Lucius had never agreed with me on what we were to do with Draco. To be certain, I wanted him to grow up to be a man that would bring pride to his parents and honor to his family, but I had never meant for that to mean this. To be a marked slave of a madman, hated and feared by society with nowhere to turn, no place to run. I couldn't protect him from this like I had when he was a boy, shield him from the nightmare or call for him to wake, when he had never been sleeping. I couldn't comfort him or dry his tears or tell him that everything would be alright. He was scared, but he was a Malfoy, a Slytherin, as was I. Perhaps the Weasley matriarch could bring herself to say it with truth in her words, but we two knew too well how to see a lie.
My son had been entrenched in the tales of glory his Father had told him, had believed that we were superior, had been soft, even. But in those stories, his Father never cowered, never groveled. He had seen the blood of werewolves, blood traitors, and Death Eaters and they bleed red all the same. What made us better was what we made ourselves. And he was still soft, but he couldn't afford to be. To be kind, to want to be good, when you were another stepping stool for a mad man was only another death.
There were many things I had wanted for my son. I had wanted him to be a proud, good man. I had wanted for him to choose his own path. I had wanted so much for him.
But a mother's wishes mean little in wartime and there was only one that I dared to ask for.
I wanted my son to live.
Don't really know where this came from, but Narcissa has always interested me and I was watching something that made this pop into mind, I guess. So… Did you like it? Best wishes,
SMM