Accompanying perspectives from Narcissa Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle and Mattheo Riddle that span the whole length of the Love and Potions storyline.
How did Narcissa feel the day baby Tom Riddle was left in her care by her sister? What was it l...
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This morning started the same way all my mornings began now. Slow and painful. I hear a loud creak as I sit up and I wonder if it's my knees, my back or the bed.
I slowly heave myself out of bed with all the grace of a beached whale and I sigh from the effort, already feeling out of breath and I long for the days where I could see my own feet. They'd be back soon by the feel of the heavy baby wriggling around in me. I blink sleepily at the clock ticking away on the wall and I roll my head to look behind me. An empty bed again.
What had been a hormonal moment of rage at Lucius's snoring a few nights before had turned into a habit of us sleeping apart. I sweep past a guest bedroom door that is slightly ajar and when I peek in, I see the long platinum hair of my husband splayed across the pillow, his back to the door. I sigh, realising that perhaps I had been a little harsh in my rage-filled assessment of his sleeping.
He didn't snore as bad as a troll with bronchitis, I was just prickly and uncomfortable and well into my third trimester and needed pure silence in order to sleep. He also ran hot in the night and now that Spring was becoming Summer, I was finding it difficult enough to sleep because of the warmth at night, let alone next to my human furnace of a husband. Sleep was slowly becoming harder and harder to come by for me and some nights even the pregnancy-safe sleeping draughts didn't help much. I would sleep but I would still wake up tired, sore and uncomfortable.
I move through the house, the early morning light already coming in through the vast windows of Malfoy Manor. The only sounds are the soft rustle of my silk dressing gown, the slap of my slippers on the floor and birds outside. At this time of year, it didn't even fully get dark. I head towards the wing that now housed the nursery and Thomas's room and the still unfinished nursery room for the new baby.
We really needed to get on with it but I was still torn about the paint colours. I wanted it to be light and airy but also dark enough for him to sleep well. I remind myself to get on with the decorating of it as I pass the room.
As I enter the wing I had affectionately nicknamed 'the creche', I could hear the sound of a bawling toddler. Thomas was awake. I raise a brow at the way he was crying, something was wrong but not life-threateningly wrong. The fact it hadn't stopped the whole time I'd waddled my way down here, told me that the children's house elf, Beanie, was elsewhere. I frown as I pass the nursery room and I open the door to Thomas's bedroom, moving to him before I even think about the curtains or anything else. His little cheeks were red, slight tears of frustration on them and he was babbling in between his screeches.
"Shhh... shh... I'm here my darling. Mama is here. What's wrong, hmm?" I say softly as I pick Thomas up out of his cot, smoothing his dark wavy curls down and wiping his upset tears, settling him on my hip as he flaps his hand angrily down at the floor, his tantrum growing worse now that he was higher up than before, further away from what he was pointing at.
