My son. My only son.
If anyone looked at Draco now, she knew what they would see. Platinum blonde hair. Cold features set into a smirk.
They would see Lucius's son. The Malfoy Heir. Death Eater in training.
But she knew he was more. He was her son, her darling little boy. She remembered it too well, that fateful night, where her little boy had transformed.
"Lucius, your son is the same age as the Potter boy, is he not?"
"Yes, my Lord, he is."
"Then, I have a mission for him. Draco shall go to Hogwarts, Lucius, as Harry Potter would. He would go there, and befriend Harry Potter. When he is old enough, or when he has earned the brat's trust… The Potter boy shall willingly come to me. Your son shall be the pathway."
"It is my honour, and my son's, my Lord."
"Yes, is it not? The youngest Death Eater… He shall be highly rewarded for this. See that it all goes well, Lucius. But tell him not a word of my plan."
"Yes, my Lord, as you wish it. Thank you."
Narcissa stood in the shadows of the corridor, her face ashen. They meant to use her little boy.
She knew all too well what happened to the Death Eaters who failed the Dark Lord's mission. There was no mercy, no special case, not unless the Dark Lord still had use for you.
They all died.
She also knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Draco would never be able to do it. To betray one of his friends. His hero. Draco had always idolized Harry Potter, constantly begging for more stories of him. Lucius had once overheard, and punished Draco well for it.
But Narcissa told him, patiently, tale after tale of the green-eyed hero. Of his jet black hair and the famous scar on his forehead. They played game after game of make believe, and Draco had always played Harry.
Draco couldn't-no, he wouldn't. Under that cold façade, she knew her little boy had a golden heart shinning…one that not even Lucius could beat out of him.
And so, she sat there, in the shadows of the corridor, listening to Lucius and his Lord. Slowly, she hatched a plan.
That was, after all, what Slytherins do best.
Draco was excited about going to Hogwarts, she knew. She had caught him crossing out the days left to September first. He couldn't wait to see his hero.
She would hate crushing his hopes, but she had to. She couldn't let the Dark Lord win. And Draco- her Draco was such a charming guy. Who could refuse him? Slowly, she entered her little boy's room.
The room was beautiful, as all the rooms in the Malfoy Manor are. Thick lush carpets decorated the floor. But none were as beautiful as the little boy in her eyes.
"Draco?"
"Yes, Mom?"
She was the only one privileged enough to see the real him. His dimples when he smiled, and the way his eyes shone when he was happy.
The rest of them just saw Lucius's son. But, no. He was her little boy, and he was real. Lucius's son wasn't.
"Draco, are you excited to be going off to Hogwarts?"
"Yes, Mommy!" He smiled up at her.
"Listen, Draco. You know your father told you to befriend Harry Potter. You must obey him, angel."
Confusion shone through his eyes, but he kept silent.
"The Dark Lord wants you to befriend Harry, angel… and then he'll use your friendship to harm Harry. You know the Dark Lord, Draco. He means it."
"Then I can't friend him anymore, can I, Mommy? But Father…"
"Yes, my darling. You must obey your Father, ask for his friendship, but make sure he rejects it."
"So he must hate me? We can't be friends?"
Her Draco was such a bright boy. He would do well, she knew.
"Yes, angel, you can't. You don't want Harry to be hurt, do you? I've told you about the war. Do you understand? Be your Father's son, angel, be the Malfoy Heir to Harry."
Draco stood there, biting his lip.
"Promise me, Draco. Promise you'll make him hate you."
He bravely kept quiet, and slipped his smaller hand into hers and hooked pinkies.
"Promise, Mommy, and sealed."
With that, she brought their entwined hands up to her lips and gently kissed his delicate white fingers. She was asking a lot, she knew. She was asking him to let go of a childhood dream.
But war was war, and there was nothing she could do about it.
So her plan was working. It had been working for years now, without a hitch. But now, there was a major problem.
Her little boy fell in love with Harry Potter.
She supposed it had always been that way. Other kids were never this obsessed over their childhood heroes, like Merlin.
But then again, Merlin was old and crinkly while Harry Potter was a handsome young man with piercing jade green eyes and jet black hair.
She didn't know what to do. Draco was hurting, she knew. Her little boy was hurting, hurting so much.
And it hurt to see her little boy hurting.
Everbody else saw Lucius's son, the Malfoy Heir, Death Eater in training.
Nobody ever say Draco Malfoy, her little boy.
Her little boy.
She'd watched him all these years, with a protectiveness only a mother could have for her child. She watched him suffer under his own cold mask, and she noticed how quickly it dropped when he was alone. She noticed that she was the only one he trusted, the only one he dropped his mask for. She noticed how he was hurting over Potter, for Potter. And she wanted to end it.
She steadied herself on the hard chair outside the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts, knowing her little boy was in there, covered with bruises, because of Harry Potter. It would be hard, she knew. Lucius could harm Harry, could use her little boy to get to Harry. But Draco was old enough. Old enough to want what he wanted, and there was nothing she wanted more than to give him what he wanted.
She took a deep breath and walked in through the doors. To her surprise, her little boy was snuggled in the arms of Harry Potter, fast asleep. The look on Potter's face, however, was torn between affection, confusion and disgust.
Her little boy was hurting, all because of a silly little promise and a silly little plan. He was suffocating, she knew. Well, her little boy will hurt no more.
"Mr Potter? Could I have a few words, please?"
Harry looked up, confused. The look on his face reminded her painfully of how Draco had looked like when she had made him promise, years ago. After hesitating, Harry gently placed Draco on the bed and got up.
She noted this with consideration. He would fall, soon and hard, for her little boy. The little endearing acts were there. After all, her little boy was such a charming guy.