well; your mother (who’s not your mum) never did that with you, and whenever you tried to curl up with her, she’d always rudely question what you were doing.
Now Narcissa Malfoy was sitting here, someone whose approval you’ve been striving for, offering to play the role of your mum, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to accept it.
You couldn’t.
You couldn’t burden her.
You were so exhausted though.
Your brain was so foggy.
And she looked very warm and comfortable.
Did she put a Sleeping Draught Potion in your tea?
You couldn’t keep your eyelids open anymore, and you found yourself leaning over on the sofa, falling unconscious.
***
You were warm. That’s something you knew for sure. Warm, and extremely comfortable.
You sighed, curling deeper into the arms of whoever was holding you.
Wait a minute.
You opened your eyes, confused of your surroundings for a moment, and even more confused to see Narcissa, asleep, holding you tight against her.
The events of the early morning came back to you, and you quickly pulled away, angry at her.
“You drugged me!” you snapped.
She startled awake, staring at you for a moment as if trying to process who you were, before she partially sat up and rubbed her eyes, looking more exhausted than you were.
“I needed you to sleep, my love,” she murmured sleepily, now pushing herself into a sitting position, folding her hands neatly in her lap. “Honey, I could see how badly you were hurting. I needed you to relax, and that was the best way I could do it.”
“Oh, yeah, put a Sleeping Draught in my already soothing tea,” you replied bitterly, unsure of why you were even surprised. This was a very Malfoy type of action, and an even more Narcissa type of one.
“You needed the sleep,” she replied, sounding more like a mum to you than she had before. “I will not apologise for wanting what’s best for you.”
You stared at her, letting her words process in your still vaguely Potion-addled brain.
She’s right. You were upset and thinking about a lot of things. She kind of did you a favor by knocking you out, actually. You’d have done the same if you had a child.
That doesn’t mean you weren’t annoyed, though. She should have told you!
Whatever. It was done and over with. No use in being angry about it now.
“How long have I been out for?” you asked quietly, feeling like you’ve slept only a few hours.
“A day,” Narcissa replied, taking you entirely by surprise.
“A DAY?” you cried, turning your head out the window.
It was daylight, probably mid-morning by now. You slept for an entire day?
You turned back to Narcissa, your brain beginning to wake up and turn its gears again.
Why was she still asleep at this time in the morning? She’s usually up by sunrise. Where was Bellatrix? Did the two sisters visit Snape yesterday? Was your fake mum still alive? Who was your real mum? Where’s Draco? You wanted Draco.
“No, no, shh darling,” Narcissa murmured, taking your hand and gently guiding you closer to her, which you allowed. “Don’t get lost in that head of yours. Breathe, and if you have any questions, feel free to ask them. I’m here for you.”
“W-why were you still asleep when I woke up?” you asked, starting with the simplest one.
“What, is your mother not allowed to sleep as well?” she asked, blinking at you, before the signature Malfoy smirk crossed her lips. “I get tired too. I had business to take care of with my sister yesterday, so I was out late for that. By the time we got home, you were still asleep and I was exhausted, and since I’m honestly quite terrified to let you out of my sight right now, I stayed in here with you.”
“So you went to see Professor Snape?” you asked, knowing that she knew you had heard her that night.
“Do not tell Draco,” was all she replied with, expression growing serious. “I do not want him to know that you two have a hand in killing Dumbledore.”
You nodded, having not planned on telling him anyway. You loved him, but you knew he’d start a fight over it for several reasons.
One of them being how his mother was essentially considering him incapable.
“Narcissa, is…is my mum alive?” you risked asking. “A-and…what did she mean I’m not hers? Who are my real parents?”
She suddenly looked uncomfortable, and you took note how a couple of nights ago she clearly didn’t know the answer to this.
She does now.
“Your mum is alive,” was all she replied with, climbing out of bed. “Come, get dressed, we need to go to Diagon Alley to get your things.”
“Hey, you ignored me!” you cried, leaping after her.
The movement was too much though, and you fell to your knees on the ground, every muscle and bone in your body aching to an extent you’ve never felt before. It actually brought tears to your eyes, and you moaned, “Oww.”
“Oh, baby, don’t overwork yourself!” Narcissa gasped, quickly kneeling at your side to help you up. “Both curses took a toll on your body that a day of sleep will not heal. I’d let you stay home and rest, but we need to go get your school stuff and I can’t just leave you home.”
“Why not?” you challenged, allowing her to help you stand.
“You need robes fitted.”
You sighed, deciding arguing would get you nowhere, and (carefully) trudged down the hall to your bedroom.
You passed through the drawing room, where Bellatrix for some reason was lounging in one of the armchairs.
You stared at her, feeling like you were suddenly seeing her in a new light.
If she had never come with you to your parents, never saved you, there’s a very high chance that you’d be dead right now.
“Thank you,” you told her quietly, and she turned her head to look at you, dark, angry eyes brightening at your sight. “I…I know you were the one who told my mum to stop. Fought her to protect me. If you hadn’t come along, I’d be dead.”
Before you could hardly finish your sentence, she launched herself toward you. For a split second you thought she was actually trying to attack you, but she instead threw her arms tightly around you, hugging you in a very similar way that Narcissa does.
You relaxed into her grip, wrapping your arms around her as well, glad she didn’t pull away. Something felt nice about hugging the oldest Black sister, felt right, like things were meant to be like this.
“Don’t go thinking I actually care about you, now,” she hissed, but she didn’t break the hug. “You’re still the filthy half-blood who doesn’t belong here.”
“You’re growing on me, too,” you replied, having finally learned how she ticks.
To your surprise, she still didn’t pull away from the hug. It got to the point where you didn’t even enjoy the contact anymore, wondering every second when she’d pull away. You knew the moment you finally relaxed into her embrace would be when she let go.
Thankfully, you were saved when Draco stepped into the room, looking at the two of you with a questioning gaze.
That was when she let go.
“What are you doing, child?” she asked him, crossing her arms. “Where’s your mother?”
“Getting ready,” he replied, turning to you, “which is what you should be doing. Go get dressed, before she comes out and yells at you.”
You highly doubted she’d yell at you, but something about Draco’s new haughty demeanour made you walk off to your room to change. You were still in the cosy pyjamas from a couple nights ago, and wearing them a day straight was fairly disgusting.
Once you were changed into something nice, refusing to look at yourself in the mirror as you did so, you made your way back into the drawing room, where Narcissa was now residing.
“Oh, good,” she breathed, putting a hand to her chest. “I was about to come looking for you.”
You raised your eyebrow at her, confused. Was she really that concerned that something bad would happen to you?
She gently, yet firmly, grabbed your hand, reaching for Draco’s as well before Apparating with the two of you to Diagon Alley.
The street was packed with students buying school supplies, tons of unassuming first years wandering around with stacks of new things. How you didn’t miss those days.
“Come, you two needn’t anything more than new robes,” Narcissa said, pushing Draco in the lead and still gripping your hand.
It reminded you heavily of your first trip here with her, where you didn’t let go of her. That moment was so embarrassing, yet felt like it happened ages ago.
Now here you were again, Narcissa being the one who failed to release her grip. You had a feeling she was aware of it, and was just still terrified of losing you.
The three of you entered Madam Malkin’s, where the woman was fiddling with something at her counter, looking up with a smile on her face.
“Good morning!” she greeted cheerily. “How can I help you today?”
“My children need robes fitted for their school year,” Narcissa explained, ushering the two of you forward. “We can take care of my son, Draco, first.”
Aww, she called me her child, you thought, proudly puffing your chest. If she’s publicly calling you a Malfoy now, you may as well act it.
“I can handle this myself, Mother, thanks,” Draco spat, his attitude taking you by complete surprise. In the day you were knocked out, what the bloody hell happened to Draco’s personality?
The boy always had a rather large ego, but he never spoke to his mother like that, not even in public places.
Yet again, he kind of spoke to you like that back at home.
“No child should be out wandering alone right now, Draco,” Narcissa whispered, narrowing her eyes in warning at him.
He ignored her, scoffing, as he allowed Madam Malkin to guide him onto the stand, draping a robe over him.
“No, no, not that colour,” Narcissa tutted, pointing at a different one. “That should do.”
Madam Malkin nodded, grabbing it and swapping Draco’s robe out. The boy scoffed again as the woman began pinning his robes, fitting them to his form.
The door dinged behind you, and you peered around the corner to see who had entered.
Oh. Your three least favourite classmates: Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and, of course, Harry Potter. Why did the Mudblood look like she failed at her eyeliner?
Massively failed. She had raccoon eyes!
“I’m sixteen years-old, not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone,” Draco spat, scowling down at his mum with distaste.
His expression left you feeling angry with him, because how dare he treat Narcissa like that? She has never been anything but kind to him, and all she’s doing is watching out for him right now.
It’s the Dark Mark, you were sure of it. Being tasked to kill Dumbledore, being given the Dark Mark, must have blown his ego up to the highest level it could go. Stupid kid, he’ll get himself killed like that!
Madam Malkin clucked, continuing to pin-up his robes.
“Now, dear, your mother’s quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it’s nothing to do with being a child…” she murmured.
Yeah, it’s got to do with your big ego, you thought, feeling a strange, sudden dislike for the boy you’ve grown up with.
She adjusted a pin in his sleeve, where he quickly ripped his arm away.
“Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you?” he snapped.
Madam Malkin gave him a look before motioning to the mirror, which he promptly strode over to, looking himself over.
You watched his eyes narrow, and it was then that you were sure he noticed the trio standing by the entrance.
“If you’re wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in,” he said, smirking.
You turned back to look at Hermione, who looked thoroughly upset, and you smirked as well. The stupid girl was too sensitive; maybe if she hadn’t punched Draco in third year, he wouldn’t be openly humiliating her like this.
The Mudblood brought it on herself, afterall.
Mudbloods.
Just like your father.
If he hadn’t sat back and let your mother do whatever she wanted, maybe your hatred toward Muggle-borns wouldn't run so deep, but he single-handedly ruined it for you. You hated him.
You hated both of them.
You hated all Mudbloods.
“Yeah, like you’d dare do magic out of school,” Draco sneered, snapping your attention back to the present; Ron and Harry had their wands drawn. “Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.”
You snickered, the comment very Draco sounding; maybe he hadn’t changed much, and was just in a bad mood today.
“Hermione does look stupid like that,” you whispered to Narcissa, who smirked slightly, still holding your hand.
“That’s quite enough!” Madam Malkin snapped, turning to face the two of you, a pleading expression on her face. “Madam, please!”
Narcissa tugged gently on your hand, pulling you out into the open from behind the rack so the trio could see you. You were embarrassed slightly to be seen holding her hand, but you didn’t dare let go; not until she did.
“Put those away,” Narcissa said, voice cold, as she eyed Ron and Harry. “If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”
You smirked at the boys, self-righteous triumph coursing through your veins. You’ve seen first-hand just how angry Narcissa was when she heard about what they did to Draco.
“Really?” Harry said arrogantly, taking a step forward, clearly having grown over the summer. “Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?”
You gripped Narcissa’s hand much tighter, stepping closer to her side like a lost child, ignoring Madam Malkin’s outburst at the accusation. You hid your arm, afraid he’d see your Mark.
“I see that being Dumbledore’s favourite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter,” Narcissa began, voice smooth and chilling. “But Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you.”
Burn! you thought, smirking at the boy, who ignored you and looked mockingly around the shop.
“Wow…look at that…he’s not here now!” he began, making your blood boil. “So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!”
Before you could stop yourself, you made your way toward him, snapping, “Don’t speak about my mother like that!”
“Oh, is that why she looks like she’s smelling dung?” Harry continued, wand now pointed at you. “I thought it was Draco, but it must be you. I thought she only had one child. Was he that much of a nuisance that she had to go and buy another one?”
“Piss of!” you spat, reaching for your own wand.
“It’s alright, darling,” Narcissa said, resting her hand on your shoulder as she steered you back next to her, away from Harry’s drawn wand and preventing you from taking out your own. “I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.”
Harry raised his wand higher, pointing it between the two of you, and Hermione attempted to get him to put it down. At least she had some sense.
“OUCH!” you heard Draco bellow behind you, and you whipped around to see him smack Madam Malkin’s hand away from his arm, his left arm, with the Dark Mark. Did she see? “Watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! Mother, I don’t think I want these anymore.”
At that, he threw them down at poor Madam Malkin’s feet, who looked utterly appalled. You locked eyes with her, mouthing an apology, hoping she understood, as Narcissa grabbed your hand again.
“You’re right, Draco,” she said, now wrapping her arm protectively around your shoulders, “now I know the kind of scum that shops here…” She eyed Hermione, which you knew she was simply trying to make a point, “We’ll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting’s.”
At that, she steered you out of the shop, keeping you close to her side. You avoided eye contact with Madam Malkin, being sure to sneer at Potter as you walked by, and giggled when Draco rammed his shoulder into Ron.
“We need to run to Borgin and Burke’s,” Narcissa whispered to the two of you, hastily making her way through the crowd. “Make sure no one notices us sneaking into Knockturn Alley.”