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The knife sliced easily and carefully into the rabbit’s belly.
Guts slipped out and the blood coated Narcissa’s hands. Masterfully, she disemboweled the skinless creature. Her eyes didn’t even bother looking at what she was doing.
Instead, her gaze was fixed on her son. And his beloved.
Beloved wasn’t something she’d expected to hear Draco call the Potter boy. But that certainly didn’t make it any less true.
The half-blood had changed immensely. Narcissa didn’t know what Draco had done to prompt the sudden reversal.
But she had a good idea.
She’d noticed her herb stocks dwindling and her potion ingredients disappearing.
However, she never confronted Draco. He wasn’t using Imperio. Whatever this was, wasn’t an Unforgivable, nor Amortentia. That meant, it wasn’t her business.
In fact, she admired him.
In one fell swoop, her son had won the war for them and claimed his prize.
Draco grabbed Harry by the waist and began attacking his exposed neck. Harry tried to shy away, but Draco didn’t let him.
He never let him.
Tonight was the ritual for Ostara. Harry was to be at the centre of it.
The poor boy was excited. He had no clue that it would cement his bond to Draco.
Forever.
Lost in the moment, Narcissa looked down at her hands. The blood was beginning to dry and made her fingers stick together.
She went and rinsed them. As she rubbed her hands under the cold water, she smiled as the blood went from dark to bright red and swirled down the drain.
She was so proud.