Author's Note: We are catching up to The Sacred 28! A lot of time skips in this chapter, so make sure to pay attention to the dates… Thanks for everything, guys. You're the best.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was the best baby there ever was.

And perhaps Narcissa was a bit biased – how could she not be? – but truly, Lucius and Narcissa's miracle child was everything they could have ever hoped for. Everyone who saw him agreed that he was the handsomest baby, and even better than that, he was strong and healthy. He grew so quickly! Narcissa could hardly believe it. And oh, he was so clever, too. He did everything early: rolling over, sitting up, walking, talking.

His first word, to Narcissa's amusement, was "Mine!" Lucius had looked rather proud at that.

And oh, was he not just the most affectionate little thing? He rarely cried, but when he did, it was nearly almost always remedied with a hug. Draco loved to be coddled, and he seemed most content when sitting in Narcissa's lap.

What he seemed to find most fascinating about Lucius was his hair. Draco touched Lucius's hair all the time when he was nearby, sometimes yanking it (Lucius wore it pulled back after that for his own sanity), but other times just stroking it and laying his cheek against the silky strands. Draco's hair was exactly like Lucius's, too, and as it grew longer, Narcissa would run her fingers through it with the happiest of sighs.

Honestly, I pity the other women who have boys the same age as my Draco, she wrote to Iain. He is certainly going to be the handsomest in his year, and a Malfoy, too. Those other little ones don't even stand a chance!

She could imagine Iain's chuckle and eyeroll, even as she read his response. I know it's useless to say this, wrote Iain, but try not to spoil the boy too much, eh?

Useless indeed. Draco wanted for nothing.

Unfortunately, Draco's first year was absolutely fraught with violence all across the UK. Normally, a family like the Malfoys would have spent their time taking lavish international vacations or hosting dignitaries from all over the world.

But the war was at its height, and Narcissa was terrified to take Draco even out of the front door of the manor. In fact, she rarely left herself, and Draco's only trips were the occasional visits to friends nearby.

As the year progressed, things grew worse.

Aurors and Death Eaters were now openly fighting. Lucius's true allegiances remained veiled, but he was so heavily involved in Voldemort's activities that even he admitted he wished he could simply be home more often.

"It will all be over soon," he promised her gently, holding Draco in his arms. "And it will all be worth it, once we win. The Dark Lord swears it."

It did not seem that way to Narcissa. That year, Marlene McKinnon, a witch Narcissa remembered from school, was murdered along with her entire family. Edgar Bones, his wife, and his children were all killed as well. Fabian and Gideon Prewett, two former classmates and pure-bloods themselves, fought against an entire group of Death Eaters and were ultimately destroyed. Their sister, Molly, had alone survived.

Benjy Fenwick, the Gryffindor boy who had given Narcissa extra seeds in class once, was later blasted by a dark curse into so many pieces that the Aurors had had trouble gathering him up.

And then Bellatrix, Narcissa's protector for so many years, was arrested along with her husband and sent to Azkaban. They had tortured two Aurors, the Longbottoms, into insanity, and now they were to pay the price. Narcissa sobbed, overwhelmed with misery at the thought of her sister being locked away.

Unfortunately, there was nothing to be done. The war went on, and it took its toll on the whole country.

Finally, everything came to a head.

October 31st, 1981

Narcissa reclined comfortably in a chair in Draco's nursery, carefully laying some photographs into his baby book. Her precious child slept nearby in his crib.

The door burst open.

Narcissa looked up, alarmed, as Lucius appeared in a most manic state. His eyes were wide, his face was stricken, and he looked almost wild with fear.

"Narcissa," he panted, hurrying in and shutting the door behind him.

"What is it, darling?" she asked, jumping up. Lucius reached over to her and gripped both of her arms. For a moment, he was unable to speak.

"Narcissa, dear, we …. The Dark Lord… " He choked on the words, and then finally met her gaze. "The Dark Lord has been defeated."

Narcissa's heart dropped.

"What?" she breathed, her eyes wide. "But… how?"

Lucius let go of her and paced, shoving his silvery hair from his face. "I'm – I'm not quite sure. It was – it was something to do with the child."

"What child?" asked Narcissa, aghast. Lucius looked up at her, his lips parted. He seemed flabbergasted and panicked at the same time.

"The Potter child. The Dark Lord needed to kill him, but when he did attempted it, something strange happened. The curse… backfired."

Narcissa sat numbly in her chair. "You mean to say the Dark Lord was toppled by a mere infant?"

"I don't know," admitted Lucius, hand over his face. "All I know is, he's bloody well gone. And in just the last few hours, the damn Ministry has been snatching people up left and right!" He faced his wife. "Narcissa, my involvement in this will be discovered very quickly, if it hasn't already."

Narcissa's eyes jerked up to his and she stood again. "Lucius, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know," he admitted with a tremble. They both looked to Draco's crib, and she saw him inhale sharply, casting his eyes aside as if he could not stand to look.

Narcissa swallowed before grabbing Lucius's arm. "Lucius, you cannot go to Azkaban. You can't! You have a son, you have me! Surely you can – you can find a way to get out of it, can't you?"

"Perhaps," muttered Lucius, "if I line the right pockets with gold and sacrifice every ounce of dignity I've got – "

"Then do it!" snapped Narcissa furiously. "Your dignity means nothing right now, do you understand? I don't care if you have to get on your knees and BEG for forgiveness!" Hot tears rushed down her cheeks. "Do you hear me, Lucius Malfoy? You are going to do whatever it takes to stay out of Azkaban and at home with your family!"

Lucius blinked, and then after a long pause, he gave a shaky nod. "Yes," he whispered, looking again to Draco's crib. "Yes, I will… do what I must."

A few hours later, the Aurors came for Lucius, and Narcissa watched him go.

It took months, but at long last, the trials came to an end, and Lucius was found innocent. Their reputation was damaged, but it would recover. All Narcissa cared about was that her husband was home.

Finally, after so long, the war was over.

So, with her family in tact and her son in her arms, Narcissa began the best years of her life.

And each special moment, she shared with Iain over their many, many letters.

1985

Dear Algernon,

I'm so glad Ali's arm is healing up well! You know, you complain about him always getting into trouble and getting hurt, but where do you think he gets that from, hm? You know very well!

Oh, guess what? Thaddeus wrote to me, and he said he and his husband are expecting their first child! How exciting! They are using a Muggle method called a "surrogate." He tried to explain to me, but I confess, I really didn't understand. Do you know anything about it? If not, ask Rebecca. She might have an easier time explaining it. Oh, and tell her I said thank you for the tea pot. It has become my absolute favorite.

Speaking of children, though, you will never believe just how much Draco has grown. And he is so clever, too, so bright! Of course, sometimes that leads him to be a little mischievous… But what little boy isn't? …

Dear Narcissa,

I'm not at all surprised that your boy is very intelligent. Or mischievous, for that matter. I mean, you were the one who suggested we raid Slughorn's liquor cabinet.

Draco is probably just learning from you…

"I don't know how he did it!" howled the tutor, Mr. Davies, "but I know he did!" The aged wizard pointed a stubby red finger at the little boy standing between Narcissa and Lucius. "That boy is a MENACE!"

Narcissa very carefully quelled her laughter. "Mr. Davies, I understand you are upset – "

"Upset!" exclaimed the man. "Look at me!"

Lucius and Narcissa paused and observed the irate wizard, who was currently covered head to toe in bright pink boils. One of them popped even as he stood in front of them, and five-year-old Draco snickered behind his parents.

"Now, now, let's see," said Lucius, before shifting to Draco, who smiled innocently. "Draco, did you put something in your tutor's tea?"

Draco gasped, touching his chest. "Of course not, Father," said Draco with wide eyes. "I would never."

Narcissa stroked her son's head. "See, there, Mr. Davies? Draco said he did not do it."

The wizard fisted his hands near his thick mustache, which was currently pulsing with yet another pink boil. "What? Of course he did! How can you believe a child over me?"

"Mr. Davies," began Lucius evenly, "either what you are saying is not true – in which case you are lying about my son – or you are telling the truth, and you were thusly outsmarted by a five-year-old. Either way, I do not think you are fit to be my son's tutor." Lucius beckoned towards the door. "You are dismissed."

Mr. Davies balked, his lips parted, and then he fumbled over an apology, trying desperately to make amends. Finally, he gathered up his cloak and hat and left, grumbling all the while. One last boil popped just as he left, and Draco giggled again.

Narcissa and Lucius exchanged smirks, and then Narcissa turned to pick up Draco and place him on her hip, her expression shifting instantly into a beaming smile. "There's my little Draco," she said sweetly. "You don't need that awful tutor, now do you?"

"No, Mother," he said with a grin.

"Come on, let's go get you a treat."

1986

One day, Lucius found one of Narcissa's letters from Iain, unopened with the rest of the post. He came to her, looking cautious. "Who is Algernon?" he asked, waving the closed envelope.

Narcissa looked up. Her heart sputtered a little, but she kept calm. "An old friend from school," she told him.

"I don't remember any Algernon," commented Lucius lightly, still holding the letter. Narcissa turned back to her mirror and waved a hand dismissively.

"He was a year behind me, in Ravenclaw. You wouldn't have known him."

Lucius looked at the letter. "And what do you two write about?"

Narcissa shifted to face him again. "Nothing important," she said, before rising. At Lucius's expression, she touched his arm. "Open it, if you like."

Lucius hesitated.

"Really," said Narcissa. "Read it."

Lucius paused, but then he opened the letter and read aloud. "Dear Narcissa," he began tonelessly, "I'm so glad I always ask you about the rich noble types when they come to commission boats from me. I definitely would have mistaken that girl for his daughter and not his wife." Lucius paused, an eyebrow raised, before going on. "Anyway, Rebecca says to tell you to make sure to read this month's Witch Weekly – " Lucius paused. "Who is Rebecca?"

"His wife," answered Narcissa patiently.

Lucius seemed a little appeased by this, and he continued to read on. "The rest of the letter just goes on about some article, and then something about – a fish."

"He likes fishing," supplied Narcissa.

Lucius raised a brow and slowly re-folded the letter. He replaced it in the envelope and set it aside.

"Do you want me to stop writing to him?" asked Narcissa. "I will… if you'd prefer it."

Lucius cleared his throat. "No, I see no reason for that."

Narcissa smiled, and she moved forward to wrap her arms around his neck, pressing a tender kiss to his lips. "You are a wonderful husband, love." And she meant it.

1987

Dear Narcissa,

You are NOT going to believe this! So I told you before that Rebecca was pregnant, of course. But yesterday, we went to the midwife, and … Jesus, she's going to have TWINS.

I am going to have a heart attack, Narcissa. Twins means two. There will be two babies. Good lord. What do I do? Ali is twelve! I haven't even held a baby in so long! Oh, and the midwife thinks they're both girls! GIRLS, NARCISSA.

I am going to have to fight off twice the normal amount of boys…

Dear Algernon,

Oh, oh, oh! That is so exciting! Tell me their names as soon as you figure them out! I will absolutely have to make something for you and your new babies!

And you're going to do fine, don't worry. You don't even have to do the hard part. Rebecca is the one who has to carry two at the same time! You'd better be extra good to her. She's going to have a lot of strain on her body.

Here, I'm sending with you this wonderful pillow I found at a shop in Diagon Alley. Give it to her and use it prop up her feet when they start to swell.

Not to change the subject, but what are Ali's friends like? I swear, Draco has some of the stupidest friends I have ever seen. Do you remember Gregory Goyle from school? Well, his poor children split that man's one brain cell between them and it shows…

"Lucius," said Narcissa, standing in the sitting room. "Where are the boys?"

Lucius glanced up briefly from the parchment he was reading. "They're outside, playing with Draco's new archery set."

Narcissa raised a brow, and together they peered out of the window. Outside, seven-year-old Draco was standing near a tree, an arrow knocked and his bow raised. Goyle was nearby, looking rather fearful. There was an apple on his head.

"Draco," Goyle called out. "Are you sure you can hit the apple?"

"Of course I can," said Draco, squinting with one eye closed.

Goyle trembled. "Do I have to be tied to the tree, though?"

"Shut up, I'm trying to aim!"

Narcissa looked back at Lucius with her arms folded. "Well? Aren't you going to do something?"

"Why should I?" asked Lucius. "Our son isn't the one who let himself get tied to a tree."

A thud sounded outside, followed by a high-pitched scream. Draco appeared at the window. "I DIDN'T DO IT!" he shrieked before running off.

Narcissa glared at Lucius, and he sighed. "Oh, very well then," he said, before stomping off to take Goyle to the hospital.

Again.

Of course, continued Narcissa in the same letter, not all of Draco's friends are stupid. Some of them are just plain eerie…

"Draco Malfoy!" admonished Narcissa, taking the bottle away from her seven-year-old son. "I told you not to play with that!"

"Mother!" scowled Draco, who was sitting across from his play-mate. "We were making pretend potions!"

"Well, you can't use this," said Narcissa firmly. "This is Moonseed, and it is very, very toxic if swallowed. Use the other bottles instead."

Draco made a face, but the little boy sitting across from him made no expression at all. Instead, Blaise Zabini simply turned his gaze back to their various ingredients and small children's cauldron. Narcissa began to walk away and leave them to play, but Draco hopped up and followed her.

"Mother," he said quietly, holding her arm. "Can Blaise stay the night?"

"Again, Draco?" she asked with a small laugh. "He's been here three nights already. Doesn't he miss his family?"

Draco bit his lip, and he leaned forward to whisper. "He doesn't want to go home. He says his step-father is mean to him."

Narcissa's brows furrowed. "Mean how?"

"I don't know," said Draco. "But he has marks on his arm."

"What kind of marks?" asked Narcissa, frowning now. Draco paused and then clamped his own hand on his upper-arm, looking concerned. Narcissa bit her lip and looked beyond Draco to his play-mate, who was listlessly moving around some bottles.

Narcissa cleared her throat a little. "Of course he can stay," she said at last, and Draco smiled before turning and bounding back to his friend. They resumed their play, but when Narcissa glanced at them one last time, she saw little Blaise watching her very closely.

He stayed one more night and then returned home after that.

The next day, when Narcissa went to the Potions cabinet to retrieve something, she saw that the Moonseed was missing again. Quite angry, she went and found Draco, who was sitting alone in his room with a lollipop in his mouth and a comic book in his lap.

"Draco," she said, hands on her hips. "I told you not to play with that Moonseed anymore!"

Draco pulled out his lollipop with a loud smack. "I'm not," he said, looking annoyed. He flipped a page and didn't look up at her.

"Well," said Narcissa, tapping her foot, "then where is it?"

Draco turned another page. "Blaise took it."

Narcissa stared. "What? Why on earth would he do that?" Draco merely shrugged, not looking up from his comic book. "Draco," said Narcissa more sternly. "Why would Blaise take my Moonseed?"

"IIIIIII DON'TTTTTT KNOOOOOOW, MOTHERRRRRRR," said Draco very loudly, before flipping another page. "Jeez. Leave me alone."

Narcissa pursed her lips before leaning over to flick his ear with a fingertip. Draco shrieked and fell over in his most dramatic fashion, and Narcissa left the room.

Three days later, Blaise Zabini's step-father died.

Narcissa and the other Malfoys attended the funeral, and from their seats, she could see Blaise's mother and sisters all lined up at the front. The mother was miserable, the girls were bored, and little Blaise – all the way at the end – was indifferent.

Or at least, he was until he somehow met Narcissa's gaze across the crowded room. When young Blaise looked at Narcissa, his eyes sharpened, and his lips quirked in a little smirk. It was gone almost as quickly as it had come, though, and Narcissa managed to convince herself she had imagined the whole thing.

She never did find her Moonseed, though.

1991

Dear Algernon,

Draco is going to Hogwarts this year! I can't believe it. I am going to be lost without him at home. How did you cope? I mean, I know the girls are still just little babies… Does Faris still have a cough? I cannot get over that name. I absolutely love it. Faris and Rose, what beauties! …

Dear Narcissa,

I'm sure Draco will be fine. I'm sorry, but it's hard to think right now. Do you remember when I told you Rebecca has been sick for the last few weeks?

We took her the healers last week, and today, they told us the news. She has cancer... and it's so far along. How could we have not known this? I'm trying to stay optimistic for her and the kids, but damn it, I'm scared…

What do I do?

Narcissa stared down at her most recent letter from Iain, blinking back tears. This letter held the news she had been dreading.

Rebecca Stewart, Iain's wife, had died only six months after her diagnosis.

Narcissa put a hand over her mouth, tears falling at last. Iain's letter was short, and the handwriting was horrible. He had been crying and shaking as he'd written to her, she realized.

I don't know what to do, he wrote to her. The girls are only three years old. Ali is helping the best he can, but he just lost his mother. My children just lost their mother, Narcissa…

Breathing in sharply, Narcissa managed to gather herself and compose as comforting a reply as she could. She also told Iain she was going to immediately order catering to be sent to their house, so he would not have to worry about cooking. She asked if they needed gold, because she would send it immediately.

But Iain's replies in the weeks following Rebecca's death were short and stunted. After the first few, he stopped writing at all. His last letter, in October 1991, broke Narcissa's heart.

I have no desire to do anything, Iain wrote to her. I can't even make myself get out of bed.

Narcissa had quickly replied, but Iain had sent nothing in return. Never before, in all their years of writing, had he gone more than three or four days without sending her a letter. Now, two months after Rebecca's death, Narcissa had not heard from him in weeks.

What could she do? Being so far away, how could she help?

She thought of going to him, or inviting him to come back to England, but now that Draco was in school, things had been happening… things that led Narcissa to believe that, try as Lucius might to hide it, stirrings of the Dark Lord's order were beginning again.

No, it was too dangerous to interact with Iain directly.

But she had to do something! Iain was suffering!

So Narcissa thought long and hard about what to do. At last, she came up with a plan.

It took some arranging, and a lot of careful maneuvering on her part, but on the last day of October, Narcissa told Lucius she was leaving for a day to visit a friend, and she departed to Stirling, Scotland.

It took her a while to locate the house she was looking for, but when she came to the front door, she knew it was the right home. It was small, shabby, and poorly built, but there was an 'S' on the front door, and a small pond nearby. There was also a workshop several yards away.

Narcissa knocked on the door, shaking a little.

After a moment, the door opened to reveal a plump woman with auburn hair. She was wearing a Muggle dress with buttons, and she had an apron over the front of it. When she saw Narcissa, she frowned a little and eyed her with a careful amount of suspicion.

"Can I help you?" asked the woman in a thick Scottish lilt.

Narcissa knew she must have looked strange in her robes and cloak, the hood of which was pulled over her head. However, she put on the friendliest expression she could muster.

"Hello Mrs. Stewart," said Narcissa softly. "I am a friend of your son, Iain." She paused. "We … went to school together," she added meaningfully, and understanding shifted over the woman's face.

"Oh," said Mrs. Stewart. "Well… would you like to come in?"

"No thank you," said Narcissa. "This will be very quick, as it is rather urgent." She stepped closer. "Mrs. Stewart, your son needs you right now. It is very important."

Mrs. Stewart's eyes grew wide and glassy. "Is he alright?"

"He is unharmed," explained Narcissa. "But his wife passed away, and he is utterly alone with his three children."

"Oh no," said Mrs. Stewart, raising a hand to her heart. "But I … when Iain left, he said he couldn't tell me where he was goin'. He said – "

"I know," said Narcissa, shifting to look over her shoulder. "But I have hired for you a carriage that will take you right to his home. It is already paid for, and it will take you directly there and then, when you are ready, right back here to your house." Narcissa met the woman's gaze squarely. "However, you must not take anyone with you, and you cannot question Iain about the location of his home."

Mrs. Stewart peered at Narcissa long and hard. She was debating whether or not to trust her, Narcissa knew.

"Please," said Narcissa softly, reaching forward and touching Mrs. Stewart's hand. After a pause, she opened the other woman's fingers and deposited the small silver cross Iain had sent her into her palm. "Iain desperately needs his mother right now. He needs you."

Mrs. Stewart looked down at the cross, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She clutched the cross, but not before squeezing Narcissa's hand with her own.

"Aye," she said finally. "I'll go."

Narcissa let out a breath of relief, and she waited for Mrs. Stewart to pack a quick bag and then step into the carriage. Before Mrs. Stewart closed the door, she looked back at Narcissa.

"Thank you," she said.

"Just take care of him," murmured Narcissa in response. Then she stepped back and let the carriage go.

Two days later, back at her home in England, Narcissa received a Howler.

When she glanced up and saw it, she winced, knowing who it was from. Glad that Lucius was not home, Narcissa took the Howler and opened it.

Instantly, Iain's angry voice sounded throughout the room.

"GOD DAMN IT, NARCISSA! WHY DID YOU SEND MY MOTHER HERE? I AM A GROWN MAN! I CAN TAKE OF MYSELF!"

Then the Howler burst into several pieces, and Narcissa flinched. "Obviously," she muttered darkly. However, she simply brushed herself off and ordered a house-elf to clean it up.

A week later, Narcissa received another message from Iain. Fortunately, this one was in the form of a very apologetic letter.

Dear Narcissa,

I'm so sorry about the Howler. I am a complete and total mess. Having my mother here is helping a lot…

Dear Algernon,

I wasn't worried about the Howler. You always forgive me eventually…

A few weeks later, Iain started writing regularly again. After some time – months, perhaps even a year – their letters returned much to normal.

During those years, too, Narcissa found out that the Dark Lord's return was now imminent. Terrified but resigned, she sent Iain a package.

In the package was a hollow book, one that matched Narcissa's own. In truth, it was more like a Portkey or a Vanishing Cabinet. Once Iain had his own book, he could place his letter to Narcissa inside and it would be instantly transported to Narcissa's, and vice versa. In this way, they could send letters to each other without fear of them being intercepted.

This was crucial, Narcissa told Iain in a letter, because there was bound to be another war, and he needed to know what was going on. Iain agreed, and so their letter-writing became less restricted. Narcissa was free, from that point on, to give Iain as much information as she felt he needed to stay safe. True, he was very far away from the fighting, but Narcissa still felt it was necessary to keep him updated.

During that time, she also helped him figure out how to parent on his own. Iain constantly asked for advice, because although he was the more experienced parent between the two of them, he was having a lot of trouble keeping up with three kids. Things were even harder when Ali was away at school, because that left Iain to care for his twin girls on his own.

Still, he managed with Narcissa's help, and they wrote to each other nearly every day, on and on and on, sharing as many of life's joys and troubles as they could…

1992

Dear Narcissa,

You will not believe what Ali bloody did. So you know he's in his last year at school, right? Well, as it turns out, it won't be his last year, because in order to receive his certificate of completion, he's going to have to repeat his seventh year.

Why, you ask? Oh, only because he's been failing two of his classes ALL TERM and hasn't bothered to tell me. I just don't get it!

Ali is smart! He is! He's just too damn occupied with girls is what it is. He always has been. I swear, that boy hasn't had a single thought that doesn't involve his dick since he was thirteen years old.

Anyway, just wait until he sees what he has coming this summer. He think he's going spend the whole break sailing on the lake and messing around like he usually does, but let me tell you, that's not happening…

Dear Algernon,

Don't be so hard on poor Ali. I seem to remember you being quite distracted in school, too! Plenty of boys his age are preoccupied with girls. Even Draco has a little girlfriend now. Do you remember Sybil Parkinson? Well, it's her niece. She is absolutely hideous. I hope Draco moves on from her rather quickly…

1993

Dear Narcissa,

We got a new dog! It's the same breed as my old one, Angus. The girls absolutely love him. It's one more thing to take care of around here, but it's worth it. I hadn't realized how much I missed having a dog until now. I let Rose name him, which was a mistake because she just called him Hund, which is Swedish for 'dog.' So now we have a dog named Dog. That's what you get when you let a five-year-old take the reins, though…

Dear Algernon,

That is absolutely precious, and you should tell Rose she did a marvelous job. I had a house-elf Lucius gave me that was something of a pet, but Draco pushed it out of a window a few years ago. There are plenty of others here, of course, but I liked that one best. Perhaps I should get a bird or something…

1994

Dear Narcissa,

I am so bloody ready to be done with this commission. I love building boats, but rich people just want me to build them mansions that float. I shouldn't complain, because I make a LOT of gold off these orders, but I like building boats because they connect people to the water! These bloody aristocrats don't even want to remember they're on the water. They just want luxury. Whatever floats their boat, though.

(Sorry, that was a bad Dad joke)…

Dear Algernon,

Oh, bloody hell. Hogwarts is bringing back the Triwizard Tournament, and that stupid Potter boy has gone and gotten himself nominated as the Hogwarts champion! And he's only a fourth year! I don't think Draco's ever going to stop complaining about it.

Honestly, I suspect there are things going on that I am not privy to, but I'm afraid to ask… Make sure to stay where you are and keep a close eye on your family. I have a very bad feeling about this year…

1995

Dear Narcissa,

What in the hell is going on in England? I heard the Ministry is now involved at Hogwarts. What is that all about? Are things really getting that bad? And is it true that Diggory's boy got killed? Bloody hell, I can't imagine. I always liked Amos. He was my prefect while I was still there. Good man…

Dear Algernon,

Whatever you do, stay as far away from the UK as you can. The rumors are true. The Dark Lord has returned…

Dear Narcissa,

For the love of Merlin, please say you'll come here to Sweden if things get really bad. I know you're unlikely to do that, but remember that my home is always open to you and your family…

Dear Algernon,

Lucius has been arrested and sent to Azkaban. Draco is distraught. How is all of this happening to us again? I know what you are thinking. You are blaming Lucius. And perhaps that is fair… but I think it more than blind loyalty that motivates him this time.

We are all so very afraid…

1996

Dear Narcissa,

Holy fucking hell. I saw on the news that the Brockdale and Millennium bridges were both destroyed by You-Know-Who. Thousands of Muggles drowned in the rivers. What the hell is Fudge doing over there? …

Dear Algernon,

It's even worse than you think. Amelia Bones, the head of the Magical Law Enforcement, was murdered last night. I'm sure Lucius might know the details of it, but I do not dare ask. Merlin, this is all so frightening. And Draco – my dear, sweet Draco –he is now forced to take on the Mark and do the Dark Lord's bidding in place of his father.

I must do something. I must take care of my son… no matter the cost…

1997

Dear Narcissa,

Is it true…? I can't believe it. Do you know? …

Dear Algernon,

Yes, it is true. Albus Dumbledore is dead. Our world is in chaos. I have never been more afraid in my life… not for myself, but for my son. How can I protect him? What can I do?

Iain, if I do not write to you for a while, please do not worry. There are many dangerous things going on in my home… and I dare not risk you, too.

Love always,

Narcissa

May 1998

"You," came Voldemort's cold, high voice. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead."

Narcissa trembled violently, but she gave a jerky nod in response to the Dark Lord's command. Feeling Bellatrix's wild eyes on her back, Narcissa edged forward across the dark forest floor. Strange sounds filtered through the branches, but none were so loud as the pounding of Narcissa's heart. She desperately wished to reach for Lucius, but she could not.

In front of her, face-down on the dirt, was Harry Potter.

Kneeling delicately on her knees, Narcissa reached up to touch his face. His eyes were closed, but Narcissa was determined to know for sure. Please, she prayed internally. Please be alive. If you are not, then all of this is over… and the world is lost.

She pressed a hand against the boy's chest. I need to find my son, she thought as tears threatened to blind her. Come on, Potter. I swear, if you are alive, I will carry you back to the castle myself! Please!

But when Narcissa felt for Potter's pulse, there was nothing there.

The Boy Who Lived was dead.

Closing her eyes and doing her best to stifle her tears, Narcissa breathed in sharply and stood, turning to face Voldemort.

"He is dead, my lord."

The triumph began then, and it carried over to the castle, where a huge crowd of battling witches and wizards waited in their tense stalemate. There were those who tried to defy the Dark Lord even still – Neville Longbottom paid a rather graphic price for his stubbornness – and then Voldemort called forth the Mudblood and the blood-traitor.

Weasley and Granger were stricken down in mere moments while the rest of the gathered crowd watched in horror.

Finally, Narcissa and Lucius spotted their seventeen-year-old son standing amongst the other students, looking more terrified than they'd ever seen him.

"My lord," ventured Lucius in trembling tones, "our son…"

Voldemort, pleased in his victory, extended a hand. "Draco," he called, and Draco flinched from his spot in the crowd. At last, he came forward, crossing the empty space now littered with the bodies of Potter, Granger, and Weasley. With tears in his eyes, Draco allowed the Dark Lord to touch his shoulder as if in affection.

Then Lucius reached for Draco, and their boy hurried back to them. Narcissa wrapped him in her arms and closed her eyes tight.

"Tonight," declared Voldemort to the silent crowd, "a new world begins!"

"Come on, darling," whispered Narcissa to her son, stroking his face. "Let's go." Draco's beautiful grey eyes looked to her, haunted, and he nodded.

A little while later, the Malfoy family left… now the proud victors of The Battle of Hogwarts.