*WARNING!* - talks about blood. I suggest you don't read if you're squeamish about it!

AND YOU GET BACK UP AGAIN

Pulse

It was quiet in the Malfoy Manor that Wednesday the 22nd, 1998. But a peaceful sort of quiet, with rain softly pitter-pattering against the big windows, but not falling hard enough to call a storm.

So nice and cozy, Draco thought, smiling absently into the kindling fire on the wall. He was dressed in a rare pair of green sweats and a rather baggy Slytherin hoodie, and currently was drumming his fingers against his white tea mug.

Draco felt very happy, despite what had become of his family up until now. Yes, his father was crumbling away in a lonely Azkaban cell at this very moment. And yes, his mother hadn't properly spoken to him since the Dark Lord's defeat. But it was raining out, and he loved rain, especially the grey designs that danced across the carpet below his feet when the room was dark and lightning lit up the sky.

A popping noise made Draco jump, ripping him out of his trance. A single drop of tea landed on his leg, and he swore, heart still beating fast from the sudden scare.

"Demi," he nodded nonchalantly to the house elf that was suddenly in front of him, clad in an overlarge green shirt.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Master," Demi apologized, looking up into silver eyes. Draco's mouth twitched into an almost-smirk, both because of how adorable her big eyes were and because her high-pitched voice sounded like a squealing kettle.

"No matter," Draco replied, feeling generous in light of his good mood, "What is it then?"

Demi put a hand to her big ear, pulling as if nervous. "Mistress Narcissa would like to know if you will be needing any clothes, sir. She is going shopping soon."

Sighing, Draco's eyes flickered to a darker shade for a moment at the mention of his mother. "Tell her I'm doing quite fine. But do mention we're running a little low on food."

Draco smirked, feeling the teensiest bit bad for telling her that, when, in fact, their refrigerator was magicked to stay stocked all the time.

"Oh, yes, Master, right away, sir!" she replied, oblivious to the humorous glint in Draco's eyes.

There was a piff noise as she disapparated, leaving a swirl of dust gently cascading to the carpet.

He was just about to take another sip, lifting the mug up to his lips, when another *pop* made his hand jerk and he spilt quite a lot down his front. Instinctively, he reached into his pant pocket to get his wand, but he grimaced, remembering that Potter still had his wand. He looked up for the first time and saw Demi, shaking, eyes wide and fearful.

"What? What is it?" he asked, back stiffening and becoming alert, quickly stripping his wet sweater off at the same time and throwing it to the side.

"It's M-mistress N-narcissa, Master!" she squeaked, her voice almost painful to hear as it was now an octave higher than even than before, "She just, just... Dropped!"

Draco's eyes widened, his hands beginning to tremble and his mouth gone dry.

"W-what? Is she breathing?" he ordered.

"I d-don't know, master. I-" he watched in slight annoyance as Demi suddenly fell to the ground in a slump, covering her eyes and sobbing, "I'm sorry, Master Draco! I'm stupid, so stupid! I-"

"Where is she?" Draco choked, not wanting to hear the answer. This had to be a joke, it just had to!

"K-kitchen, sir!" she heaved, sniffling.

Forgetting he could just apparate there, Draco sprinted past the distressed house elf and into the sparkling clean kitchen. He felt a shiver looking at the large grey cold marble kitchen island int he middle of the room. He walked by the fridge by the door, a bewitched skylight that currently was mimicking the sky in Hawaii, and a small bewitched cupboard in the corner. A large cobra snaked its way along the wallpaper alongside Draco, hissing slightly before disappearing into another room. Missa, Draco remembered naming her.

Biting his bottom lip and scanning his eyes along the room, Draco looked for any possible sign of his mother. The floor seemed to be cleaner than it should be, as usual, but no sign of her yet...

"Oh, Merlin!" he gasped silently as he rounded the corner of the kitchen island.

There lay his mother, eyes wide and mouth awkwardly parted, staring up at nothing. A pool of blood spread slowly around her face, reminding him of some sick fallen angel; the purity of her white silk hair now stained as it fanned around her.

"M-mother? Mother?" he was on the verge of sobs at this point, trying to keep them in and be a man, but his chest was heaving and his breath came out in jagged gasps.

He wrapped his slender fingers around her slim wrists, biting back the tears.

"Mum," he whispered, "mum, please!"

She continued her vacant stare at absolutely nothing, and the pool of bright crimson still trickled into a larger mess every passing second. Draco saw for the first time that her legs were placed awkwardly, as if she'd slipped.

"Get a grip," he sternly but shakily whispered to himself, "What would father think of this?"

Draco immediately composed himself, going to that special place and becoming as vacant, if not more, as his mother was. Now he could think clearly.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "yes, check for a pulse," in a dead tone and cooly picked up her arm to feel for one.