Winter of 1981
Narcissa Malfoy looked down at the ornate crib that her son Draco Lucius Malfoy slept soundly in. He was so small, and yet so wholly a Malfoy complete with blond wisp of hair a mess on the top of his head. The lines of his blue veins trembling as his pale eyelids fluttered in his sleep. She placed her hand softly on Draco’s chest, feeling his lungs expand as he breathed. He was alive; she had to remind herself, a smile playing at her lips, he was alive and he was hers. They had been trying for a baby for what had seemed like years, and there had been pain, and miscarriages, but here was Draco, and Merlin’s beard, he was beautiful.
She wondered if Andromeda had felt the same when her daughter was born. A metamorphmagus she had heard. She reached down, letting Draco’s fingers close around one of her fingers, thinking about her sister. What it must be like, to live so lowly without wealth. She shook her head, and instead focused on her boy.
Narcissa heard the front door of the Malfoy Manor open and close and she smiled at the thought of her husband home. She rushed out the door, flying down the stairs and ran straight at him. He barely managed to catch her before letting out a groan.
“Careful,” he warned bitingly, backing away from her and leaning more carefully on his walking stick.
She glared angrily at him, swiping her wand, so his walking stick gave out under him, and he stumbled to keep his balance barely catching himself, and instead seething angrily, “Narcissa,” he growled.
She turned to look at the house elf that appeared to help its master, pointing a hand in warning, “Don’t!” she commanded waiting till it scampered back into the kitchen before glaring at her husband.
He had stumbled towards the couch, falling on it and looking up at her angrily, as she glared back at him, “You were supposed to be at the Ministry!” she accused pushing her wand at his chest that he clutched protectively.
He winced wheezing in a painful gasp of breath, “Is that where you got this? Networking gone bad, then?” she continued.
“Lord Voldemort summoned,” he said looking away so that he wouldn’t have to face her anger.
She glared at him, “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me how this happened?” she asked bitingly.
“It’s rather simple dear,” he taunted the term of endearment, “I was in a wizard duel, you do know what that is of course?”
She continued putting pressure on his wound, until he yelped moving away from her, “Narcissa,” Lucius deplored.
She finally let out a huff taking a step away from where he was sprawled on the couch, “I’m expecting the other person to look worse…”
This got a smirk out of Lucius, “You don’t be friends with Severus Snape without learning a curse or two, that twat looks far worse!” he said proudly, as he undid his robes, pulling up his top to look at the wound.
His chest and stomach was pulsing red from where gigantic welt sat.
“Stinging jinx, it will go down by itself, eventually,” Narcissa announced, as she walked to her husband, standing between his legs, to eye the wound, before moving his hair out of the way, eyeing a slash on his face, that was bleeding.
She pulled out her wand, working meticulously making sure that all of his wounds healed properly, trailing her cool fingers across his warm face.
Lucius squirmed, causing Narcissa to glare at him, “You’re worse than Draco,” she snapped.
“It’s itchy, and hurts,” Lucius Malfoy whined, nodding towards the welt, and making a move to touch it when his wife smacked his hand away.
Narcissa didn’t meet his gaze as she looked over him, making sure that he wasn’t all of his wounds were healed or healing, before she stood to her full height, “Good!” she snapped.
Lucius Malfoy eyed his Draco Malfoy, where he slept soundly in his crib one last time, before standing two his feet and trailing after his wife. He found her in the gardens sitting on one of the benches, a glass of fire whisky at hand, as she watched the peacock saunter around the garden. He stood taking in her profile, watching as the wind caught her blond hair tugging at it, and saw the way it caused her dress to drape across her, and she was beautiful indeed.
He slowly approached her; wary of what type of mood she was in. Once he was behind her, she turned to look at him. Raising a hand to press to his cheek, “I am sorry,” she whispered, as he turned his face, so that he could press a kiss into her palm.
He wrapped his hands around her waist, loving the way that he fit against him so well, breathing in a breath of the scent that was solely her. She let her fingers trail across his face, pushing a strand of his hair out of the way.
“I was so worried for you,” she explained her actions, “You were late home, and injured and all I could think of was of Regulas…” she choked on the name, remembering Reglulas when he was young and carefree, before the Dark Lord, and Hogwarts, when he was just her cousin.
Lucius reached for her glass of fire whisky, taking a gulp, “I promised you didn’t I?” he asked, “I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled sadly, “Is that so? And what if you die?”
A rueful smile tugged on his lips, “Well I suppose I’ll have to have a portrait made, like that family of yours and I'll shout insults to keep your hundred suitors away.”
“A hundred?” she asked a smile growing on her face.
He nodded dragging her closer as he downed the last of the whisky, before throwing the glass behind him, not taking a single care at its shattering, “Yes, they’ll all be after the foxy widow of the Malfoy family…” she smiled and scoffed at that statement, “Of course dropping Draco off at Durmstrong will prove difficult, but we’ll manage I’m sure.”
Narcissa stilled at those words, “Hogwarts,” she announced, “He has to go to Hogwarts, don’t take my boy from me Lucius,” she begged.
Lucius Malfoy looked down at his wife in confusion, “But he’ll be amongst his own kind, a school not tainted by muggle blood,” Lucius tried to argue.
“Please Lucius,” she begged again, tears welling in her eyes, “Don’t take Draco away, he's just a boy.”
Lucius sighed, pressing a kiss on her brow, “As you wish,” he sighed.
He moved away looking down at his smiling wife, “Are you happy then?” she nodded, smiling wryly at him, “Then you won’t be wanting your surprise?” he asked.
“Another,” she asked looking pointedly at where two, Scottish Deerhounds puppies chased after the white peacock. Lucius smiled, taking in the puppies that had been a present for her.
“I saw your sister,” he announced.
“Bellatrix,”she asked, "Goodness, what's she done now."
Lucius shook his head sadly, “Andromeda,” he said softly, “She seems happy, her and that muggleborn husband and they're pink haired baby. The are happy,” he added again for emphasis.
Narcissa stilled at his words, but instead of answering she moved away from him, looking towards the sun, “That’s it?” she asked with a cold nonchalant, brushing a strand of hair away, “Here I was expecting a trove of jewels and gold, a rare and cursed artifact or even the head of Nobby Leach, served on a golden platter. Honestly, you call yourself a Malfoy?”
Lucius lips pulled up into a wry smile at the last blow, "Don't jest, Narcissa, didn't your mother ever teach you that was impolite," he nodded towards the manor, "You really want more artifacts and gold, what do you plan on doing with that then? And if its Prime Minister," Lucius said mockingly, "Nobby Leach's head you want to see, I'm sure my father could arrange something."
Narcissa didn't turn back to Lucius immediately, worrying her lip as she thought of her sister, before turning to him, "Well, I do intend to lure the hundreds of my suiters somehow," she said as calmly as possible.
Lucius smiled down at her, "Woman," he demanded dance with me. When she only raised her eyebrow in question, he amended, his statement, bowing with flourish, “I know how much you liked to be asked, Narcissa will you dance with me?”
She turned her head a way, sighing deeply, “Since you asked oh so nicely,” she replied moving into his arms, “But if you ever come home again bleeding to death, I’ll kill you myself,” she warned.
So as the sun settled in Wiltshire, England, a husband danced with his wife in a garden, as two puppies chased after a peacock, guided by the light of a swan and peacock patronaus that danced through the air.