Ad Mortem Festinamus

The pregnancy had been unproblematic; Madam Rosenberg had been satisfied with her patient, and this one was thoroughly satisfied, too. Only the father wasn't well; in fact, Lucius was so nervous with the forthcoming birth of his son, he had stopped going to his office in April already to be with his wife all the time. He had read books about pregnancy, about birth classes, he had set up many rolls of parchment with possible names. He had even tried to drag Narcissa to one of those birth classes and accompanied her, but they had agreed that they wouldn't go a second time, with Narcissa commenting dryly, "I know I'm no professional breather, but I get along for a living."

The birth itself was almost as stressful for him, as for the becoming mother. Madam Rosenberg had thrown him out of the hallway before the bedroom, stating that he drove her mad by his pacing up and down, so he had to wait downstairs with his own father, who urged him to drink one whiskey after the other. He had never felt so helpless. Upstairs, the light of his life was in labour - in pains; he had read everything about it, and about everything that could go wrong - and what about his son? The poor little lad, what if the umbilical cord strangled him, if he hadn't turned around like he ought to, maybe he'd need a forceps delivery... He shuddered with the mere term!

"Sit down, or I'll throw you out too, and you've got to wait in the dungeons," Abraxas growled, pushing his son back in his armchair.

"It's taking awfully long, isn't it? What if -"

"Your mother's been in labour for thirty hours -"

"What?!"

"For thirty hours, sonny -"

"Stop calling me sonny, Father! I'm going to be a father myself any minute now!"

"She's up there for six hours. Just as well we could play a game of snooker in the interim."

Lucius goggled at him stupidly, before realising that Abraxas had tried to make a joke. "You're no good with the queue, Father. You're far too arthritic."

"Yeah, but you're shaking so badly, you couldn't even hold the queue. Now calm down. Madam Rosenberg is in the business for - what - a century or so -"

"When you think you can relax me by telling me that our midwife is so old that she's blind, deaf and arthritic, too, you're on the wrong track!"

"I give you credit for your concerns, boy. I just hope your care extends to more than the mere birth."

Lucius was stone drunk when one of the elves finally arrived, panting, not even bothering to knock - but this wasn't the time for quarrelling about manners. "Sir," he wheezed, "it's - you - upstairs -"

He jumped up and sprinted upstairs, badly hitting his elbow on the bedroom door frame, but not registering this now. All he perceived was this - his wife, as pale as the linen she was lying on, smiled at him and in her arms, she held a tiny bundle. He fell to his knees beside her, covering her hand with kisses, before daring to take a look at the child. It was so small, his face almost purple, his eyes squeezed shut... Little wonder, after nine months in the dark, the dimly lit room must be as bright as hellfire for him.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Narcissa breathed, ruffling her husband's hair.

"He is! Takes after his mother -"

She patted at the mattress on her other side, urging him to lie down next to her. He did, swirling one arm around her, stroking over his son's head with the other. Narcissa snuggled up to him. "Say hello to your daddy, Draco..."

The child moved his tiny fists. This was more of a reflex, but Lucius was inclined to take it as waving, and muttered, "Hello Draco..."

Their bliss was complete. Lucius purchased a whole page in the Daily Prophet and a couple of other newspapers to announce the birth of little Draco Appolonius Alboin David Artemis Immanuel Cygnus Abraxas Phaeton Malfoy - dilectis pueris varia nomina damus -, 20 inches, 7 pounds. Even Abraxas was for once content. His son couldn't be that useless if he had fathered such a marvellous baby, though he gave the mother most of the credit.

Their happiness was crudely interrupted ten days later. An owl arrived in the morning, addressed to Lucius. He carelessly broke the seal, narrowing his eyes because the handwriting was so bad. Someone had written in great haste, and it took him a minute to comprehend the meaning. He couldn't suppress a deep groan. Narcissa's uncle had written, to report the awful news before they'd read it in the Prophet - Regulus was dead. Lucius had a whole lot of ideas what might have happened - a mission gone wrong, an Auror who had caught him, the Dark Lord displeased -

"What is it, mon amour?" Narcissa asked, putting down her cup.

"Nothing..." On a second thought, he continued gently, "No, you'll hear it sooner or later anyway. Your uncle Orion's written to me -"

"To you?"

"I suppose he didn't want to disquiet you... Narcissa - please, remain calm... But your cousin Regulus has been found dead."

She stared at him, her mouth forming a mute, 'No!' She, too, had ample of ideas on the subject, resembling her husband's very much, and she managed to whisper in great agitation, "You didn't know about that, did you?"

It was almost a plea, but at least in this respect, he could soothe her. "No, ma belle, I had no idea. I have no idea what's happened..."

He was very committed to gather as much information as he could on the subject. Regulus had been found in his parents' cellar, in a room that had been locked from the inside. The house was Apparition-proof, adding another mystery. There was no visible sign of violence; it appeared as if his heart had simply stopped beating, if it hadn't been for the horrified expression on the corpse's face and the Dark Mark over the house. The room was in a mess; the investigating Ministry wizards concluded that he must have thrown over the shelves himself, probably due to a heart attack that had badly panicked him. They didn't give a damn, really, because the first thing coming to light during the corpse's autopsy was the Dark Mark on his arm. They had enough on their plates as it was, without bothering for the mysterious death of some Death Eater scum.

Lucius asked other Death Eaters, he even asked the Dark Lord, but got no other answer than that they had no clue what had happened. Obviously, despite his young age, the kid must have had a heart attack, or some other fatal illness. In a way, this was the best possible answer from Lucius' point of view - Narcissa wouldn't have taken it well if her cousin had died because of his engagement for the Dark Order. For the boy's parents, it made no difference. He had been their darling son, and not eight weeks later, there was another funeral to attend, because Orion had committed suicide.

Narcissa set great store on family, even though she hadn't been particularly fond of either her uncle or her cousin. She had been anxious about the war before, but despite Lucius' assurances, she found that it had broken into her family now, which was absolutely insufferable. Of course the Dark Lord wouldn't admit that he had had his hands in this, least towards Lucius! He must have given him some poison, surely, for whatever reason...

Severus had got a job in Hogwarts as a teacher in Ancient Runes. She had been amazed, but Lucius had told her that the Dark Lord had ordered him there as a spy. Hogwarts was the only place where Lord Voldemort had no influence, so it was only logical that he wanted one of his own people there. Still, she found the whole thing a bit fishy - Dumbledore was no idiot, he must know that Severus had his allegiances elsewhere... Fortunately, there were the summer holidays, and Narcissa took her baby son out for a visit.

Severus couldn't handle the child, smiling insecurely and handing it back to her at once. "Quite the father, isn't he?"

"Oh, yes! Lucius won't hear of it, but it's true. Don't plan anything for next Sunday, we'll finally have the naming ceremony." That one had to be postponed twice, for the two casualties in the family, and Narcissa was determined to rather drop dead herself than delay it once more.

"Finally..."

"Yes, finally. I thought it'd be a bad omen to celebrate my precious here so shortly after Regulus' and my uncle's death."

"Yes, I see."

"I'd like to ask you something, Severus... Do you - do you know anything about - that?"

She pretended to look the other way, but closely kept her eye on him. His face blanched, but he shook his head. "Nothing, Narcissa."

"You know you can be open with me, yes?"

"Yes, I know." He gave a little smile. "Trust me, I know nothing about your cousin's death."

"So what is it that makes you look like this?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It's the thing about Lily, right?"

His muscles got tense with that name and he averted his face. "Don't talk about that, Narcissa. Strictly seen, you mustn't even know about it!"

"I guess Lucius finds it important enough to tell me when one of the few people I've ever regarded as a friend's been marked for death."

He hesitated. "When you say Lily had been your friend, what's that saying about the state of our friendship?"

"Oh, don't do that. You know what I mean. You are my friend, and Lily was someone I just liked, all right. But you know that's a lot for me - liking somebody... I remember that you liked her, too."

He gave a start and shot her a very sharp look. "If I ever was your friend, Narcissa, you must not repeat that. Please!"

"Repeat it among the two of us, or repeat it to someone else?"

"Both!"

"Come on, Savvy. I won't give you away, but between you and me - I knew you had a crush on her before you knew it yourself."

She had been deliberately blunt, closely watching his reaction. For a split second, he looked furious, but recomposed at rapid speed. "That's all in the past."

"Yes, sure... But does it sit well with you that she's going to die?"

"Now what do you think?"

"I think it drives you mad."

"No, not mad. Mad's certainly not the word."

"So what is the word?"

He gave no reply, but got up and poured two glasses of wine, offering one to Narcissa. She declined because of the baby, so he conjured her a glass of lemonade, they toasted, and he said lowly, "I've asked the Dark Lord not to kill her eventually."

"And I bet he was just delighted to comply," Narcissa said sourly, twisting her face.

"He was. He realised how much more cruel it would be to kill her husband and son, and let her live."

"That sounds more like him. So, if you don't want anyone to know how much you care - or cared - for her, how did you bargain for her life?" She shuddered. Oh yes, she could easily imagine the cruelty of such a scheme - she, too, would rather die than see Lucius and Draco die before her, every wife and mother would. She tried to figure Severus out - did he mean what he was saying? He had hated James Potter devotedly, and that this one had married Lily Evans of all witches must have been a slap in the face for him - but could he truly be so vindictive? So cold? Would he want to make Lily suffer for her choice? The Dark Order didn't bring out the best in people, but the very worst. Had Severus become corrupted enough to feel elated tormenting others like this - making them watch how those they loved were murdered?

"Lily Evans is an amazingly talented witch, Narcissa." He shot her a sardonic grin. "She works in the Department of Mysteries. She knows things that the Dark Lord would - well, perhaps not die for - but keeping her is very appealing to him nonetheless."

"He doesn't seriously believe that he can kill her new-born kid and make her collaborate afterwards!"

"If Draco died - beware! - and someone offered you that there might be possibilities to bring him back - wouldn't you agree, too?"

"But Lily's far too clever to buy into such nonsense! There is no way to bring back the dead, unless you're counting Inferi!"

"I'm afraid the Dark Lord doesn't possess so much insight, both in her character and her intellectual capacities!"

"What're you playing at, Savvy?"

"Look, Narcissa, I cannot be open with you, I'm sorry. No offence intended, but Lucius isn't such a brilliant Occlumens, it's just not in his nature, so anything I tell you could go right back to the Dark Lord unintentionally."

"We have a deal, Lucius and I. We never lie to one another. But we understand that there is no need to talk about everything. Usually that's me, not wanting to know, but we can do it the other way round, too. If you want me to, I will not forward a single word you've said."

Severus smiled sadly, gazed at the little boy in her arms and shook his head. "It's better for you to remain ignorant. If you know nothing, you can't be forced to give it away."

She followed his eyes, ruffling Draco's silky baby curls. "Severus, I know that you are a great Occlumens, possibly the best I know, so I trust I can be honest with you. Firstly - we both know that ignorance hasn't saved anyone in the history of the world. If the Dark Lord believed I had a secret from him, he'd torture me, if it was true or not. He'd kill me at last, just to make sure that I took my non-existent secret to my grave. It really doesn't make a difference. And secondly - take a look at my son, Severus. Look at him! He is everything to me, and I will fight like a lioness to keep him safe. This war - everything really - it freaks me out. They can kill each other for all I care, but that they hazard my husband, and indirectly me and my son, is not to be suffered. Not by me. They won't take Lucius away from me, I will not stand for it. Neither jail nor death will claim him as long as I have a say in it!"

"But you don't have a say in it," he said softly, not daring to look at her glowing eyes. She resembled her oldest sister in this moment, the same fierceness, the same determination, as if Bellatrix had put on a blond wig and charmed her eyes blue. One did not light-heartedly talk back to that one either.

"You better start believing that I have, boy! Only because I prefer to stay at home with my hands in my lap, it doesn't mean that I am weak, or powerless. There are far more subtle ways of combat than hurling curses at each other, and mark my words, neither of us will go down without putting up a good fight! The only power that your lordship has over me is that he can threaten my family, and I will not allow him to do so!"

"Calm down, Narcissa! I understand your fear, but that won't do! You cannot fight someone who's immortal!"

"Immortal!" She spat the word. "Get real! Nobody, nobody is immortal! The high gods of Babylon and Egypt went down, because they weren't immortal! They were nothing but very gifted sorcerers with Animagic powers, and most of all, a fantastic publicity department! And that's all your Lord Voldemort - oh, stop it! - that's all he is! I know what he is! I've known for a long time! In fact, he is just like you, the son of a witch and a muggle, and so embarrassed of his lineage that he'd rather make up a new name, and make everyone believe he was oh-so-special, but he really isn't!"

He shook his head, slowly, seemingly defeated. "He is. Trust me, he is. His powers are unrivalled, and I know for a fact that he is immortal, too. He's taken the right steps. Why do you believe that we are called Death Eaters, Narcissa? Not everyone serving him bears that name, not everyone serving him bears the Dark Mark. We are Death Eaters because each one of us has swallowed a little part of his mortality."

"That is nonsense, Savvy! He puts up a good show, I got to give him that, because he wants you to believe this utter nonsense. You drank his blood, so what? I'm not superstitious, if I was, I'd still be a Catholic, for heaven's sake! Blood doesn't matter half as much as people believe, the purebloods believe it because it makes them special, and the others believe it out of some silly inferiority complex. The only way in which blood counts is that of family, and that's all it is good for! You know what he did, don't you? He's taken the glamorous part of vampirism - and mind you, they're not immortal either, they simply do not age, but one good stab at their heart, one well-aimed stroke of an axe, and they crumble to dust! That, some flashy incantations, and the mere fact that he hasn't died yet, et voilà, there goes his immortality!"

She was right in some aspects of her passionate speech, but had never been so woefully wrong concerning others. Indeed, Lord Voldemort had only made his favourite supporters drink his blood to make them believe the stories he told them, and yes, he had been inspired by some vampire myths, and a couple of other legends he had heard during his travels. This had been a safety measure - he didn't want them to know the true steps he had taken, always aware of the danger that one day, they might want to revolt. He secretly relished his own euphemism when addressing them as his 'faithful Death Eaters', because he knew that they were just anything, but certainly not loyal.

In a way, Narcissa's problem was that she was a little too clever, not too ignorant. Her views were thoroughly mundane, she had read all the right authors, and all her reading had brought her to believe that belief was the wrong approach. She didn't buy in anything supernatural, and immortality was just that, inconceivable with the laws of nature. Of course, from her point of view, magic in itself wasn't supernatural either; it followed certain rules, invisible for muggles, but nonetheless existent and real, like gravity, like the second tenet of thermodynamics. Immortality was against those laws, and in a way, she was right - because Lord Voldemort wasn't truly immortal in the original meaning of the word. Her crucial mistake was that she was so convinced of her own argumentation, she had simply forgotten that he could have taken additionally some right steps to make it more difficult to kill him.

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Animosa... A determined mother has no fear.

Dilectis... Beloved children are given many names.