CURSED: FROM THE BEGINNING [D.M]

-(79) mother of my children

It's Blaise who scowls this time, and Aneesia chuckles, blushing while at it. And Zilliah can't help but find it all so adorable.

She likes this. She likes that even though Blaise and Aneesia have decided they'd only think of their wedding after the war, they're conducting Viv's baptism, not because either of them is much devoted to the religion. But because they know it represents a sliver of hope amidst the darkness that the war has cast over all their lives.

And they need it. They all need every single instance of hope they can get. It's the one thing that keeps them going.

•

The rituals were over. Vivianne Marie Carlson-Zabini was christened, and Zilliah wanted to cry. She wanted to cry because she never would've thought she would have the privilege of occupying such an important place in a person's life. She wanted to cry because it made her think of Sirius and all the days she had spent in that house with him, laughing and cooking and cleaning and playing, never knowing she would have to lose him so quickly.

Draco had sensed the change in her and drew her away right after the ceremony. And now they were standing at the entrance, slanted against the walls of the cathedral, watching as her people showered the baby in gifts and blessings, despite their hostility towards outsiders.

"Zilliah?", Draco's voice is mellow and tender as he calls out to her, and she melts at it without even much realization. She nods her head from where it is resting against his side, his hand wrapped around her lower back. "You think we could have that, one day?", he asks, the hope in his voice much prevalent.

She thinks about the disaster it would be. An heir of Zilliah- forced to become the leader of the Supernovian people when the time inevitably comes- having to carry the shame of being a descendant of the cruelest wizards of all time- getting criticized and humiliated for being a half-Acquirer and half-Argive. All of those things make Zilliah want to shake her head no. But deep within her bones, she knows that isn't the truth.

For she does want a kid with Draco one day. She really does want to see a second or even a third or fourth pair of blonde hair and silver eyes for the rest of her life. She wouldn't care if all their kids looked completely like Draco. In fact, she would love it all the more. "How many of them would you like?", she asks, answering his question with her question, a soft smile playing on her lips.

He pulls her closer to him at it, a burst of laughter escaping his lips, as some of the unexplained tension he holds, oozes away. "That's completely up to you, my darling. I'll never be the one to make decisions on what you do with your body."

She melts further at it, feeling herself becoming a roasted marshmallow from his comfort and his words. "I would like three", she tells him, turning his head to meet his face.

"Three it is, then", he turns his eyes upon her as well and smiles, the skin beneath his eyes crinkling. His gaze darkens as it drops down onto her lips and then to her neck and then to her breasts. "And Merlin, I would evade all reason and fuck one into you right here, right now."

She can feel her skin heating up at his words and the smirk crawling onto his features show how she is not doing a very good job at hiding it. She chuckles nonetheless and shakes her head at him. "Not too fast, blondie. Besides, this is a church."

Draco groans and draws his hand back to plunge both of them into his pockets. He then steps in front of her, his eyes utterly dark and mischievous. If he had a pair of wings sticking out from his back, he'd represent the fallen angel all too perfectly. "First of all", he breathes, right down her nose, making every part of her ache, but this time, for him, "I don't give a damn if this is a church. Second of all, blondie? Seriously?"