A/N : Brief note about Evan Rosier: The only information we have about him in canon is from Sirius Black, who remembers him dying about a year before Voldemort fell. Memory is a notoriously fickle thing. Considering the personal emotional trauma that Sirius had tied up in Voldemort's fall and the death of James and Lily Potter (not to mention his incarceration), I think it's fair to say that he might not have had the dates exactly right. Therefore, because it is convenient to the plot of this story—we're killing Evan Rosier off in May of 1979. My head canon is that Regulus dies in the summer of 1979—after he graduated from Hogwarts. It would have been the earliest possible time that he could have left to investigate Voldemort's cave.

Je ne regrette rien. It had become Narcissa's motto over the years. One made choices and one lived with the consequences of those choices, whatever they might be. Regretting—dwelling on what might have been—only led to madness. It did no good to go over her choices again and again to see if the consequences might have been different.

When Regulus had come to her, pale and shaking, spinning a tale that was too fantastical to be believed, he had already made his own choice.

"What are you going to do?" she had asked her favourite cousin, clutching his hands fearfully.

"I'm going to destroy it," Regulus had sworn. He glanced at Narcissa's thickening waistline. "Can't have my godchild being born into this mess, can I?"

The remark had been light and flippant, meant to soothe his pregnant cousin's fears, but instead it made everything so clear. Regulus had been right. Her child, this child, couldn't be born into this mess.

Evan Rosier had already died, leaving the Rosier family in its death throes. Regulus disappeared and no one knew what had happened to him. Narcissa sat down with parchment and quill and an abacus. When she was done she sat back in her chair and stared at the wall, unseeing, until a House Elf came looking for her.

The Dark Lord, Voldemort, regardless of what you called him, was destroying their world. The sheer numbers of magical families that had been utterly destroyed was stunning. Her child could not be born into this world. She refused to offer her child up on an altar to the Dark Lord's hubris and greed.

How would she do it?

For months, she planned and schemed. She reached out to Andromeda, and shockingly Andromeda replied.

"I can disguise myself as Bellatrix," Andromeda suggested. "It would be easy enough to do, and no one would question her being at Malfoy Manor."

"What then?" Narcissa wondered aloud.

"You can't know that part. You can't reveal what you don't know, Cissy," Andromeda explained.

"But–" Narcissa began and then stopped when Andromeda shook her head.

"If they even suspect, what do you think Abraxas Malfoy would do to you?" Andromeda reminded her.

"How will I know if they're safe? If they're happy?" Narcissa whispered.

"I know someone," Andromeda said then. She bit her lip and leaned forward. "Someone who will help me find a good, kind family. They will be the happiest of babies, Cissy, I promise you. I'll make sure that they are loved and well-cared for."

When the time had come, Narcissa hadn't been ready. Lucius and Abraxas were both out of the country doing some sort of mission for their Dark Lord and Narcissa had been left alone in Malfoy Manor with a couple of House Elves that were bound to the Malfoy family. She stood to walk across the room to the piano when her water broke.

It was too early. As quickly as she could, she made her way to the owlery, and sent a frantic note to her sister. When Andromeda had stepped out of the Floo, already Polyjuiced as Bellatrix, Narcissa almost flinched, but she controlled herself. The Healer in Andromeda took over, and she helped Narcissa into her suite.

By the time the baby was delivered, Narcissa had been exhausted, but she had clutched at Andromeda's arm.

"Please," she had begged.

"It's a girl," Andromeda whispered. She wrapped the baby in a blanket that she had brought with her and tucked her in Narcissa's arms. "We don't have long, Cissy."

"She's beautiful," Narcissa whispered as she stared at small life in her arms.

"She is," Andromeda agreed. She pulled the flask out of her pocket and took another drink of her Polyjuice before she touched Narcissa's shoulder. "I have to go now, Cissy."

"I know," Narcissa said. She leaned down and pressed her lips against the baby's forehead. "Be happy, little one."

"She'll have a good life, Cissy," Andromeda whispered. "I promise."

Not once had Narcissa tried to look for her child. Even after the Dark Lord disappeared, she hadn't dared to do so. She knew what Abraxas Malfoy kept under lock and key. Lucius might suspect, but Narcissa knew what it was.

The Dark Lord had returned at the end of Draco's fourth year and Narcissa had made offerings to the Old Gods. She prayed that the daughter she did not know may be far, far away from the Dark Lord's influence and that the son that she did know would somehow be safe. Let him live, she had begged. Keep him safe.

She had failed both of her children.

A light rap on her door startled Narcissa out of her reverie.

"Mother?" Draco opened her door and peeked in. "May I speak with you?"

"Of course, Draco," Narcissa replied immediately.

"It's about Hermione," Draco warned her.

Hermione. Narcissa took an unsteady breath.

"Very well," she agreed.

"Why?" Draco's voice cracked on the word and he flushed in embarrassment.

"My role was set from the moment that I was born," Narcissa said slowly. "As a child, I knew that I would go to Hogwarts, I knew that I would Sort into Slytherin, and I knew that I would marry a wizard from one of the Sacred 28. You, no doubt, always had those same expectations for yourself."

Draco nodded. "I never even questioned it," he admitted in a quiet voice. "Not until I was forced to do so."

"When I was young, Voldemort had quietly been on the rise for over 30 years. Slowly, subtly, he had been gathering followers and acolytes," Narcissa continued. "Your grandfather Abraxas was a school chum of Voldemort's. My parents were too young to have gone to school with him and Cousin Orion was several years younger than Voldemort, but he had managed to impress my sister—your Aunt Bellatrix."

"Mother… I know all of this," Draco protested.

"I need you to understand that the Death Eaters were… they were everywhere, and no one feared them. How could we fear people like Lucius Malfoy or Rodolphus Lestrange or Evan Rosier? They were good boys. They were our sort of people: pureblood, rich, Slytherin families," Narcissa tried to explain. She shook her head. "They were at all the best parties and received into every home."

"What changed?" Draco asked quietly.

"Nothing, at first," Narcissa replied. "I was happily married to your father, the lady of Malfoy Manor. The only thing that would have made our lives complete was a child."

"Father explained about that." Draco averted his gaze and his pale cheeks flushed with color.

"I wanted a child so badly," Narcissa said. She smiled at Draco when his eyes jerked to hers, startled. "I was thrilled when I made it through the first trimester and I was still pregnant. I was so careful. Lucius had the House Elves see to my every need—he wouldn't stand for me lifting even a finger."

"I don't understand." Draco huffed in irritation and rubbed at his temples. "How can you go from wanting her to just… just throwing her away?" He turned to stare at Narcissa with wet eyes. "How could you do that? To her?"

"My cousin Evan died in May of 1979," Narcissa stated. "He certainly wasn't the first, but he was the first that I knew. He danced with me at my debutante ball. A couple of weeks later, my cousin Regulus came to visit me when he knew that Lucius and Abraxas were out."

"Cousin Regulus?" Draco repeated. "Sirius Black's brother?"

"We were very close," Narcissa said. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "He told me that… he warned me that Voldemort had performed magic that was darker than anything that he had previously realized. He had… do you know what a Horcrux is, Draco?"

"No," Draco replied with a shake of his head.

Briefly, Narcissa cupped his cheek with her hand. He was such a sweet boy—still so innocent, even after everything that had happened.

"It is foul magic—an abomination against the Gods and against magic itself," Narcissa spat out, still infuriated by the gall of that man. "A Horcrux is a desecration of one's magical soul by ritual murder. Even the Dark Ones which we have always followed hold the soul sacred."

"O—kay," Draco said slowly. "A Horcrux is… bad. What does that have to do with you throwing away my sister?"

"It wasn't like that!" Narcissa cried.

"What was it like then?" Draco countered.

"My cousin Evan was dead – the end of the Rosier line," Narcissa repeated. "My cousin Regulus, my closest relative by that point, came to me and told me that he had to do something to stop Voldemort because he couldn't allow my child, his future godchild, to be born into the mess our families had made of everything." She took a shuddering breath. "I never saw Regulus again after that night. I knew he was dead two weeks later when the tapestry updated itself. My cousin Orion, his father, had a stroke and died."

Draco frowned at her and Narcissa threw her hands up in frustration.

"Don't you see, Draco? He was destroying us! I knew, I knew, that Abraxas would sacrifice any child I had and willingly for whatever purpose Voldemort had. Any child I had would be a victim of Voldemort's insatiable greed. Just like Evan. Just like Regulus," Narcissa declared passionately.

"So you did… what, exactly?" Draco pressed her for more details.

"I reached out to my sister Andromeda. We were estranged, and I wasn't sure that she would answer my letter, but she did." Narcissa swallowed hard. "She had trained at St. Mungo's to become a Healer, you see. She helped me fake a miscarriage while your father and your grandfather were out of town. She promised me that the baby would be placed with kind, loving people."

"Wait." Draco held up a hand and stared at his mother in surprise. "You had no idea where the baby was taken?"

"None," Narcissa admitted. "To be honest, I hoped that Andromeda had taken her to France or Germany. Somewhere far away from here. I had hoped that she ended up attending Beauxbatons or perhaps Durmstrang."

"Is that why you argued against me going to Durmstrang?" Draco asked in surprise.

"I couldn't risk her being discovered," Narcissa whispered. "Especially not while your grandfather was still alive."

"Why not when grandfather was alive?" Draco shook his head. "What difference would that make?"

"As the paterfamilias of the Malfoy family, Abraxas had the same power that your father currently holds," Narcissa reminded him. "He could have taken her from everything she knew. He probably would have given her to Rabastan or Hereward Travers."

Draco shuddered reflexively. "Father would never have allowed that," he protested.

"Your father would have had no say in it. The paterfamilias' word is binding for the entire family. Abraxas had the power to sign contracts on both her and your behalf," Narcissa pointed out.

The moment when Draco believed her was easy to pinpoint. His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, and she knew that she believed what she was telling him. He opened his eyes again and stared at her solemnly.

"Did you mean it?" He asked.

"Did I mean what?" Narcissa countered.

"You said you would have done the same with me—did you mean that?" He asked.

"If I could have faked another miscarriage, I would have gladly given you up," Narcissa said fiercely. She gestured at the room around her. "If I could have spared you all of this—if I could have given you a chance at happiness I would have grabbed onto it willingly."

"But it didn't spare her," Draco protested. "It didn't change anything! She still had to deal with Voldemort. She was hurt despite what you tried to do."

"I kept you, and it didn't spare you," Narcissa hissed. A tear slipped down her cheek. "I dragged you into the middle of this mess and you were forced to rub elbows with rapists and murderers. That man tortured you in front of me and I could do nothing to stop it. There was no way to win. Not for me and mine."

"Mother," Draco whispered.

Gently, as though he thought she might object, his arms came around her and he pulled her to his chest. He awkwardly patted her back as she struggled to regain her control.

"I'm sorry Draco," she managed to get out through the lump in her throat. "I'm so, so sorry."

"I think I understand," he murmured into her hair. "I don't know that I would have made the same choices, but… I think I know why you made them."

"That's more than I ever expected," Narcissa admitted.

There was a moment of quiet broken by Draco clearing his throat.

"There's another reason why I wanted to speak to you," Draco admitted. "It's about Father."

"Is he booting me to the Dower House?" Narcissa asked suspiciously. She pulled back and frowned at her son. "And he made you break the news to me? That wasn't well done of him at all, Draco."

"No, Mother, it's not that. It's… Mother, you have to stop Father from making an utter arse of himself in front of Hermione," Draco blurted out.

"I—what?" Narcissa blinked in confusion. "What has your father done to Hermione?"

What followed was a jumbled, rambling story about inheritances, betrothal contracts, and Hermione punching her son in their third year.

"What on earth are you talking about?" Narcissa demanded. "Is this about Artemesia's bequest? Draco, darling, it will be fine. We'll just explain that her grandmother wanted to make sure that she was taken care of no matter what happened."

"No, you don't understand, Mother, Father is going to completely ruin any chance he ever had of making Hermione care about him. She's going to think he's a fathead!" Draco didn't quite wail, but it was a near thing.

"Well, your father is hardly likely to listen to me," Narcissa protested. "He can barely stand to look at me."

"We can't let him be alone with her," Draco pressed. "He'll insult her or her upbringing, and she'll set him on fire, the way she did Uncle Severus!"