Disclaimer: Same old story, same old song. I own none of the characters.

Mother, Don't Leave Me

She looked so weak, her beauty all but gone, her skin taught against her high cheek bones. Her once golden hair was now a pale silverfish white. If anyone would have told him that his mother would one day be reduced to this, he never would have believed them. His mother was the strong and beautiful witch, the one who had all but single-handedly raised him from the little brat he was into the young man he was now. He'd learned so much from this woman; it was hard to believe that they'd reached this place. Her chest rose and fell slowly; it seemed to be slowing by the minute. She was a princess in her youth, and a queen in her older years, but even now, he couldn't see her as anything but his mother, precious and beautiful beyond all comparison. He couldn't accept that this skeletal figure before him was that same woman, the strong woman who taught him everything he knew, who'd been there for him whenever he needed her, the one he wanted to name his son. But there would be none of that now, there was very little chance she'd live to see his first son born now. Her time was limited, even the best wizards had confirmed what he'd already known.

Her breathing faltered. He looked down at her, and her eyes were open now. No, she needed her rest. The doctors said that if she didn't rest, she wouldn't make it through the night. But, his mother couldn't leave him, not now. His wife was in labor; before the end of the night, she would be a grandmother. That had always been her dream, why did it have to be stolen from her now, when they were so close? Her blue eyes were pale and out of focus; he wondered if she could even see him, recognize him, or if she was just an empty shell already. If so, then perhaps it would be better if she was gone. She'd be happy, and she could see her sisters again. But it would break his father's heart; speaking of which, where in bloody hell was his father? Was he just going to abandon his wife because she was weak, or was he too small of a man, too scared to even show up with her? But here her son was, expecting a child, but rather than sitting with his wife, coaching her through it, he was here with his dying mother.

He reached for his mother's hand, limp at her side and stroked it gently, wanting her to know that he was here, that he would never abandon her. He was not like his father, she had taught him to be different. So let his father leave her here on her death bed, but he would never abandon her. She was his mother, his teacher, his friend, his hero, and he would never forget all that she'd done for him. Tears filled his eyes, but he held them back. If she could see him, recognized him, he would have to be strong for her. No matter what, her death should be painless and peaceful, much as it is supposed to be.

Soon, she was responding to his gentle comfort, her hand closed around his and he looked down. Her eyes looked more in focus than before, as if she were studying him. No, he shook his head, no, she needed rest. Her mouth was twitching. If she tried to speak, who knew how much she would be able to say before she could speak no longer; no forget speak, how long would it be until she could no longer breathe? He didn't want to know that answer, not yet. His child would be born soon, and then she could hold it, she could die happy and the baby will have known its grandmother, even if for only a moment. He shook with the overwhelming sorrow, a pool of tears building up behind his eyes. It just wasn't fair; why her, why now?

"Draco…" Her voice was nothing like it once was, feeble and little more than a whisper. She reached out with her free hand, shaking all the way, to come to a rest on his cheek. He brought his hand up to his cheek, covering her weak, brittle fingers with his own. His heart was breaking, but he released her other hand and brought his finger to his lips, in a gesture that she shouldn't speak. They didn't need words; Draco knew that his mother loved him. She didn't need to say it. If only his mother could hold on for a little bit more, even just an hour, she would be a grandmother before her last breath; Astoria was in a different wing of the hospital, in labor, she'd been in labor for a while, the baby could come at any minute… any minute. But in any minute… his mother… Narcissa Malfoy… could be dead.

"No, Mum, you need your rest now." Draco tried to soothe her, still holding her hand in his own, wishing that with every second the strength wouldn't leave those fingers, that she would survive even one more second, let alone another minute. He could see the struggle in her features, the struggle to hold on. Maybe she just needed a reason, the hope that she could live to see her grandchild, to hold it in her arms…

"No, Draco. I'm dying…" She let out a wrenching cough, sending her whole body into a short convulsion. "Please, I don't have much longer." Her face was paler than before, probably from the strain of speaking, the strain of life itself.

"You can't give up. You can make it. A few more minutes and you'll be a grandmother. Just like you always wanted mum, you'll be a grandmother…" He pleaded with his mother. He couldn't just let her go without a fight. She was his mother. How could she give up so easily anyway? For years she had been the one teaching him to be strong, that he could do anything if he had faith and if he believed hard enough. And now she wasn't following her own teachings? She really was ill if she had forgotten all those times she'd told him…

"No, Draco. It's time." His mother's hand fell from its place on his cheek back to her side, and he felt the hand he was still holding beginning to go limp. This couldn't be happening. His world was spinning, literally, the room was dancing in and out of view. All he could see was Narcissa, her chest rising less and less, working harder, her breath heavier. This was it. His mother was really dying. "I love you, Draco…" She gasped for air, filling her lungs as much as she could before she forced herself to continue in a haggard breath. "Please… forgive me." Tears pricked his eyes, as he saw his mother's eyelids come to a close over the brilliant blue that would haunt his life. "Never…" She could hardly breath, hardly speak anymore. "Never forget me, son."

With that, the machine went off, buzzers bleeping and voices shouting, feet running to and fro. But Draco could see nothing but the beautiful woman lying at such peace before him; his mother was finally home, where she belonged with her sisters, happy again. The tears he'd held in all that time coursed down his cheeks, tainting his flawless complexion. Draco would always love his mother, and never forget her, not ever; he would miss her with all his heart. Draco's mother would always live within his heart. He buried his face in his palms, his elbows rested on his knees. He would have stayed that way for much longer, crying over his mother's death. But then, somewhere faintly in the back of his mind, he registered the sound of footsteps and then a knock on the door. His eyes raised to where a man in a long white coat stood.

"Sir, you're a new father…"

A/N: I will probably be editting this in the near future as I do not really favor the ending I've written. But moving on, I'd love any and all reviews. =] Thanks for your time, I hope you enjoyed.