Unrequited

Just because I’m losing, doesn’t mean I’m lost
Doesn’t mean I’ll stop
Doesn’t mean I will cross
Just because I’m hurting, doesn’t mean I’m hurt
Doesn’t mean I didn’t get what I deserve
No better and no worse
I just got lost
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I picked up my wand and magicked the last of the bolts in place. The crib was finally put together. Made of spooled honey oak, it gleamed golden in the mid-spring sunshine. It was round with a canopy – fit for a princess. I smiled at that thought and rested my hands on my belly. It wouldn’t be long now. Any trepidation I might have felt dissipated. No matter how she had come to be, Allegra was going to be the savior of me. Another flick of the wrist and the soft pink cotton bed linens went sailing across the room to fit themselves to the mattress. The canopy was draped with white lace and pink chiffon.

This corner of my bedroom had been transformed into a temporary nursery for the baby. Along with the crib there was an armoire, a changing table, a small chest and a rocking chair, set right beneath the large portrait window. All of the nesting finally taken care of, I turned my attention to other, more pressing matters. NEWTs were looming on the horizon – having arranged to take them early before I gave birth. And then I needed to figure out where I would live after the leaver’s feast. I thought about moving back in with my parents for a time, until I could find a suitable flat. Then, too, I needed a job and some sort of income. I couldn’t sponge off my folks forever.

I sighed and sat down heavily in the chair. My first NEWT was tomorrow – transfiguration. I had no doubt that I would be able to pass it easily. But I tired easily these days and wondered if I would have the mental stamina required to hold the spell. I looked down at my belly, spread out over my thighs. I lifted a foot to examine it. This was the only way I could see my feet now. It sucked. I couldn’t even tie my own shoes. Thank God it was spring and I could get away with wearing flats or sandals.

I thought about Draco and that day by the lake. He hadn’t tried to approach me since then. I wondered what new scheme he had brewing in that fertile brain of his. I found myself to be very wary of him these days. Not that I thought that he would hurt me – to the contrary. But I didn’t want any more awkward scenes.

Allegra began turning somersaults inside. It was rather uncomfortable and I winced, moving and stretching along with her until she settled again. I looked at my hand with my wedding bands on it. I took them off, laying them on the piecrust table. They glinted in the light. I felt rather chagrined. Not that I would trade Allegra for anything. I loved her already. I just regretted the circumstances surrounding her conception.

As if sensing my feelings, she gave a little ripple inside. I petted my belly, soothing her. It’s just you and me in this, kid. I hope you’re up to it. I hope I’m up to it.
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The transfiguration NEWT wasn’t exactly hard, but it required large amounts of concentration. We were issued into the classroom one by one where we were examined by a panel of experts, including Professor McGonagall. Like my wayward wife, I’d arranged to take the tests early so that I wouldn’t be distracted by the birth. I slicked my hair back in the manner that Hermione hated. I didn’t want it in my eyes, being a distraction. I stood in front of the table of witches and wizards, a block of grey granite in front of me.

Ferdinand Chant-Vestry sat in front of me, brown eyes still sharp at the age of one-hundred fifteen. He looked down his impressive nose at me, clearly not caring that I was the last scion of both the Black and Malfoy houses. Not that I blamed the old coot. The Chant-Vestries were every bit as old as my antecedents. No doubt that if they had had a suitable daughter, I would have been betrothed to her from the cradle. He was looking pointedly at the slender gold band on the hand that clutched my wand. A raised eyebrow contained his disdain for my marriage. I scowled at the ancient bastard, wanting to turn him into a slug and then squish him. But that would be murder.

“Well, young Malfoy, I look to be amazed.” He waved a dismissive hand at me. I eyed the block of granite, trying to come up with something simple, yet fantastic. The idea struck me and rolling up my sleeves, I began.

Muttering the necessary incantations, the block slowly took form. I held my wand aloft, watching the intent grow the granite larger, and its solid forms becoming moveable. Legs appear, soft, glossy hair sleeking down the elegant back. From the well-made head a thick, silvery mane sprouted. A pearlescent horn twisted itself from the skin at the top of its forehead.
The unicorn pranced and nickered about the room prettily. I could feel the sweat dripping off of me and my wand hand began to shake with effort it took to maintain the transfigured form. It was nearly impossible to create, let alone maintain, a transfigured magical being. I intended to go down as the stuff of legends. To erase any doubt that I worked hard for my marks, and they weren’t just handed to me as the son of Lucius Malfoy. I wanted no questions about my magical ability. From the looks on the faces of the testing panel, I’d done just that.

I let the unicorn wink itself back into an unpretentious stone slab. I felt my brow un-furrow itself from its tight position. My now stiff arm lowered almost unconsciously in relief. There was silence in the room and a feeling of suppressed awe. The deputy headmistress gave me a slight smile. It was the first smile the woman had ever given me. I made a small bow to the assembled and left.

Outside the door was Hermione. Potter and Weasley were there, ostensibly to give some support. Every time I saw her I wanted to blurt out my love for her – to make her see that I truly did want her. Not because of the child or my reputation. The family name was already in shreds. What more could be done at this point?

I walked to her, working my eyes over her body from head to toe. Even in her rounded state, I still wanted her. Her hair was just as long and curled as it ever was. The bushiness tamed back into a queue at the nape of her neck. She had her wand in hand, fingers curled tightly about it. I thought Potter and Weasley would have stopped me, but they didn’t. I brushed a stray curl from her ear and leaned to whisper into it.

“Good luck, wife. And remember: I love you.”

I walked away but not before seeing the beatific smile that spread over her face. It matched my own.