Hello, this is my first time writing anything in a long while. English isn't my first language so please forgive me for any mistakes. Enjoy!
Another kind of bravery
"Avada Kedavra!" A green flash erupted out of the Dark Lords wand and slammed into the young man's ribcage, alighting the clearing with an eerie glow, blinding all present for a few seconds.
Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Black, watched impassively as Potter was thrown in the air, the shear power of the Dark Lords killing curse flinging him neatly across the earth. In the same moment the Dark Lord collapsed boneless onto the harsh ground.
In a matter of seconds her sister had thrown herself next to her Master and asked with her hands hovering over the already moving pale body. "Master?"
Narcissa couldn't even feel shame for that uncouth behaviour unworthy of a well-educated pureblood witch of old lineage. All she could see was the motionless body of the young saviour, who willingly sacrificed his life and accepted death like an old friend, who didn't even defend himself or flinched back as the green curse soared his way.
Her imagination and fear were fast to change the mop of black with silken silver hair she knew so well, had carded her hands through a million times while humming an old lullaby to calm a frightened child.
All Narcissa saw was her Draco lying dead on the cold earth, killed, murdered in a war he should have nothing to do with.
Hands fisted into the folds of her black robes, she resolutely turned away from that nightmarish vision of hers and to her sister, who let herself be pushed into the dirt in her infatuation with her master. "Are you hurt, master?"
The Dark Lord, standing tall again, ignored her.
Unexpectedly the figure next to her was hit with a vicious hex that had the man screaming in pain. "You", the Dark Lord said and locked eyes with Narcissa before she averted her gaze, his wand still pointed at his last victim. "You will examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."
Fear steeled her shoulders and straightened her back as Narcissa dipped her head in hasty acknowledgement and glided to the still body, trying not to think about black hair bleeding blond. Her Draco, her child, was still alive wherever he was.
He had to be.
Slowly she knelt next to the young man – Draco's age, her traitorous mind supplied – and cupped a pale cheek. With the beginnings of suspicion pooling in her gut Narcissa pulled back an eyelid before her fingers crept under rumpled clothes.
She leaned even closer as her hand ghosted over his chest where the heart was. The still beating heart. Long hair falling unto the still face and veiling her own features, Narcissa dared to follow her own for once.
"Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"
She whispered nearly inaudible, aware of the danger should someone overhear, should someone become aware that that boy, that Potter was indeed still alive, against all odds having survived another killing curse from the powerful Dark Lord. Narcissa waited with bated breath, her heart pounding unnaturally loud in her own ears, fear and hope and adrenalin rushing through her veins.
"Yes", Potter finally answered in the security of her long hair. She couldn't help the way her nails scratched the skin on the young man's chest as her hope soared.
Determined Narcissa gathered herself, drew up the last of her bravery and all love and affection for her son, for her family. She bathed in it for a brisk moment before leaning back.
She knew what to do. She knew what to do and hoped it would work, hoped that they trusted her word implicitly and didn't think of the deceit she was about to commit.
Narcissa did not care that she was helping Potter and his side in this war, she didn't care that she betrayed the Dark and her ideals with her idea. She only cared for her family. And that she could only see them all coming out of this alive, when she trusted Potters word.
She had to see her son, see him being well and alive!
And the only way to do that, to see her child and leave this battle and death alive and whole was to go to Hogwarts as the winning party.
Slowly she stood from the frozen ground, at her feet the body of the saviour, and turned to the waiting Death Eaters and their Lord, her face a cold, emotionless mask.
"He is dead!" Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Black, called, while her heart pounded rapidly in her chest, chanting with every frantic beat the name of her precious child.
Draco. Draco. Draco.