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THE SKY WAS DARK WHICH STRONGLY CONTRASTED AGAINST THE WOMAN'S PRACTICALLY WHITE HAIR AND GLOWING GOLDEN EYES. It was hardly natural as she pulled her hood further over her face and cradled the sleeping bundle in her arms.
There was a hidden pain in her eyes as she ran through the woods that concealed her family home, a place she hadn't visited in years. She knew she was unwelcome, but it was the last place she could think of turning to. Even if they turned her away, they could never turn away a potential heir to replace the shame of what she'd become.
The scent of death clung to the air, but it was impossible to derive the original source. She'd lost so much in one evening and the stars were only just beginning to shine, meaning she had little time left to make final accommodations for the child she'd brought into the world.
She didn't stop running until she'd reached the clearing of her family summer cottage. Only once she reached the front door did she allow the tension in her shoulders to ease. She adjusted the cloth swaddled around the infant to conceal the soft tufts of ginger hair that refused to be tamed.
The mother smiled at her child, placed a gentle kiss against the infant's head, then leaned closer to whisper. "Stay strong, my little warrior. Great things await."
Before she could hesitate any longer, the woman gently knocked on the door, desperately pleading that her request both be answered and ignored. It took much courage to return to the family she'd distanced herself from just a few years earlier, but she recognized she was weak and no longer fit to care for her child.
The door creaked open and she sighed with relief at the welcome sight of the house elf. The house elf's already large eyes widened with delight and he clapped. "Mistress Cordelia has returned! Dobby shall fetch the master."
Cordelia quickly lifted a finger to quiet the house elf, but he'd left before she could. Less than a moment later, a familiar figure stood in the doorway and through his disapproving look, she could see a surprised fondness.
"Cordelia..."
"Lucius," Cordelia pleaded, acting against her better nature to reveal the child by extending the small bundle. "Please... I have nowhere else to go."
Lucius's expression hardened, but as he glanced over his shoulder and remembered that he'd left his wife in bed, it softened and he sighed. It hardly took an observant individual to notice her golden eyes with pupils dilating into thin slits and the way her form was much thinner than he last remembered when they'd parted ways. "Your illness is spreading, sister."
The words sounded cold coming from his lips, but she saw past the act and understood the concern hidden beneath his tone. She nodded her head. "I don't have much time left... and..."
"And?" Lucius's brow twisted.
Cordelia bit the edge of her lips, contemplating the decision to tell her brother the vital information she'd learned from Severus... how he'd come by it, well he hadn't explained. "There's been a prophecy."
"A prophecy?" Lucius questioned, keeping his simple format of repeating her last words. However, she could tell that he was hiding something too. A simple slip of the hand as his own pair drifted behind his back while the edge of his cloak lifted around his left wrist, slightly revealing a hidden mark.
Cordelia nodded her head, recognizing she didn't have enough time to make a request and satiate her own curiosity. "A prophecy that foretells the demise of the dark lord... A child born at the end of the seventh month."
Lucius finally understood the paranoid look flashing in his younger sisters eyes. "Then why don't you turn to your half-breed friends for help?"
Cordelia's heart wrenched and she held back her own sobs as the tendrils of death circled her memory. Its black ink stained every precious moment she could recall from her youth at Hogwarts. "They are no more... betrayed by one of their own. You're the only one I can trust with the safety of my daughter."
Lucius's eyes darted between the child and mother, finally understanding the implicit request. He opened his mouth as if to deny her a dying wish, but his lips slowly pursed as he considered a promise he'd made years ago. Our blood ties us together. Pure and strong. Nothing can come between that. He frowned. His sister wasn't exactly a weakness, but he'd spent his life looking out for her. Now that she was frail and begging... he couldn't bring himself to turn her down. Not in a state of vulnerability between just the two of them. The story may have been entirely different if Narcissa were present, especially since they already had a son of their own to raise.
"And what would I tell anyone who questioned where the child came from?" Lucius asked, still seeking an excuse.
"Whatever lie you like," Cordelia coldly remarked, averting her gaze even though she was hardly in a position to snap, "You were always good at manipulating the situation to benefit your own needs."
He didn't take her words personally, after all they were snakes, and snakes knew exactly where to strike to find vulnerability. He could hardly hold it against her as she was only fulfilling her duties as a Malfoy. Even though she'd abandoned the name years ago, she was born into the world as a Malfoy, it was only fitting that she should leave it as such.
Lucius extended his arms and Cordelia carefully handed her child into his possession. Before she could change her mind, Cordelia pulled her hood back over her head and sprinted back toward the woods, leaving her brother and child behind.
Lucius's expression turned cold as he looked down at the small child. There was hardly a need for him to take the child in as she played no threat to his dark lord, but Cordelia had no way of knowing that the dark lord would stop at the murder of the Potter child. If the dark lord had discovered which child the prophecy spoke of, he'd have no need to pursue the other options.
However, as his sister was sick beyond help, the child would've been left to its half-breed father. His nose wrinkled with disdain. Perhaps it was best to keep that secret buried and raise the child where it should've been born: in a pure-blood high society. Now all that was left was to explain to his wife...
