Narcissa Malfoy stood framed in the doorway, imposing, blonde, and just rumpled enough that one had the impression she had dressed very quickly upon hearing her son scream as he ran across the lawn. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the scene before her: A pale and sweaty Harry Potter, a gangly ginger with a sprained ankle who could only be Potter's pet Weasley, their mudblood girlfriend who was currently trying to clean pieces of Fenrir Greyback out of her hopelessly tangled hair, and her son, Draco, who was presently vomiting in the rose bushes. She sighed, adjusted her grip on the shotgun in her hands (noting with some pleasure how the three intruders' eyes widened to the size of dinner plates when they saw it) and shouted, "Mingy!" A house elf wearing a frayed pink tea cozy appeared. "Mingy, please dispose of the mess on my front walkway, and when that's done, assess the damage to the rose bushes."

Mingy nodded and turned to do so, emitting only a small squeak when she saw the mess she was to dispose of. Even as a man, Fenrir Greyback was huge, dirty, and altogether frightening. His nails were still claw-like and cruel, and the fact that he was naked and missing half his face only made him more of a horror show. Mingy took a deep breath, steadied herself, and snapped her fingers. In the space of a blink, the walkway was clear and clean again. As she turned toward the rose bushes, her mistress cleared her throat and pointed at Hermione. Mingy twitched violently and squeaked, "Mingy is sorry, Mistress! Mingy did not clean the whole mess. Mingy will iron her hands after the rose bushes are-"

"That won't be necessary. Just make sure out guests are clean before they enter the house, and while you're at it, collect their wands." Mingy nodded, turned to Hermione, and snapped again. Suddenly, not only was there no gore in her clothes or hair, the dirt and grass stains were gone. A quick check revealed that so was her wand. Mingy repeated the procedure with the other two, and turned to her mistress, who nodded. "All right. I suppose you...children had better come inside." The chill in her voice brooked no argument and under her cool gaze, the four teens made their way into the Manor, Draco in the lead and a limping Ron bringing up the rear.

Harry whispered to Hermione, "She can't move that fast with a shotgun, right? They're heavy. Do you think-"

He was cut short when Narcissa thumped him in the shoulder with the shotgun. "Potter, I think it's best if you don't think."

She gestured them into a sitting room that was bigger than the Dursley's house. Harry could practically hear Hermione taking notes on everything she saw. Ancient tapestries that looked as brilliant as the day they were weaved adorned the walls, the floor was a rich, dark mahogany, and the furniture was all creamy white with accents of gold and red. Portraits of Malfoy ancestors snored gently in their frames, and an ornate grandfather clock on the far side of the room was striking two.

Without pretense, Narcissa cast petrificus totalus on Harry and his friends, and after a moment's thought, levitated them onto one of the sofas. Draco collapsed in the first chair he came to, still pale and shaky, with a thin sheen of sweat coating his face. Narcissa settled herself into the chair next to her son's and placed the shotgun on the floor by her feet.

"Potter, while I'm sure your excuse for invading my home is perfectly charming, as you can see, it is very late and my patience is thin. I will remove your body-bind, you will explain yourself, and you will speak only when spoken to. If you attempt to escape or cause harm to me or my son in any way, what I did to Greyback will look like a birthday party compared to what I do to you."

With a flick of her wand, she removed the body-bind, replacing it with ornate, and very tight ropes around the trio's hands and ankles. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"

Harry stared back at her defiantly. "What I have to say is: what's a pureblood witch doing with a Muggle weapon?"

Beside him, he felt Hermione tense and heard Ron mutter something that might have been, "Bloody hell, invite her to use it on us, why don't you?"

To everyone's surprise, Narcissa laughed softly and answered the question. "When I was very young, I accompanied my sister and her mudblood lover to what the muggles call a cinema. We saw a quaint little story about a group of people locked in a house with a werewolf, and they used bullets made of silver to kill it. I rather liked that idea and it stayed with me. Given the company my husband was keeping and for the matter, still keeps, I picked myself up a present."

Harry frowned. "But why not just use magic?"

It was Hermione who answered him. "Because werewolves can shake off almost any spell except a killing curse, and the chances of landing a killing curse before the werewolf takes you down..."

"Precisely. It's easier to dodge a spell than it is a bullet. Especially if you don't know what one is." Narcissa smiled like she'd had more than a few chances to make that observation. The smile faded quickly, however, as she gripped her wand tightly and leaned forward to look Harry directly in the eyes. "Now, perhaps you can tell me why my son was being run down by the creature who made such a mess of my lawn?"

Before Harry could answer, Draco spoke, his voice soft and strained. "They don't know, mum."

She raised an eyebrow, "Oh really?"

He nodded. "I don't know when they showed up, but it was after Greyback did. I- I knew he was coming."

Narcissa's eyes flashed and her jaw clenched. She took a deep breath and softly asked, "And what business of Fenrir Greyback's involved my son?" Voice crescendoing, she continued, "And what made my son think it was a good idea to inform no one that the most dangerous, unstable, lecherous creature in Wizarding Britain was coming after him with a vengeance and would, in fact, be at his house?"

Voice barely above a whisper he answered, "I thought I could handle it."

"Handle it?" Narcissa was shaking slightly, though with fury or retroactive terror for her son, no one could tell.

"He was coming here to kill me. I thought maybe I could kill him first."

Narcissa leaned forward and put her head in her hands. Harry thought she might have been crying, but when she sat up again, her eyes were dry. "Draco, I am going to set aside for the moment how incomprehensibly stupid you have been, how you could have been killed or worse, and the fact that this entire situation will cause no end of strife for your father, who is right now considerably less useful to The Dark Lord than that mangy beast, and I am going to ask you once more, why was Fenrir Greyback trying to kill you?"

Draco swallowed hard and said, "He thought I took something that belonged to him."

"And what was that?" There was a long silence after her question. Draco seemed to have retreated inward, not wanting to answer or not knowing how to.

Finally, he swallowed again and met his mother's eyes. "Tori."

Hermione gasped, though neither Malfoy paid her any notice, and Harry and Ron regarded her with confusion. After a second, though, Ron's eyes widened too and before he could stop himself, he exclaimed, "Bloody hell!"

Narcissa Malfoy, though she already knew the answer, said, "Draco, you don't mean-" at the same time as Harry asked, "I don't get it. Who's Tori?"

Hermione met Draco's eyes with the question. He nodded, and she answered for him, "Astoria Greengrass."