Title: Mama's Boy
Warnings: Spoilers? Well not really, because if you haven't finished DH, you PROBABLY wont even get what's going on.
Rating: PG...12? D: that's not even a rating #...
Series: Harry Potter
Genre: General?
Disclaimer: Don't own any of them.
Summary: The Malfoys find their son during Chapter whatever-number-at-the-end while everything is chaotic. Draco loves his mummy.

There was no warmth like his mothers arms.

No enchanted fireplaces, no muggle space heaters, no sweating, heaving bodies pressed up against his own could compete. Draco was 17 now, and by all logic and pride the sight of his mother should not have his insides leap. His mother had always been strict with him, though nowhere near that of his father and his aunt as well in the recent months. She had always been a good mother; a good person despite the impression the world got of his family. He loved his mother, needed his mother, and he never knew it as much as he did now.

He had heard his name being shouted with desperate urgency in the panic. He had run towards the sound and almost pushed his mother down with the force that he ran into her arms with. He couldn't hold back the tears, nor had he wanted to, as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He was sobbing, holding his mother as tight as she was holding him. He could feel her fingers brushing his hair and her soft voice comforting him and he could tell she was crying too. As his knees gave out on him and his face sunk down to rest against his mother's stomach, there was nothing but his mother's warmth. Was he a mama's boy? Maybe…but that didn't matter. Not now. All that mattered now was that he wasn't alone anymore.

Draco hadn't realized that he had been rambling nonsensically until a strong hand rested tightly against his shoulder. With his fathers touch, the world around their little haven came crashing back down. He had almost died. The blood on his lip was now leaving a dark stain on his mother's robes. Had Harry not saved his life, he would never have seen his mother or father again, and that bloody spot would not exist. Now was not the time to be crying, stunned still out in the open in the middle of a war. He could feel his father's grip on his shoulder tightening and reality hit with a sinking bitterness.

He would have to thank Harry Potter, but first they had to run.