PROLOGUE

The headline in the paper read "West End actor dead; mother grieves." Beside the article was a picture of two people, the actor and his mother. It was a Muggle newspaper, an item that had no place in the Malfoy household, much less on the breakfast table.

Narcissa had placed it carefully next to the orange juice, where Lucius would be sure to see it. Draco had glanced at it and scowled, but said nothing to his mother and began eating. Lucius came downstairs a short while later, a huge smile on his face.

"Morning love," he said, kissing his wife on the forehead and drawing her into a tight embrace.

"Good night, Dad?" Draco asked, leaning forward on his seat. His attention was no longer focused on the Cricket Cereal ("crunchy, sweet, and good to eat!"), and his eyes were wide and unblinking as he watched his father smirk.

"Sure was. Nineteen Muggles total. Eleven by my group, six by Macnair's group, two by the Dark Lord himself." Lucius chuckled at the memory and motioned for Narcissa to sit down. "No rushing off to do your womanly things today. I want to have a family breakfast, take some time to enjoy the fact that I have the most wonderful wife in the world, and a damn good son, too." Father and son shared a smile as Narcissa turned a little red and sat down. "Pass me the orange-" He stopped in mid-sentence as he saw the unmoving pictures on the newspaper. "What is this?"

"The paper from yesterday." Narcissa placed her hands in her lap and stared at Lucius. "I thought you might enjoy reading about how one of your nights went, from the Muggle perspective. Perhaps you might read it aloud, so Draco and I can hear. He hasn't read it yet."

Lucius reached over and slowly picked up the paper. "West End actor dead; mother grieves," he read. "Sixteen year old Bradley Little, Jr. was found dead early yesterday morning at approximately 3:30 a.m. Though the cause of his death is as yet unknown, he was severely beaten, and it appears tortured. 'It doesn't make sense,' Officer O'Malley says. 'He was found with his wallet, his identification, and his money. It wasn't a mugging; it must have been an act of aggression for unknown reasons.' This leaves Mr. Little's widowed mother Eily Little with her eleven year-old twins and twenty-one year-old son Erik, who lives in Romania. 'This came as a huge shock to everybody,' O'Malley reports. He investigated the disappearance of Eily's husband, Bradley Little Sr., who was reported dead around the time Eily discovered she was pregnant with her son at the time. The police currently have no leads and are asking anybody who has any information to call the police immediately." Lucius lowered the paper and stared into Narcissa's eyes. "Draco, your room." The boy's shoulders drooped, but he grabbed his bowl of cereal and headed to his bedroom.

"Lucius, you can't ignore this," Narcissa said softly.

"And why not?" he asked. "Why did you buy this, Narcissa? I thought we agreed we wouldn't speak of her again."

"She just lost her son, Lucius, her only link to her husband. And you're probably the one who killed him."

"Then let her deal with it," he snapped, running a hand through his hair. Narcissa recognized the action as his way of calming down, of admitting to her that he was torn between conflicting feelings. "She's a traitor to the wizarding world now, love. She turned her back on us, remember? She turned her back on me."

"I remember that the wizarding world turned its back on her," Narcissa corrected. "At least go to her, Lucius. You can't expect her to handle this with a smile on her face."

"And why should I be the one to go?" he asked. "Why not Severus, or maybe even Dumbledore?"

Narcissa smiled sadly. "Because they don't love her like you do. And love can heal anything." She reached over and set her hand on top of his.

"Would it make you happy if I went?" Lucius said, squeezing her hand.

"Yes," Narcissa replied.

"Then I'll go. But you're forcing me into this. I don't want to go."

"I know," she said tenderly. "I'll be waiting for you."

The house hadn't changed one bit in the twenty-two years since he had last seen it. It still had a dirty, unwelcoming presence that seemed to snake across the walls themselves, as if evil were embedded into the twisted vines that covered it. There was a dirty, worn mat on the front steps, a pun that had made Eily laugh when she saw it. He had bought it for her, even though he didn't understand the joke. "Bach later," it read. "Offenbach sooner." She had smiled and tried to explain that it was a reference to Muggle music, but he hadn't been paying attention to her. He hesitated as he raised his hand to knock on the great oak door, which was covered with cracks. He wasn't exactly sure what to expect from Eily, especially after so many years. The time when he had been able to read her emotions had long since passed by.

He took a deep breath and very slowly rapped on the oak.

For a moment, he was afraid nobody was home, and he had almost decided to turn around and walk away when the door opened and a young man stepped out. "Can I help you?" he asked. Lucius was struck dumb by the look of the man. He could have been Lucius' twin, save for his eyes. He was Lucius' height and build, he had the same color hair, in the same style and the same length, and he was dressed in very fine, expensive robes. But his eyes- his eyes were pure Eily, grey, intelligent, sparkling with fierce love and the desire to protect.

"I'm looking for Eily," Lucius said, forcing himself not to start fiddling with his cane. He was starting to think that maybe this was a big mistake.

The man scowled. "She's not available right now. Come back at a less emotional time."

"I have to talk to her. Please, I...I'm an old school friend. I saw the newspaper article, I was hoping I could help somehow."

The man opened his mouth to retort, but the door was pushed open the entire way and Dumbledore appeared in the background. "Let him in, Erik. It's quite rude to keep a guest standing on the front step."

Erik stepped back and allowed Lucius to enter, but rounded on Dumbledore. "Professor, I really don't think Mum's in the mood to see anybody."

"That's her decision," Dumbledore said steadily. His gaze swept across Lucius, making the man shift uncomfortably. "Go finish up with the horses. Eily will understand if you don't personally take Lucius to see her." Erik mumbled angrily as he stormed from the room, leaving the two alone. "He had to come back from Romania to help Eily. It was a terrible shock for the entire family, I'm sure you can guess." Dumbledore regarded Lucius for a long moment. "I'm surprised to see you here," he said. "I wasn't sure that you'd see the article in the newspaper, and I wasn't sure you'd care enough to come visit."

"Can I see her?" Lucius asked, desperate to get out from the headmaster's fierce blue eyes.

"She was napping last I saw, but go on up. I daresay you remember your way around?"

Lucius didn't bother responding, but headed for the stairs. The third stair still had the familiar creak, but the sixth stair had one now too. He smiled as he remembered offering to fix the creak for Eily. She had refused, insisting that the creak gave the stairs character. Her bedroom was at the end of the hallway, which had been painted light brown. The walls were otherwise bare; there were colored spots on the wall where they had hung. All the doors were closed, save for Eily's, which was open a slight crack. Lucius peaked in, careful not to make any noise, and nearly gasped.

The beautiful woman he remembered was nowhere in sight. Eily's brown hair was limp and tangled; her skin was deathly pale and there were dark circles under her eyes. She was gazing blankly at pictures, but there were no tears on her face. Lucius wondered if she was past the point of tears, or if she was just numb from the experience.

He knocked lightly on the door and watched her jump in surprise. In the old days, she would have heard the creak on the stair and been waiting for him. As he watched, she quickly shoved the pictures into a shoebox and thrust under the bed. "Come in," she called, lying down in the bed and throwing the covers over her body.

Lucius took a deep breath and opened the door. She lay with her back to him, stretching her arms above her head as though he had woken her up, but she never turned around. "Eily?"

She sat up and spun around, then stared at him. "Lucius?" she asked. "How- what are you doing here?"

He hesitated, then stepped into the room. "I saw the Muggle newspaper..." He broke off, unsure of where to continue.

She lay back down and stared at the ceiling. "I see," she said flatly. "Come to admire your handiwork?"

He fought to keep the tears from stinging his eyes. "I didn't do it, Eily." He looked down at his hands. "I just came to see if you were okay. If there were anything I could do...I don't know why I came."

She closed her eyes, and he could see a tear trickle down her cheek. "What do you want me to say? 'Hi, Malfoy, it's good to see you?'" He grimaced.

"How about, 'Hi Lucius, care to sit down?'"

She gave a bark of laughter. "Not that my opinion matters."

"Your opinion matters, Eily." She turned her head away from him.

"Go away, Lucius. Go away."

"I can't do that. I can't just leave you alone." He hesitated. "Not a second time."

She glanced over at him. "I hear you've got a son."

"Draco," he said. "He's a good boy. A Slytherin, and a pretty decent Quidditch player. Your eldest lives in Romania?"

"He's doing this thing with dragons," she said. "In Romania. He's been there for a few years."

Lucius inched closer to the bed and sat down on it. "I almost forgot what a dump this place is."

"Home sweet home," she replied. They were silent for a few long seconds. "I never stopped loving you," Eily whispered suddenly.

He stared at his hands. "I need to get going, Eily. But I want to come visit you again."

"I don't have much going on," she said. "Not for a few months at least." She pulled the covers back. "Let me show you to the door."

Was it his imagination, or did she seem disappointed as he walked away from the house? Either way, there was a slight bounce to his step as he headed home.