It was a busy week, ending in Lucius's house arrest and Draco coming home for a long weekend to see his father – at his mother's request. She learnt about her husband's sentence and cried with joy. Harry, heavily addled with Calming Drought, mustered a faded congratulations and went back to fiddling with the flowers in the Second Courtyard. She had told him he wasn't allowed out of her sight without taking a few sips of the drought, because she knew he was suicidal. She'd gone to get the mail, and so he drank. Along with the Calming Drought, he seemed most comfortable in the garden, so would spend his days there.
Along with their lawyer, it was two hours before she was alone with Lucius and Draco. The three of them were watching everyone – Aurors included – leaving the property. She turned away from the window and looked at them with a subtle blend of ecstasy and dread.
"Come with me, both of you!" She said.
Her command was followed by silence and intrigue. She wouldn't keep Harry a secret from the two of them – Lucius least of all – so she thought it best to tell them as soon as possible.
She guided them into her and Lucius's large bedroom and into the bathroom. She took the door handle least likely for someone to grip – the access into the Second Courtyard – and turned back to the two of them before she opened it. They raised identical eyebrows.
"Do you trust me?" She asked.
"With anything, my darling," Lucius said urgently.
Draco agreed with a nod.
Her heart beating, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then she opened the door an inch and called in, "They're home!"
And to the two Malfoy's surprise, she opened the door wide, and there stood for them to see Harry Potter, alive and – well – alive. He wore some of Draco's clothes, which looked quite good on him – the neutral grays and blacks made him stand out against the bright colors of the garden.
Draco was the first to react, and it was to gasp and drop his jaw. Lucius hesitated for the barest of moments before gliding past his wife and entering the room. He seemed momentarily angry, which caused Harry to lose his ground and take a step back. Narcissa stopped Lucius's advance with a strong grip to his arm.
"He escaped into the corridor in the Flooplace," she said.
Lucius shook his head. "I don't believe it…"
"I didn't either, at first." Narcissa agreed.
It took moments for awe and confusion to pass, and then Lucius looked away from Harry – who was embarrassed but subtle about it – to his wife and asked, "Why haven't you told anyone?"
"Is he a prisoner?" Her son asked, afraid suddenly.
Both Harry and Narcissa shook their heads. "He's not, Draco. I promise."
"How will we keep this from your parent's house elves? They're coming this evening to prepare dinner!" Lucius said.
That was very true; they'd have to be extra careful, not to mention give the corridors between the walls another good cleaning; she'd done it once, but the house elves would notice even a speck of blood…
"I just want to be clear –" Draco interrupted them, still standing outside the door in the bathroom, wide-eyed and standoffish. "Potter's in our house. In a room I didn't even know existed in the shower. Mother is taking care of him. We aren't going to tell the Ministry he's alive. Do I have this right?"
Narcissa worried her bottom lip and looked sorely troubled towards Harry. He didn't talk much to begin with – overall it could be said he was mostly in his own head – but he didn't want to return to where he was.
"You do," she told Draco.
"House elves be damned; what do you have to say about any of this?" Draco asked Harry.
Harry opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again and lowered his eyes to the floor.
"Aren't you going to say anything?!" Draco demanded.
Narcissa felt pity for both her son and Harry; there was something between them she didn't want to hurt, but she had to explain, "He's taken a dose of Calming Drought…it's quite strong…"
"I have a bit to get used to," Harry suddenly said. He rang his hands and then he looked up at Draco and Lucius. "But if people discovered me here it'd hurt everyone. They might think less of Voldemort's death. I wish – though – that I hadn't fought so hard to stay alive; then I wouldn't have to bother any of you…"
Narcissa was nervous about how he would be while here at Malfoy Manor, but certain it would be a long time still before he got over the trauma of what he'd been through. His words were familiar to her – they were the reason she forced him to drink so much drought. She even saw they upset Lucius and Draco.
Harry dropped his eyes again and let his shoulders slump. Narcissa gripped Lucius's arm and pulled him towards the door.
"I'll tell them what's going to happen, Harry," she told him, worry mingling her voice.
She closed the door softly and faced her family; they stared at the shower door, which now was clear and displayed only the shower beyond. She turned to them and looked up into her husband's stern face.
"He's traumatized, suicidal, and has nobody but us to help him. He's just a sixteen-year-old boy now," then she looked at Draco, "we all have to help him through this. After a while we'll move him to a new place – one that can't be traced – and we'll rebuild the name of Malfoy."
Lucius saw the logic of it. Like her, he was ready to embrace the Ministry's decision to go lightly on the family that was overrun by the Dark Lord, forced by threat of death to follow him. But Draco uncharacteristically teetered between his decisions. Narcissa wondered if what Draco said about his feelings for Harry that Christmas would survive this rehabilitation of them all.