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hp_bunintheovenTitle: Starting Over
Author/Artist:
Pairing(s): Lucius/Narcissa
Prompt: “With the child(ren) grown and moved out, they certainly weren't planning on starting over again.”
Summary: “With the child(ren) grown and moved out, they certainly weren't planning on starting over again.”
Word Count: 1,270
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mention of losing a child; mention of mpreg, in case that isn’t your thing
Notes: Jae darling, I hope I’ve managed the sort of flangst you were seeking! I took my title from your brilliant prompt, and I’ve included a little surprise for you at the end. Many thanks to the wonderful people who make this fest possible! As always, eternal gratitude to my beta and absolute rock, J. x
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Narcissa Malfoy did something she had rarely done thus far in her life: She blinked first.
“You must be mistaken.” Aiming for calm and monotone, she mentally cursed when her voice wobbled a bit at the end.
The healer smiled, warmth and understanding in her face. “I assure you, we’ve checked the results. You are, of course, welcome to seek a second opinion.”
Narcissa drew a deep breath and struggled to remain composed. The healer was quite young, and the young always had difficulty admitting they might be in error. How well she knew the same was true of her son; her son—her only child. She forced a smile onto her face. “I am certain you are very competent, Healer Breathnach. I mean no aspersion. It’s only, you see, that what you claim is an impossibility.”
The healer said nothing, only raising a brow with a little smile that prompted Narcissa to continue, explaining in detail she otherwise would not reveal, her forced smile fading.
“When Draco was two, you understand, I became pregnant with our second child. From the beginning we were warned that it wasn’t—it wasn’t good. She came much too early, and no one could prevent it.” She paused to swallow, memories of that terrible time threatening to overwhelm her. “It was devastating to my person. We were assured we would never conceive again, and we never have. And now,” she added with a hint of bravado, as if to put the cherry on the sundae, “I am nearly fifty-five years old.”
“Which is still very young, for a pureblooded witch,” the healer murmured in her thick Irish brogue, still with that understanding look. She drew in her own deep breath in the face of Narcissa’s puzzled visage and covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “Mrs. Malfoy, you do not have the flu, or spattergroit, or a nervous stomach. Nor are you anywhere near menopause. What you have, dear lady, is a simple, everyday case of pregnancy. In fact, based on your levels, I’d venture you’re fairly well along.” When her patient remained silently stunned, Healer Breathnach sighed. “I’m going to refer you to an obstetrics clinic for a magical sonogram. I suggest you take your husband, but that is your choice.”
XoX
She had not taken Lucius. He had been just as wretched as she after their previous loss, and if there was any possibility—and Narcissa stubbornly told herself that it was, in fact, a likelihood—that the diagnosis was incorrect, she would shield him from going through it all again for naught.
Two hours later, however, the radiowizard had handed her a small photograph. It was exactly the same as what she had seen hovering above her head when he had cast the sonogram spell, though she still wasn’t entirely certain she believed it. The image was dark to begin with, and then there was detectable movement and suddenly the image of a tiny baby-shaped…thing…appeared in the center. It remained for several seconds before the loop began again.
Thirteen weeks. I am thirteen weeks pregnant. I’ve missed my entire first trimester, she thought in wonder, sitting on the drawing room sofa, unable to tear her eyes from that photograph. She’d been so certain it was the change in life when her monthly had stopped arriving; so certain that she hadn’t even visited a healer until the constant, low-grade nausea and joint pain had become unbearable.
Narcissa jumped a bit as a sudden, loud sound pierced her reverie, before realizing it had come from her — a single, explosive laugh of disbelief. Her lips quivered, and then she was crying, feeling so many things at once that she couldn’t possibly contain them all. That was where Lucius found her half an hour later when he arrived home, sitting in their main drawing room, sobbing her eyes out with a radiant smile. He approached cautiously, unused to such a display from his elegant, stringently-in-control wife. “Dearest?”
She looked up, still a bit dazzled, and opened and closed her mouth several times. When the correct words wouldn’t come, and Lucius’ expression only became more and more concerned, she simply handed him the photograph. He glanced at it, uncomprehending.
“Is this Draco?” He looked between Narcissa and the image. “Have you been going through his old things again and making yourself melancholy?”
She cleared her throat, finally finding her voice. “No, dear. No, it isn’t Draco.” She reached out and tapped the photo in his hand, right above where her name and the date appeared.
Lucius turned the image so that he could read the words more easily. It took only a few seconds for the significance to sink in, and he went even paler than usual. His gaze jumped up, boring into hers. “How—How could this be?” he asked hoarsely.
Her smile returning, his wife gave him a little shrug. “I am due in March, apparently.”
Slack-jawed in a manner that would normally have mortified him, Lucius stared at the sonogram with the same disbelief that she had earlier. His brow furrowed, and he slipped his wand from the shoulder holster beneath his short robes to cast a negligent Diem spell. In truth, he was so shell-shocked that he wasn’t certain he remembered what season they were in, much less the month. September 9th, he read. “Draco’s birthday?”
Narcissa hummed. “When you decided we should have our own little after-party celebration.”
Lucius scoffed. “I am not the one who had my trousers half unfastened before we left the Floo.”
“So you’re saying this is my fault?” she bantered, pretending affront.
“Well it certainly isn’t mine,” he mumbled, dropping down beside her on the sofa, his eyes still unwaveringly on the movement of his son or daughter. His attention was finally pulled away when Narcissa giggled effervescently, sounding like a schoolgirl.
“I’m fairly certain it is at least half your fault, darling.” She smiled warmly into his still-stunned face and reached out to place her palm along his cheek.
Lucius swallowed, his eyes bright. “A baby,” he finally managed. He drew in a sharp breath. “Is—Is it--?”
“We’re both perfectly healthy. The healer said that my levels are excellent, and the radiowizard said that everything appears perfectly normal.”
The tears overflowed then, but with much less affair than his wife’s; two silent tracks as he drew another unsteady breath and looked down again on the image of their child. Narcissa turned and curled into his side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s a new beginning,” she whispered, grasping his fingers when he made a small, broken sound.
XoX
“Well need to redo the nursery,” Lucius murmured a long time later.
Narcissa nodded. They sat in silence for a few more moments. Then, “How are we going to tell Draco?”
He groaned. “We? I believe that privilege falls to you, since this is entirely your fault,” he goaded.
“Ridiculous. This is wholly on you and your inability to keep it in your trousers.” They looked at each other and smiled.
As if summoned by their thoughts, a shout rang through the downstairs hallway, and then Draco was walking into the drawing room with ground-eating strides. He stopped short at the incongruous sight of his parents dabbing away tears and released a disbelieving sort of laugh. “Don’t tell me you know already?”
Holding very still in the way that only guilty people could, his parents stared at him with wide eyes. After a few beats, Lucius managed, “Know what already?”
Draco grinned, looking back and forth between his parents. “Harry’s pregnant.”
Author/Artist:
Pairing(s): Lucius/Narcissa
Prompt: “With the child(ren) grown and moved out, they certainly weren't planning on starting over again.”
Summary: “With the child(ren) grown and moved out, they certainly weren't planning on starting over again.”
Word Count: 1,270
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Mention of losing a child; mention of mpreg, in case that isn’t your thing
Notes: Jae darling, I hope I’ve managed the sort of flangst you were seeking! I took my title from your brilliant prompt, and I’ve included a little surprise for you at the end. Many thanks to the wonderful people who make this fest possible! As always, eternal gratitude to my beta and absolute rock, J. x
Disclaimer: Harry Potter characters are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Narcissa Malfoy did something she had rarely done thus far in her life: She blinked first.
“You must be mistaken.” Aiming for calm and monotone, she mentally cursed when her voice wobbled a bit at the end.
The healer smiled, warmth and understanding in her face. “I assure you, we’ve checked the results. You are, of course, welcome to seek a second opinion.”
Narcissa drew a deep breath and struggled to remain composed. The healer was quite young, and the young always had difficulty admitting they might be in error. How well she knew the same was true of her son; her son—her only child. She forced a smile onto her face. “I am certain you are very competent, Healer Breathnach. I mean no aspersion. It’s only, you see, that what you claim is an impossibility.”
The healer said nothing, only raising a brow with a little smile that prompted Narcissa to continue, explaining in detail she otherwise would not reveal, her forced smile fading.
“When Draco was two, you understand, I became pregnant with our second child. From the beginning we were warned that it wasn’t—it wasn’t good. She came much too early, and no one could prevent it.” She paused to swallow, memories of that terrible time threatening to overwhelm her. “It was devastating to my person. We were assured we would never conceive again, and we never have. And now,” she added with a hint of bravado, as if to put the cherry on the sundae, “I am nearly fifty-five years old.”
“Which is still very young, for a pureblooded witch,” the healer murmured in her thick Irish brogue, still with that understanding look. She drew in her own deep breath in the face of Narcissa’s puzzled visage and covered the older woman’s hand with her own. “Mrs. Malfoy, you do not have the flu, or spattergroit, or a nervous stomach. Nor are you anywhere near menopause. What you have, dear lady, is a simple, everyday case of pregnancy. In fact, based on your levels, I’d venture you’re fairly well along.” When her patient remained silently stunned, Healer Breathnach sighed. “I’m going to refer you to an obstetrics clinic for a magical sonogram. I suggest you take your husband, but that is your choice.”
She had not taken Lucius. He had been just as wretched as she after their previous loss, and if there was any possibility—and Narcissa stubbornly told herself that it was, in fact, a likelihood—that the diagnosis was incorrect, she would shield him from going through it all again for naught.
Two hours later, however, the radiowizard had handed her a small photograph. It was exactly the same as what she had seen hovering above her head when he had cast the sonogram spell, though she still wasn’t entirely certain she believed it. The image was dark to begin with, and then there was detectable movement and suddenly the image of a tiny baby-shaped…thing…appeared in the center. It remained for several seconds before the loop began again.
Thirteen weeks. I am thirteen weeks pregnant. I’ve missed my entire first trimester, she thought in wonder, sitting on the drawing room sofa, unable to tear her eyes from that photograph. She’d been so certain it was the change in life when her monthly had stopped arriving; so certain that she hadn’t even visited a healer until the constant, low-grade nausea and joint pain had become unbearable.
Narcissa jumped a bit as a sudden, loud sound pierced her reverie, before realizing it had come from her — a single, explosive laugh of disbelief. Her lips quivered, and then she was crying, feeling so many things at once that she couldn’t possibly contain them all. That was where Lucius found her half an hour later when he arrived home, sitting in their main drawing room, sobbing her eyes out with a radiant smile. He approached cautiously, unused to such a display from his elegant, stringently-in-control wife. “Dearest?”
She looked up, still a bit dazzled, and opened and closed her mouth several times. When the correct words wouldn’t come, and Lucius’ expression only became more and more concerned, she simply handed him the photograph. He glanced at it, uncomprehending.
“Is this Draco?” He looked between Narcissa and the image. “Have you been going through his old things again and making yourself melancholy?”
She cleared her throat, finally finding her voice. “No, dear. No, it isn’t Draco.” She reached out and tapped the photo in his hand, right above where her name and the date appeared.
Lucius turned the image so that he could read the words more easily. It took only a few seconds for the significance to sink in, and he went even paler than usual. His gaze jumped up, boring into hers. “How—How could this be?” he asked hoarsely.
Her smile returning, his wife gave him a little shrug. “I am due in March, apparently.”
Slack-jawed in a manner that would normally have mortified him, Lucius stared at the sonogram with the same disbelief that she had earlier. His brow furrowed, and he slipped his wand from the shoulder holster beneath his short robes to cast a negligent Diem spell. In truth, he was so shell-shocked that he wasn’t certain he remembered what season they were in, much less the month. September 9th, he read. “Draco’s birthday?”
Narcissa hummed. “When you decided we should have our own little after-party celebration.”
Lucius scoffed. “I am not the one who had my trousers half unfastened before we left the Floo.”
“So you’re saying this is my fault?” she bantered, pretending affront.
“Well it certainly isn’t mine,” he mumbled, dropping down beside her on the sofa, his eyes still unwaveringly on the movement of his son or daughter. His attention was finally pulled away when Narcissa giggled effervescently, sounding like a schoolgirl.
“I’m fairly certain it is at least half your fault, darling.” She smiled warmly into his still-stunned face and reached out to place her palm along his cheek.
Lucius swallowed, his eyes bright. “A baby,” he finally managed. He drew in a sharp breath. “Is—Is it--?”
“We’re both perfectly healthy. The healer said that my levels are excellent, and the radiowizard said that everything appears perfectly normal.”
The tears overflowed then, but with much less affair than his wife’s; two silent tracks as he drew another unsteady breath and looked down again on the image of their child. Narcissa turned and curled into his side, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“It’s a new beginning,” she whispered, grasping his fingers when he made a small, broken sound.
“Well need to redo the nursery,” Lucius murmured a long time later.
Narcissa nodded. They sat in silence for a few more moments. Then, “How are we going to tell Draco?”
He groaned. “We? I believe that privilege falls to you, since this is entirely your fault,” he goaded.
“Ridiculous. This is wholly on you and your inability to keep it in your trousers.” They looked at each other and smiled.
As if summoned by their thoughts, a shout rang through the downstairs hallway, and then Draco was walking into the drawing room with ground-eating strides. He stopped short at the incongruous sight of his parents dabbing away tears and released a disbelieving sort of laugh. “Don’t tell me you know already?”
Holding very still in the way that only guilty people could, his parents stared at him with wide eyes. After a few beats, Lucius managed, “Know what already?”
Draco grinned, looking back and forth between his parents. “Harry’s pregnant.”
no subject
Date: 2019-04-01 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-01 08:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-04-08 09:32 pm (UTC)the line “It’s a new beginning,” she whispered, grasping his fingers when he made a small, broken sound. was so beautiful, it made my heart clench.
and the last bit with them bickering about who to tell draco and then draco suprising them with the news was so funny.
this was just such a lovely story overall and a delight to read.
♡