DISCLAIMER - I DO NOT OWN HP OR ANY OF THE CHARACTERS.

Prologue

Narcissa Malfoy held her head high as she felt the curious stares watch her walk the long stretch of marble floor ahead, her expensive shoes echoing loudly in the vast silence. As a child, she was taught that a lady must never confront the glaringly obvious hatred and loathing emanating from worthless strangers and must always keep her composure, regardless of how tempting it might be to act out. How very satisfying it would be to put these nameless people to shame for whispering so caloussly about her own flesh and blood with her in the vicinity, why, they hadn't even the decency or decorum to wait until her back was turned. The things the aging blonde could do to these people for behaving so poorly would make the blood running through their veins leave their oh so welcoming inhabitual bodies immediately... quite literally actually.

But never the less, Narcissa Malfoy,was indeed a lady. And years of good etiquette demanded she maintain her superior stance and continue walking with her chin held high towards the young receptionists, who were too busy gossiping to notice her stood directly in front of them.

'I heard from a very reliable source that he's actually going insane. Rumour has it, he's being admitted to the Janus Thickey ward later this after-'

Not needing to hear where this was going, Narcissa coughed lightly distracting the dark haired girls attention away from the lighter haired receptionist and judging by the look on the silly twit's shocked face, her suspicions on the direction of this story were well and truly confirmed.

'If you're quite finished spreading your ridiculous, far-fetched lies I'd appreciate it if you informed my son's healer I have arrived. I don't believe you'll need me to tell you who I am, you appear well acquainted with this particular case.' She said, casually examining her nails as if she had been discussing mere weather speculation with the girl.

Yes, Narcissa Malfoy was a lady. But Narcissa Malfoy was also a mother, and no one insults her son, not even the stupid bint gaping at her from behind the desk. As far as she was concerned, being a mother is a good a reason as any to override her ladylike superiority. Dropping her hand, apparently satisfied with the inspection she smirked at the insolent girl. 'Be a dear and do hurry along with it, yes?'

'Ye..yes Mrs Mal..Malfoy. Of course.' The receptionist smiled nervously and abruptly left her desk, tripping over herself on the way.

Turning her attention to the lighter haired girl left sat behind the desk, she gave the girl a once over. Pretty enough, a little on the average side with much too much makeup smeared over her boring features. She had just opened her mouth to scold the gossiping little witch when the other girl came back with a healer in lime green robes in tow. Instead she settled for a condescending glare before turning to the real reason she was here with a forced smile.

'Mrs Malfoy, I'm glad you could make it at such short notice. My name is Healer Richards, if you would please follow me, there are certain matters I believe would be best discussed privately.' He smiled politely while gesturing to his office with a hand.

'Very well, somewhere private will certainly be necessary.' She agreed with a not so subtle look to the two red faced receptionists before following Healer Richards.

Entering the small office, the regal blonde stood politely as the robed healer closed the door and took a seat behind the desk.

'Please take a seat Mrs Malfoy.' He continued as she obliged, suitably happy with his manners. 'I can assure you, there are very powerful charms and wards placed in and around this room to assure strict confidentiality, however I feel I must apologize for anything you may have heard upon entering St Mungos. It is no secret that your son is currently an inpatient here, the reasons for that are unknown to most and as such, along with the fact your son is a well-known member of wizarding society, the rumour mill has been abuzz since his arrival here last week.'

Genuinely surprised by the man's consideration, she found herself relaxing slightly knowing her son was currently residing under his care. After the war, many had suffered different fates - that she knew. But Narcissa and her Son were treated with an entirely unique approach by the vast public. They were considered neither light; despite her help at the final battle in disguising Harry Potter's death.. or lack thereof, nor were they considered dark; taking into account Draco's forced dark mark and failed task.

A few chose to quietly 'snub' them, a few more chose to furiously whisper about their existence but by and large, most chose to simply ignore their presence. They didn't bother anyone, choosing to stay secluded at the manor, having elves (paid elves, thanks to the change in law two years ago) to run any errands necessary and in return they were given the freedom of ignorance. They simply weren't worth mentioning and that was fine by her. Six years had passed since the war and she would have been happy to continue on as a mere shadow in the background had her son not fallen ill forcing her from the shelter of the Manor and plummeting her into the real world once again.

'Thank you, Healer Richards. I appreciate the measures you have taken to keep a lid on the particulars of my sons illness. I can safely assume the reason I have been requested here is because there has been some sort of progress made?' She had meant it to sound a statement but her anxiety had led it to to sound more like a question.

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself before speaking, he allowed his eyes to slightly softening as he watched the woman before him. To anyone else, Narcissa Malfoy, would be the sterotypical predudiced, superior, arrogant pureblood. But Healer Richards was a wise man and although she may be all of those things, he had been in this profession long enough to recognise a worried mother when he saw on.

'Mrs Malfoy... Narcissa...' He watched as she tried to maintain her composure but didn't miss the way she kept gulping or taking deep breaths. 'We have been working very hard to find a diagnosis for Draco's strange... symptoms. I guarantee you, we have ran a variety of tests and have not only asked for a second opinion, but a third and fourth too. After a lot of deliberation I am both pleased and sorry to tell you, there is nothing medically wrong with your son.'

'But-' She was unable to finish before he started to speak again.

'That is to say... there is nothing medically wrong with your son as far as the healers in the magical community are concerned.' He said the words slowly, trying to convey the meaning of his words without actually saying them.

'I don't understand... There is nothing wrong with him as far as the magi-oh! You mean?' She awaited his confirmation nod. 'A muggle disease? How is this possible?' She gasped trying to reign in the tears threatening to fall.

'Not a muggle disease.. per say.' Seeing the confused look on the blondes face he tried to elaborate. 'In the wizarding world, our job, as healers or medi-witches and wizards, is to look after the physical well-being of the witch or wizard. When diagnosing a patient we look first for injury, then for a magical reason for any occurring symptoms and then try to heal or in the case of mental instability due to overuse of certain potions or spells - such as the crucuatis where it is not possible to heal, we manage the symptoms as best we can. The reason for you're son's symptoms is not because of a physical injury, nor is it because of any magical reason, spell or potion. We believe you're son may be suffering from, what muggles call; mental illness. Obsessive, compulsive behaviour to be specific.' He gave Narcissa space to talk or ask any questions but it seemed she was still in shock so he continued.

'The muggle world has a lot of treatment options available for this type of illness, one of which is in the form of a drug administered in a tablet form. That option would be unsuitable for your son because of his wizarding heritage the drug wouldn't be absorbed into his bloodstream the way it is with muggles. The other option is cognitive behaviour therapy whereby we try to find the underlying cause of the illness and teach him different ways of thinking to manage and in some cases overcome the symptoms. Unfortunately, even though the muggle world has done a lot of research into mental illness and in particular OCD, to the wizarding world, this is a very new concept and is mostly completely unknown to us, health professional or otherwise.'

Narcissa Malfoy sat back in her chair taking in all the information given to her ignoring the stray tears running down her cheekbones towards her chin. She could hear his words repeating in her head as she tried to process them, but every time she thought she was about to make some sort of sense of it all, the words 'mental illness' crept back in and halted any train of thought in it's tracks. Her son, her little boy, was mentally ill. There was nothing physically wrong with him, nothing magically wrong with him, it was all in his head.

She wasn't stupid, despite not understanding this obsessive compulsory...thing. The words 'mentally ill' rung loud and clear with her. No spell, nor charm or injury had disabled her son. There was something wrong in his mind that she couldn't control. Or maybe it was something that had once been in her control. Every mother, when bringing a life into this world, hopes for the best for their child. That is all she had ever wanted and she had made a vow to protect him.

'Mental Illness'

She had failed. Her son wasn't born mentally ill, he wasn't a mentally ill child. This had to be her fault. It had to be a result of his upbringing, there was no other explanation. She was the problem. She had done this...

'Mental Illness'

She suddenly breathed in a sharp intake of air as her hand flew to her mouth to silence a loud sob, as the once stray tears turned into a stream. Healer Richards quickly stood and walked to he cabinet on the wall to his left before returning with a vial and a box of tissues, sitting them before her.

'Drink this, it will help to calm you.' He didn't bother asking, instead giving it as more of an order given her emotional state. She quickly accepted the vial of what she knew to be a calming draught and instantly felt his words about her son's condition sink in to her brain in a way that made sense. After a few silent minutes where she dabbed at her blue eyes with the offered tissue and contemplated his words, she finally spoke again.

'If this is unknown to the wizarding world does this mean he will need treatment in the muggle world?' She cringed slightly thinking of the irony of it all.

'The words I used is 'mostly unknown to the wizarding world'' He smiled reassuringly, feeling at last, he may have even a small piece of information that may help the Malfoys. 'A couple of years ago, one of our newly trained healers here spotted a gap in the profession. She has been researching Mental Illness in the wizarding world for the past two and a half years and has had lots of success in the field. I'm not entirely sure she has dealt with any witch or wizard suffering OCD, as far as I'm aware there are no known cases recorded thus far, but if there were anyone in the wizarding world who could help you. I am certain it would be her. Not only does she have extensive knowledge of magical healing but being a muggle born she also has a vast knowledge of muggle methods of healing. I have a card here, with her office contact details should you want to consult her.'

'Most definitely.' Narcissa responded enthusiastically. She didn't care if this witch was muggle-born, half blood or even a blood traitor, if it meant her son would be cured then she would do anything to ensure he had the best chance possible. She had even willing to consult with muggles before this option became available. All she had was her son, she couldn't lose him, not after everything. She took the card from his outstretched hand eagerly with a smile skimming over the details on the front.

Her smile dropped. This is what most people called karma. The one witch that could help her son, is the one witch he had treated with utmost disdain all his life, the one witch he bullied and the one witch that they had both watched being tortured in their home all those years ago. Yes, the one witch that could help them now, was none other than Hermione Granger.

Irony Indeed!

Dun, dun dun! What do you think? Don't worry, this fic won't always be in Narcissa's POV. Will be mostly Hermione/Draco but can't promise a Narcissa POV chapter won't reoccur in the future as I enjoyed writing this side of her. Hope you liked anyway, let me know! R&R

Just to clarify something:

The part where Narcissa blames herself I just want to clarify (because it's a sensitive issue and I don't want anyone taking offense). I am in no way saying that the cause of OCD is because of one's upbringing. There are many causes of OCD including psychological and biological reasons. I have had Narcissa initially blam herself because I believe that her character, who absolutely adores her son and would do anything for him as proven in deathly hallows, would react this way. I apologise if you don't agree but this is how I've written it.