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The Fisher King's Daughter by blacksouledbutterfly
Chapter 1 : Prologue: Deception Plan
 
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 3


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Chapter image by a.duck.says.moo. @ TDA





While she was busy birthing their child, he was busy trying to find a way of keeping the truth from the child that had yet to be born. When a child comes into the world it is completely innocent. Nothing can make it feel a certain way pre-birth. A childís beliefs and personality are shaped by the world around it. He wanted no outside influence to shape what his child would think of him. He wanted her to think of him any way she deemed fit by seeing who he was now.

Why, he wondered, should his past be what his daughter was to think of him once she got older? Didnít everyone make mistakes? Didnít everyone do things in their life that they wish they hadnít? So why should actions committed many years before his daughter was born mold how she would perceive him? No, it had been decided that she would never know the truth of her father.

If she did, what would she think of him then? Would the unconditional love shared between a child and their father melt away? Would she think him a villain? A murderer? And if she did, would he honestly be able to tell her he was none of those things? Would he be able to look her in the eye and tell her that there was no evil dwelling deep inside of his heart? That is didnít fester beneath the skin like a disease waiting to take control? Would he be able to lie to her about his nature and not feel guilty? No, it would be better just to insure that she never found out what he was truly like. It would be safer for all parties.

Her motherís friends- and yes, even his- had already told her that they werenít to speak of his past to her. His misspent youth and contempt for most things were never to be mentioned. They were to pretend the man he used to be never existed at all. It was, they all reasoned, better for all parties involved if that were the case.

Somewhere down the hall she heard the sound of his wife screaming. Her pain tore through him like a knife, leaving him gasping for air. He had offered to be there for her, to cast a spell to alleviate some of the pain, but she had been stubborn, insisting on doing it the right way. The natural way. He had known- as she had as well- that it would mean a great deal of pain, but being the stubborn muggle she was, Hermione had insisted that she do it the normal, muggle way and not use magic to help her through it. And who was he to argue with her? No matter how much the sound tore through him, no matter how much he wanted to take her pain away, he wasnít about to force her into doing something she had no desire to do. No, he would let her be her normal stubborn self and he would respect her wishes. After all, he had spent many years going against them. If she was about to bring his child into the world, the least he could do was to respect her desire to not use magic to aid her.

His child. Those words were still incomprehensible to him. He was about to be a father. Never had he imagined that he would in fact be a father- or if he would be one, he was sure he wouldnít be looking forward to the notion. Being raised lacking love and parental comfort had led him to hold great contempt towards the idea of producing offspring. It was the ultimate form of narcissism- to create a child that looked like you and your spouse. And though some may argue that he was, in fact, narcissistic, it was never his desire to pass on his genes to another person.

But he couldnít bring himself not to be delighted when he found his wife to be pregnant. Was it not the biggest blessing in the world to have a child with the woman you love the most? Truly that was the biggest blessing in the world. It was the ultimate symbol of love- or in some cases lust, he conceded.

So he had gotten over his desire to let his family line die with him- his part of it at least- and had gotten behind the idea of this child, even becoming excited about it and looking forward to the idea of a child greatly. That in and of itself had been rather surprising. But with each passing day he came to look forward to meeting his child more and more and somehow upon finding out they were having a daughter his swelled with something almost like pride. What would she look like? Would she be smart like her mother? Would she be sarcastic like him? Would she have the best parts of him or the worst parts? Would it even matter in the end?

Of course, he concluded, which pieces she got from which parent wouldnít matter in the end. They would both love her either way. Whoever she was, whatever she turned out like, they would love her. Their only fear the whole time would be how she would react once she found out what her father had been like before she was born. How she could hate her family- and in turn, most likely herself- if she found out all the horrible things they had done. It was a risk they werenít willing to take, and though the idea of lying to her hurt them greatly, they had decided this was the safest course of action to follow. The decision had been made, the plans laid out. Now they would merely have to enact them. It all seemed so simple, and yet it made his chest feel tight with anxiety.

Down the hall the sound of a baby crying filled the corridor. He stood up, making his way down the hall to see his wife and child. The planning was over. Now was the time for action.

So on the night his daughter took her first breath, Draco Malfoy started his greatest deception ever: lying to his child.




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