Teething

I can write a 15000 word essay on how love is a focal plot point in 'The Merchant of Venice' but cannot for the life of me think of a good title to my stories.

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O, Lucius, when ya' gonna learn, ya' crazy man!

I'm still trying to get Narcissa's character right in my own head, so if she's a bitter disappointment, don't throw yourself of a cliff just yet. I mean, if you want, I can't stop you, but don't go blaming me. I'll cry.

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Lucius was letting Draco play with his sterling silver pocket watch. He was at the teething age (Draco, not Lucius. Obviously.), and the priceless family heirloom was currently being gnawed on persistently by an angry 18 month old, but that was okay, because this pocket watch had helped Malfoy's through the ages cut their teeth. If they could do nothing else, the Malfoy's could cut teeth in style.

When Draco bored of chewing the silver, he started crying, the long shrill tears of one who has a pain but not the vocabulary to voice it coherently. Lucius tutted at him, but picked him up and held him close against his shoulder, gently rubbing his back, which seemed to sooth the baby. "If you are to uphold the honour of our family, Draco, you must learn to channel your frustrations some other way."

"Yes, Draco. If you aren't a man by your second birthday your father and I shall be quite disappointed in you." Narcissa said with a smile. Little Draco was now ferociously sucking on his fathers hair. He had taken to doing that lately. "Darling, he's doing it again."

Lucius carefully untangled his child from his hair and put him back in the cot to gurgle and salivate to himself. "I think that's enough bonding for today." He shuddered at his drooly hair. "Why does he only do it to me?"

"Your hair must taste delicious." Narcissa said, mainly to herself. There was no reasoning with a man whose hair had just been ruined.

Her husband magiced the last of his son's saliva away. "Do you think my hair must taste better then yours, darling?"

"It's probably not a case of it tasting better, per se" Narcissa mused. "More of a personal taste. I like aniseed, and you do not. Because I like aniseed does not make it better or worse. It is probably the same with hair."

Dismissing the idea, Lucius sat back down to watch Draco play with the pocket watch. Nothing fascinates a father more then the sight of his baby smiling at him. In this case, pretty much everything Draco did fascinated his father. The way he gurgled when Lucius said anything to him, the way he would grab his father's fingers and go to sleep, tiny fists curled around Lucius's thumb. Narcissa would often say that put the two in a room together and you could bring the house down on to their heads and still the only thing they would notice would be each other. "How does he do it?" Lucius asked.

"Do what?" Said Narcissa.

Lucius rolled his eyes and pointed at Draco. "He knows that if bites on a certain part of the watch, it springs open. Look."

The watch was snapped shut, and then passed back to the baby, and it was proved that he did indeed now how to open it, revealing the ticking clock inside.

"He's a baby, Lucius, not a doll. He can learn things."

"I don't think you really understand, Cissy. He knows how to open a pocket watch." Lucius said.

"Well?" Asked Narcissa. She knew what was coming. They had had this conversation when Draco had learnt to open his mouth to a spoon, wave when someone said goodbye, and clap.

"Our son is a genius."

Yes. Yes, of course, our son is genius. That is why yesterday he walked into a wall because he forgot it was there, Narcissa wanted to say. Instead, because she did love her husband, despite his occasional moment of absurdities, she said "I know. He is simply following in a long like of intelligent Malfoys." And she smiled again as Draco reached out to grab at his fathers hair again. It was just so swishy.