Aurora Rosier & the Year of the Snake

The Dragon & the Dawn

June 5, 1980

Lucius Malfoy paced along the corridor outside of his chambers, hands tightly gripped behind his back as he tried to ignore the sounds coming from behind his closed bedroom doors. His wife, Narcissa, cried out in agony, the labor pains of bringing the first Malfoy heir into the world ripping through her. A storm wailed outside, only echoing his wife's anguish.

It had been a difficult pregnancy from the start. Narcissa had had trouble conceiving, but once they finally had, the healers had recommended them to remain cautious. It became trial after trial, from bouts of morning sickness to full-body fatigue that left Narcissa bedridden for days at a time. Even on her good days, she would choose to remain close to the manor, too weak and fearing that the worst would strike if she left the protection of the grounds. Instead, she opted to walk among the gardens with Lucius or, on rare occasions, with her eldest sister, Bellatrix, by her side.

Narcissa had always insisted on maintaining a facade of strength and poise, both in the public eye, as well as when she was with her husband. Even while they were students together at Hogwarts, with him a year above her, Narcissa never made an appearance any less than perfect. Lucius was never sure if this stemmed from the responsibility of upholding the Black family legacy, or if it was her own choice to shoulder, but he never questioned her. Instead, he matched her at every turn, a pillar of strength by her side.

He had only seen his wife cry twice before: as they danced at their wedding, and once during the pregnancy. Lucius had returned home to find her collapsed beside the bed, sobs wracking her body, too weak to stand. A close friend had visited, with a newborn of their own, and Narcissa had spiraled into despair, suddenly unsure if she was fit to be a mother. Lucius had comforted her the best he could, quietly praising her as he desperately tried to quell his fears for himself, leaving the room only after she had fallen asleep nestled by his side.

Bellatrix was in the room with her now, refusing to miss the birth of her nephew. She had taken Lucius' place beside Narcissa, comforting her through the pain when it should have been him by her side. Lucius forced his clenched jaw to relax, reminding himself that while Bellatrix might have been the one to physically remove him from the room as the labor pains grew, she had only been acting under Naricssa's strict command.

Otherwise, he would have been there too.

Lucius loved his wife dearly, despite their public appearances painting the pair as stoic, icy, and much too formal with each other. To hear his wife in such soul-splitting agony hurt him nearly as much as it did her, and it was all he could do to not rip the door from its hinges, just to be by her side. Instead, he was forced to focus on pacing the same path back and forth, keeping his breathing steady.

A loud crash of thunder shook the manor and, without any warning, Narcissa's wailing ceased. Lucius froze mid-step. It was only a second, though it felt like hours to him, before the silence was replaced with the wails of a healthy baby boy. He nearly stumbled as he turned back to the door, his long cloak twisting around his legs.

My son, he thought, pride swelling in his chest. My heir.

As if she had been summoned, Bellatrix Lestrange swung the once offending door open. Lucius could barely catch a glimpse of his wife cradling their newborn before the door was firmly shut once again.

"How are they?" Lucius stared down at Bellatrix. She stared back, a thin smile playing on her lips. When she didn't answer, he stepped forward, towering over the petite woman. "Bellatrix, how is she?" My wife and my son?"

Saying it out loud made Lucius puff with another wave of pride, but the way Bellatrix refused to answer, the sly smile still playing on her face, made him feel ill. The pride was replaced with the sharp chill of fear as the possibilities flooded his mind, each new thought worse than the one before. Too quickly, Lucius' head began to swim.