Save Yourself

Chapter Seventeen, Blood Lines

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We awoke nearly an hour after the sun had peaked over the horizon on Boxing Day, our limbs tangled together and eyes both puffy and red. Not a word was spoken between the two of us as we rose and dressed, neither bothering to bathe; it simply wasn’t worth the effort.

I braided my hair into a complicated pattern of twists and turns, taking as long as possible. We had agreed to tell them at breakfast that morning, whether we felt we were ready or not, and I was trying to delay the inevitable. Draco didn’t try to hurry me along, although once he saw how badly my hands were shaking, he took it upon himself to help me with the rest of the style.

Nearly three quarters of an hour after rising, the two of us made our way through the many halls and corridors to where Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy—the titles they now shared with the two of us—were eating a light breakfast. The two acknowledged our entry with nods of their heads as the two of us made our way to the long table. Unlike his parents, Draco and I sat next to one another, his hand over mine for support.

”Good morning,” Draco’s mother greeted us softly. “Did you sleep well?”

With a quick glance in my direction, my husband—how strange the word seemed—shook his head, diverting his eyes from his parents.

”That is to be expected, of course,” his father chuckled softly to himself. Draco immediately looked up to meet his father’s eyes, an uncharacteristically show of bravery overwhelming him as he squeezed my hand.

”We want to talk to you about that, actually,” he said quickly, wanting to get it over with as fast as possible.

”Draco, perhaps that’s something you could discuss with your father and Pansy could discuss with me,” Mrs. Malfoy suggested gently, oblivious to the situation at hand.

With a tight smile, Draco shook his head once more, holding his eye contact with his father. “No, it’s not—it has nothing—no, well, nothing happened last night, if you must know.”

Lucius Malfoy’s eyebrow raised in surprise. “And why not?”

”Because that’s been happening for nearly five months now,” Draco admitted softly.

”Ever since my mother and Zachary—” I stopped, not daring to meet either of Draco’s parents’ eyes.

Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Malfoy looked surprised at this new discovery; however, after a moment or two of contemplation, Draco’s mother suddenly gasped, her silver fork dropping onto the china plate set in front of her with a clatter.

”Don’t tell me—” she looked at me, her gaze searching my expression to confirm her suspicions.

Slowly, I nodded, my heart racing. “We just found out the night before last. It had nothing to do with getting married so soon.”

Mr. Malfoy wore a lost expression, obviously not realizing what had been exchanged between his wife and I. Draco, noticing his father’s confusion, bluntly clarified the situation for him.

”You’re going to be a grandfather a few years sooner than expected.”

After a startled look first at his son, then at me, and lastly towards his petite wife, Lucius Malfoy promptly fainted.

I sat on a sofa next to Draco and across from Mrs. Malfoy, who was giving her unconscious husband an incredulous look. He had been moved to the sitting room where she had commanded the servants to let him be and allow him to wake up on his own.

”Honestly,” she sighed wearily, shaking her head. “The man’s dealt with corpses, vampires, werewolves, and countless murders—and he faints dead away at something that shouldn’t have come as a surprise in the first place!”

Mrs. Malfoy hadn’t scolded the two of us or acted disappointed by our choice of actions; instead, she was delighted to have her first grandchild so soon and had taken to congratulating us almost excessively. Draco and I were still worried by his father’s reaction, however, and based on his immediate fainting spell, we judged our news wouldn’t be well-received with the upper-class man.

Just as I was about to voice my opinion, Mr. Malfoy’s body shuddered and his eyes opened almost instantly, wide and surprised.

”Where—” he sputtered, ruffled by his abrupt rousing. After a deep breath, however, he sat up and calmly brushed non-existent pieces of lint off his slightly wrinkled robe. “Did I miss something?”

With an amused expression, Draco’s mother patiently explained the situation to him. Lucius’ eyes grew wider and wider as her story went on, and finally, with the news of his fainting spell, he swore—loudly.

After nearly five minutes of uncomfortable silence, he finally spoke once more, this time in a much softer tone.

”Have you graced us with a grandson or a granddaughter?”

”Grandson,” Draco’s voice showed no outward signs of nervousness or search of approval, but inwardly I knew he was desperate for his father to not be disappointed—or at least show none.

Mr. Malfoy nodded his head, “Good. That way you won’t be forced to have any more children to continue the Malfoy line.”

”It doesn’t matter at the moment, Father, but we do plan on continuing the Parkinson line as well,” Draco admitted. “Every other child we have will bear the Parkinson name—even sons.”

Even Mrs. Malfoy managed to look shocked at Draco’s announcement—even more so than the initial one. Her expression softened almost immediately, however, and she leaned forward to take her son’s hand in her own.

”I’m proud of you, Draco,” she spoke quietly, glancing over towards her husband, and then back towards me. “And you as well, Pansy. Lucius and I both are proud to welcome you to the family.”

With a smile, Mrs. Malfoy gently took her husband’s hand and guided him out of the room, leaving Draco and I to contemplate his parents’ reactions. Without a doubt, they hadn’t been anywhere similar to the ones I had been expecting; he, however, seemed completely relaxed and unsurprised.

”That went well,” he commented dryly, his eyes staring straight ahead towards the roaring fireplace.

I didn’t respond; instead, I watched the orange and blue flames dance in front of my eyes, my mind six months in the future, when our son would be born and our lives would change forever.

Had I been given a chance to take it all back, that was the moment when I finally decided at the very least I wasn’t sure. No longer would I jump at the chance to rid myself and my future of my unborn child; instead, I knew my life would be full of guilt for not giving our child the chance to live and for giving him up before Draco had a chance to hold the son he had been waiting his entire life for—whether he would admit it or not.

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