"Cissa…"

"…"

"Narcissa, please. You can't do that forever."

"…"

She heard her husband sight and leave, closing the door quietly behind him. As always, Narcissa checked that he was really gone before rising from her bed and slowly going to her window. Outside on the grass, she could see the white forms of peacocks roaming around the Manor, only illuminated by the light on the moon. A few months ago, she would have loved this view. Nine months ago exactly, before the night.

Her sister and her friends had gone earlier in the evening to accomplish their Master's task, and Narcissa had been left alone with her husband for two hours before finally learning what she had feared for months.

Her son was dead, killed by a member of the Order.

She remembered clearly what she had felt when Severus had told her the terrible truth. Her heart had stopped beating for a second, before painfully breaking in so many little pieces she was sure she would never be able to heal it completely.

She had not said a word, when he had told her, and Voldemort himself had congratulated her. Her son had sacrificed himself for their cause, he had said. How proud she must feel. Now, his name would be remembered for ever, he would personally see to that. Again, she had said nothing.

In fact, she had completely stopped talking.

Had it almost been a year? she wondered, looking at the breeze gently shaking the leaves on the trees. Could she continue living like that? Ignore what was happening in the whole country? No. She had to do something. She had to get rid of the monster who had killed her son.

She had to plan.

A cry came from far away, and she saw several silhouettes approaching from the outside. Snatchers , she thought. What were they doing here? Usually, they would take their captives in another Manor. Theirs was only for important ones.

The men were carrying three prisoners. Two boys, one girl. Could it be?

As fast as she could, she left her bedroom and went to the living room where she knew her sister and husband would be. She had to be sure.

"What is this?" she heard Lucius ask.

The prisoners were already here when she arrived, and her sister answered.

"They say they've got Potter."

"Truly?" he said. "Interesting, very interesting. Are you sure this is him? He does not look like the Potter I know."

"But the other ones," said Greyback. "The red-headed must be a Weasley. And the girl. Isn't she the one they were looking for, at the Commission?"

"Yes," slowly said Lucius, "I think I recognize them."

She could see them now. The dark-haired boy looked as if he had been badly hexed, and Narcissa suspected this must have been the case. How could they have been stupid enough to get themselves caught?!

"There's something there," she heard Lucius whisper, "it could be the scar stretched tight… Pettigrew, come here, look properly! What do you think?"

The small man had been observing them from behind a door and quickly came when he heard the summoning.

"That's… That's the Weasley boy for sure," he squeaked, looking at the red-headed boy. "And that's the mudblood. The third has to be Potter," he added.

"Well then, the Dark Lord must be informed at once!" said Bellatrix. She dragged back her left sleeve: Narcissa saw the Dark Mark burned into the flesh of her arm, and knew that she was about to touch it —

"I was about to call him!" said Lucius, and his hand actually closed upon Bellatrix's wrist, preventing her from touching the Mark. "I shall summon him, Bella, Potter has been brought to my house, and it is therefore upon my authority —"

"Your authority!" she sneered, attempting to wrench her hand from his grasp. "You lost your authority when you lost your wand, Lucius! How dare you! Take your hands off me!"

"This is nothing to do with you, you did not capture the boy —"

"Begging your pardon, Mr. Malfoy," interjected Greyback, "but it's us that caught Potter, and it's us that'll be claiming the gold —"

"Gold!" laughed Bellatrix, still attempting to throw off her brother-in-law, her free hand groping in her pocket for her wand.

"Take your gold, filthy scavenger, what do I want with gold? I seek only the honor of his — of —"

She stopped struggling, her dark eyes fixed upon something Narcissa could not see. Jubilant at her capitulation, Lucius threw her hand from him and ripped up his own sleeve —

"STOP!" shrieked Bellatrix. "Do not touch it, we shall all perish if the Dark Lord comes now!"

Lucius froze, his index finger hovering over his own Mark. Bellatrix strode out of Harry's limited line of vision.

Narcissa did not move when she saw the two boys being brought to the cellar, face frozen into a mask. However, she began thinking quickly. She could not let Bella torture the poor girl until she died. Even if she was a Mudblood, she was just a child, and must be around Draco's age. She would not let more of them die because of Voldemort.

Without realizing it, she had taken her wand from her pocket and had been ready to fire when she had felt a hand on her wrist. She stopped, meeting her husband's glaze.

"Don't you dare, Narcissa, don't you dare."

They stared at each other for a few minutes, each of them daring the other to move. Behind them, Narcissa heard that her sister had begun her questioning and involuntarily shivered. The girl was truly screaming now, and she felt tears leave her eyes, both from the pain she felt around her wrist, and from the raw voice she could hear pleading. She looked at her wand, then at her husband, and slowly lifted her other hand.

She felt more alive than she had in months, and her magic was concentrating in her left palm. She would not have to use her wand to stupefy her husband. She could do it without help.

There was a disruption in the wards, and her whole body stiffened. Only family members could apparate directly into the Manor. She felt Lucius' grasp loosen up and she turned around when the doors suddenly crashed open.

"Draco?"

Winter was almost gone, and it meant that Draco could begin harvesting again. The night was clear, and the moon's light was shining through the dark trees, making them look like the ones at the edge of the Forbidden Forest near Hogwarts.

He missed Hogwarts.

Even with the Cloak, he dared not feel safe. He was long past the protective wards, but tonight was the only time he could harvest a peculiar plant before a long time and he needed it for a new potion he was working on. The story of Weasley's father's attack, and the numerous times he had himself witnessed the snake bite its victims, had made him want to work on a cure against the poison he knew could make a man die from loss of blood.

And so there he was, looking for flowers he thought could help the wound closing faster.

The outing had also been a pretext to leave the tent for a few moments. The atmosphere was better than it had been after Weasley's return, but an awkward tension had been building between him and Hermione a few weeks after that.

And there had been what he was now calling the Potter's accident , when the Git-Who-Sadly-Lived-To-Bother-Him-Endlessly had interrupted what Draco was sure could have become a kiss between him and Hermione. Since then, he was the one she avoided, and he felt himself becoming more and more angry every time he saw Potter or worse, Weasley.

After finally realizing what had been happening to him (and at the same time, understanding Potter's threat), Draco had genuinely thought that something could happen between him and Hermione. They were always together, and it seemed that she had at last realized that Weasley was not the boyfriend she should be longing for. However, she had not let him try to explain what could have happened after the so-called accident , and he hated the fact that she had rejected him before he could even make his first move.

His life sucked.

The crack of an apparition made him jump, and he saw that Kreacher had appeared not far from him. Taking his wand out, he slowly made his way to the elf who was trembling and looking around with terrorized eyes.

"Kreacher."

The old elf jumped and nearly cried when he heard his voice.

"MASTER DRACO, SIR! Something terrible happened, Master, something terrible!"

The elf was shaking even more than before, and Draco suspected he was trying not to punish himself. But from what? Panic surged through him, and his voice was edged with fear when he asked.

"What happened?"

"Somebody must have pronounced the Dark Lord's name, sir! Kreacher remembers his Master and his friends arguing about something just before he left, sir!"

Draco's stomach clenched. That meant only one thing.

Snatchers.

"Kreacher was in the woods trying to find fresh fish when he felt that the wards were down, so Kreacher came back as soon as he could but someone saw him apparate and he was stupefied before he had the chance to help his Master!"

The poor elf was now ripping his own clothes in grief, trying to speak as big tears rolled down his cheeks.

"The bad men took Master Harry and his friends, and Kreacher was left there alone. And then, Master Harry called for him! But Kreacher could not enter the house, Sir, it is protected by elves' magic, and only the Masters can enter at will."

"What house, Kreacher? Do you know what house it was?" he asked, a small bubble of hope forming inside his chest. Maybe it was not too late.

"Malfoy Manor, Master Draco, they took them to Malfoy Manor."

He had apparated them directly into the entrance of his family home, and he only needed a few seconds to find the room from which the screams were coming. He recognized the voice instantly and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"I take care of Hermione," he said to the elf, his wand ready in his right hand. "You're in charge of the rest of them."

The elf nodded and Draco blasted the door open, running through the hole he had just made.

When he entered, he did not see the Snatchers who looked at him as if the Dark Lord himself had come back. He did he see his parents' face either, nor did he hear his mother call for him before she was stupefied by Kreacher.

The only thing he saw was his aunt, who had just turned around with her wand in her left hand and a bloody knife in the other, and she was perched above Hermione's still body. Raw anger like he had never felt before shot through him, and he lifted his wand swiftly.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

His aunt had had no time to react, apparently too shocked to see him alive, and her dead body fell on top of Hermione's, who was still not moving. He could feel nothing but blind terror when he arrived near her, and took her small frame in his arms.

"Please please please, don't be dead Hermione, don't be dead please…" he repeated over and over while healing the bruises he could see everywhere on her. She had broken ribs and a concussion, but he could feel a small pulse and apart from the blood she seemed to be fine.

The blood…

He suddenly remembered that Bellatrix had been holding a knife soaked with blood and looked for cuts on Hermione's body. When he saw what his aunt had done, he turned away and threw up the content of his stomach.

"Master Draco must hurry, Kreacher knows where Master Harry is!"

"Go then, Kreacher," he said weakly, "I'll stay here to make sure Hermione is fine."

The elf disappeared from view, and he rapidly heard voices coming from the cellar. Still rocking Hermione against him, he turned to see that Kreacher had brought back Potter and Weasley, but also an elf he rapidly recognized.

"Dobby?"

"Dobby is here to help Harry Potter, sir!" squeaked the little elf happily.

"Fuck Malfoy, what happened?" Weasley's voice was horrified, and he understood why when he looked around him.

"Kreacher found me and told me you had been brought to the Manor. Came here. Killed my aunt who was torturing Hermione. The kind of evening I like," he deadpanned before looking at both boys. "So tell me," he asked angrily. "Who was the fucking idiot who said HIS name?"

Neither boys answered.

"Do you realize that, if I had not come, HERMIONE MIGHT HAVE DIE?"

"It was a mistake," said Potter, his voice weak.

"A MISTAKE? ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO YOUR FUCKING SELF, POTTER?"

"Look, his name slipped through my mouth and…"

"AND LOOK AT HER FOR MERLIN'S SAKE!"

Hermione had begun moving slightly against him, and she clenched to his shirt. He took her hand and pressed it gently before remembering something.

"Fuck. The Dark Lord." He had almost forgotten about him. "Where's he?" he asked, panic seizing him.

"I don't think they called him," said Potter. "I saw him, he's in Nurmengard. Just killed Grindelwald, I think."

"How do you even… Wait no, I don't want to know. Fucking stupid Gryffindor prick has nothing better to do than to go explore the Dark Lord's mind."

He sighted again and rose from his previous position, Hermione secured tightly in his arms.

"What do we do, now?"

"What do we do? About what?" asked Weasley stupidly.

"About THEM," he said, pointing at the bodies of the Snatchers and his parents.

"We could kill them…" slowly began the boy.

"Kill them? Do you propose to do it yourself, Weasel? And no one touches my mother while I'm here," he threatened.

"Maybe just change their memories, then? Erasing your presence and replacing it with… Kreacher's, maybe?" proposed Potter.

The old elf shook his head rapidly.

"Kreachur would be honored, Master!"

"Can you do that, Potter?"

"I…"

"Right, thank you. You know what? Take Mione back to the tent. Kreachur and I will take care of the rest."

"To the tent? Isn't it a bit dangerous?" asked Weasley.

"Do you have a better idea?"

"We asked Dobby to take the others to my brother's cottage – Draco had no idea who 'the others' were, but he did not care – maybe we could go there just for a while and Kreacher can go back to the tent and take it with him?"

Everyone else, including the elf, nodded, and Draco knew he could not refuse.

"Alright, let's do this then."

When she saw that her Draco was alive, Narcissa could not fully believe her eyes. It was really him, something inside her told her, but at the same time it was not. Looking at her son while he ran towards his aunt, she realized how much he had changed. He did not look like her little boy anymore. No, she thought when she saw him kill her sister as if he was possessed by Death itself, he was a man, now. And apparently, a man in love.

She had no idea how it had happened, but she did not care. He was alive, and he looked better than he had the last time she had seen him. She felt her heart swell with pride when she saw him take care of the girl, and she decided it must have been the best thing happening to him in a long time.

A few minutes passed, and his friends disappeared to safety, leaving him and Kreachur alone to take care of the mess. She saw him erase the traces on the floor before turning his wand to his enemies and erasing their memories.

Finally, finally , he looked at them. At her.

She could not recognize what was in his eyes. Pain?

"I'm going to remove your memories, now," he said, his voice empty of emotion. "I cannot risk you remembering me and telling the Dark Lord."

I won't tell , she tried to tell him. Please , she begged silently, please let me talk to you, let me take you in my arms, please, I don't want to forget you!

"Doesn't Master Draco want to know if his parents are happy to see him alive?" asked the little elf behind her son.

"We don't know how long we've got, Dobby," answered her son tightly, and she felt a single tear leave her.

She saw him point his wand at his father's face, and her husband glaze rapidly became unfocused before he fell on the ground. Draco then turned to look at her, and she could see doubt in his eyes.

"Would you denounce me, mother?" he asked quietly.

She tried to say no but she could not move, and she felt a second tear roll on her cheek.

He must have seen it too, because he lifted the spell, and she fall in his arms, sobbing quietly.

He could not do that to her, he thought when he saw the single tear. She was not like them.

"Mother," he murmured to her after he had let her go. "Mother, I'll need to leave soon."

She shivered and stopped crying, but did not let him go and clutched at him desperately.

"I know," he heard her respond, and her voice was unsteady as she spoke. "I'm so happy that you are alive, Draco. So happy . Even if I have to forget it."

He clutched harder, marveling at how small and frail she was in contrast to his memories from last year. What had happened to her?

"Mother. We're going to get rid of the Dark Lord soon; do you hear me? So don't give up now."

She nodded in response, and he knew that he had to hurry.

"I'm going to modify your memory, now. Please remember that I love you dearly."

She smiled before releasing him and closed her eyes, trying to take the memory of him with her.

When she awoke, hours later, she only had a vague recollection of what had happened during the evening. But somewhere, deep inside her, she remembered someone talking to her, and that person had her son's voice.

Mother. We're going to get rid of the Dark Lord soon; do you hear me? So don't give up now.