Hesperides' Apple
Chapter 13
December, 1998
Narcissa Malfoy had remained in bed for the past few days. Scores of renowned mediwizards flowed in and out of the Manor, administrating as much Luna Nevilum as her frail body could tolerate. There were moments where she could stroll about and converse normally, but those spans of time were growing shorter and rarer. Fever would catch her unawares. The attacks of the pox left her exhausted and weak, stranding her in bed for several days at a time. Draco was beside himself with worry, though he did not talk about it. His mother's illness came as a hard blow, particularly at a time when a number of his affairs threatened to collapse.
Blaise had reported that people found Narcissa's sudden case of Harpy Pox suspicious, especially so shortly after Lucius' death. The mirror in Draco's office had shattered when Blaise had voiced these suspicions. The dark-skinned wizard had had to exit the study in a hurry as books began to fly across the room and Draco played with his paper-cutter, a murderous light dancing in his eyes.
Ginevra, calm and tender, stood by her husband and tried providing him with the support he needed. His recent secrecy toward his affairs had not passed without notice from her, though she still managed to gather some information and send it to Hermione. The Muggle-born witch, hard at work at the bank, anonymously thwarted Draco Malfoy's attempts to stabilize his finances. And when the Lord Malfoy came home, irritated by the loss of profits and questioning share-holders, he would find his wife and seek refugee in her embrace. More than once, he fell asleep on her lap, eased into Morpheus' realm by one of her relaxing massages.
When Christmas time rolled about, Narcissa threatened to hex Ginny if she did not go spend at least a day in Diagon Alley to pick her presents. It came as no surprise that her budget was unlimited. All Ginny had to do was take what she wanted, and the bill would directly be taken care of by Gringotts bank. Ginny was appalled but unsurprised to see the extent to which money made your life easier.
Only when an unapologetic witch bumped into her did Ginny realize she had reached her destination. The stores shone green and red with Christmas banners, and the streets bristled with shoppers. She smiled nostalgically, thinking back to the ritual Christmas shopping the Weasleys undertook each year. There was no escaping it, and not one child of the Weasley family-Percy excepted-would have wanted to miss it. The shameful trip to Gringotts would quickly be dismissed in favor of extensive window-licking and less thorough shopping. But in the colorful mass of wizards that day, no redhead would be given a second glance. With that realization, a soft veil of gray coated Diagon Alley. Even the monumental gems in Glauce's Jewelry store could not lighten Ginny's mood.
She made her way toward Gringotts, fastened the scarf around her neck so that it would dissimulate part of her face. Once she had passed the bronze front doors and guarding Goblins, she took her place in the line. It snaked from the entrance to the Goblins' counters, looping and coiling all the way. Ginny sighed resignedly and prepared herself for a long wait.
"Lady Malfoy," came a raspy voice to her left.
She turned, startled. An obsequious-looking Gringotts goblin stood there, clasping his hands like flies rub their legs. It didn't take long for Ginny to figure out how he had recognized her: pictures of her wedding band had plagued various newspapers during the week after the marriage.
"Please, come with me. We would be sorry for a woman of your standing to wait in the line with commoners."
"I appreciate that," she said daintily, though she was disgusted by the obnoxious preference given to wealthy customers.
The Goblin ushered her into a private cabinet where she was served some tea in gold-plated tea-cups. He sat behind his desk and, bringing his long, pointy fingers together under his chin, plopped his head on them.
"So, Lady Malfoy, what brings you here? I do hope that Diagon Alley's stores are following our usual arrangement?"
"They are, I'm sure," Ginny said. "I am here, however, because I wish to be taken to two vaults."
The Goblin's eyes twinkled like gold.
"But there is only one Malfoy vault," he observed sneakily.
"Who said anything about going to the Malfoy vault?" she asked, giving him a look of supreme disdain. He realized he had crossed the line and lowered his head contritely. "Please take me to vaults 687 and 374."
"Of course. Virgryph," the Goblin called.
A Goblin of smaller proportions, but so dark he seemed to have roasted, appeared. His eyes were of a limpid blue, sparkling with intelligence. Ginny immediately disliked him.
"Take Lady Malfoy to vaults 374 and 687."
"Certainly. Lady Malfoy, if you will please follow me."
Virgryph held the door open for Ginevra, then escorted her down a set of well-lit stairs. They reached the underground tracks. Virgryph helped her into the car, hopped in, and the spotless car sped into Gringotts' entrails.
"Vault 687," Virgryph said as they stopped in front of the vault.
Ginny stepped out and stuck the little key into the vault. Clicking came from behind the door in a metallic cascade. The door opened. Ginny stepped in and was not surprised to see rather high piles of Galleons and Sickles, gleaming respectably. The Potters and Sirius Black had ensured that his vault was well furnished. She charmed a few stacks of Galleons to fit into a small, padded parcel, then walked back to Virgryph and ordered that they be off.
He stopped them in front of vault 374, whose door was noticeably smaller. She inserted the second key and pushed the door open. A few, meager heaps of gold hid in the corners, and the amount of Sickles was by no means overwhelming, but Ginny was shocked to see, dispersed between dark Knuts, leather-bound books and odd looking statues. She recognized the Egyptian busts and amulets as having belonged to Bill. She grabbed a minutely carved amulet of a hippopotamus with lion and crocodile limbs and slipped it into her pocket. She turned around to exit and saw a mirror on the interior side of the door. Its frame represented two symmetric, young women. In the mirror, she perceived quite impressive piles of money, rising above her parents' meager earnings. Ginny bent forward and reached for the gold in the mirror. At first, its surface was rigid, but it disappeared. She figured it was the twins' way of ascertaining that only a Weasley may get their heritage. She poured a coquettish sum in her bag.
As she stepped out of the vault, she was hit by a wave of nausea. She stumbled. Virgryph, whom she had motioned to remain in the car, sat, politely peering straight ahead. Ginny choked a few erratic breaths, swallowed conscientiously. She closed her eyes and imagined herself in a cool, windy place, for in the past weeks it had helped her get rid of persistent queasiness. Her fingers closed around the Tawaret amulet (1). The instant her skin came in contact with the copper, her nausea vanished.
"When a family member who has recently opened a new vault dies, do you place the vault's contents in the family vault?" Ginny asked coldly.
"Yes, so as to minimize the amount of wasted space," Virgryph answered.
He brought her back to the surface and, having thanked her multiple times and bowed enough to snap in two, he left her. A few of the people still in the line, apparently recognizing her, eyed her distastefully. She smirked at them in a way that would have made Draco proud.
As she walked out of the bank, she nearly ran into Blaise Zabini and Shehzin Mohammad. Though she failed to notice them and walked on, Blaise immediately spotted her. He nudged Shehzin and nodded in the direction of Ginny's retreating form.
"Blaise, I don't know if-" Shehzin began.
"We don't have a choice, love. It was the price to pay for you to be here with me. And as much as I like her, my loyalty is to Draco, and him alone."
Shehzin shook her head. She knew what honor meant to men; she just hoped the one she held so dear would not let it blind him.
"Sometimes, ignorance is bliss," she said softly.
She planted a kiss on Zabini's voluptuous lips and disappeared in the crowd after Ginny. Blaise watched her walk away. When she was out of sight, he headed for Gringotts, well determined to extirpate information from the Goblin who had helped Lady Malfoy.
Meanwhile, Shehzin tried avoiding Christmas shoppers whose faces were concealed behind piles of packages. Gritting her teeth, she focused on catching up with Ginny. As she did so, her golden-brown skin yielded to paler hues, and her hair turned dark-blonde. Her face now plain and inconspicuous, she walked after the blonde Lady Malfoy into Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Ginny walked straight to the counter and started conversing with the shop-keeper, a plump, little witch with dimples. Shehzin let her fingers wander in the boxes filled with Wildfire Whiz-bangs.
"This is so that you can replenish the stocks, order some new things, and so forth. How is the research coming along?" Ginny said as she pushed a small pouch on the counter. There was a metallic sound when it came into the chubby witch's hand. Shehzin easily deducted what it contained.
"My younger brother, Jack, he's having a lot of fun trying to come up with new jokes. Some of them are quite good. If you want, I could show them to you."
"No thanks, I trust your judgment," Ginny quickly negated. "Develop the ones you like best, so long as you keep true to the twi-misters Weasley and Weasley's legacy."
"Certainly, madam," the young woman said. Shehzin guessed that she did not know the identity of her benefactor, or she would have called her "Lady Malfoy" like anyone with survival instinct would.
"Oh, and, Verity, would you have Nabuchodonosor take this to Hermione, please?"
Ginny placed the packet in which were enfolded several hundreds' worth of Galleons.
"Absolutely. He just returned with the formulas for the Fever Fudge antidote. I'm not sure he'll be happy to cross the Channel with this weather, but that's what he's here to do, so-"
"Great." Ginny beamed at her, though it was hard to tell from all the layers of cloth that covered her face. "Well, then good luck, and I'll see you in a little while. Have a lovely Christmas!"
Ginny stepped out in the cold. A rush of pine-scented air caught her unawares, and she closed her eyes. It smelled like the forest on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole where her brothers used to take her to choose their Christmas tree. She would sit on Bill's shoulders and carefully inspect their surroundings while the twins and Ron bombarded each other with snowballs, eventually ganging up against Percy. "That one," she would call at last, pointing to a tree small enough to fit in the Burrow but thick with needles. And under Ginny's approving stare, Charlie would lift their father's ax, then lower it quickly at the tree's frail base. Fred, George, Ron, and Percy were in charge of dragging the small tree back to their house, which they gleefully did, pushing Percy in the needles along the way.
"You know, some people would like to get their shopping done before Easter!"
Ginny moved out of the way, barely conscious of the annoyed witch's huff as she walked briskly out of the store. Shehzin followed her down the alley to Gandalf's Grotto (2) where Ginny hoped to find interesting, rather than expensive, presents. Christmas lights sparkled in the windows to the happy tune of "Jingle Bells".
***
"Merry early Christmas," Ginny called to the witch at the Information Desk.
"And to you, too, Lady Malfoy," the St. Mungo's employee said. "Are you going somewhere for vacation?"
"Yes, actually. We're leaving for Uzbekistan in a few days. My husband has some family there. What about you?"
"Same old, same old. Going to spend Christmas with my mum and dad. They nearly had a heart attack when I suggested I might go to my boyfriend's instead, so I stuck to family tradition."
They both laughed, though Ginny wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. She could only imagine how her family would have reacted, had they been alive. She bid farewell to the witch and briskly made her way to the stairs. She reached the fourth floor whose saccharine smell precipitated her into the ladies' room. She barely had time to be grateful that her hair was tied up and retched in the sink. Bile quickly burned her esophagus and throat, as she had not eaten much that morning, the mere sight of food making her queasy. She wiped her mouth clean and started sucking on a Raspberry Drop before heading for Frank and Alice Longbottom's room. A woman with a pale complexion and dull blonde hair walked in the bathroom as Ginny exited it.
The door was open, so Ginny let herself in. Alice was unwrapping a sweet, and Frank watched her blankly. Neville sat on his father's bed, facing the window, observing his parents. He was even tanner than when Ginny had last seen him, and as robust as ever. Regretful that she would have to cancel her afternoon with the Longbottoms, she slowly backed out of the room. Alice, who had finished unwrapping the candy and had plopped it in her mouth, held her hand out with the plastic in it. She looked straight at Ginny. Neville turned around and smiled warmly. She carefully sneered at him. In the corridor, the blonde woman walked slowly past the room.
"Merlin's beard," he said, his voice deep and precise, as he got up. He was by her in two steps. "Ginny! I didn't believe her but-"
He hugged her gruffly, squeezing her in his bear-like arms. Ginny wondered frantically how he had unmasked her, praying to all the witches and wizards of old that he may be the only one. When at last he released her, his eyes were bright with tears.
"I thought you were dead! After the attack we all just assumed that-"
Neville suddenly perceived the look of horror in Ginny's eyes. He clamped his hands to his mouth in a very childish way, then walked to the door and closed it. He had the time to see a plain-featured witch with dirty-blonde hair casually looking at her notes as she ambled down the corridor. He turned back to Ginny, only to find her sitting on Frank's bed with her hand on her stomach.
"Are you alright?" he asked, concerned.
"Yes, I'm fine. I just get these waves of…of…urgh," she finished lamely, then laughed. It felt like a weight lifting from her chest and flying out of her throat. She hadn't been so decadently inarticulate in quite a while. After a moment's hesitation, Ginny got up and threw her arms around Neville.
"Every time I saw you here," she said, "I wanted to hug you and tell you I was okay. But I always managed to smother that instinct and pull a Malfoy instead."
Neville guffawed, and she was surprised by the carelessness and volume of his laugh. Then again, it appeared to fit his matured personality. His earlier words suddenly came back to her mind.
"Who didn't you believe?" she asked.
"Who didn't I-" Neville was puzzled for a few seconds. "Oh! Hermione. She told me you were alive and doing well-relatively speaking, that is, because how can anyone be doing well and be married to a Malfoy is beyond me!"
The boyish comment struck a chord, though she hid it effortlessly. Being a Malfoy isn't that bad, she thought. Neville, his arms on her shoulders, held her at arms' length and grinned fondly.
"Not to mention, you are now blonde! I have to admit I liked orange better. Red. Flaming auburn. However it is you would describe the Weasley hair."
"Why did she tell you?"
"Huh? Oh. Hermione. She contacted me for some research. You know how Luna and I have been working on finding the cure to the Harpy Pox…"
"No, actually. I thought you had stopped with the Luna Nevilum."
"I wish we could have. But Luna's father got ill and we've been trying to cure him. Luckily, his worst crime is probably to have let a Blibbering Humdinger eat a defenseless toad, but we think that he may blame himself for his wife's death. He hasn't been doing well, and Luna was crazy with worry."
"I'm sorry to hear that. I really had no idea."
"Few people know. The Harpy Pox is not a good thing to speak of. Anyhow… Hermione contacted us with a suggestion. She said we should try using mistletoe. She also sent quite an amount of money and annotated Muggle books with the effects of plants on the human body. It helped a lot. About a week ago, she sent us this Muggle plant, "chave" I think it's called-"
"Chives," she corrected him. Leave it to Hermione to figure out the missing ingredient.
"Yes, that's the one! We added chives to the serums we had prepared and one of them gave fantastic results. Mister Lovegood is safe, can you imagine? In one week!"
"That's amazing news," Ginny said, beaming. "Congratulations, Neville! The wizarding world owes you so much." Her musings immediately went to Narcissa, who could be saved. Happiness filled her at the thought of Draco's relief.
"They do, but I think they owe people like Hermione a lot as well. That's why Luna and I refused to sign an agreement with Malfoy."
Ginny smiled. Leave it to Neville and Luna, with their rock-hard principles, to try to change the world. She immediately recognized Hermione's knowing hand, understanding that she was killing two birds with one stone: helping Luna and Neville was a way to help save lives, but also to put an end to Malfoy's monopoly of the antidote.
"He must have been displeased."
"Seething with anger is more appropriate. I thought he was going to break his paper-cutter in two, or throw it at me! He asked me with a voice colder than Iceland-did you see the World Cup, by the way?"
"I did. We put up a good fight."
"We did. Merlin, I am so happy to see you in flesh and bone!"
"Me too. I mean, not that I didn't before, but it's good to be myself around you and not be sneering, smirking, and snorting my way out of this room. So, you were saying, about Draco's voice being colder than Iceland…"
"Oh yeah. He asked me whether we planned on diffusing the antidote and I laughed in his face. Of course we're going to diffuse it! Why else would we have created it? He didn't seem like he appreciated the remark."
"Narcissa has a bad case of the Harpy Pox."
"Narcissa?"
"Lady Malfoy. Senior."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"So are we."
Neville raised an eyebrow at Ginny's natural reflex to treat Draco and herself as a whole.
"So what are you going to do?" she asked.
"Hermione found us some international sponsors. She's been working with the American, Canadian, and French governments to educate British half-bloods and Muggle-borns. The antidote will help to finance those efforts."
"I wonder how she manages to do all of this in so little time."
"Trust me, I have absolutely no idea."
"Wait, I think I might. She's Hermione."
"That's definitely a valid excuse… er…justification."
They laughed. Ginny could not believe how confident and easy-going Neville had become. Standing up to Draco must have involved quite some courage, though for all she knew, he had never lacked that.
"So why exactly did she tell you about me?"
"Luna didn't believe her when she told us that she had been doing some research and come up with mistletoe as a good option. You should have seen the look on Hermione's face when Luna said, `You know, Hermione, if you don't want to tell us about the mistletoe, it's ok, but don't say it was a lucky guess when it wasn't.'"
Ginny roared with laughter. She could very well picture Luna and her wide eyes reading right through Hermione.
"Hermione turned pink, and red, and eventually blurted out that you were alive, married to Malfoy, spying on him, and reporting back to her. All of this in one breath."
"Well, I guess that pretty accurately sums it up."
"I'm sure it does. You always were right to the point. Whether you were shutting Ron up, snogging Harry, snogging most of the fifth and sixth years in fact…"
"I did not…" She pondered for a second. "Okay, I did. Right to the point, indeed. It's called the G spot."
Neville blushed like a school boy.
"I'm kidding!" she laughed, swatting him on the arm. "But don't worry, I am now married and everything I do under the covers is morally and socially acceptable. What else could I ask for?"
"What else indeed…" Neville sighed. Regaining some seriousness, he peered at Ginny. "Are you happy, though?"
"Yes, I think so," she answered lightly, sounding like she meant it. But a cloud crossed her eyes. "How could I be? Not one day passes by when I don't think of my parents. And even when I do feel good in Draco's arms-don't look at me like that, it happens, sometimes-, I can't help but think of the reason why I'm married to him, of what I've been covertly saying about him, of all the information I give Hermione so that she can deal with him. It's… it's hard."
"Do you love him?"
Ginny laughed. It sounded harsh and very different from her usual mellifluous giggle.
"I've learned to appreciate him. He's a brilliant, witty, sarcastic man, you know."
"Yes, I do know, thank you very much. I've only spent six years enduring his biting wit and sarcasm. But go on."
"He's obnoxious and haughty, but sometimes he can be so charming, sexy, even tender. To me and his mother alone, come to think of it. That's sweet." A blissful smile peaked at her lips. "Oh yeah. And he's rich, drop-dead gorgeous, phenomenal in bed-"
"Ginny!"
"Moving on… Where was I? The only thing I have a problem with is his stance toward blood purity, poorer people, and anything that isn't like him." Then her eyes darkened as a thought crossed her mind. "Oh yeah, and the fact that he's responsible for my family's death."
"Are you sure?" Neville asked softly. He would have been the first one to blame Malfoy, but he felt that revenge and affection could not coexist without breaking Ginny. He would have chosen a friend's happiness over duty to the dead anytime.
"We saw it," she said glumly. "He got the address of the Burrow, written by Percy, who was our Secret Keeper, and gleefully presented it to Voldemort. It's pretty clear."
"Well, then. Just make sure you don't judge him without hearing his side of the story."
"'Hey, Draco, honey? Guess what! I'm Ginny Weasley, you know, Ron Weasley's sister, and, coincidentally, the last one living of a family whom you sentenced to death. I was just wondering, about the address of the Burrow, did you hand it to him on a silver platter, or did he have to torture you a bit for you to give it up? I really hope it's the latter, because that's what you deserve. So, do you prefer the diamond or the pearl earrings?' I'm sure he'd be delighted to justify himself."
"Malfoys don't justify themselves," Neville snorted.
"Good point. But then again, when last I saw you, you weren't a mature young man whose research will save the life of hundreds, and you didn't snort. People change."
"You're the one saying so," he retorted playfully, and she realized what she had just implied.
If people changed, then did they still deserve what they might have grown to regret? She remembered Draco taking care of Leo Lestrange at Samhain, and she knew that the Draco Malfoy she had been to Hogwarts with would have not spared any child a second thought. That disturbed her. She shoved the thoughts away.
"So, how have you and Luna been doing?"
"We? Oh. We're doing well. She's been in Canada for the past eight months and-"
"Canada? I thought Switzerland was the place to go for abort-"
"She's studying there," Neville said, looking mortified. "Creative writing in a Muggle college, Make Gills I believe it's called (3). She's having a fantastic time."
"You must miss her a lot."
"Oh yes. Hey," he snapped at her, "don't make me say things I don't mean."
"You don't miss her, then?" she asked innocently. Their childish banter was like a weight lifted off her chest.
"I do, but not in that way. Living with Malfoy has made you a very tricky and conniving woman, Ginny Weasley."
"And pretending you don't like Luna Lovegood makes you a liar, Neville Longbottom."
Neville glared at her.
"You wouldn't be taking things nearly as personally if you didn't, Nev," she smirked. "It's a reality of life: only the truth really hurts."
"I'll give you another reality of life, sweetie," he said, pouting, and Ginny laughed at the use of such a term. "Only the truth really heals."
He eyed her meaningfully. She pretended she didn't know what he was talking about. Behind them came a squeal of delight, followed by the loud clang of the bedsprings. Neville and Ginny turned to see Alice Longbottom sprawled on her bed and laughing like a school girl. Frank Longbottom's face bore the contented smile of the wise, old man watching a child.
"Five. One, two, three, four, and five," Frank said serenely.
Ginny appeared puzzled.
"It's the time. It's five o'clock," Neville enlightened her.
"Five, already? Incredible how time flies when you're with friends! No wonder my existence is so slow…."
Neville guffawed.
"That said, I have to meet Draco and Narcissa for dinner. I'm so sorry. I wish I could stay here."
"Come now. From what I've heard, your in-law and husband are charming."
"They can be nice, most of the time, but there's no way I'd prefer them over you." Her words had the awkward texture of subconscious lies. Neville perceived it but refrained from pointing it out. "I'll be back in a week or so. I don't think we should be seen together too often, but if we happen to be visiting the same patients, well, you know… Maybe we could talk once the door is closed."
Neville smiled brightly, getting up as Ginny did.
"That sounds great. Wouldn't want to blow your cover…."
"You bet you wouldn't! My wrath can be terrible…." she said dramatically.
"So it appears."
She hugged him as if clinging to a floating plank for dear life. He awkwardly patted her, uncertain of what to do with her short figure.
"Until next time, Neville."
He merely nodded as Ginny stood straight, perfecting her hair as she did so, then walked out of the room, a supercilious scowl on her face. Neville's smile did not leave his features. He was too busy marveling at her being alive and well to notice the pale witch who walked past his parents' room for the third time.
***
Narcissa Malfoy sat at her desk, her head buried in her hands. Her silver hair floated against her night-gown, an unkempt braid in her emaciated back. The curtains were closed to keep out winter's aggressive sunlight. Pieces of crumpled parchment lay by the flickering candle. Narcissa crossed out a word, then dropped her quill and methodically began to crinkle the letter. She slowly turned around upon hearing a knock on her door. Draco walked in as she hid the parchments and quill in a drawer.
"Good afternoon, Mother," he said neutrally. Seeing her so gaunt was like a punch in the gut every time.
"You're home early," she whispered.
"Disappointed?"
She smiled tenderly and beckoned him to come closer. She kissed his forehead. It felt like ice against her burning lips.
"Don't be ridiculous," she scolded her son. "I'm just sorry you have to find me in such a state of abandon."
"How are you?" he asked, the knot in his throat barely allowing the words to come out.
"Not very good, I'm afraid," she said sadly. "I can't stand the light anymore. It used to keep away the nightmares, but now the pain is not worth it anymore."
Draco welcomed the news in thoughtful silence. His incapacity to help his mother was driving him sick. What could they do if even money was ineffective?
"Mother, I-" He stopped himself.
"Draco, I have always encouraged you to say what's on your mind. You never listened to me, of course, but don't you think now would be a good time to start?"
"I was wondering… According to the Mediwizards, the Harpy Pox isn't usually this violent, unless you've committed a crime." Draco saw a cheerless smile flex her lips.
"Well, maybe I did commit a crime."
"Mother…"
"Shhhh. There are crimes in society's eyes and crimes in individuals' eyes. What I have done is my responsibility, regardless of what other people think."
"But what-"
Narcissa's eyebrow raised. She was the very picture of incredulity.
"Draco, please. Don't pretend you do not know what I'm talking about."
He looked into her eyes, darkened by their dilated pupils. The sinking feeling in his stomach informed him that he was more aware of the situation than his mind wanted to let on.
"You… Had Father asked you to?" he managed to say.
"Of course, Draco," she snapped, her voice strained. It was liquid with tears. "I would never, never, have done it without his demand and… persuasion…. Though more and more I come to think I shouldn't have done it." She coughed violently, wiped her mouth with her hand. "The consequence will be the same, anyway." There was a stain of red on the back of her hand.
Draco's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"He made your swear an Unbreakable Vow?"
She nodded in silence, looking unperturbed at the blood on her white skin. Draco walked over to her and hugged her fiercely. She was surprised by such an outrageous display of affection. Narcissa ran her hand through his soft hair.
"My son," she murmured. "My adorable, little boy…"
A sob got stuck in Draco's chest. He pressed his mother against him, as if her presence, here, now, could rid him of the emptiness her death would cause. Narcissa patted him gently. She wished he would learn from Ginevra and cry. She had seen her daughter-in-law's puffy eyes enough to know there was something troubling her, but that bawling was often the price to pay for a few days or weeks of calm. Draco would have to purge his sorrow, or it would destroy him.
"I'm so glad you found her," she said softly. "My only regret is that I won't see those children of yours…"
"Mother, don't say that," Draco growled. The thought of his mother not living was just too much to bear, and yet the Mediwizards had told him that it was a matter of weeks, of months, perhaps. The Harpy Pox was feeding on her guilt and magnifying it, driving out the will to live.
"Oh, I know you must have been very cautious," she said, misunderstanding his injunction. "You always were careful not to get any of them pregnant, but you must have been so caught up in your affairs that you lowered your guard."
"What?"
"Ginevra is with child."
"How do you know?"
"You men are so blind, dear. It's painfully obvious. She doesn't eat at breakfast. The sight of lunch makes her sick. She's run out of a room with her hand in front of her mouth more times than I can count. And Grainne admitted that Ginevra has been depleting the elves' stock of chocolate and raspberries."
"Are you sure?" he breathed out, not daring to believe that his plan had worked so well.
"Absolutely. It has been about a month. Congratulations, Draco. You're going to be a father."
She coughed and he let go over her. She trembled like a leaf under the strength of each cough, though she tried to hold herself to the table. At last Narcissa could breathe normally. Her teeth and lips were orange from the blood.
"I need to rest. I won't come to dinner," she added uselessly, for she hadn't been to dinner in at least a week.
"Very well. I'll send the ghosts to tend on you. But please, if it gets worse, call me?"
She nodded.
"And, about Ginevra… Would you mind not telling her yet?"
"Of course not, Draco. I'll let you announce her the good news. Good night."
He kissed her sickly form on the forehead, temporarily inversing their roles. As he walked out of her chambers, an entirely alien feeling of pride and burly joy filled him. He knew Ginny wouldn't welcome the news of her pregnancy as good tidings; that was precisely what he wanted. Her reaction would, without a doubt, be of revealing proportions. It was not, however, the success of his plan's first step that made him so happy.
I'm going to be a father, he thought, with an excitement uncustomary to his habits and expectations regarding the subject.
(1) Tawaret, a pregnant hippopotamus with lion's paws and a crocodile's tail, is an Egyptian goddess connected to pregnancy and childbirth.
(2) Lord of the Rings, not mine!
(3) For those of you who are wondering, this is McGill University in Montreal.
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