Special Delivery For: snapelike Title: Always Author:eeyore9990 Recipient's IJ/LJ name:snapelike Rating: Hard R Pairing(s): Lucius/Narcissa Word Count: 5150 Warnings (if any): Potentially disturbing subject matter, canon character death Authors notes: A huge thank you to the lovely ladies who beta'd this for me. They will be properly credited after the reveals. To snapelike, I really enjoyed writing this for you and hope above all else that you receive the kind of pleasure from your gift that I've received from your work over the years.
In the interests of full disclosure, I tell you that this is no fairy tale. There will be no meeting of eyes across a crowded room, no instant piercing of love through the heart of the unsuspecting, no bluebird trilling outside the window in a perfect, azure sky while foolish humans sing and dance about the perfection of love.
Love is messy and tangled and wrought with imperfection. But it does exist.
Summer, 1961
Tears instantly pricked her eyes as the boy tugged harshly on one of her curls. Narcissa let out a loud gasp and turned to him, her hands curling into tiny fists at her sides before she remembered the admonition from her mother and swallowed her anger.
As their parents spoke in low voices across the room—occasional laughter rolling across the sun-filled room to where the two children stood so near to one another—the boy pinched her arm, pulled her hair, and ripped her skirt, all in an attempt to make her cry.
Stubbornly tilting her chin, Narcissa focussed on a beautiful landscape on the far wall, imagining herself lost amid the watery purple flowers that swayed on the canvas. She would not cry. She would not.
"Lucius!"
At his father's barking tone, the boy started, turning from her to present a face of complete innocence. "Yes, Father?"
"Come look at the betrothal papers we've drawn up, boy. Cygnus, do you want the girl to witness this?"
As her father shook his head, the boy, Lucius, shrugged and walked across the room, staring down at the papers their fathers had been poring over all day. Narcissa wished for nothing more than to be at home with Andy and Bella and her dolls. Home, where no boys were there to torment her and pull her hair.
Since the boy was no longer paying her any attention, she furtively rubbed her arm where his cruel fingers had pinched it, hoping that one day she'd be able to get back at him. As she put her six-year-old mind to the matter, a plan formed, and her little cupid's-bow mouth curled wickedly.
"One day, Lucius, I'll make you fall in love with me. And then you'll be sorry you ever hurt me."
Summer, 1965
"Sit up straight, girl! Druella, are you quite certain she will be capable of learning?"
Narcissa sat so straight, her spine felt in danger of snapping, but her mother simply murmured something soothing to Mrs Malfoy and the two continued sipping their tea. A noise at the door caught her attention and she turned her head to see Lucius, her future husband—Narcissa shuddered at the thought—standing there with a broom in his hand.
"Mother, I'm going flying."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes. It was not at all fair that she'd had to sit here for the past week, listening to Lucius' mother droning on and on about the proper stewardship of the Malfoy Estate while Lucius got to run free and play and ride his broom. It was even less fair that she would have to return every summer until they married.
Peeved, she caught his eye and stuck her tongue out, hating him just a little when he smirked at her and said, "Mother, Narcissa is making inappropriate faces."
As Narcissa sat, outwardly chastened by the tongue-lashing her mother was giving her, she seethed inside, planning every hex in her repertoire for the next time she saw Lucius.
Summer, 1971
Narcissa stood framed in the doorway, pausing momentarily until all the guests in the ballroom went silent, staring at the vision she made in lavender silk. A small, gracious smile curved her lips as she accepted her father's arm and stepped lightly down the three stairs into the ballroom itself.
"You look lovely, daughter."
Narcissa bussed her father's cheek, some small voice in her head wondering if he was fully aware which daughter she was. "Thank you, Father. You look quite dashing yourself." And it was true. His dress robes fell in graceful lines from his powerful shoulders, worth every Galleon mother had spent on them.
Her father motioned to someone out of her line of sight and said, "I suppose you'll be wanting to dance now."
Narcissa continued to smile serenely, though she'd much rather find a drink and her knot of friends than start dancing so early in the evening. A presence at her side made her turn, wondering if her merest thought had conjured her dear friend Cassiopeia.
Instead, she saw Lucius Malfoy standing there, staring down at her with some new, startled expression on his face.
"Lucius," she murmured, lifting her hand to him.
He took it, raising it to his mouth and pressing a lingering kiss to her gloved knuckles. "Narcissa."
She tilted her head at him, narrowing her eyes as she wondered what it was that was so very different about him this evening.
"Would you care to dance?" His voice was hesitant, giving her the fleeting glimpse of a boy who was painfully aware of how quickly his vocal chords could embarrass him with an untimely crack.
Narcissa, seizing on a perfect opportunity, smiled with all the seduction in her sixteen-year-old heart and leaned in toward him, forcing him to bend his head so he could hear her whisper. "I'd rather have a glass of champagne."
He straightened, his lips pursing for a moment before he raised a hand, snapping his fingers authoritatively. At the sound, an elf appeared. "Master is calling?" it asked.
"My lady would like a drink," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. A house-elf carrying a tray of champagne appeared instantly and he selected a drink without ever looking away from her. As he passed the drink to her, their fingers brushed and her breath caught at the sudden surge of heat that flowed outward from the point of contact.
Bubbles exploded in her throat, lending her a giddy feeling as she slowly drained the flute. Negligently discarding the ancient stemware with the waiting elf, she placed her other hand on Lucius' arm. "And now, I believe you asked for a dance?"
The ghostly memory of a little boy tugging on a young girl's hair flickered and faded as they twirled around the ballroom, lost in each other's eyes.
Summer, 1974
Narcissa held her arms outstretched toward Lucius, her beautiful face showing no sign of the nervousness she was feeling. Lucius shook his head, gesturing for her to be patient as he lifted her foot, sliding her silver wedding shoe from it and placing a kiss on the turn of her stocking-covered ankle.
"Tell me what pleases you."
She blinked, discomposed at the low command. "I don't know! I've never done this before!" She frowned, having thought that would be obvious. His slow, satisfied smile made her purse her lips, shaking her head at him. "Which you very well know. How many times have you tried to convince me to come to you before our vows were spoken?"
"And you never did. Not with me or any other man."
Though his voice rang with certainty, she couldn't hold back a disgusted shiver at the thought of being with anyone else. "Never."
"Then let me know when I've got it right..." Slowly, he worked his hands beneath the voluminous folds of her gown until his fingers found the line where her stockings ended and her skin began.
She gasped, a shiver of a different sort wracking her body as he traced his fingertips lightly over the skin, going higher and higher until she snapped her thighs closed on them, the movement purely instinctual.
He wriggled his hand where it was trapped between her thighs, murmuring soothing sounds until she'd relaxed again. He crawled up the bed, placing sucking kisses on the inside of her wrist and elbow as his hand slid ever higher.
Narcissa bit her lip, not knowing how to move or what to say; her head spun as conflicting feelings of pleasure and nervousness swirled within her. "Lucius," she said, her voice small and tight.
"It's all right, darling," he said, his lips now pressed against the frantic pulse beating in her throat.
She rolled her head to the side, granting him further access even as she disagreed with him. "It isn't all right. I want to see you, to touch you. I want to feel you against me."
He went perfectly still and she could feel his body tremble against hers. The sudden knowledge of her power over him filled her then and she placed her hand on his cheek, tugging gently until he rose up and looked at her. "I want to touch you as you touch me."
His eyes shone with passion at her words and he slowly, reverently began to undo the lacings at her bodice, stopping only once to guide her hands to the button closure of his robes, encouraging her to mirror his actions.
As silken fabric parted to reveal heated flesh, low murmurs of approval filled the air. Narcissa dipped her fingers into the hollow of his throat, then trailed them to the side to scratch lightly over the fine ridge of bone at his shoulder. "Beautiful," she whispered, and heard the word echoed back to her.
Lucius' hands slid along the sides of her breasts, pushing them together slightly as he brought his thumbs up and rubbed them across her hardening nipples. As he lowered his mouth to them, Narcissa gasped and arched her back, grasping for purchase in the musculature of his back.
"Lucius!" she cried, overwhelmed by the passion filling her. In response to her shout, he gathered her close, suckling now at one breast as his hair brushed across the tip of the other. Narcissa's legs moved restively, her body undulating as she tried to find something to soothe her jagged nerves.
He smoothed one hand down her side, finally lifting his head from her breasts, startling a frustrated moan from her. "I need you," he said, his voice barely more than an impassioned whisper. "I intend to taste every inch of your luscious body tonight, from your toes to the sensitive place at the back of your neck and everything in between. I want to blindfold myself and learn you merely by touch; I want to drink from you, but first… I need you."
A loud moan filled the air and Narcissa was shocked to find it had come from her. "Yes. Yes, please."
His hand slid along her hip, drawing another low sound from her as his fingers rubbed over her hipbone, but when his fingers eased into her, she shrieked, arching off the bed from the immense pleasure his touch afforded her. "Lucius!"
He groaned, lifting and manoeuvring her legs around him as he slid into position between them. "So sweet," he murmured. "So beautiful."
Narcissa gasped at the feel of him against her, his body covering hers nearly completely. Something probed between her thighs and for a moment she thought it was his fingers again, but this was a larger intrusion. She whimpered, burying her face in the side of his throat as he pressed into her, slowly filling the gnawing emptiness inside her.
"More," she moaned, the words muffled against his neck. "Please, Lucius!"
"I don't want to hurt you." She could hear the strain in his voice.
Narcissa wound her fingers in his hair as she dropped her head back to the pillow. Tugging, she pulled him down into a deep, passion-filled kiss even as she tightened her legs around his hips and lifted herself onto him.
He pulled back with a gasp and she could see the cracks in his control moments before he pushed fully into her. She bit her lip, swallowing down the tiny flare of pain as she intentionally relaxed against him.
"Make love to me," she whispered, staring up into his eyes. "Make me your wife."
"Always."
He crushed her to him and spent the hours until dawn showing her how many different ways he could pull pleasure from her body, shocking her and satisfying her in equal measure. When dim light began to colour the room in shades of pink, he finally allowed them rest.
Narcissa, exhausted, curled into the protective circle of Lucius' arms as small shivers continued to wrack her body. "Just think, darling."
"Hmm?"
"I could even now be carrying our child."
Lucius smiled indulgently and kissed her brow. "If you aren't, it won't be for lack of trying."
Love is not stagnant. It can swell inside its victim until it pushes out the ability to concentrate on all else; it can shrink down to a tiny, hidden pebble of emotion that burns and twists in the gut, aching to be let free. In the first five years of their marriage, Lucius and Narcissa experienced every iteration of love, knew it in each of its forms.
They grew together, their compatibility lending itself to a profound friendship that tied them closer than any romantic love ever could. The passion they shared in their bedroom was only one extension of their deep regard for one another. Their life was nearly perfect.
Their happiness lacked only one thing to be complete.
Summer, 1976
Narcissa held Lucius' arm as they strolled along the cobbled Alley, stopping to greet friends, acquaintances, or extended family members. They had no real reason to be in London, but it was a fine summer day and when Lucius had suggested the trip, Narcissa had readily agreed.
"Darling, isn't that Mr Fudge?" Narcissa said, cutting her eyes to a slightly paunchy man walking along the other side of Diagon Alley.
"Yes, I believe it is."
"Perhaps we should speak with him." Lucius paused, his cane tapping an arrhythmic beat against one of the cobbles. While he considered, Narcissa leaned up to whisper in his ear, "He is well-placed for advancement within the Ministry."
Lucius smiled down at her, a slow, wicked smile that sent a frisson of heat through her body to curl her toes. Raising his voice, he called, "Fudge!" without ever removing his eyes from her.
"Malfoy?" Fudge paused, obviously wondering why the scion of the Malfoy family would be hailing him.
Narcissa smiled, to put him at his ease, while Lucius began to lead him into a conversation about the workings at the Ministry. After a long moment, Fudge cut Lucius off with a wave of his hand and said, "Narcissa, my dear, I'm certain you don't want to trouble your pretty head with these boring matters. Why don't I take Lucius to the Leaky for a pint while you go view the new fripperies at Madam Malkins."
Narcissa felt Lucius' arm stiffen under her fingertips even as anger at the man's pompous attitude swept through her. Before she could cut him down with a lightly spoken insult, Lucius took a step forward and said, "Be very careful, Fudge, how you speak to my wife." As he said this, his hand tightened on the handle of his walking cane and Fudge began gasping and choking, one hand going to the collar of his robes, tugging frantically on them.
Trailing soothing fingertips along Lucius' arm, Narcissa spoke. "Darling, we haven't chosen to sponsor Cornelius for his stunning intelligence or social skills. We must make allowances."
A muscle along Lucius' jaw twitched before he relaxed again, though the icy look in his as he stared at Fudge eyes refused to thaw. "Of course. However, should he ever expect to become Minister, he will need to learn when to hold his tongue."
"Ahh, an object lesson, then. Well, do continue."
Lucius looked back down at her, humour sparking in his gaze as he relaxed his grip on his cane. "You do like to deny me my little entertainments."
"Oh, piffle," Narcissa murmured while Fudge regained his breath. "I would never think to deny you anything."
"M-Minister?" Fudge asked, his scratchy voice cutting through their conversation. "I'm not even an Undersecretary yet, how could I—?" He shook his head, eyes going glassy as he succumbed to temptation.
"With the proper application of charm and money, Cornelius, anything is possible," Lucius said while the diamonds in the head of his cane caught the bright sunlight.
Long moments later, after planting the seed of possibility in the oaf's mind, Narcissa and Lucius resumed their stroll. When they were far enough away not to be overheard, Narcissa said, "But where will he find the charm, darling?"
~*~
Sunlight cut through the room, temporarily blinding Narcissa as the sound of rustling cloth woke her. "Lucius?"
The bed dipped and a gloved hand smoothed over her cheek briefly before being withdrawn. Narcissa smiled at the caress and blinked to bring him into focus. Taking in his handsome countenance in the rich black robes, Narcissa felt her heart clench. "You were Called?"
Lucius' mouth parted as if to answer before his features tightened with pain. Narcissa let out a small sound, sitting up quickly to take his left arm into her hands, pushing up the sleeve of his robes and smoothing the brief flare of pain away.
"I must go."
Narcissa nodded silently, brushing her lips along the flaring Mark before raising her face to him for a deeper, more intimate sort of kiss. Seconds later, he turned away, leaving the taste of him imprinted on her lips. "Return to me safely."
He paused at the door, half turning so that she could see the small smirk that tipped the corners of his lips. "Always."
Summer, 1978
Narcissa fled down the ugly, darkened lane, her breath trapped in her lungs as anguish forced an impenetrable knot in her throat. She'd barely had the presence of mind to Obliviate the back-alley mediwitch when she'd received the results of the scan.
"Ye're fertile as a southern field, milady. Strappin' sons ye'll provide fer his lordship…that is, if he has any oats t' sow."
The calculating gleam in the rheumy eyes had sickened Narcissa, lending her a steady hand as she'd wiped the crone's memory. Clutching the winding bit of parchment that had curled from the witch's wand, Narcissa closed her eyes and dropped it to the ground, casting fire at it until the ashes dispersed on the light wind.
"No one must know," she murmured, one hand pressing to her belly as she considered the implications and discarded a multitude of plans. "No one must know."
~*~
Lucius frowned at the paperwork he held in his hands, his consternation palpable. Narcissa, penning invitations to a formal dinner, tilted her head, stilling the long blue quill and commanding it to rest. Rising, she walked to stand behind Lucius, her hands automatically going to the nape of his neck to knead the stiffness from the muscles there.
"What's wrong, darling?"
He sighed, rolling his head from one side to the other, then groaning in frustration as her fingers skimmed teasingly up the sides of his neck. "This. The household accounts."
"Have the elves been overspending?" Narcissa asked, a frown creasing her brow as she bent over him to look down at the parchment. One item leapt from the page, causing her heart to twist with sudden fear before starting again on a double beat. She looked down at where her hands were clenched deeply into the muscles of Lucius' shoulders and forced them to relax, resuming her slow rubbing.
Lucius' eyes narrowed and he tapped one finger against the top of his desk. "I must speak with that elf… that Dobby. There have been too many oddities. I assumed at first they were additions to the herbs used in cookery, but no. There are far too many potions ingredients on this list."
Narcissa released Lucius, circling around his chair to drop gracefully into his lap, certain of her welcome. "Are there any disturbing ones? Anything that could be potentially dangerous?"
"No more than usual," Lucius said, already sounding distracted as Narcissa's fingers slid over the front of his robes soothingly.
"Let me deal with the elves, darling. You have far too many other matters to occupy your time as it is."
A low rumbling sounded in her ear just before Narcissa found herself turned and lifted onto the surface of his desk. "Have I been neglecting you?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.
Narcissa's lips curled up into the smug smile of a woman well-loved. "Always."
Lucius' hands slid up the outside of her thighs, pushing her light-weight robes up as they went, baring her to the waist even as he dropped his head to her chest. Nuzzling into the cloth-covered softness, he turned his head and allowed his mouth to travel to the peak of her breast, taking it into his mouth and suckling through the thin cloth of her robes.
The damp heat, the suction and friction of his mouth moving over her, drew a shuddering gasp from Narcissa. She wound her legs slowly around his waist, crooking them just so and pulling against his body to bring him flush against the juncture of her thighs.
"Lucius!" she demanded, her hands winding into his hair as she writhed on the large desk, knocking ornaments and papers askew while grinding herself against him.
He chuckled softly, pulling his head back and blowing on the wet patch of silk he'd left behind, his eyes fierce with hunger as he watched her nipple draw taut beneath the outline of her robes. His expression of greedy possession sliced through Narcissa, making her desperate to find release.
As his fingers toyed lightly with the sensitive skin along her inner thighs, Narcissa growled softly and said, "I want you. Now. Do not dare make me wait."
"My wicked—" he gasped as her fingers dropped from his hair to his chest, pinching his nipples through his robes, "wicked witch."
Narcissa groaned, ripping futilely at the cloth of his robes. They were far too well tailored to destroy easily.
"Patience, darling," he whispered, severing the placket of buttons holding his robes closed with a spell. Narcissa whimpered as his robes fell open, baring his body to her.
"Please, Lucius," she begged. "Don't make me wait."
He drew a ragged breath, his fingers dipping beneath the lacy undergarments she wore to find her wet with need. "So beautiful. So perfect."
When her hand dropped to his cock and gave it a firm squeeze, he gasped, accidentally ripping her undergarments. She laughed, the sound breathy as she squirmed against him, attempting to line their bodies up, though his hands were in the way.
"Lucius!"
He finally gave in and gripped her hips, holding her still as he slowly slid inside her welcoming body.
Summer, 1979
"You know, son, I'm beginning to wonder if your wife is frigid or if you're a boy-loving pervert. If you can't or won't get an heir on her, I'll be happy to visit her bed and see to the duty myself!"
Hand-etched silverware clattered loudly into her dish as shock numbed Narcissa's fingers. Abraxas had become far more pointed in his questioning of their intentions to provide an heir for the Malfoy line, but to blatantly ask Lucius if he was… Bile rose in Narcissa's throat at the coarse language that was spewing from her father-in-law, who was seated at the other end of the long table.
"Enough!" Lucius did not raise his voice, but the tone could have served to chill the berries they were enjoying with their dessert. Standing, he moved to Narcissa's chair, pulling it back as he dropped a soothing kiss onto the place where her neck and shoulder met. "My dear, I apologise for my father's behaviour at your table. While I would prefer to eject him from the room, I would sooner shield you from his drunkenness. If you would like to take a stroll in the conservatory, I will join you momentarily."
With a slight nod and shaking hands, Narcissa removed the serviette from her lap and placed it on the table before accepting Lucius' hand and standing. Pressing her lips to his cheek, she murmured, "Do not be long, my love."
She heard and felt him draw a deep breath before he squeezed her hand and released it. Turning toward the door, Narcissa narrowed her eyes at Abraxas, a single, perfect plan solidifying in her mind.
~*~
Narcissa turned onto her side as Lucius slipped from their bed. "Another meeting?"
"Narcissa!" Surprise coloured his tone for a moment before he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "My apologies. I didn't want to wake you."
She shook her head, waving aside his words. "I wouldn't want to miss saying goodbye." Cold fear gripped her for a moment; the resistance to the Dark Lord's plans had taken more than one of his followers of late. She raised one hand to his cheek, allowing her fingers to tangle in the pale curtain of his hair. "Return to me safely, my love."
She couldn't help but note, as the door closed behind him, that he neglected to leave her with a reassuring, "Always."
Swallowing her fear, Narcissa waited a long moment before pushing the blankets back and easing from the bed. Slipping into Lucius' lounging robe, she pulled the soft material around her, breathing in his scent. Walking over to her dressing table, she shook her hair down her back, running a brush through it to remove the tangles.
When she was satisfied with the image in the mirror, she turned and walked quietly out of the room. Up one set of stairs and down the next, she made her way calmly to the East Wing of the Manor, where Abraxas' rooms were located.
As stewardess of the estate, no part of the Manor was capable of being closed to Narcissa, a fact which Abraxas Malfoy should have taken into consideration before insulting her at her own table. Fury that had never quite dispelled rose again within Narcissa, and she tightened her hand on her wand.
Silently opening the door to his bedroom, Narcissa stepped inside and let it close soundlessly behind her. Walking to the bed, she stood over him, letting her anger simmer inside her as she waited for him to wake. Soon enough, the weight of her stare roused him from his sleep and as his eyes began to open, she raised her wand and said, "Petrificus Totalus!"
Satisfaction clawed at her as she watched his body stiffen unnaturally under the influence of her hex. He didn't move, couldn't have twitched if he'd focussed all his strength on doing so, but his eyes, oh how they showed his fury.
"I'm certain you wonder what I'm doing here. I've come to give you good tidings, dear father-in-law. I have found a way to ensure the future of the Malfoy line. Lucius and I will have our heir by the beginning of next summer. Isn't that delightful?"
Narcissa smiled coldly as she settled onto the edge of his mattress. "You may wonder why it has taken so long; as I would hate to leave you in suspense, I will tell you. Lucius is unable to father children. Not, as you so crassly suggested at dinner, because there is anything wrong with his technique in the bedroom but because he is completely infertile.
"Before our marriage was conducted, you persuaded my father to have a medi-witch examine me to ensure my ability to bear children. I was deemed fully capable, which I'm sure you remember. What you don't know is that earlier this year, I sought out another medi-witch. I was desperate, you see. I needed to know for myself that nothing untoward had happened within my body. I was sure it was me. After all, I have never experienced such pleasure as I find within the arms of my husband. It could not have been he.
"Only, against all reason, it was. Five long years I've tried to conceive, using every resource available to me. Potions and spells, some of them buried in dark texts so ancient the pages had to be turned by magic so as not to disintegrate upon being touched. Only one have I not used. Remarkably, it is the one spell that guarantees conception. But I have not used it because I love my husband more than any unborn child."
Narcissa stood again, vengeance writhing within her as she clutched her wand tightly in her hand.
"Now, just lie back and relax, Abraxas. This will hurt… quite a lot, actually. You'll be rendered impotent, but I will be pregnant with a child of true Malfoy blood by month's end. You won't live long enough to see him, of course." Narcissa twirled her wand between her fingers as she glared coldly down at the man frozen in place on his over-sized bed. "I would say it is a pity, but it will be best that my son has no chance to fall under the influence of a man as uncouth as you."
Narcissa felt a wicked thrill of triumph as she began moving her wand in the intricate pattern of the darkest fertility spell Wizard-kind had ever forgotten.
~*~
Rain drizzled from the grey sky outside as the Healer turned and shook his head, his eyes showing his compassion as he placed his hand over Abraxas' face, lowering the old man's eyelids.
"I'm so sorry, Lucius. We did everything we could, but… Dragon Pox. All the magic we possess, and there is still no cure."
Lucius nodded, just once, his eyes dropping to stare at the withered figure of his father. "Thank you, Healer Brown. I cannot suggest that it is a surprise. We've known this was coming since the first symptoms struck."
"Paralysis."
Lucius nodded again and turned to Narcissa, whose eyes were wet with tears for the pain she knew her husband must have been feeling. She reached out to him, drawing him into a soothing embrace.
The Healer smiled sadly at the couple. "When one life ends… another begins. Please accept my felicitations on your joyous news."
As Lucius' hand hovered protectively over her belly, Narcissa smiled, blinking back her tears as she said, "Always."
Love is desperate and needy and requires sacrifices beyond the reach of most mortals. But for those who love and love well, no demand is too great. The love story of Lucius and Narcissa is no fairy tale. There is a wicked witch and a beautiful heroine and a loving mother but sometimes… sometimes they are the same person.
Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy welcomed their son into the world a mere eight months after interring Abraxas into the family mausoleum. Narcissa's smile was filled with happiness and was just the slightest touch sly when she suggested that they name their heir Draco.
Once upon a time, a family lived happily ever after.