A/N; I know Narcissa is ooc in this. But in this story she's my character and this is how i want her to be.
Slowly, ever so slowly, you push open the door. Small, uncertain fingers pressing hard against the dark, wooden frame.
You peer nervously into the room, still not sure of what you are about to do, but even if you don't go in, you can still watch.
She is there.
Sitting on a low stool in front of the crystal mirror, you Snow-Butterfly is examining herself, a collection of white flowers and earls twisted up in an elegant knot at the back of her head.
Your small palms press flat against the oak and you push the door just the tinniest bit wider, letting you see a little more of the forbidden room. You know, even at the young age of four, that what you are doing is wrong. You know that if you are caught, you will be in serious trouble.
The thought of the consequences makes your stomach curl and you are about to turn away, abandon your ridiculous mission and run back to your nursery, when your Snow-Butterfly's sapphire eyes flash up at you, reflected in the crystal and she turns.
You give a small gasp and take a frightened step back.
You know you shouldn't been there! You know what she'll say. She might even tell Papa that you've been disturbing her and then what will happen…
"Draco." As her pretty lips croon her name, a shiver of pride runs through you like electricity, giving you the spark of confidence you so badly need.
Shyly, you move further into the room, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. You walk slowly up to her and you kneel besides her stool, resting your head in her lap.
Your Snow-Butterfly laughs and pets your hair, running her long fingers through the baby-like curls,
"What do you want, Draco?" Her voice is gentle and kind, you look up warily, now moe uncertain than ever whether to ask or not.
You know she will laugh at you and turn you away, but you know, also, that you have to ask, have to know for sure.
"Please, Mama," You begin, fixing your grey eyes firmly on the dark green plush of the carpet, "Please... Do you-do you love me, Mama?" And laugh she does.
"No, Pet." She says, kissing your forehead lightly, " I don't love you. You know I don't. Why do you ask such silly questions, Darling?" A sharp pang of disappointment creeps painfully through your small body at her words, confirming your fears and what your Papa told you.
You bite down on your lip hard as hot tears burn in your eyes. To show weakness in front of your Snow-Butterfly would be the ultimate humiliation …but you can't help it.
The feeling of worthlessness is too deep, too strong and it over comes you. You bury your face in he skirt and weep whilst, still, she continues to run her slender fingers through your hair,
"Do not cry, my Dragon." She murmurs, "For that will make me sad. And it is wrong, Draco, to make your Mama sad."
"I'm sorry." You whisper. You can't help it, but even no, you still half wish for her to scoop you up in her arms and cuddle you close, telling you that she didn't mean what she said and that she loves you more than anything…
"Run along now and play, Pet." Are all the words or comfort you receive,
"Yes Mama." You reply, turning away.