Snapshots: Bloodlines

[toujours_nigel]

It is a week before term starts at Hogwarts; the shop-fronts exhibiting spell-books and school-robes, the streets filled with excited children and huddles of teenagers grouped near Quality Quidditch Supplies and Flourish & Blotts. A young couple with a child could easily lose themselves in this crowd, never see a single acquaintance, but they end up in front of the Malfoys, also, it seems, out shopping, also with a baby in a perambulator. Lily thinks it is the worst that could possibly happen; then Lucius Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, leans over the carriage to look at her baby.

 

“Well, verdict’s out, James,” he says. “Poor child is going to be stuck with your face all his life. How very traumatic.” His lips quirk oddly.

 

“At least, he’s better off than your baby,” James counters, smoothly slipping into what seems an old routine. “Can’t imagine having to endure seven years in Hogwarts with a name like Draconis.”

 

“It’s Draco,” Narcissa says, “After Lucius’ grandfather, as you know full well, James. Took enough Chocolate Frogs from him to remember his name!”

 

“Draconis, Draco, what’s the difference? Stupid name, either way.” James is grinning, in a way she has not seen since...well, since Hogwarts.

 

“What’s your sprog’s name, then?” Narcissa asks, lifting her boy...the unfortunately named Draco, she assumes...out of his pram. “Rudolph? If he’s anything like you, he’ll earn the name in the winter.”

 

“My nose doesn’t turn red,” James remarks with exaggerated dignity. “His name is Harry. And for your information, Cissa dearest, reindeer are very strong creatures. They can survive in very harsh...”

 

“Spare me the lecture on Muggle animals, Jamie, heard enough about magical ones in Kettleburn’s class!” Narcissa...Cissa? Since when is James on a nick-name basis with the Malfoys?...shrieks.

 

“After your uncle, Henry Theodore Potter?” Lucius asks. James nods, smiling. She hadn’t known about James’ uncle, didn’t know he has one.

 

“Henry Orion Potter?” Narcissa says, as though testing how it sounds. “I’m not sure James, maybe ‘Henry Arcturus’ or ‘Henry Pollux’ would sound better. Or ‘Henry Cygnus’.”

 

Dear God, who asked this woman to start suggesting strange names for her child? “His name,” she says, breaking into their discussion, “is Harry James Potter.”

 

Narcissa turns to look at her for a moment, incredulously, but also as though noticing her for the first time. Lucius does not even glance at her, turns on James instead. “What? Why in Hades would you name the child that, fool?”

 

“It’s a traditional name among the Potters. Besides, Lily likes the names.”

 

“Oh, that’s very sweet, I’m sure,” Narcissa snaps. “But James, he’s not just your son, he’s your Heir. The Heir must bear a name traditional to the House, you know that.”

 

“Henry is a traditional name, I already told you...”

 

Lucius cuts over him, “In this case, the Heir must bear the names of both Houses.” James pales, though she can see he doesn’t wish to react.

 

“My family hasn’t any traditional names, at least...” not for the boys, she finishes mentally; none of them are paying her the slightest attention.

 

“Be a bit blatant, wouldn’t it?” James mutters, knuckles bone-white around the handle of Harry’s stroller. “It’d completely ruin all my Mum’s efforts.”

 

“You cannot believe your mother wanted to keep it silent,” Narcissa begins, then smirks. “Well, you obviously do, but I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be blatant.”

 

“Blatant, not stupid,” James reiterates, then, “it wasn’t like anyone gave me a say in the matter, was it?” She looks at him curiously; James looks for all the world like a petulant five-year-old complaining to its elders. 

 

“The blame has already been apportioned, James, and not too large a part falls to either of you.” Narcissa strokes away his unruly curls with one elegantly gloved hand. “You were both far too young to be bonded. It was a hasty and ill-considered decision.”

 

‘Too young to be bonded’? ‘Hasty and ill-considered’? Why is James letting the snotty bitch abuse their marriage? Why is she patting his cheek?

 

“Glass houses, Cissy,” he smiles. “Besides, I’ve learnt to be happy. I have a good life, a baby, a lovely wife,” he takes her hand, briefly presses his lips to it. “What more could a man want?”

 

There, you stupid bitch. But ‘Cissa’ does not look in the least snubbed; rather, her smile grows wistful and affectionate.

 

“Well, looks like Aunt Dorea’s baby boy has finally grown up. I know you’ve learnt to be happy, but…how’s Sirius?” Odd little non-sequitor, or maybe that’s Narcissa Malfoy conceding defeat.

 

James shrugs eloquently, Lucius Malfoy watching him like a hooded hawk. “He’s learning…we’ll manage. We will, Lucius, we have for years.” 

 

“Be that as it may,” Malfoy says, bending once again, this time picking Harry up, “I will not deny that the child was well worth the heart-ache. Lovely eyes, James, such vivid green is not usual in any of the Tribes.”

 

James smiles at her, “You have Lily to thank for the eyes. Makes a change from our greys and browns, doesn’t it?”

 

“I can think of only one way to improve upon either of their looks,” Narcissa lilts, looking from Draco’s almost invisible blond thatch to her son’s dense black one, in a way that makes her blood run cold. Surely not?

 

“Dearest, don’t plan for that till they can at least walk and talk. Besides, I doubt James will approve.” Lucius smiles, handing Harry back to James. “Would’ve been better if it were a girl, cub.”

 

“Better for your crooked plans, you mean; I’m perfectly happy with my boy.” She hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but cannot help it, she hates the way Malfoy was looking at her son, hates the fact that he touched him.

 

“My dear girl,” Lucius smirks, “his being a boy would not affect my plans if I had any, as your mother-in-law amply proved. But really, Lily, isn’t it? Well, Lillian, don’t you think it would have been better for all of us if you’d conceived a girl instead? I know it would’ve meant a lot less hard work for me.” She stares at him, terrified that this man her husband has talked with the last ten minutes, this man, this fiend, knows their secrets and can joke about them so easily. “After all, I trained your husband to be the best.”

 

“Lucius,” her husband interposes, reproachfully, “she doesn’t know. Leave it be.”

 

“Lucius,” Narcissa says, voice tense, “our purchases have arrived, and it’s almost time for Draco’s next meal. Let’s go.”

 

“My best to you, James,” Lucius drawls, miming pulling off a hat. “To you and yours, though she looks like she’s afraid my greeting might be a curse. Greet my pup for me, will you?” James nods assent and the Malfoys are gone.

 

“Come on,” James snaps, pulling the hood of his cloak over his face. “I’m not in the mood to shop any more.”