Still don't own. Short chapter, its an interlude. More to come. R&R please, folks.


"Would you care to explain today's display," He asked, circling her like a vulture, "Mother?" She sat unflinching, staring out of the window. Her son was a lot like his father – easy to ignore when necessary. She loved them both so, her two men. One man now, since Lucius' death a few years earlier. Her chin was tilted defiantly as she waited for an answer to come to her.

"Draco,"

"Mother," Was his acerbic reply. She rolled her eyes,

"You're going to lose him,"

"He deserves to be lost if he continues with that-that … Mud-" Narcissa had stood abruptly and slapped her son.

"Don't you call her that! Have you forgotten everything, Draco?" The power in the room had shifted. Draco sat down, frowning. "Remember having to torture people, remember hating Hermione Granger, remember Bella, remember her torturing Rose's mother until the girl could hardly speak, remember how you couldn't betray Potter – remember!" She screamed the last word at him. He had been flinching at each memory.

"I remember," He replied through gritted teeth.

"Then you'll remember how they won. How much better they all are than us. You're lucky you even have Scorpius, Draco! We could be rotting in Azkaban if Harry Potter hadn't spoken for us! We should be there!" Narcissa's face was coloured red with passion; this scared her son more than the cold façade.

"I know all of this, Mother," He snarled,

"Start acting like it, then," She snarled back before slamming the door as she left. She paced the grounds for many hours after the conversation, waiting for a solution to come.


Possibly the last person Molly Weasley expected to see at the Burrow was Narcissa Malfoy. And yet there the latter was, in a silver coat. She looked younger than the former; she had retained her looks and the delicate translucence of her skin. Molly gestured at the woman to come inside, and offered her a cup of tea. Narcissa took it gratefully; although it didn't show, her bones felt the cold more than they had before.

"I've come to talk to you about Rose and Scorpius," She said unnecessarily. Molly nodded.

"I've met him, he's a lovely boy," Her tone showed all the signs of reversed incredulousness.

"Yes, but-"

"The fathers," Molly finished for her, relaxing her shoulders as she realized that Narcissa was here in her granddaughter's best interests. Narcissa nodded, she had always found Molly Weasley difficult to talk to – before the last war, it had been because of her Blood Traitor status; now, Narcissa knew, it was simply a matter of intimidation, the Order of Merlin (First Class) stared visitors in the face from above the oven. Narcissa remembered days when she had been a queen of sorts among the wizard community. Not anymore.

"They don't necessarily have to get along," She offered,

"No," Molly said thoughtfully, "As long as they don't start brawling in bookshops…" Narcissa laughed at the memory. She stopped abruptly, surprised that she and this woman – once enemy – could share a pleasant conversation. Molly was shaking with laughter herself.

"Maybe we should have a, a … lunch," Molly finished, somewhat inadequately. "Not the whole family," She added hastily, thinking of the Potter boys, "Just a few of them, a few uncles, and a few, er, select cousins." Narcissa nodded thoughtfully,

"Draco would come, Astoria would force him to," She said, smiling at the thought of her daughter-in-law,

"And Hermione can drag Ron," Narcissa sighed,

"Arthur?" She asked, dreading the answer. Molly grinned at Narcissa,

"Don't you worry about Arthur; I fancy you would have been able to bring L-" She stopped as she saw tears – yes, tears – forming at the base of Narcissa Malfoy's eyes. "I'm sorry, Narcissa, I heard about your loss, but,"

"Its alright," The other woman replied, shaking herself, "I just manage to forget he's dead every now and again," Molly nodded without understanding; only a widow can truly understand that sentiment.

"Who'd have thought we'd have another war to fight," Narcissa said, smiling shakily at Molly; the latter laughed before summoning the teapot once more.