Innocent Lies

Innocent Lies-

Lucius has only touched me once. He does not touch me now.

Instead, he sneers at me when I try to move closer to him, pushing me away at every moment.

In one sentence, he will remind me that I am everything, and yet nothing at all.

In one sentence, he will spark off my desire, make me yearn to have him pressed to me, to feel him as I felt him that one night we were together. But when I reach out to touch him, he turns away, disgusted.

He will have me sit before him, on display, or lie back. He will stare at me and make his crude comments, reminding me of the night when he brought me here and made me his by force. He tells me that I am only here because I was stupid and foolish enough to conceive, that he would have never married me if I had not already been carrying his child.

Then he tells me that he gave me life, that now I hold something of him within me, by virtue of being the mother of his son.

But he will never touch me, he will never reach out, instead leaving me in the darkness to listen as he conquers his latest prize. I am not to move at all, not even to stir, instead having to endure listening as some other woman takes over my place, takes over my husband, her screams echoing into the night.

I may only move when I am sure he is asleep, and even then, I am not to leave this room until he calls for me to do so.

Sometimes I wonder what it was that I had then that I do not possess now. I wonder what it was that I lost under the cover of darkness that night that makes me so repulsive to him.

Am I not beautiful? Am I not still young? It has only been a few months since Draco was born, only a year since our marriage…

And yet, he has never touched me since that night.

I finger the edges of my robe, watch as it slides off my shoulders, slips to the floor. I step away, approach the glass, reach out to touch the lovely young woman in the mirror. She is just as pretty as she has always been, inviting all who look upon her to wrap themselves up in her gaze.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I cannot tell what it is that I do not have now that I didn't have then. I am no less beautiful, I am no less desirable. I gaze at myself, from the blond hair that shimmers in the moonlight, to my pale skin, unmarked. I let my eyes wander over my own body, let my fingers explore. I let them linger on everything that marks me as a woman.

And then my eyes go to the cradle that stands in the centre of the room. It rocks, charmed to lull even the most cranky child to sleep. It rocks as if an invisible hand holds it, pushing it back and forth, back and forth, casting the sleeping child within into moonlight, taking him back to shadows.

A small sigh sounds from the cradle. I turn and walk over to it, look down at my sleeping child.

When he is awake, he will cry and scream, he will terrorise the house-elves assigned to look after him. But when he is asleep, he is charming and innocent, he is so perfect...

I know how Lucius looks so fondly upon Draco, smiles at him like he never smiles at me. He kisses the tiny hands, the small nose; he lets his fingers trail over his whole form, revelling in the innocence of a child.

And then, when he thinks that no one is looking, he shatters that innocence; when Draco cries, he smiles, and he thinks that no one will ever know.

So innocent…

Draco was conceived in lies and born in darkness. He was never meant to be, he would not have been if I had never followed Lucius to his room. He would not have been if I had never allowed myself to be held down, to be taken. But he does not know what happened… he does not know what I know, he does not understand.

Innocent…

I feel the room grow cold around me. The cradle slows, pauses for a second in the moonlight. From within, Draco stirs, turns. He opens his eyes, but strangely, he does not cry. I peer into them, I try to see my son. Why doesn't he cry? I reach for him but he shies away, turns from me. He squirms away when I touch him and I withdraw.

The cradle rocks into shadow and stops. The shadows may hide the welts on his arms, but they do not hide the knowledge, the pain, the fear in his eyes.

I have found my answer.

I have found my answer, I have found how I have damned myself forever.

My beauty, my charm, it means nothing. Lucius has ripped away our innocence, and it is that which makes him turn away. My child still does not comprehend what is happening; Draco may still be saved, but I… I am less than nothing to him. I can even feel it now, feel his stare burning into my back, but when I turn around there is nothing but the cradle and myself, reflected in a broken mirror.