A Love Purer Than Blood

1. The Beginning

TW: Mentions of miscarriage 

You may have heard this story. An orphan left on a doorstep, a family left in upheaval, a magical child ostracised because of their abilities and differences. But I am not talking about Mr and Mrs Dursley of number four privet drive, no, this story is about a different family.

A year before Harry Potter appeared on the doorstep of that house in surrey, a few miles away, just up from a magically hidden path, sat Malfoy manor. A building that had passed down through pureblood generations. The wrought-iron gates providing a magical barrier against those with bad intentions.

Inside the home sat a woman dressed all in black, a handkerchief held to her nose. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her usually slicked back bun was messy and loose. Narcissa Malfoy sat mourning the loss of yet another unborn child.

Beside the usually composed lady of the manor crouched her sister Bellatrix, her hand resting on her sister's lap. "Maybe it just wasn't meant to be Sissy." She whispered, her head tilting as her eyes blinked away tears of her own.

Narcissa felt her tears sting once again, causing her to lift the handkerchief from her nose to her eyes. For so long, she had wished for a child that she could hardly remember wanting much of anything else. Despite her husband promising her the entire world, should she have wished it.

Not only did Narcissa feel obligated as a wife to provide her husband with an heir, but as a woman, she felt it to be her duty. Her dream of being a mother shattering with the news of her third miscarriage, her child having simply vanished from inside her. Bella told whoever would listen to her ramblings that she believed the issue to be a curse.

Narcissa's husband Lucius, determined to ignore the ramblings of his wife's sister, stood by the fire. His white-blond shoulder length hair for the first time having more colour than the white pallor of his face. On the mantel of the fireplace sat his glass of firewhiskey, untouched, his mind elsewhere. His usually perfectly tied hair ribbon, sitting loosely in his hair.

"What if...." He started, his heart nowhere in the question. "What if we adopt?"

He knew her answer. It was always the same. And said with enough sadness for even him to feel the pain that plagued her. "It isn't the same." She whispered, allowing a tear to fall as her sister stroked her hair.

Lucius' heart broke as he watched his wife mourn in the arms of her sister. Himself feeling inadequate, despite doing all that he could, even going so far as to ask muggle healers, but even they too could do nothing.

A sharp rap at the door pulled the family from their thoughts. All paused as the sound echoed through the empty and usually quiet manor. Lucius glanced at the clock on the mantel before looking at the darkened sky outside the window.

"Who on earth could this be at this hour?" He moved towards the door before casting a last glance at his wife. "I'll send them away, my dear."

Lucius brushed aside the house-elves and approached the front door of the manor with his head held high. His hands making quick work of tightening his hair ribbon and smoothing the wrinkles in his clothes.

As a house elf opened the door, Lucius looked up from his fussing to converse with the stranger. But instead of a solemn glare to warn of his desire to remain undisturbed, Lucius' brow furrowed at the familiar face in the doorway of his home. "Severus? Now is not a good time."

"Lucius, please, I require your assistance." Severus spoke quickly, his breath visible in the chilly September air. "I would never trouble you for a small matter, and you always said if I needed anything to- "