The Boy With Black Eyes

...And High on Summertime...

They rode a gentle breeze on the evening tide out of Campania, leaving beautifully coloured houses and the port full of good food and good wine behind them. Severus had taken to the wheel like a seal takes to water, and with Nox high in the rigging, staring out into a rapidly falling twilight, the pair of them having left London behind weeks ago. 

It was unfair to call their watercraft a sailboat, as it was the wrong size, and had a fully-furnished lower deck, complete with a low-ceilinged galley and a full bathroom with a hot-water heater. The company that had sold it to her called it a luxury yacht, but Nox preferred the term 'fancy boat'. 

I have to return to my fancy boat. 

My fancy boat needs new sails.

Messere, I need a ride to the grocery store to restock my fancy boat.

She was aware it sounded incredibly pompous and stupid, but hanging off the rigging high in the sails, the spray of the salty Meditteranean in her eyes, in her hair, on the skin of her face, her arms, her belly, her legs, she didn't care. An owl had delivered an unmarked photo and an unmarked letter, when she was off looking at groceries and Severus was talking to the harbourmaster in broken Italian. A dark-haired cherub with bright blue eyes, swaddled in a bright blue blanket. They'd called him Perseus. 

Severus still didn't know. It didn't matter. The Malfoys would take care of him. 

The sky around her was turning from bright blue to gold, the waters they sailed on reflecting the sky, matching the colour almost perfectly, as the prow of her craft turned to catch the wind and they drifted near soundlessly into the ever-gathering twilight. With her boyfriend at the helm, and she climbing ever higher amoung stretched canvas and straining rope, she proceeded to get as drunk as possible on the warm Mediterranean wind. 

It was a term her father had used, to describe the feeling of standing on a cliff and not wanting to leave, becoming so enraptured with the scenery, with the rush of the air past your face, the stinging of salt in your eyes... And yes, it left you stumbling, eyes blurred, balance all out of whack. 

She watched the sky, leaning against the main mast, sighing softly, gold to orange to purple to black, until the stars rose above their heads, and the Milky Way drifting across the sky like some far forgotten cloud, hanging, spinning, ever present as the wind whipped chestnut hair around her face. 

**********

"Hush, little one..." She scooped him up and held the hiccuping baby close to her chest, brushing the downy chunks of hair back out of his eyes, cradling him in the crook of her elbow, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. Narcissa had taken to becoming a mother rather rapidly, fast enough that it had Lucius wondering where she would have gotten experience, as the youngest of three sisters. 

Maybe she was just one of those women that were programmed to know what to do. 

He'd been theirs for three weeks or so, coming to the front door with no name, wrapped in the tatters of Nox's clothes, wailing and coated in dried blood. They'd stayed in the house in Cassis at Narcissa's behest, as she turned a lovely shade of nut-brown that suited her countenance, and wanted to raise her first child somewhere where the sun shone, and the waters were warm. 

Lucius had obliged her. 

When Narcissa gestured him into the room, whispering softly with the little man's head on her shoulder, she murmured, "I need you to hold him for a moment while I go get some formula. Okay?"

"Of course."

A rapid peck on the lips, as she scurried downstairs, to the small galley kitchen. Lucius hefted the tiny human in his arms, and fixed cool grey eyes on the clear blue of the baby's, who stopped hiccuping, and took great gasping breaths, looking up into the face of his adopted father. Lucius hummed down at him absently, carrying the baby out onto the balcony, through cream gossamer curtains so the little man could see the sunset. 

The sky was rapidly fading to black, they having missed the most spectacular of the colours, but the stars were about to come out, and the constellation for which the boy was named twinkled above them as the sun disappeared below the horizon, throwing a flash of green light up into the sky, reflecting off the water. 

"You're a strong little bugger, I'll give you that. And you'll grow up strong. Like your mother. And your father. But you'll have to remember your mom and dad first. Promise me?"

The sleepy, hungry child waved a closed hand at him, eyes half-lidded. 

"I'll take it." Checking behind him, unsure if he wanted Narcissa to see what he was about to do, Lucius Malfoy buried his face and eyes in the boy's belly, senses overwhelmed by baby powder and wipes, the smell of formula and the warm Mediterranean wind. There were tears of relief, only a few, but enough that the boy's blue onsie darkened a little bit. He had been overwhelmed. But the need to protect this precious little thing, the desire to ensure he grew up strong and tall and unafraid. He was scared. He was proud. "I... I love you, little man."

Narcissa put her hand around her husband's shoulders, handing him the warm formula bottle, and reminded the blonde man how to hold the bottle so the baby wouldn't wake up colicy or gassy. "It's alright Lucius."

"Pardon?"

"I love him too."

**********

They'd dropped anchor in some little cove, tucked away with cliffs on all three sides, the water turning black as ink, Nox moving around cushions and matresses below deck so they could sleep out in the open air, looking up at the stars. 

I was wordlessly casting soft lights into the air, ones that stuck to the mast, letting off just the little bit of golden glow that flickered and danced and sparkled softly. 

For days, I'd seen the same variation of the same outfit, she in the top of a string bikini and an old pair of jeans cut so short they didn't even qualify as pants anymore. Her olive-toned skin was turning darker and darker with each passing day, the curls returning to her hair in the salty spray of waves and bright sunshine. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was happy, swimming every morning, balancing way out onto the jib to dive into the crystal-clear waters, and swim amoung colourful fish and inquisitive dolphins. Once, I'd panicked, and screamed at her about a triangular shaped fin cutting through the water, but with the sort of calm that comes only from experience, she quickly changed her stroke, and when the shark bumped up against her with its nose, she did not thrash or scream or flail in the water, but gave the huge fish a rather strong shove, and it turned tail and disappeared into the depths. 

When she'd climbed back onto the deck after that, her heart was pounding out of her chest, and she had problems taking full breaths for almost twenty minutes, eyes shining with adrenaline, and hands shaking from the experience. 

But now, she climbed back onto deck wearing a black swimsuit and a see-thru beach cover that drifted down to her knees. Tanned and toned she was, spreading out ample supplies of pillows and blankets and unrolling one full-sized matress so we could cuddle close to each other, like we had been doing for about two weeks. I tried to help her, but kept getting distracted by the way the flickering gold lights caught the bronze on her skin and the amber in her eyes, the onyx in her hair. I found my hands wandering from the soft, fluffy pillows covered in beautiful embroidery and beads to the soft, silky skin that flowed up the lean length of her legs, over her hips, up her spine. 

I pulled her down to the pillows, to the matress under the stars, and with my lips on her collarbone, and my hands on her waist, I apologized. For anything that had happened to her in the past year, for what I had done to her. 

**********