Hi! I'm so sorry this has taken so long. Would you like me to continue with this story, or carry on with Narcissa's tale in a sequel?

Chapter 6 - The Crystal Serpent

Malfoy Manor was in ruins. Again. Not a single window was left in tact, their remains scattered across the floor so broadly she wasn't sure if the culprits had left an inch uncovered. Years upon years of collected art was destroyed in a manner consistent with its medium. While the oil paintings were slashed, ceramic sculptures were shattered against every surface; in equally as uncaring a manner.

It was not until her foot crunched a different kind of glass, however, that she truly felt her blood boil. With a quick glance, she confirmed her suspicions.

For Draco's 15th birthday, Narcissa had found the perfect gift. She and Lucius had been on holiday in Venice when she spotted a crystal paperweight shaped as though a serpent ready to strike. The little wizard's village just outside of Venice had lots of interesting, family-run stores and Narcissa Malfoy was nothing if not incredible at finding the most gorgeous items. Draco hadn't wanted to take it to Hogwarts the following September, fearing it might break. Normally a boy to show off, Narcissa know how much the little serpent had meant to him from this gesture alone, there was no need for legillimency.

At the sight of the creature in pieces at her feet, Narcissa stumbled clumsily onto the floor with a cry supposed to signal just how unjust the whole situation was.

Barely noticing the shards of glass becoming embedded in her hands, Narcissa's tears gave way to loud, ugly sobs. The dark and gloomy walls surrounding her only added to her anguish, and as though controlled by a faucet, the dark cloud over her head began to pour suddenly, without warning.

Why hadn't they brought Draco up in the brightest and most beautiful home, filled with colourful art and vasefuls of flowers? She had loved her son more than life itself, but in looking at her home now, it seemed devoid of everything except evil. Narcissa could only hope Draco knew just how much she loved him, though little good it would do him now. In spite of her efforts to protect Draco, she had done very little in the long-term.

She loved Draco more than she could say, but her love was not enough. Love could not have saved Draco from that fateful spell, nor Lucius from the life sentence bestowed upon him. They both loved Draco so much, though they showed it in vastly different ways. Narcissa spoiled Draco, showering him in love and material objects in a way she had never been by her own parents. She wanted Draco to have a different childhood than she had. She wanted him to have a better childhood than she had, it was that simple. Lucius had wanted Draco to be better than he was. For Lucius, it was that simple.

She wondered if Draco was a happy child, with French lessons and expensive gifts and travelling the entire Wizarding World multiple times a year. Narcissa concluded (far too quickly) that he probably wasn't happy. How could he have been?

A tendency to behave like a bit of a bully, Draco could be a nasty boy at times. Narcissa knew that - his death did not make Draco an angel by any stretch of the definition of the word. He had been spoiled, pampered and brought up in a home filled with hatred and violence. Not a single room in this grand manor was free from the stains of blood and pain, and the Malfoy family, too, had faced torture in this home. Narcissa Malfoy had been a particular target of the Dark Lord's wrath, and Draco was usually the intended witness of his mother's torture.

Could she have blamed him for being so unhappy?

Since his father's initial imprisonment and finding out the Dark Lord's task for him, Narcissa had noticed Draco developing depression. Though she had offered him the option, both knew it was not realistic for him to seek help from a healer during the war. In order for him to heal, he would have to open up about a lifetime of his parent's service to the Dark Lord and the atrocities which accompanied his family's involvement in the Dark Arts. Severus had been kind enough to brew Draco some potions along with those he was brewing for Narcissa.

They had tried their best for Draco this last year, but Narcissa knew he had died unhappy.

Narcissa and Lucius loved each other very much, but they too were unhappy. Both had expected it, witnessing their parents' marriage. Though her mother had told her not to expect a happy life with Lucius Malfoy, she was surprised at how miserable her life had truly been so far. But why? She supposed it had come with the territory of a pureblood marriage; but that excuse was flimsy at best. Molly and Arthur Weasley were incredibly poor pureblood, but in their joy they put Narcissa and Lucius to shame. They were older than Narcissa and Lucius, they were decidedly of a lower class - but they were the heads of a very happy pureblood household and the anecdote to Narcissa's theory that her blood status was to blame for her misery.

Little droplets of blood now left her cheeks, as her body drained of the energy required to stand up.

"Accio, living death," she said, waiting expectantly for the vial to fly towards her. Nothing. The aurors must have taken it during the house search.

"Accio, dreamless sleep draught," she tried, hoping a potion with a more innocent intention would have been left behind. Nothing. Too tired to end it all, she could understand. But too tired to even summon a potion? That was a new low. Unless the aurors took this too, which she could not understand.

Sleep came quickly, though, her sleep was far from dreamless. Thrown violently between nightmares, she was vaguely aware of the new injuries she was causing herself by lying on top of the shattered glass. Her mind conjured images of Draco's final moments, what she imagined they were like. Being attacked unaware, a flash of fear in his beautiful eyes. She imagined perhaps a moment of anger flashing through him, anger at she and Lucius, at the Dark Lord, at Bellatrix or at Snape - of that she could not be sure. Sometimes his cheeks would be stained with salty tears, sometimes he would call for her.

Usually she would wake up after a dream like that, but the moment one of these dreams stopped, another started with no time for respite.

Others featured a dark room with a man sobbing in the corner. His body was always badly beaten and his face was sunken with lack of sleep and inadequate food intake. Blood was usually trickling from one of the injuries on his body and until she got closer, she couldn't recognise the man.

But the moment she saw the man's matted blonde locks and sickly complexion, she recognised the prisoner as her husband.

Though his trial and sentencing was only yesterday, Narcissa felt as though Lucius was gone a lifetime. In spite of the fact that they were both unhappy as people, they worked well together as a couple. And while Lucius was allowed visitation rights during his lifelong stay in Azkaban, Narcissa didn't know how long he would last in the dark confines of a cell.

He seemed relieved, at least, that Narcissa had been found not guilty of the crimes she was accused of.

Soft hands shook her awake, eyes opening blearily to meet two dark brown eyes staring back at her. Andromeda Tonks was crouched at Narcissa's side, a look of concern adorning her pale features.

"Cissy, what's happened?"

Glancing down at her hands, Narcissa cringed at the sight of thick, dried blood covering their surface. Pushing herself up from the ground, her eyes narrowed in confusion at the sight of a number of still-blurry figures repairing her home. Why were they being so kind?

"Cissy!" Andromeda urged, seemingly concerned by her lack of response.

Attempting to speak, Narcissa's voice came out as a crackle. Clearing her throat, she finally felt able to reply, "Draco's room. Did they…"

"We'll fix it," Andromeda confirmed, helping Narcissa stay seated. "How long have you been lying there?"

"Since I got back from Lucius' trial."

"You've been lying here since yesterday? Golly, have you eaten at all?"

Her silence was answer enough. While Andromeda sighed with an almost maternal kind of disappointment, the room spun around Narcissa. Resting her head on her knees, the bile rose in her stomach as had become accustomed to of late.

Hands lowered her to the ground as the darkness closed in around her once more.