"The court calls Narcissa Black to the stand."

Narcissa stepped forward, her throat dry; without pausing or looking up, she walked to the chair in the middle of the platform, and sat down. The motions were devoid of any of her former grace, a calculated move. Friends would be touched by the subtly pathetic change, foes would find it something to gloat over. The danger was from those who would feel discomfort from her position. People didn't like things that unsettled them. They'd want to send her out of sight, out of mind. It was a risk she had to take. The real crowd leaders would feel little discomfort.

She raised her eyes and glanced around the room. She knew every face there, from countless occasions: inner parties she had given, social events she had attended, courteous exchanges in the elevators of the Ministry, attentions of social climbers everywhere else. Some of those faces reflected hate; others pity; a handful were impassive. Those few faces lent her a small amount of strength; in days past, those faces had the capacity to disquiet her to almost the point of fear - but now, they were the only faces that hadn't changed since then. They reminded her of who she was, and who she was not. She was not a mere attachment to the Malfoy family. With that identity stripped from her, her old self resurfaced. She was a Black. Toujours pur. She would not be humbled now.

"The court calls Narcissa Black to speak." With a start, she realized that she had paid no attention to Percy Weasley's droning voice, as he had read out the formalities and charges. No matter. They had all heard it before, a thousand times. No one had listened. She stood.

"Witches, wizards, and warlocks of the honourable Wizengamot." Her voice was low but steady and clear. "I stand before you today, not as the Narcissa Malfoy that I once was, but as Narcissa Black. My birth name, my birth identity: little more than a proud girl from a well-known family."

This line had been worded carefully, an inconspicuous but definite reminder to them that she was no common filth, even without her husband. She deserved the respect her family was accorded. Of course, it helped that Sirius had been her cousin, and that Potter was his grandson; he even stayed at Grimmauld Place now. At one time, she would have hated herself for using such a connection, but years of living with Lucius had taught her to bend such scruples when necessary. Too much was at stake now. She glanced at the chair above the main table, and continued.

"What I have done, as such, will, I know, be judged accordingl. I expect no more consideration to be given to me than would be givn to the meanest of my circle, the lowest, the vilest. I consider myself a victim, but i know that I am to be judged as a participant. I know also that I deserve it." She took a deep breath as the crowd murmured in surprise. Good. She had their attention. She had had that anyway, but at least the hostility in the room had lessened somewhat. Exactly as expected.

"I state now that in my belief, my hand was forced in the matter of joining the Dark Lord -- eighteen years ago as well as today. At that time, i could not speak out, for if I did, my late husband would have been convicted. I could not allow that to happen." She paused, and smiled bitterly. "There is no more fear of that. Now, I may state freely that at both instances in my life, I was under severe emotional duress when I made the decision to join. At first, it was my husband who needed to protect me from the Dark Lord -- after the late Regulus Black, my cousin, offended him, his ire was turned on all the members of my family. I married to protect myself, and joined to prove my subservience. It was the only way to stay alive.

"Later on, when he came back, I wished for anything but to join. In this entire chain of events, I have never wished to support one side or the other. My sole motive was to look out for my own. It was to this end that I returned to the Dark Lord three years ago. I had to, or my entire family would suffer dearly for it. I had a son. He had to be protected. Every crime I have committed , assisted in, and witnessed without attempting intervention, has been to protect my family." She laughed brokenly. "My husband is dead. But my sons are alive. I need to stay with them, to protect them. Until my youngest grows to a suitable age, I wish to be with him. I wish the remnants of my family to remain intact for his childhood, at least. I will willingly accept any punishment meted out by the honourable members of the Wizengamot, even the death sentence. I only ask that it be delayed for a period, until Cygnus grows to tthe age of ten. Nothing more."

There was absolute silence in the courtroom.

Finally, the Minister for Magic spoke. Mafalda Hopkirk's beady eyes pierced Narcissa, hard as agate. Her voice was even. "Ten years is a big gift to ask for."

"I realize that. But one must ask for what one needs, if there is any chance of getting it."

"So you believe that there is a chance."

"I believe that the Wizengamot is fair -- and that, therefore, there is a chance of anything happening."

"On what grounds do you believe that you possess the right to ask?" A small, bespectacled man next to the Minister spoke.

"On the grounds that I am a mother who has at all times and all occasions displayed the utmost care and affection towards her children -- and that my stated motives were revealed last March, when I saved the life of Harry Potter in exchange for knowledge of my son."

A murmur rose in the courtroom. "So the rumours are true, then?"

"They are not rumours if the person saying them is the peson concerned." The boy had moved forward in his seat, looking annoyed. "Maybe the court should consider actually taking witnessed evidence into account when it's presented next time."

The five at the table all shifted in their seats a little,except Mafalda. "Forgive me, Mr. Potter. It was my wish to see whether Ms. Black would call upon this evidence herself before taking it for granted."

In other words, they didn't completely trust him. No wonder. The boy had been steadfastly refusing association with the Ministry for two years. His sudden involvement with the court hearings had probably gotten their backs up. But at least, it had worked out well for her. The result of it, however, still remained to be seen.

"The court is adjourned until three in the afternoon, for lunch." The Wizengamot rose from their seats, and began to file out. Two Ministry guards appeared at her sides.

"If you please, madam." She rose silently, and walked out, flanked by the two men, to the nearby room they had allowed her to stay in since their assets were frozen. Kept her was more the phrase for it, she reflected. She could live independently, but they needed her under their eye.

Draco looked up as she opened the door, and smiled uncertainly. She smiled softly in reply, and glanced at his lap. He stood carefully, holding the little bundle in his arm with a gentle care one would expect from a father. She smiled again to herself as she thought this. This baby would have a father figure, at least, if not a father. The opposite of what Draco had had.

The door rang just as she took the baby in her arms. He went to get it. Potter stepped in.

"Hello."

"Can I help you?" A diguised way of asking him what he was doing here. It also warned Draco to keep silent, saying that this conversation wasn't one to be taken lightly.

"I actually came to see if you were all right here. Are the accomodations acceptable?"

"Perfectly. Why do you ask?"

He laughed mirthlessly. "Grimmauld Place had been designated as a 5th level safe zone now, I was told this morning. Simple political move that prevents my causing any trouble; but it has its advantages. I can take any tenants I wish, except those already condemned. If this trial drags on any longer, you're welcome to come, if you wish."

"Thank you, but that's unnecessary. We are perfectly content here." So they were; but she understood his reasons. A safe zone could not be used as an area for any Dark purposes, and was judged as one by the strength of enchantments surrounding it. Grimmauld Place was far more than 5th level, but a 5th level designation meant that the Ministry conductedmonthly checks on the area. They were trying to assert authority over him. Taking in a tenant like herself would be a direct challenge to them, useful in his circumstances.

"All right, then. The offer's open, though." He paused, and looked at the bundle in Draco's arms.

"Sons. That's the first I've heard."

"That information has remained prviate until this point, when I was required to declare it."

"So he was born here?"

"No. I was taken to St. Mungo's."

"Oh." He paused again. "Could I see him?"

Draco recoiled involuntarily, but Narcissa answered without missing a beat. "Of course. Draco?"

Reluctantly, the bundle was brought forward. The boy took it with a surprising gentleness, gazing into the tiny, perfect face with an unreadable expression.

"He's very like you."

"Yes."

"What's his name?"

"Cygnus." Draco answered this time, but the boy didn't look up for a long moment. Finally, he moved to handle the sleeping child back, when his eyes opened.

Cygnus watched him carefully, with large grey eyes that were clear as a stone pool. For a moment, the two seemed wrapped up in their own world, each gauging the other. Finally, Cygnus looked away, searching. The boy handed him back to her, and sheclutched him protectively.

"Thank you for coming."

"It was nothing. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

He closed the door softly after him, and Narcissa sat down gently, with a sigh, opening her robe to feed the child in her arms. Draco discreetly went to the other room, picking up a book.