My Bad Faith

The air was stagnant, as it has always been in my drawing room, thick with dust and mold. The very panels of the walls breathe its age. The smell could lead anyone to believe that the room had been unoccupied for hundreds of years, while in fact, I used the room every day. The floorboards were creaky and whined as I crossed over them to the fireplace. On the granite mantel was a variety of things: small, fragile, breakable things. I examined a tiny crystalline dragon figurine I had been given some time ago by a co-worker at the Ministry. Expensive, no doubt, and as everyone knew- even those whom had never met me- how I liked expensive things. I lifted the dragon in my hand, first judging its weight then contemplation, and threw it across the room, shattering into hundreds of tiny shards of pain and anger.

There was a muffled squeak and I turned sharply, seeing the miserable creature that was Dobby in the doorway. I narrowed my eyes, frightening him with my glare, and demanded, "What is so important you find you must interrupt my solitude?" I said this a bit too loud, perhaps, but with exactly enough venom, given the previous events of the evening.

"Dobby begs forgiveness, Master, but Dobby was sent for you. Mediwizard wishes to speak with Master, he does," he muttered dolefully, not lifting his eyes to mine, a sure sign of inferiority.

"Have him sent here. I will not stalk about my own home, searching for a man who does not belong. I will wait him in the drawing room." When Dobby didn't immediately move I twisted my lips into a snarl. "Get."

With a surprised jolt, he scampered down the dark corridor into the shadows. I crossed over to my favourite chair, the black leather one with tall back, and sat in it, letting the dying fire warm my fingertips. The mediwizard entered the room; shadows caused by flames distorted his already ugly features, making him appear to be a relation of Mad-Eye Moody. He snorted and squat in the chair I bade him sit.

The doctor studied me with grouchy eyes for sometime before asking with a cool tone, "Excluding the last five days, have you had intercourse with your wife in the last two weeks?"

My eyes widened slightly at his question, but surely not wide enough that he would have noticed. "Doctor-?"

"Täuschen, Mr. Malfoy." He shifted uncomfortable in his seat, a black chair, though less admirable as my own dais.

"Dr. Toychen, then," I said, deliberately mispronouncing his name, "What business is it of yours as to the number of times and/or frequency of my personal habits and private activities?"

"I was merely determining whether or not you were the father, Mr. Malfoy." A swift eyebrow in his direction asked if he was jesting, and he certainly seemed to not be. When I did not immediately answer Dr. Täuschen, he took my silence to mean my wife was not faithful.

"Ah, I didn't think so, but I had to make sure."

"Didn't think what?" I glared at him and he shrank back. "That Narcissa would share the same bed as me, let alone do what it requires to-"

"Mr. Malfoy, calm yourself! I only meant that-"

I stood and leaned over the wide-eyed, frosted-head mediwizard and told him exactly how many times a week my wife and I did what we had done only hours previous to his visit, and determined to express my dislike for those who meddled in businesses other than their own. He swallowed hard and I could hear the saliva slide down his throat. Disgusting.

"Mr. Malfoy, I assure you, I meant do disrespect. I was only doing my job, surely you can relate?" he begged, sounding hoarse and extremely frightened.

"Dobby, get him out of here," I ordered as I was mere inches from his face, the gourd-like nose almost touching my own.

I straightened myself to a proper posture and waited as Dobby grabbed the hem of the white robe and tugged the "good doctor" out into the corridor. The closing of the front entrance door echoed throughout the house and I made haste towards my bedchambers. Whoever the idiot was that designed Malfoy Mansion, I ought to strangle him. Too many endless corridors and useless rooms. I arrived at my room and eased the great door open. Surely, if Narcissa were truly pregnant, she wouldn't like loud noises or sudden movements, but then again, I never knew too many pregnant women.

"Are you in here?"

There wasn't a reply so I let myself in. My wife, the reincarnation of Aphrodite, lay sleeping on the bed with the sheets tangled about her body. I closed the door behind me and shrugged off my boots and robes before slipping into bed next to her. She sighed contently and her breathing lulled me to sleep.

I woke the next morning to the unpleasant sunshine searing through my eyelids, burning my irises. I rolled over, pulling the bed sheet over my head to block the unwanted light, and received a grunt in response.

"Blanket-hog."

I snorted and pushed myself to the side, letting my feet dangle over the edge until they slapped against the cold floor. My toes ached from the bitter cold of the room and crossed the marble to the east wall. I tugged open the top of my chest of drawers and searched lethargically for a suitable robe to wear around the house, having no plans for the day. The soft pad of feet approached slowly behind me and a slender hand pulled a simple grey garment with silver gilded thread trimmings from the drawer.

"This one, dear," said my wife softly, closing the drawer and opening another to find something for herself. "Did Dr. Täuschen tell you the news?" She didn't look up, though I was watching her intently. Her hands shook in the slightest as she sifted through her things.

"He did."

She stopped moving, as though waiting for me to speak- waiting for my approval.

"He did," I repeated, still watching. She turned and I caught her cloudless sky blue eyes in my gaze. She silently swallowed and lifted her eyebrows slightly, as if to say, "And?"

"What are you thinking, Lucius?" Narcissa was deliberate in her pausing between words.

"Are we certain we're ready to be parents? Besides, you'll get fat and we'll have to have new robes ordered."

"There's no turning back, Lucius. We can't undo the things we've done. Besides, this will be the birth of the Malfoy heir," she said unsure, disregarding my latter comment.

I nodded, still irresolute. "I know. Well then, what are we naming him? Something strong, I'd say, so-"

"Her. We're having a girl," my wife said confidently, turning back to the drawer.

"A girl? No. Impossible. How will my son have my stunning appearance and striking mannerisms if he is a girl?" Surely she was jesting. I would have a son or no child at all. No woman would inherit my fortunes- a girl was no use to me.

"How will my daughter have my dazzling grace and elegant charm if she's my son? Really, Lucius, be sensible." She laughed airily and pulled her choice of clothing from the chest and shut the drawer.

I frowned at her then tugged the robe over my shoulders and fastened the clasps. "And the doctor said it was a girl?" I asked.

"Well, no." She turned to me a flashed a smile. That sly smile that always caused me to ponder what exactly was running through her mind. "I was testing you. We won't find out until the doctor runs a few urine samples."

"That's disgusting."

Narcissa laughed and put her own robe on. "I was thinking about it all night. This will be fun, won't it, Lucius?"

I combed out my hair and picked the loose blond hairs from my shoulders and started toward the front door. "I hardly think a small being only capable of tears, noises, and god-awful smells will be fun. The sooner we get him out of the house, the better."

"Her," she called to my back as I left the room. I hadn't got much further down the corridor when I heard the rapid patter of clammy feet to the toilet and the slam of the heavy oak door. I smiled to myself, immensely glad that I did not have a uterus.

I sat myself at the long mahogany table and ate a few slices of bacon that the house elves brought me. I was enjoying the silence of the room. The black curtains seemed to draw out any noise I made. I felt as if I screamed it would simply be absorbed. Narcissa joined me a few minutes later, wearing the champagne gold robe she decided on earlier, and wrinkled her nose at the breakfast.

"I can't eat that." She sat next to me, staring at my bacon as though it might crawl away. "Dobby," she called with a monotone voice, and the small creature appeared beside her. "Bring plain porridge and orange juice- no pulp." She glanced up at me before adding, "And my husband would like his morning glass of wine." Dobby scuttled off, feet scratching against the marble like a cockroach, into the kitchen.

"You know me too well," I said, pushing my plate aside and studying her pale features. Narcissa brushed a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and gave a small nod.

"I do."

"A test, then. What am I about to say?" My wife pinched her lips together and squinted her eyes, as if she could see something that she would not normally.

"Your face is difficult to read sometimes, Lucius, though it seems to be something concerning- I don't know. You've got pride in your eyes. Has it anything to do with your Lord?"

"Our Lord, and yes. You do know me well." Dobby hurried back with a silver tray. Standing on his toes, he slid it onto the tabletop and backed out again. When I was quite sure the miserable thing was gone, I continued. "He wishes for you to join us, Narcissa, in the ring."

My wife straightened her back and lifted her chin. "He does?" I nodded and she looked away. "And you wish the same?" Another nod on my part though she need not have asked. My Master's will was mine. Always. "Alright then." I raised my glass, tipping it to her slightly, then resting the smooth edge on my lip. The tartness flowed over my tongue like an expensive silk, chilling my teeth and making the tiny hairs on the back of my hands rustle. The vintage was good, but the choice of barrel was poor. My wife prodded her porridge with a spoon, bits of cream coloured oats sticking to it, and she frowned with much distaste. "I've decided I'm not hungry anymore. It's lumpy."

"Then send it back. Dobby!" The house-elf returned to my side with expert timing.

"Y-yes, Master?" he stuttered, cowering below my elbow. The flames of the candelabra, reflected off his glassy eyes, flickered out every time he blinked. It was slightly annoying.

"This porridge is unsatisfactory." I took it from Narcissa's hands and tossed it to the floor. "A new bowl will be brought and that mess will be cleaned up immediately." Dobby dashed out of the room again and I stood, downing the last of my wine. "Pitiful creature, that house-elf."

My wife nodded and sipped her orange juice. "Magdelena."

"What was that?"

"I said, 'Magdelena.' For our child, should she be a girl, of course. What do you think?" She flashed a cunning smile at me and I hoped my facial expression showed as much disgust as I felt.

"That's a horrid name. Magdelena? Honestly woman, I thought you had more sense than that." I set my glass down and leaned against the table as we spoke. "A strong name is necessary for a Malfoy. Something that demands respect."

"Have you got a better name then?" she challenged.

"Come now, it's far to early to be deciding names." My argument was failing, and I could see it in her eyes. "Oh, alright- Chauncy. Chauncy Malfoy. A strong name, I think." She placed her elbows on the table, resting her face in her hands.

"So we've got Magdelena and Chauncy- God, we're dooming this child before it's born. I'll owl Mother and see what she thi-"

I raised my hand and she silenced. "I don't think we should tell anyone, just yet."

She looked suspicious, tilting her head slightly. "And why not?"

I stood and crossed over to the door. "Because I said so." Perhaps I imagined it, but it seemed as though she rolled her eyes at me. "We'll talk more of this some other time. I'm off to the study- oh, when Dobby returns, remind him to slam his ears in the oven again."

Puzzlement played across her face. "He hasn't done anything wrong, dear."

I smirked. "I know."