Chapter 14: Narcissa and the Promise

Selected Listening: To Wish Impossible Things- The Cure

When Narcissa received Draco's owl, she realized she had done something entirely reprehensible.

And granted, she hadn't understood it when she'd done it, not as much as she should have, but there was no time to study. It was an emergency over all emergencies.

She had made a promise, and she had to keep it.

If only there had been more time.

After receiving Draco's note, she did her best to keep her countenance unworried at home. Whenever Lucius came into the room, it was all "yes, dear," and "darling, of course," but as soon as she left, she felt herself being swept into a dark hole from which she might never recover.

What had she done?

She remembered the young girl's face in Diagon Alley. How surprised she was to have bumped into her, and how the girl ran off before she could make a good impression.

Narcissa longed to meet her, and now Anastasia was frozen inside the school infirmary, and her son was suffering for it.

She realized how lucky she was that Draco only had some coldness and stiff limbs and not a full paralysis.

Narcissa rolled it over in her mind: coming clean with Albus, and Draco, and Anastasia—once she had awoken.

But when she imagined Lucius's reaction to all this coming out, her heart stopped.

She couldn't.

It was an afternoon in Mid-February when the nurse practitioner, Vivian, ran into her office at St. Mungo's with a stern glare.

"Doctor, your son has been rolled into critical care for respiratory arrest."

Narcissa's head snapped up from her paperwork. She placed her peacock quill back in the ink vial and ran after Vivian, keeping close to the hem of the witch's robes as they rushed down the hall of the neonatal ward towards the ICU.

"When? How?"

"During a quidditch match. Pushed himself too far. Like I said would happen. The boy's stubborn." The Malfoys hired Vivian when Draco had his first severe attack to be a private medical care professional and tend to the boy's needs with discretion.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

"He won, by the way, I'm sure that's what you care about most."

"Don't you dare insinuate—" Narcissa drew her wand, but Vivian caught her wrist.

"I told you what needed to be done three years ago. And you chose to cover up for your husband's archaic family rules than seek treatment for your son. So do not point your wand at me."

Narcissa swallowed and put her wand away.

"Take me to him."

Vivian led her into a private suite. The Malfoys always requested a private suite, so they could secret away whatever ailments they discovered without consequence.

"Cissa—" Lucius immediately rose from his chair where he had been holding his head in his hands. Narcissa raised her palm to him and strode to the side of the bed.

The blond boy lay facing up, eyes closed. A complex magical instrument had been attached to Draco's mouth with a tube leading to a larger instrument by his bed. The heart monitor on his hospital braceleted beeped evenly.

"Oh Draco—" she sniffed and turned away.

"He-he was fine before the game. I had spoken with him moments before—" Lucius started in his usual whiny tone.

"Don't… just don't…" Narcissa muttered.

"As I said, one of a hundred million times before, he needs a prescription. The school has been requesting it ad nauseum. You are only delaying his death if you don't," Vivian emphasized in her harpy voice. A shrewd Ravenclaw, she reveled in the triumph of I told you so.

Narcissa spiraled around and looked to Lucius with a teary, pleading gaze, the best she could summon.

Lucius raised his free hand to soften the blow of his words.

"If you can find a way to obtain the medication without going through our bank accounts…completely off record…I-I will allow it."

Vivian made a face as if she bit into a rotten lemon, "Your son is dying…do you not understand?"

"Could you leave us a moment please, Vivian? I will find you later." Narcissa strained to stay calm. As head of the neonatal and genealogy department, she was still a superior, and she still maintained her poise amongst other staff members. She had to.

Vivian gave a hum of disbelief and walked directly out of the room, shutting the door behind her.

"How am I supposed to buy medication without our—" she began.

"You could steal it…you work at a hospital—" he countered.

"I could lose my job…I could lose my title—"

"Not if you steal well enough," Lucius hissed in a way that only came out when he was scheming, one that she had only heard many years ago when he worked under a different employer.

Narcissa stared at him, eyes bloodshot and furious. She folded her arms and turned back to their son. She had seriously considered stealing from the potions ward before. But she couldn't bring herself to, not after all she worked for.

The inevitable came to mind. Something she had considered many times before but couldn't bring herself to say the words aloud.

"You could divorce me. Give me custody of Draco. Find yourself a pretty little doll to make you a new heir. Then at least our son would be saved."

"No—" he grabbed onto her arm with both hands. "Cissa, please. I know I've threatened before…I know…it wasn't right. The blood purity test was way over the line. I—"

"You thought the blood test was what pulled it over the line?" she growled. "How about the time you asked my father if he knew for sure I was his daughter? How about the time you called me a rotten—"

"Cissa—I'm sorry…I'm sorry, alright? My father drilled it into me that this is a muggle disease, that this was a sign of weakness. I didn't know what to do," he explained, half-shrugging. She glared back.

"Well now it's my turn not to know what to do, Lucius. I need time. Give me…an evening at least." She glanced back at Draco's bed. "I don't want to fight anymore…not in front of him."

Lucius finally let go of his wife's sleeve and let her walk to the door.

"I love you…truly," he muttered. "It's why I haven't asked for that. You and Draco are all I have."

Narcissa let in a little breath. Lucius hadn't said it. Not in years. She could hear by his tone that he intended to play it up a little, an attempt to regain control, yet he still said it, and it felt true.

But Narcissa knew the snake's dance, and until she won, she would have to play back.

"Good to know," she said, and walked briskly back to her office.

Narcissa stayed at the hospital that night, keeping herself up with paperwork until she fell asleep over her desk. When she lifted her head, she saw her lantern had dimmed.

But a bright light appeared in the corner, the outline of a woman with curly long hair, wearing a dress with the abdomen slashed through.

"Why didn't you see her? Why didn't you protect her? Why didn't you keep your promise?"

"Holly—" Narcissa froze, not having seen her best friend since the night of her demise, and yet here she stood in the same state, the same room. "I—"

"She's been petrified! She's waiting at the gates of the afterlife to be called either way. Yet here you sit claiming you tried when she said she doesn't know you—"

Narcissa quieted.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't. Not with Lucius. He wouldn't have agreed to adopt her. Not even if I begged him."

Holly stared at her best friend, feeling a rage she hadn't felt since being alive. Even when she was alive, she was never this angry.

"And you know why he wouldn't! I wondered out of all people why you—would owl me out of the blue after my husband's murder and ask me to take part in an experiment. You hadn't talked to me for months…"

"It was for your protection—"

"I'm not sure you understand what protection is, Cissa!" she yelled, gesturing to her dress.

"Please, I know, you can stop berating me. I'm sorry. I know," she put a hand to her head and leaned onto it.

"Lucius was in league with him, wasn't he? He-who-shall-not-be-named? That's why he showed up that day." Holly pointed to the spot where Voldemort killed her. She had come to say hello to Narcissa. They were both about to go into labor. Holly, in a month, and Narcissa in a week.

Narcissa gave her silence as confirmation, wishing she could crawl under a rock.

"I had no clue he would come here. Lucius had been bragging about my research behind my back…and the Dark Lord didn't like it."

Holly put her hands on her hips and stared around the office, dropping the dramatic "haunting" tone.

"I knew he was no good for you—and you went and married him anyway."

Narcissa sighed, glancing at a wedding picture she had framed on her desk. She and Lucius were giggling, laughing. She looked away, pained.

"He loved me…Holly…he still loves me. I was young, and naive, and I didn't have much of a choice anyway after Andromeda ran away…"

Holly placed an icy hand on top of hers.

"You need to stop blaming your family for your problems. Make a decision. Stand up for yourself…do you even love him anymore? After everything he's done?"

Narcissa saw the past twenty years in a series of flashes.

"Not in the way I would have liked…" she admitted, "but Draco needs both his parents, not to be known as the first Malfoy who was shut out of his home and inheritence."

Holly nodded and looked away, now questioning her own life decisions and who she placed her trust in.

"Either way…you owe it to me. I couldn't even hold her in my arms, the infant I wanted more than anything…Please, care for her. Your boy seems to…he spent the whole day talking with her."

Holly couldn't help but smile. Even though the boy was nearly a clone of the father, the way he spoke with Anastasia reminded her of all the time she spent with Narcissa at school, back when things were simple, before Narcissa was whisked away into the dark world of pureblood politics.

"Draco's there? In Purgatory?" Narcissa asked. Although she knew her son's condition severe, she wouldn't have guessed he had the choice to pass on.

"Well, he was. He left before I talked to Anastasia."

"Left, left where?" Narcissa demanded. Holly could only shrug.

"Back, I suppose," Holly said. Narcissa stood and ran towards the door.

"I have to go—"

"Wait, Cissa. Be present in her life. Let the two of them grow up together—what little they have left of growing up."

Narcissa nodded.

"Yes. I will, Holly. I promise. Really this time."

"Good…or I might have to come haunt you again." Holly gave a precious wink. Narcissa smiled and shook her head.

"Bye, Holly."

"Bye, Cissa."

Holly's light disapparated. Leaving Narcissa to run through darkened hospital hallways.

When Narcissa burst through the door, she found Draco upright, panicking, grabbing at the device on his face.

"No, no sweetie, no." she took hold of his hands and brought them down.

"Mum—mum where am I? What's going on? Where's Anastasia? Where's the train?"

"You're at the hospital. You went into respiratory arrest at the game. Do you remember?" She asked very gently, wondering what train, but very clearly hearing Anastasia's name, and thinking to herself, It wasn't a dream. That was Holly.

"Mum, mum I won. I won the game. Does father know I won? I caught the snitch."

Narcissa paused and smiled a heart-wrenched smile.

"I'm so proud of you," she said softly, "but I am so much more grateful to have you alive."

She held him as he slowly realized how close he had been to death, how close Anastasia sat to her demise.

Draco pulled away when he thought she could stand it.

"Mum, did you get my letter?" he asked. "I sent the house elf—"

"I did," she said suddenly remembering, "and I could give you the answer to what you ask, but I think it best for her to tell you when the time is appropriate. I-I'm going to schedule a meeting with the headmaster this week to discuss a solution."

Draco's eyes widened.

"A solution—to what? You're not going to make me stop talking to her, are you? Father said—" He remembered desperately what father had told him in Diagon Alley: I do not allow my son to befriend muggleborn students.

Narcissa placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"No," she said resolutely, "I absolutely would never stop asking you to talk to her, Draco. If you want to befriend Anastasia, I have no will to stand in your way."

Draco nodded and looked away. Although he could breathe better than ever with the respirator, it made him feel claustrophobic.

"Is father angry at me…for fainting?" he asked. "Have we been found out? Will he make us leave the manor?"

"Oh no, no no, Draco. Your father is just as frightened as I am. He brought you here. He sat here with you until I could come."

Draco's shoulders fell in relief.

"I'm sorry I'm like this," he apologized. "I don't want to be weak."

"You aren't weak, Draco. Not in the least bit. In fact, you have been so strong all this time…I'm working on finding a medication for you now. It won't be long. And when I do, we can celebrate."

Draco nodded poorly.

"Okay, mum."

Following more worries and more words of comfort, Narcissa walked to the door, surer than ever of what she wanted to do…she would break the news gently to Draco later, when she had a place for them to stay.

"Oh mum—" Draco started, "promise not to be too hard on father…he only wanted me to be the best I could."

Draco knew their pattern all too well. He would fall ill. Then, his parents wouldn't speak to each other for weeks until he fully healed. Ever since his unofficial diagnosis, a silence fell over the house whenever he coughed or wheezed, as if they might attack each other over what to do about him. He only wanted them to care for each other and stop worrying about their sickly child.

Narcissa faltered. She chose her prison long ago, and she would remain there, for her son.

"Of course, darling."