Chapter Text
Dobby was ordered to tend to the Young Master Snape and to prevent him to leaving; Madam Malfoy was adamant that the professor was ill and would stay the night. It seemed unlikely that Severus would put up much of a fight, but who could really say what he might do next?
Narcissa and Draco had their interlude. She dried his hot tears, though he was all smiles the moment she came through the door. She changed his nappy herself. She didn’t do every one, of course; that’s what magic and elves were for, but it was an act of primal intimacy she wouldn’t deny herself out of squeamishness. She’d have breast-fed him if it hadn’t required quite so much eating.
Clean and calmed, Draco chattered happily, taking hold of her dress and tugging her around the nursery. Narcissa paid close attention as he called out the names of his toys and demonstrated them for her. At times like this she might catch a glimpse of his budding magic. Yesterday he had briefly levitated his blocks, laughing hysterically when they all fell to the ground. Today there were no such surprises. Draco was in a serious mood as he conducted his wobbly patrol.
After a snack, a story, and a song, she handed him back to the elf for some rougher play. Before she left the nursery, she scooped her son’s wiggly little body in her arms nuzzled him, losing herself for just a moment. She cast the silencing charm to spare Severus Draco’s displeasure at her leaving.
The guest room Dobby had given Severus (the farthest one from the nursery) was decorated in green and silver. As Narcissa crept down the hall, she wondered if Severus had locked himself in. She was surprised to find the door open. From the hallway, she could see the foot of the old sleigh bed. Two black-socked feet were stacked upon it; Severus was lying on his side. His right big toe poked out of a hole in his sock. She could tell he wasn’t asleep just by looking at those stacked feet. They were perfectly still; as still as a muggle photograph.
When Narcissa entered the room, Severus whipped to a sitting position with a wild look in his eyes. She quickly closed the door behind her and rushed to the bedside as Severus began a tortured rant.
“I expected to hear the baby, but I didn’t think it would be that bad. I was a fool, I couldn’t- I couldn’t bear it, Narcissa!”
She took his face in her hands. She’d never have touched someone that way a few years ago, but in the moment it was almost reflexive. His hair was damp with sweat and he was still shaking a little. The room smelled like his hair and skin. She could feel his pulse racing and his struggle to slow his breathing.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, sitting beside him and stroking his greasy hair. It was sparse, she noticed, and rather wispy like a baby’s. “I’m sorry the noise upset you so.”
He squirmed under her hand, wanting and not wanting her touch. “It’s worse than that. It’s so much worse than that!” His voice was raspy. She could smell vomit on his breath. “I wanted to show everyone what I could do. And then it was all about proving how far I was willing to go. I never once thought about what I wasn’t willing to do until it was too late.
“I’m in Hell, do you understand? I helped make Hell on earth and now I’m to live in it because, because… I know what I’ve done. I know what I’ve done! Oh Lily, Lily, what have I done?”
He collapsed into her arms, weeping.
Narcissa had one moment of dizzying shock and confusion, and then it was gone. Lily Potter, class of 1978, born in Cokeworth. Severus had known her, then. That’s who he had been grieving. And it was more than grief: Severus himself had delivered the prophecy that made her baby a target.
Severus’s whole body shuddered. His face ran with tears and snot and saliva. They were both fast becoming damp and sticky and she stank like Severus now. She pulled him down to lie on the bed as he clutched at her. When she pressed her lips to his red, glistening forehead he moaned and sobbed harder, so she did it again and again. The winter sun had set and the room grew darker by the minute.
Narcissa sighed deeply, exhaling gently across Severus's ear. That had sometimes calmed Draco when he was a newborn. She would never have allowed Draco’s ears to become so waxy, though. Severus paused to choke and cough, and then resumed crying, his face hidden in her bosom as she rubbed his back. She briefly worried that he would sick up again. She knew she would get too hot soon and her arms would fall asleep and her bladder would press her, but she would stay where she was until Severus lost consciousness.
Severus was awake when Narcissa returned from Draco’s bath and bed time. He sat at the desk nibbling toast from a tray. He had washed his face and made an attempt at smoothing down his hair, which was starting to clump up like strips of black seaweed. Still, his expression was so dazed and raw that she was surprised to hear him speak intelligibly.
“Did you feel like you were failing your child? Just now, when you were with him?” He asked quietly.
“No. I didn’t. Today, I could give him what he needed. Going forward…” she made a sad uncertain gesture.
“You make him feel… safe and loved,” Severus said slowly. “How do you know how to do that?”
“I don’t, always. Sometimes he screams and screams and it’s awful. Sometimes I do the things I remember from when I was small; care for him the way I was cared for. Sometimes not. I suppose it’s mostly instinct.”
“Instinct,” Severus sighed and nodded. He sipped his tea, clearly disappointed.
Narcissa was tired, so tired, but she found she didn’t want the night to end. It was all so terrible and important in a way she knew she would never quite understand.
“That feeling people get for someone little or vulnerable,” he said, “Sympathy or… tenderness, maybe. I don’t do it right, that feeling. It stings. It makes me feel sick. I’ve never known how to…” he searched desperately for the words to explain it to her, to himself. “A crying child to me is a hopeless situation!”
“They do stop eventually,” Narcissa shrugged. Lucius seemed to feel the same way.
“Some don’t,” Severus said gravely. “Some never do. They just learn to do it quietly.”
She supposed this was true.
It was so dark at nine o’clock that it could have been midnight, or three a.m., or any time at all. Severus and Narcissa lay side by side holding hands. Sometimes she would nod off a little, then jerk awake and clutch his hand tighter. Then he would squeeze back. She hadn’t celebrated done anything to mark Draco’s second Christmas. He wouldn’t know, anyway. She decided that she was officially too bereft without her husband to do anything festive until he returned. She had the mad thought that if only she and Severus had had intercourse, she could gracefully usher him to the shower.
“Lily taught me how to fly,” he said quietly. “Without a broom or a wand or anything.” He is clearly between waking and dreaming. “I didn’t want her dead. But then her baby was going to die.”
“Surviving her son would have been…” Narcissa murmured, running her thumb over his knuckles.
“I can imagine that, now. How that would have been for her. I imagine it all the time. The pain she would have had to endure, so that I might live in a world with her in it.” He yawned and she could feel him growing heavy and sinking a little lower into the green duvet.
“Are you glad?” Narcissa whispered. “That at least she doesn’t have to feel that? Is it a comfort?”
“Narcissa…” He sighed and brought her hand to his dry lips. “There can be no comfort. Not for me. I’ll never fly again.”
She turned to her side and fell against him. “I care for you, Severus. I truly do.”
“I believe you, Narcissa. I won’t forget this.”
“You can’t trust me going forward, though.”
“I won’t, Narcissa. It’s alright."