Super serious chapter here!
Narcissa stood in front of the mirror, gazing at her son, safe, away from harm, unmarked by that terrible tattoo.
Why? Why did it have to be like this?
Again and again, she relived that terrible day.
"You can't do this! He's my son!"
"I can do what I like, he's my son too! Don't you understand?! The Dark Lord alone knows true power, power that pathetic ministry has never dreamed of! We are Malfoys, Narcissa, and Malfoys do not choose the losing side!"
"What about last time, then? If they had had one more shred of evidence, one shred more, we would both have gone to Azkaban! Our son would have grown up without us! How could you, Lucius!"
"Our son will be in one of the greatest societies on earth, how dare you stope him! NOW GET OUT OF MY WAY!
Is there a...complication?
"No, my Lord."
Excellent. Boy, come!
Draco stepped forward, his face as whiter than ever, and drew back his sleeves. He closed his eyes, waiting for the pain to come.
"NOOOOO! NOT MY SON!"
"Crucio!"
The voice was not Voldemort's.
Sharp, agonising, acute pain swept though her, filled with hate, unbearable pain.
"Lucius, please! Stop!"
But his face, cruel, distant, betrayed no show of pity, as he sent the curse flying towards her, again and again, while Draco begged him to stop over her screams.
But he didn't.
Enough. I need silence!
Finally it stopped.
The Dark Lord had marked him then and there, his wand pressed against Draco's arm as he said the terrible curse, marking him for life.
Unable to stand it any longer, she blacked out. Her last sight was that hideous brand, scarring not only his arm, but his fate.
She came back to the present with a jolt, as the Dark Lord spoke.
What did you see?
"Power" she lied, knowing he would believe her.
She excused herself as fast as she could, and it was only when she had arrived back in her room, protected by wards, that she let her tears fall openly, crying for her son.