Author's Note: Ok everyone, you know I love me some Malfoys, but in past fics I have been notoriously unkind to Narcissa. I didn't like her but HBP and DH changed that a bit. So here's a story from her POV investigating what happened the day Voldemort died and from that point forward. It's not 100 accurate with the book, mainly because a) you already read that, and b) I don't have the book in front of me and haven't read it since it came out. I guess that makes this an AU, but not by much. I'm just filling in what JKR left out…Enjoy!

I watch Harry Potter drop in front of me, the green light of death dancing briefly in his already green eyes. The Dark Lord is trembling as if in the grip of some great pleasure. For him, it is.

Lucius's hand has tightened every so slightly around my wrist. It is the only indication he'll ever give that the death of this child disturbs him. He is a man who seldom reveals what he is thinking and even less frequently what he is feeling. To meet him the first time gave the impression of meeting someone who could watch puppies die with no reaction at all.

I was a victim of an arranged marriage, but a willing victim. Bellatrix and I were both fortunate to be matched to men of looks and money. I knew that all I had to do was look pretty amongst his fortune and provide him with an heir. There are certainly worse things in the world than having sex with Lucius Malfoy. Back then he was a joy to look at, even in his dispassionate way; he still is.

The last few months have been hell. Lucius likes control. I never knew how much I liked it, too, until the Dark Lord invaded my house. Suddenly we were nothing, convenient pawns to be used but never praised. We were supposed to be the elite of his new world, the chosen ones, the paragons. But in our own house we were dirt.

I have seen Lucius angry before. He is cold and lethal and precise, inflicting maximum damage with minimum effort. Since Azkaban, though, his anger is more explosive. I know that it was never meant for me, but he couldn't very well direct it at the Dark Lord. We were in enough trouble as it was. So all of his ire, his frustration, his swirling hatred of the place we were in, was vented on me.

One night I lost it. I am not a spineless woman; I'll yell when provoked like anyone else. But I had kept it in for his sake, because the last thing he needed on top of everything else was an unhappy wife. Damn it, somewhere along the way I had learned to love him. I was through loving him in soldierly silence, though. I shouted at him and I didn't care who could hear it.

Loving you is like loving a diamond, Lucius! It is beautiful and it shines and when it's on, it makes you feel good, but in the end it is cold and hard and just an empty promise!

Since that night he has changed. He has grown quiet, and when he does speak it often turns to our son. And when he is angry he doesn't pace or scream or simmer; he kisses me. Sometimes more than kisses me. I was never sure if he loved me or not, but lately I think he does.

If there is one thing I am sure of, it is that he loves Draco. This is why Harry Potter's death bothers him, if only a little. Harry is Draco's age. As easily as the Dark Lord could kill this boy just turned man, he could kill Draco. He's already threatened it. That was what fueled the greatest part of Lucius's rage and my own. The Dark Lord is clever in his punishments.

I realize that I think him small in his desperation. He is afraid of this boy, truly afraid. But with him dead there is nothing to fear anymore. Perhaps redemption will come…or perhaps Draco is already dead. I know that in spite of his prodigious self-control, Lucius will turn a wand on the Dark Lord if that is the case. Never mind that he has not had a wand since the Dark Lord lost it in battle. That is a great shame to him and would lend even more fire to his final act – because it would be his final act.

"Narcissa!" the Dark Lord barks sharply. I snap to attention, not quite meeting his eyes.

"Yes, my Lord."

"Check him. Make sure he is dead."

I nod. He is doing this to taunt me. Even now, with victory seemingly at hand, he is reminding me of what he holds over me. My son's life. Lucius's fingers are like a vice on my arm, but slowly they disengage. He is infuriated.

Truth be told, so am I. I walk over and crouch down next to the Potter boy anyway. I feel suddenly sorry for him. The specter of death has been hanging over him for seven years. It's only been seven months for me and I am ready to break.

I lay my hand on Harry Potter's chest, not expecting to feel anything. I am shocked when my fingers register a heartbeat. He is utterly still; unconscious, perhaps, but definitely not dead. The Boy Who Lived, indeed. This is twice he's survived the Killing Curse.

I lower my ear to his face, partially to listen for breath and partially to obscure my face. I'm not sure I can keep it neutral. He is breathing, though very shallowly and quietly. He's awake. Awake, tense, listening, waiting. Neither he nor I think he can survive a third death, but he's facing it if I tell them.

I feel small and insignificant all of a sudden. To have my hand on a person who has defied death twice…to be the person chosen to confirm his death and hold his real fate in my hands…

This is the out. This is the out Lucius and I have been waiting for. This is the reprieve, the redemption, the opening allowed to us to make up for our mistakes. I wasn't sure it would come, but here it is. Here he is.

I turn my lips to the boy's ear. I speak so quietly that I'm not even sure I'm audible.

"Is my son alive?"

Harry Potter tenses. He didn't expect this. But he is resourceful and recovers quickly.

"Yes," he whispers, not moving his lips.

"Be still. I'll tell them you're dead. The rest is up to you." I straighten up, not waiting for an answer. Standing, I face the Dark Lord.

"Well?" he demands anxiously.

"He is dead, my Lord. You are triumphant."

Cheers erupt around me, along with the Dark Lord's laughter. I feel only a small victory. I have gotten back at him the only way I can. Potter is just a kid and there is no guarantee that he will win this fight. Still, according to the prophecy he is the only person that can make any difference in the battle to come. I can be content that I didn't stand in the way of his destiny.

My eyes flicker to Lucius. He is still among the revelry. There is a smile on his face but not in his eyes. He knows. How, I have no idea, but he knows that I lied. His eyes leave me a moment later and do a rapid sweep of the people around him. I see him note faces and wands. He is fully aware that when Potter miraculously comes to, the Dark Lord's ire will focus solely on us.

I return to him and his arms wrap around me from behind. It is an uncharacteristic public gesture of affection, but in the chaos of perceived victory, no one notices. His lips burn a kiss into the back of my neck. I have an ally in my defiance. It is foolish and crazy and will probably get us killed, but that always seems to work for the other side. It is time to see if it will work for us.