Disclaimer: Of course, Harry Potter doesn't belong to me, I'm just playing with JKR's creations.
"Mother, I promise," says Draco.
She just holds his hand tighter. It hangs unspoken between them, 'a promise promises the chance it will be broken'.
"We're going to lose, aren't we, Mother?"
Narcissa looks around her own parlour furtively. "Don't speak like that, Draco, you'll be heard."
That furtive glance is enough for Draco. The ever-present lump in his throat swells. He is sure they will lose.
"I promise, Mother," he repeats, as if that will make it better.
She looks at him, haunted blue eyes in a pale, once beautiful face.
"Be safe," and she squeezes his hand again. She lets go and walks out of the room to wait for the summons that would inevitably come within a few hours.
Summons to Hogwarts.
Summons to war.
A/N: There was going to be something about green armchairs in the story... apparently that didn't happen. If it seems a bit stunted or weird, blame the verb tense. I seem to always to write in past, so I tried present for this one. It fits better, I feel.
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