Hush

Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird.

Narcissa Malfoy cradled her son in her arms, singing to him quietly. Her husband of five years sat on a sleek leather couch staring intently at the fireplace. If Lucius heard her at all he made no indication.

Their son-- though in her mind he was solely hers-- cooed noisily as his eyes opened wide. He looked into the woman's eyes with curiosity, watching the way the light reflected off her irises, outwardly sky blue, but navy in its depths. He looked up at her with curiosity written on his face, watching her blue eyes and she watched his grey ones.

And if that mockingbird don't sing,
Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring.

Her singing voice was beautiful: quiet yet firm, reminiscent of tinkling bells and miniature music boxes with melodies that lilted through the air guiding tiny ballerinas that danced in never-changing circles.

With a slender digit, she traced her son's nose. One day he would learn to turn nose up at others, perhaps he would do so constantly, just like his parents. For a second, the light from the fire gleamed off her ring and that was all it took for the young boy to decide he wanted it.

His fist closed over the ring, fingers short and chubby, so fragile. Fingers that she could bend and break so easily, like the toothpick she had snapped in half hours ago, or like the dry twigs she had stepped on.

Her hold on the baby tightened subconsciously, her mind lost in a world of it's own.

She didn't notice her son's prying fingers.

And if that diamond ring turns brass,
Mama's going to buy you a looking glass.

Draco whimpered, the crystalline tears already forming at the corners of his eyes. When he saw the faraway look in his mother's eyes, the blue suddenly turn impenetrable, the tears broke free.

He wailed, his miniature arms flailing or trying it's their best to, and his tears flowed down in two perfect streams. It was to no avail, as her eyes remained blank, looking down at the bundle but not seeing. The baby wailed harder and louder, wiggling and trying to escape the once warm prison.

Narcissa only broke out of her stupor when Lucius cleared his throat loudly.

And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mama's going to buy you a billy goat.

For a moment she stared at her husband, her emotions rushing back to her. She felt lost, scared, and awe; too many things at once. She glanced back at the child in her arms, and suddenly he stopped crying. It was as if he had never started at all.

A smile broke through her confusion and she began rocking the child again, back and forth, back and forth, picking up the song exactly where she left off. Draco, for the moment, was contented and the ring had slipped out of his mind entirely.

Suddenly, the reddish-orange flames contained in the fireplace gave a lurch. The red faded slowly into a mottled green threw the room into what should have been eerie glow, but the two ex- Slytherins were too accustomed to it to notice.

Narcissa felt more than saw the muscles in Lucius' back tense and in turn, her own back stiffened. She forgot the song entirely as she watched Nott's head slowly emerge from the fire but she caught Draco's whine of displeasure.

Nott seemed unable to talk for a moment. He sputtered, but the stony look on Lucius' face, stuck between angry and furious, convinced him to gather his wits quickly.

"He's dead."

And if that billy goat won't pull,
Mama's going to buy you a cart and bull.

Even though she had a strictly laissez-faire view on her husband's dealings and even though she paid no heed to any of his dealings further than acting hostess to frequent get-togethers, she knew what those two words meant.

Lucius was silent, frozen even. For even with all his meticulous planning, alternative plans and support to fall back on he certainly hadn't expected something this horrible to happen. In that single second of stunned silence, one of the few Narcissa had the misfortune to witness, she realized that this wouldn't be as easy to rectify as the other mistakes.

With a gasp, or a sob-- it sounded like both-- she turned her back on the two men.

"How?" Lucius asked. There was no trace of anger in his voice, only a dull sort of resignation. She had never heard that tone from him before, and it made her insides seemed to rush out of her, leaving her stiff and empty inside.

And if that cart and bull turn over,
Mama's going to buy you a dog named Rover.

"All was going well; Potter was killed first, easily. Second was the Mudblood, she hadn't even thought to fight back. But then, he cast the Avada Kedavra on the boy... somehow it backfired... The Lord, he was killed. "

Lucius snarled viciously and threw an expensive vase against the wall. It shattered loudly, louder than anything Narcissa had ever heard before. She watched with morbid fascination as the glass rained down, some shards embedding themselves into the wall and others softly to the carpet.

The glass tinkled slightly, immediately reminding her of her voice, the wind chimes in her old home and her beloved childhood music box.

That was the next thing to hit the wall and shatter into irreplaceable fragments.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,
Mama's going to buy you a horse and cart.

Draco had begun to cry as he heard his father's anger, watched with wide eyes as the items hit the wall, and felt his mother's arm slacken. Her voice no longer sounded beautiful: it was a shadow, an echo of something that had left again.

He cried again, wailing loudly, but there was no father to break his mother out of her trance.

"The Potter baby?" Lucius had calmed down enough to make sensible words but his chest was still heaving.

He cursed, swore, and cursed yet again but finally grew silent. The only sound left in the room was Draco's keening cries, cries that the three adults never even heard, not even as background noise, the static in their own minds had grown too loud.

Narcissa could practically see the her life slip away.

She hadn't approved of Lucius' choice in business, but she couldn't argue. Voldemort had risen to power, seamlessly, flawlessly-- it was almost easy as taking candy from a baby.

So, why had a baby defeated him?

Lucius would be convicted, he'd be sentenced to life in Azkaban, and she would probably join him there. The least she could hope for was a 5-year sentence for being an accomplice. Even if she did escape charge, her name would be sullied, her reputation would be destroyed.

She'd be known forever as 'That Death Eater's wife'.

Narcissa had an absurd liking for history in her younger days. She had loved to hear about the rise and falls of dynasties-- especially the falls. It all seemed too humorous to her: how people of such great power could slip up so easily. With one small mistake-- to her all mistakes started out small-- a chain reaction developed and soon everything was destroyed.

She couldn't believe that she lived to see her own downfall.

Her heart seemed to clench painfully and her arms fell to her sides.

With a minuscule gasp and a break in the cries that no one heard, Draco fell to the floor. He landed with a sickening thud on the floor; the sound loud but the pain louder to him. And while The Boy Who Lived often had dreams of a blinding green light, Draco had dreams of falling, falling, and falling forever as he rushed towards the ground. He only awoke when he landed he landed on solid ground, his bones cracking and his body mankind a sickening thud.

His cries turned to sobbing screams.

Lucius nodded to Nott curtly and his face disappeared from the fire, no other words forthcoming. He had the pieces of his own life to collect. Narcissa walked shakily towards her husband, and when she saw the determination in them she took a deep breath drew herself up tall. She would do anything she could to stop the end of her dynasty. She swept out of the room, Lucius at her heels.

Draco's wails were answered with echoes.

That Halloween night had been the first time he heard of Harry Potter.

And if that horse and cart fall down,
you'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.