She had been gone far too long. I spent nearly every moment wondering if her cold, limp body would be discovered in a darkened alley. I shouldn't have asked her to go. I shouldn't have begged her. I shouldn't have…too many things, but it was too late now.

Harry Potter was no longer speaking to me. I suppose I should have been grateful for the reprieve, but instead, I felt guilty. I didn't like it in the least. I don't know how others managed to walk around with such a weight in their chest. It was downright awful.

"He'll forgive you." Arthur Weasley was my greatest comfort.

I know. It's shocking to admit it, let alone to say such things. I probably should have been glowering at him and continuing our ancestral feud, but I was too tired for such things. My fire for hatred had died with my husband.

"He'll forgive me if she is as resilient as we all hope she is." I sighed into my teacup and resisted the urge to sneer at the stale leaves.

"She's alive. She's got to be. I couldn't bear it if…" Mr Potter stumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, and if I had been his mother, I would have embraced him.

I was a mother, but I wasn't his mother. I couldn't be what he needed when my son was imprisoned in the doldrums of the Manor. It was selfish, I realised this, but I simply couldn't.

"Have you discovered the location of the blasted snake?" I changed the subject quickly, as I needed to focus on something, anything other than sadness.

Mr Potter slumped in the seat nearest Arthur and clutched his head in his hands. His body language spoke volumes. I was well aware of the fact he had spent more time attempting to breach Malfoy Manor than focusing on important intelligence that had the capacity to end this war.

"There are only three locations on the list. She wrote them in riddles, and let's face it, it took me longer than it should have to unravel them. One of the locations is impossible for me to penetrate, as it is within the Manor." Mr Potter shoved a stale bit of toast into his mouth, and it was the most I'd seen him eat in days.

"And the other two?" I was unrelenting. He had a job to do. He knew he had a job to do, and yet he would rather mourn.

"Look. I can't be expected to do everything." The poor Potter boy actually sounded a bit resigned. Almost as if he had just discovered his mortality.

"Harry, no one is expecting you to do everything." Arthur frowned at me, but what did I care? "I believe…Narcissa here is simply attempting to distract you."

No, I really wasn't. I was at my wit's end with all the moping about. How this lot thought they were going to win the War was beyond me. They spent more time making plans and eating biscuits then they did actually implementing anything. Something had to be done. Someone needed to take charge of this ragtag group of misfits and turn them into a proper army.

"No, I wasn't. I was thinking perhaps you might focus on that which you can control rather than that which you cannot. Hermione is currently a Prisoner Of War. Something has gone horrifically wrong despite our best-laid plans, and what have we done? We've lamented our losses and stalled our efforts. I don't know about you lot, but I've had quite enough of this dastardly war. You are supposed to be the Chosen One, Harry Potter, and it's high time you acted as such. Hermione Granger might be the brightest witch of the age, but it is not up to her to stop a madman. Such gifts were laden upon you when you were nothing more than a babe. You didn't ask for it. You didn't want it. If given a choice, I'm positive you'd rather have your parents and your Godfather by your side, but that is an impossibility. Enough now, do what you were born to do." I rose from my seat and blinked, realising I had nearly been shouting.

Arthur Weasley looked absolutely aghast, and I faltered for a moment. Perhaps, I had gone a bit too far. It would never do apologise. I wasn't raised to believe such mundane things were acceptable. Instead, I blinked slowly and arched my brows. I dared Harry Potter to refute my words, with the hint of a sneer on my lips.

"Alright. Arthur, send a Patronus." Harry Potter nodded, his fingertips strumming in a soothing sort of manner across the worn grooves in the wooden table.

"Who am I sending for, Harry?" Arthur awkwardly patted Mr Potter's back, but he was attentive.

"Everyone. I want them all here within the hour."

I had plans of making myself scarce. I had never found my place within the Order. They were wary of me, and well, who could blame them? I was a Death Eater. I was the only woman to be within the Inner Circle without a Dark Mark burned into my skin. I was the enemy.

As for their lot, well, they were insufferably optimistic, and I simply cannot tolerate so much happiness. I'm Slytherin, we're not bred for such things. We're a morose group of cunningly sly witches and wizards, but there is love there. I suppose the same could be said for the ragtag group of Gryffindors, but must they express it so often?

I attempted to vacate the modest kitchen, but I was waylaid. It seemed Mr Potter wished me to remain; if the darkening of his green eyes was any indication. He pointed to a well-worn wooden chair at the very head of the table. I was not one to bow to anyone's demands so easily, but I also did not wish to row with the boy, therefore, I sat.

"You manipulated me. You wanted me to be angry." Harry growled, but it didn't hold nearly the fire my husband's ire had, and therefore I was not intimidated in the least.

"Well, moping about was getting you nowhere, now was it?" I blinked slowly and easily remained calm in the face of his misplaced anger.

"You set Hermione on a mission and you…you…"

"Mr Potter, make no mistake. I merely provided the knowledge required. Ms Granger took it upon herself to be all…Gryffindor about things. The Minister for Magic allowed us to do such things. Should you not be taking your ire out on him? I am nothing more than a desperate mother, willing to go to the ends of the earth for her only child." I tapped my ragged fingernails along the grooves in the wood, suddenly weary.

"Yeah alright. I'll have a word with him, but he's the Minister for Magic." Harry groaned and slammed his clammy palms onto the table, expecting me to be startled, but I wasn't. "She's Hermione Granger. She never says no. She's got the biggest heart I've ever known and she cares about him. She cared about him before she even left, and you knew it. You knew it and did nothing to dissuade her." He was pointing at me, which I found quite rude honestly.

"Hmm, and how would you have liked me to go about such a thing? I did not barrage her in lovely little anecdotes. I gave her the truth, which is more than you've done. Did you think she wasn't aware of your plans to leave her behind? She's a brilliant woman, and quite capable of knowing her own mind. I do believe she would be more than a little insulted by your bravado." I pushed away from the table and knocked my chair over in my abruptness.

I strode passed the quivering Harry Potter, intent upon retiring to my room for the evening. My hands were in the midst of pushing the door when Harry grasped my forearm. I turned to only see immense pain in green eyes.

"She's been lonely. I knew that, but I wanted to end this war. Your son has been housed in the dungeons for what is it? Five years at this point, therefore it's safe to assume he's lonely as well. He's going to be drawn to her. He won't be able to resist it. She needs to be needed, and he needs her. She's going to fall in love with him, hell, she was nearly there before she fucked off. Ron will never forgive her." Harry Potter hung his head, slightly dejected, and I nearly felt sorry for him.

"My dear, Harry, I wasn't aware Hermione Granger required anyone's forgiveness."

There was no need to wait for a reply. What else was there for him to say? It was time for Harry Potter to cease and desist with his childhood dreams. He might very well have found happiness with the young Weasley girl, but only a fool would believe Hermione capable of finding long-term happiness with the unpleasant Ronald Weasley.

The only thing I wished to do was retreat to my bedchamber. I also wished to heavily Silence it while the Order was doing whatever it is they do. I simply did not wish to be a willing participant as far as their raucous behaviour was concerned.

"Cissa?" Arthur Weasley waylaid me.

He was standing just outside my assigned bedchamber, with a silly little hat crumpled in his hands. It really was quite adorable, though I'd never admit to such things. He had a way about him and had really come into his own since his wife's untimely departure.

I suspected she was the sort of woman that ruled her home without compromise, yet I didn't dare judge her too harshly. Everything she did was out of love, and I could not blame her, even if I wished to do so. She had a family that had loved her dearly, they still do, they probably always will, and I have a self-imprisoned son and a dead husband.

"Will you be joining us?" He quirked his head to the side and studied me.

There was something in his eyes. I had seen it before and ignored it. It was different this time. We weren't surrounded by the senseless chatter of the other house occupants. We weren't across the room from each other, we were actually ridiculously close.

Our relationship had altered somewhat, since Hermione's departure. I liked the way Arthur explained my brusque nature to the shamefully sensitive Harry. I liked the way he looked out for me, keeping me company in the late evening.

I missed Hermione Granger. I was nearly shamed by the realisation, but Arthur was quick to point out, Hermione was the sort of woman that was easy to love. We never discussed our deceased spouses, and I suppose it was for the best. I knew something was growing, perhaps we were both aware, something was growing between us, but I couldn't name it.

"I thought perhaps it would be best if I remained out of sight." I stretched forward in order to grasp the door handle, but his warm hand covered mine.

I didn't pull away. I didn't do much of anything really. I stared at his pale freckled hand covering mine and ignored the flutterings in my stomach.

I don't know how it happened, and frankly, I can't believe I'm even admitting to such things. It's new, in the early stages of nothing more than knowing glances, but even I know it's headed somewhere. It's completely uncharted territory.

I've never had the opportunity for attraction. My husband was chosen for me by my father, as was my mother's before me. I hadn't ever entertained the idea of anything different.

I had even gone so far as to plan my son's matrimony to an appropriate witch of my choosing. Arthur Weasley had changed all that, and I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He was kind when I needed kindness. After spending decades with Lucius Malfoy's cold exterior, I must admit, it was titillating to be surrounded by warmth.

"I think that's a terrible idea." Arthur smiled kindly, and I hesitated before returning it.

"The Order prefers when I make myself scarce. I do not wish to upset them, and in turn, overstay my welcome. I haven't anywhere else to go." My voice was raspy, which I didn't like in the least, and I blame Arthur.

He twisted the knob, with my hand beneath his, and the door swung open silently. He stepped into my bedchamber and pulled my hand lightly, yet I hadn't a choice but to follow him. I watched him shut the door as he stood exceedingly close to me.

"You're not a prisoner here, Cissa." Arthur's thumb stroked over the back of my hand, and I was completely out of sorts. "The Burrow is empty most days. It seems my sons prefer to be here at Headquarters. Can't say that I blame them. I've discussed some things with them. They know as much as I, it's been years, and living in the past is no way to live. You're welcome to Floo over whenever you like." Arthur flushed, and it was just so bloody endearing, I kissed him.

I suppose I believed he would be a docile sort, but that wasn't the case. His fingers dug into my hips and he pulled me into him, with a strength I hadn't expected. His lips, while soft, were searching and firm, making it second nature to relax in his embrace.

"I'm going to be sick."

"Definitely not before I'm sick."

The Weasley twins burst into my bedchamber and soon segued into faux gags, which were the epitome of bad taste. They were a mischievous pair, and how they had been Sorted into Gryffindor was anyone's guess. They definitely had a decidedly Slytherin nature, and that I could appreciate.

"Oh, uhm boys. It's not…it's not what you think." Arthur stepped away from me rather quickly, and I wasn't particularly fond of that.

"Sure looked like snogging to me, what about you, Fred?" George Weasley smiled easily, completely nonplussed by the situation.

"If it wasn't, we've been doing it wrong for ages." Fred Weasley winked at Narcissa, despite the furious blush on his father's cheeks.

"I do believe dad thinks we're addled."

"Or oblivious."

"That too. I suppose he thinks we haven't ears."

"Well, you don't."

"Boys!" Arthur interjected quickly before they continued their banter.

I had to admit, I quite liked them. They weren't the sorts of men to skirt around an issue for the sake of others. They laced their every action with flashes of comedy, and considering our current situation, we needed a good laugh.

I knew they were plotting something, but that wasn't especially surprising. They reminded me of small children, always on their way, or coming from, trouble. Of course, they didn't dare include me in their pranks, not if they knew what was good for them.

"What are your intentions with our father?" Fred, at least I think it was Fred, stared me down, with squinted eyes.

"I think we're supposed to ask Dad that question," George interjected at his brother's elbow, quite seriously.

"Perhaps, but she's not our mother, yet she's shagging our father, or at the very least snogging him heavily. It's a perfectly appropriate question, George." Oh yes, George was the twin missing an ear, how unfortunate for him.

"Highly inappropriate!" Arthur squeaked, which strangely, I found quite endearing.

He stammered when he was nervous, or he spat half sentences, which was nearly the same. He constantly toyed with his thinning ginger hair and shuffled his feet. Arthur's cheeks were quite rosy, but I appreciated the way he stood in front of me, almost as though I needed protection.

"We haven't much time. The kitchen is already filled with loads of Order members. I don't know about George here, but I'd like an answer." Fred crossed his arms and had the nerve to tap his toes at me.

"Oh for heaven's sake. You'd think you'd never seen a man and woman kissing before now." I quickly tired of their shenanigans and sat on the edge of my bed.

I was tired, exhausted really. Contrary to Fred and George's warped opinion, it had nothing to do with their father, and everything to do with Hermione Granger. A fair amount of my stresses had to do with my son, but even after all this time, it still hurt terribly to think of him.

"Look what you've done! You've upset her. Now, boys, that's quite enough. I'm sure you could be doing a bit of eavesdropping downstairs, and leave us be." Arthur glared at his sons, and I was thankful for his interventions.

"Uh sorry?" Fred shrugged with a bit of supplication, and I couldn't remain angry with him. "We've known about you for ages."

"Absolute ages. Like dad said, we're quite aces at eavesdropping, though in retrospect, I wish we hadn't. Or, I wish…"

"You'd used Silencing Charms. That would have been lovely."

Fred and George shivered in an exaggerated fashion. I expected nothing less. I could have gone my entire life without knowing they had listened to Arthur and I during our secretive trysts. If I were a lesser witch, I would have blushed, but I wasn't a twitterpated teenager any longer.

"Yes, well, we'll keep that in mind…for the uhm…future." Arthur stammered, and his head continued to bob even after he'd stopped speaking.

There truly wasn't anything left to say, and yet the twins did not vacate my bedchamber. My patience was quite thin at this point, as I'm sure you could understand. I refused to lash out at them. They weren't my children, and I didn't feel like much of a mother in any case.

Arthur finally vacated his post and sat beside on the edge of the bed, and patted my knee. He had an intuition about him as if he could sense my need of comfort. Lucius had never been so attuned to my needs. He loved me, of that I was certain, but his emotional range was limited, much like my son's.

Fred and George were conversing so quietly, their words could not be heard over the roar of the Floo downstairs. It seemed the members of the Order were still arriving per Harry Potter's demand. Finally, the boys turned to face us, and I braced myself for their disapproval.

"It's been nearly six years since…" George began.

"Mum died and we think…" Fred easily continued where his brother left off.

"You deserve to be happy." They concluded together, and I felt Arthur's exhale more than heard it.

"Yes, well that's lovely, boys, thank you." Arthur bobbed his head, and I knew he didn't know what else to say to them, nor did I.

"Cissum, the Burrow has been relatively empty since the Not-So-Final-Battle. George and I stay here more often than not, and we've decided to live in the flat above our shop."

"Ron would rather stay here and keep an eye on Ginny, but that's incredibly stupid. She and Harry have been shagging for ages, and they're engaged now, but he's an idiot."

"I'd rather not discuss your sister's…." Arthur cleared his throat noisily, and I could have aided him, but where's the fun in that?

"Sex life." The twins smiled broadly and even had the audacity to wiggle their eyebrows in their father's direction. "We think you lot should discuss Cissum moving to the Burrow, is all." They shrugged together as they spoke together, and I couldn't help but wonder if they did everything else together as well.

"I'd like to discuss…Cissum." I pursed my lips together and dared them to mock me.

"You're practically a Weasley now, and no offence or anything but Narcissa is entirely too stuffy. Fred and I discussed it properly and decided Cissum suits you perfectly. You're sort of like a mum, but not our mum because you're Cissa Malfoy, and that's that. You'll just have to accept it. We've got to go now, don't tarry too long or we'll send the Minister for Magic up to retrieve you."

"Could you imagine his face if they were in flagrante?" Fred tossed back his head and laughed quite heartily.

"I'd rather not imagine any of that, Fred."

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, George dutifully dragged his brother Fred from my bedchamber. Finally, I could draw a slow breath in utter and complete silence. I knew my reprieve would be short-lived, but I also knew it would not be Arthur intruding upon the silence.

He was just as overwhelmed as I, if not more so, and it was completely understandable. I was certain he was processing the words of his sons, just the same as I. There was many a night when we reclined in silence, simply enjoying the companionship. It was difficult to be alone, especially after spending years with another sharing your bed.

"Cissa? Arthur?" Harry Potter opened the bedchamber door without knocking, and it was safe to assume the twins had told him nothing.

"Yes, Harry." Arthur sounded as tired as I felt, but we would persevere.

"Sorry, but everyone is gathered downstairs and well, I've received an owl." Harry scratched his head, and I really wished that terribly annoying habit would cease.

"From?" I wasn't in the mood to play such games after having dealt with the pranksters. I wished for a nap and a cup of tea, whichever came first would please me immensely.

"Zabini, Blaise Zabini. Hermione's alive."