“Lily! I can’t just…use your husband, like he’s some kind of prize stud horse!”
“Why not?” Lily Potter replied calmly, with a shrug. “Muggles do it all the time.”
“Because!” “Narcissa sputtered, scandalized, though she kept her tone lone and her movements steady as she took a calming sip of tea.
Witches of the blood always conduct themselves with decorum and grace. Her mother’s haughty, crisp voice lectured in the back of her mind. No matter the circumstance or news.
Ophelia obviously had never had an acquaintance like Lilian Evans-Potter to deal with, Narcissa thought resignedly, although with a glimmer of reluctant amusement. Sometimes she believed that the vibrant Muggleborn witch said outrageous things just to try to get a reaction out of her, although in this case she could see that the redhead was deadly serious.
Even after over a year of working together, the blonde still wasn’t quite sure what to call her fellow mediwitch. Co-worker was the most obvious choice, but she had become more than that. Former class mate and fellow graduate of the class of ’79 from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, though they might as well have gone to rival schools for all that they actually associated with each other; at most they could possibly claim a mutual, vague, ‘friend of a friend’ relationship, but even then that wouldn’t have applied at school. Lily had been in the same year as Narcissa at Hogwarts, and a brave and bold Gryffindor to boot. Narcissa Black, on the other hand, had been her absolute opposite – pureblood Slytherin princess, almost literally; as the daughter of one of the oldest wizarding families in the magical world, the Blacks could claim lineage leading back to the royal blood of Britain. Lily, by contrast, was a Muggleborn witch, which meant that her parents – and possibly her grandparents on one side – had no magical ability whatsoever.
It was below the dignity of a Black daughter to associate with someone of such common, peasant, low born lineage, but Lily had ended up dating and eventually marrying James Potter, who, although he was very much a brash Gryffindor as well, also came from a pureblood family on par with the Blacks, as well as actually being a blood relation directly. James and Narcissa’s cousin, Sirius, had been best friends from their first meeting and thus inseparable, so James was there for the various family gatherings, parties, and celebrations. All young pureblood witches and wizards were required to attend the same lessons of etiquette and social decorum, dancing, airs and graces, and the other useful things lords and ladies needed to know to effectively run a household and make a successful marriage.
Step one: produce an heir, Narcissa thought sourly. Even though James had mucked it up by choosing to take a Muggleborn to wife, their child would still be a halfblood of decent magical ability, strength, and heritage. Of course, that was due to James’s lineage, not Lily’s, but even she could see what had attracted James to the other witch-even if she was prone to saying absolutely wicked things without a shred of decent modesty.
Which brought her full circle and back to the redhead in question now patiently sipping her tea, emerald green eyes sparkling with amusement as she waited for Narcissa to process her thoughts.
“Muggles do it all the time’ is not a compelling reason to even consider this outrageous idea of yours.” She finally responded coolly, with a slight curl of her lip.
Lily rolled her eyes, not at all phased by the dismissive tone. “Well, maybe not all the time,” she amended. “But it is still a solution to your problem.”
“I don’t have a problem.”
“Yes, you do.” she retorted. “Lucius is your husband. He signed the marriage contract, just as you did. Unfortunately, his people some how managed to amend it so that if the agreement that you are to produce an heir within the first three years of your marriage is not fulfilled, then you will be the one to lose your magic. Not him.” Lily leaned forward, her eyes now dark with worry. “Lucius Malfoy is a Death Eater. You know it, I know it. He took the Mark before you married him.”
The other witch remained silent, neither confirming or denying her words.
” Creating a child is one of the most powerful and ancient acts of light, life, and love. The Mark is a symbol of darkness and death. It stands to reason then, that Lucius was rendered sterile by the Dark Lord’s touch, the instant that his wand touched his arm.” The redhead sighed. “You’re my friend, Narcissa, no matter what you may think of me or my blood status. You are also family, through marriage. I’m offering you a way to become family also through blood and magic.”
Startled, Narcissa turned her head. “Whatever are you talking about?”
“If you don’t produce an heir, you will lose your magic. All the other wizards are either too closely related to you, can’t be trusted, and/or are rendered infertile by their own choices.” Lily paused, licking her lips nervously. “It has to be James. James can sire your child, and no one will be the wiser.”