Chapter Text
The quiet blanket of the night was studded with the noises of crickets, toads, and cicadas. Into this quietude a visibly pregnant Narcissa Malfoy strode, chased by her husband. She wore a fur cloak and a satchel, and he, his pajamas (clearly not intending to be out this late at night).
"Narcissa, see reason! You'll catch your death out here, come back inside at once," Lucius implored.
Narcissa was in no mood to listen, and instead continued on her course to the ritual circle in the gardens. The circle itself was not so impressive (at least, not compared to the standing stones on the Black's property), but despite its Hellenic iconography, it would do. Narcissa would be traveling to Caer Black this instant if not for the toll magical travel could take on her pregnancy. No, she would take no risks in regard to her children. Not after three miscarriages and a stillborn daughter.
"Narcissa, please!"
"No, Lucius. I will not outlive another child. I will complete this ritual tonight," Narcissa replied.
She wove deftly between the hedges and shrubs of the outer maze. Ahead she could see the circle, shimmering in the moonlight; waist-high, smooth, slabs of rock just waiting for magic to be cast within. It was only a few meters away.
"Working this magic could kill them!"
"Or it could keep them alive. I am willing to take that chance, Lucius."
Narcissa dropped the cloak and brought the offerings to the circle. She placed gold and precious gems in the offering divot at the center of the circle. She pulled two more things out of the satchel; a sleeping rabbit, and a knife. In a smooth motion she slit its throat, offering flesh and bone and blood to the gods. As soon as the first drop of ruby red blood touched the depression in the stone, a hum of power rose up in the circle. Lucius took several steps back from the circle. It was too late; to interrupt now would be suicide…and murder, probably. Lucius watched warily as smokey wisps of magic began snaking their way across his wife-and shuddered when they briefly coalesced over the swell of her belly. Then came the chanting.
Lucius had never studied any of the Celtic languages, and thus couldn’t begin to tell what his wife was saying, or even what languages she was saying it in. He was seriously regretting not learning any Gaelic when his tutors offered him the chance. Lucius did recognize a few scattered names; Lugh, Brigid, Danu, and most worryingly, the Morrigan. Most worrying of all was the prospect of what she must be promising them. Rarely do the gods pay favors into mortals without expecting repayment. Lucius knew that Narcissa was willing to sacrifice nearly anything for healthy children, but he did not know the outer limits of that willingness, and that terrified him.
The magic around Narcissa began to crescendo, coating the clearing and laying heavy on her and Lucius’ tongues. The strength of it stole her voice, and she continued to plead wordlessly, shaking under the strength of the arcane energy around her. Narcissa’s feet began to lift from the ground. Finally, someone answered. A golden bull—a silver eel—a steel wolf—a black raven danced in the sky above Narcissa. Narcissa collapsed. The magic around her, and in the sky, rushed like a river down into her prone form. The arcane energy seeped out of the circle as the ritual completed with a sound like the ringing of bells.
As soon as the ritual ended, Lucius surged forward into the circle. He hissed in pain as his calf brushed one of the standing stones; it still burned with the echoes of the power it had conducted just moments before. Lucius would have a scar to remind him of this night. He wished fruitlessly that the scar would be the only lasting reminder of this night. He dropped to his knees beside his wife and drew her into his arms, babbling insensate pleas for her wellbeing. Narcissa’s head lolled. Her breathing was shaky, shallow, thready. Her eyes fluttered, and tears tracked down her face.
”…L-Lucius…”
”Mon cherie, what did you give Her? Did you promise yourself?,” Lucius asked frantically.
Narcissa laughed, and it turned into a sob.
”Mon cher…Narcissa!”
She closed her eyes and began to cry in earnest.
”Narcissa…?”
Narcissa took a fortifying breath and staved off her tears.
”I said I would give anything…”
Lucius blanched.
”Mon fleur, what have you done? What did She take?”
Narcissa began to cry again, but managed to choke out a few words.
”Our firstborn.”
And Lucius began to cry, too.