Draco put a protective arm in front of his mother as he stared in horror at the phantom that had appeared before them. Narcissa clutched his shoulders, feeling them tremble beneath her fingers as they inched backwards.

Lucius Malfoy continued to dust the ash from his hair, as if it were a perfectly ordinary thing to have escaped from a lifetime sentence in Azkaban and reappear in the drawing room and into the presence of his wife and son. He shook his long blonde hair and then cracked both of his shoulders.

"Well," he said at last, "you seem to have grown up a bit while I was away, haven't you, boy?"

Draco inclined his head slowly. "Don't," Narcissa whispered, "He's trying to goad you, only trying to make you angry."

"And my darling wife," Lucius broke in loudly, "I see you are still attempting to interfere with my son's upbringing." He walked towards them slowly, with precise steps, "I seem to recall that you stopped doing that after our little chat a few years hence, did you not?"

"I did," Narcissa replied, clenching her teeth, "I should have known better, but I did anyway."

"Should have known better?" Lucius eyebrows lifted in mock surprise, "What could you possibly have done, Narcissa? A talentless little thing like you? You've never hurt anyone, except for one person, as I recall." He smiled smugly, "A certain lover."

Draco turned to look at his mother in amazement. Her eyes were angry and cold, but not desperate, as he had thought they would be, "Draco doesn't need to hear this, Lucius. It's between you and me."

"Indeed," Lucius said softly, "Then I advise that you have the boy stand aside, or better yet, leave the room. He needed see me dispatch his mother for her crimes."

"No!" Draco shouted.

"Draco, stop it!" Narcissa yelled, "And what crimes would those be, Lucius?" she snapped.

"The crime of betrayal!" Lucius hollered.

Narcissa stared at him, "What betrayal? I haven't betrayed you in my life!" She snorted, terror somehow making her bolder, "And if you're going back to the old thing with Remus, then you had really better try and get over it, Lucius. It was twenty years ago!"

"You betrayed me to the Ministry of Magic!" Lucius said. He shoved Draco out of the way and grabbed Narcissa by her long blonde hair, "You knew I was in league with the Dark Lord, and you sold me out."

"What?" Narcissa cried, wincing and scrabbling at his fingers.

"The night that Sirius Black died in the Department of Mysteries," Lucius snarled, "You knew I was leaving. I told you I was leaving, and you must have known somehow. You must have overheard me talking with Peter Pettigrew two nights hence."

"I didn't!" Narcissa cried.

"You did!" he roared. "And you sold me out to the Ministry. You wanted me put in jail, so I could never harm you or your precious son again."

He pulled her face around to his, "But what you didn't know, dear Narcissa, is that the dementors are in league with the Dark Lord now. How do you think your dear sister escaped from prison that first time? So they let me out. The others returned to the Dark Lord, of course. But I told him I had other business to attend to – seeing my wife received the proper reward for paying her debt to society!"

He took his wand out of his pocket and aimed it at Narcissa's chest. "Crucio!" he cried.

Narcissa screamed. White-hot pain seared through her body, electrifying her veins and throwing her to the floor in sheer unadulterated pain. She could barely hear Draco shouting her name through her own terrifying screams. Everything was red with pain, or was it blood? And everything began to go dark. Then Lucius screamed "Crucio!" again. And everything went black.


"No!" Draco screamed, falling on his mother's body, "Mum, no!"

He pushed the blonde hair away so he could see her face. It was contorted with pain, but empty of recognition. Narcissa was unconscious. But she wasn't dead.

One thought went through Draco's head. Convince Father that she's dead, and make him leave her alone.

His shoulders heaving, he spun around, "You – you BASTARD!" he screamed, leaping to his feet and yanking his wand from his pocket. "You've killed her!"

Lucius nodded curtly, "Come, Draco. We're leaving. It's time for you to finally meet your destiny – with the rest of the Dark Lord's followers." He extended one pale, thin hand.

"Are you insane?!?" Draco screamed, "I'll never join you!"

Lucius' eyebrows raised, "Consider your position wisely, boy." He indicated Narcissa's limp form. "This is the way the opponents of the Dark Lord meet their end. They are tortured, beaten, and killed. You don't want that to be your fate, boy. Come with me, and I will make you more powerful than you ever imagined."

"No!" Draco shouted. He raised his wand and yelled, "Expelliarmus!"

But his father was quicker. He blocked the beam of red light and then fired, "Crucio!"

Draco whirled about and blocked the curse as well. The two men stood staring at each other, their shoulders heaving with effort.

"If you will not join me," Lucius said slowly, "Then you will meet your end." He raised his wand. But Draco bolted from the room. I've got to keep him away from Mum, he thought desperately, in case she wakes up and he finds out she's not dead. He ran for the staircase and leapt from the railing to the sofa below in the main hall. The soft velvet broke his fall well, and he jumped up in anticipation of his father.

Lucius had gotten a terrific head start. Before Draco had even jumped he was halfway down the stairs. He aimed his wand at his son and shouted, "Imperio!"

Draco suddenly felt as if the whole world was going soft and fluffy around him. He could hear a dreamlike voice saying, "Go to your father...walk over to him."

No, though Draco, no. He's foul, he's evil, and he's going to hurt me, too.

But the voice was pleading. It's the only way to save your life. You don't want to die, you're only sixteen. And that is terribly young. Go with your father, and you won't die the way your mother did.

But Mother's not dead, Draco thought.

His thoughts snapped and became his own. "Never!" he cried.

Lucius was stunned. "So you know how to defeat an Imperious Curse," he said softly, "That's quite advanced, Draco, I didn't know you knew how." He began to walk towards his son, who eyed him warily.

He screamed "Crucio!" again. And this time, Draco was not prepared.

Draco shrieked. He backed against the sofa in terrific pain, writing and screaming and begging the white-hot pain to cease. He could hear his father laughing in the background. And suddenly the pain ceased.

"I give you one more chance to join me," Lucius said, "or you will die."

Draco turned. Body aching, he limped over to the wall and reached for his fencing sword. He turned to his father, meaning to run him through the heart with it. His mind was dazed and his body was in terrible pain. Then, everything went white. His sword clashed to the floor, seconds before he fell. The last thought he had while conscious was his father's despicable laughter.


Narcissa's eyes fluttered open. Her body felt stiff, in horrible pain. What had happened to her? Then, like a bolt of lightning, she remembered. Lucius! Draco! Was Draco all right?

She dragged her broken body to the landing and gazed through the marble bars of the staircase just in time to see Draco slip and fall to the floor. Lucius was laughing evilly.

"No," she whispered.

Somewhere inside of her, she felt something ignite. Strength, adrenaline or otherwise, flowed through her veins.

This is it, a little voice said. This is what you have been preparing your whole life to do.

But he's strong; Narcissa thought desperately, he's so much stronger than me. How could I ever hope to compete against him?

You've got to, the voice said. Your son's life depends on it.

"My son," Narcissa whispered, "My son."

Gingerly, she rose to her feet. She reached into her pocket for her wand. Her fingers closed over it determinedly.

This is it, she thought. Don't be scared.


Lucius Malfoy turned from his son's broken body. A shame, he thought, that his son had turned out so like Narcissa. The woman's infernal interference had ruined him forever. He shrugged. Oh well, the Dark Lord would take Lucius back, at least. He began to walk to the fireplace.

"Lucius Malfoy!"

He spun about.

Narcissa was standing at the foot of the stairs. Her long blonde hair was loose and scraggly around her face. She looked half-dead. But she clutched her wand in one hand, and her face was oddly determined.

Lucius' eyes widened, "How the devil did you survive?" he asked.

Narcissa didn't answer.

"Enough of your family is dead," he replied, "Bury your son and be content."

Narcissa blocked the image that she knew could not be true. "I challenge you," she said, "to a wizard's duel. To the death."

Lucius laughed, "You? You beat me? Laughable, Narcissa, darling. You dropped out of school. You will never be anything more than a charmingly pretty face, an ornament." He fingered his wand thoughtfully, "You didn't have it in you to confront me when you were sixteen years old. How can you hope to now?"

"That may be true," Narcissa retorted, "But I have something worth fighting for now."

"Oh?" Lucius stepped towards her. His hot breath was on her face, almost in a state of passion, as he grasped one of her arms so tightly Narcissa thought it would break, "And what is that, dear?"

Narcissa closed her eyes and tried to breath. She whispered, "My son."

Snapping her eyes open, she broke Lucius' grip on her arm and threw him behind her. She danced out of his way as he tried to fire another curse at her. She bolted behind the sofa and the Cruciatus Curse was deflected.

She was not stupid. She knew that he was better skilled at her in magical combat. She wasn't strong enough to defeat him in a wizard's duel. But there had to be another way. For the first time in her life, Narcissa could feel that there was a purpose to her very existence. This time, she would not be defeated.

She turned and screamed, "Imperio!"

Lucius was too fast, "Expelliarmus!" he yelled. Fearful of losing her wand, Narcissa dove away, and her aim was off; she missed Lucius by nearly a foot.

"You really hope to defeat me?" Lucius shouted, "When you have never stood up to me in your life?"

"There is always a first time!" Narcissa screamed, standing behind one of the chairs with her wand up.

"I am the Dark Lord's loyal servant," Lucius replied forcefully, "His power runs through my body, and under his protection, no one can defeat me." He sneered, "A helpless little housewife doesn't have a hope."

"Not so helpless!" she shouted. "Crucio!"

Lucius screamed. She had fired right on the mark. But as she had learned way back, if she fired the curse in righteous anger, it didn't register well or stay long. One had to be truly malicious, truly evil, for the curse to take full effect. And she knew, somehow, that she didn't have that.

She didn't need it.

Narcissa ran to her son's crumpled form and seized his sword. She flew at Lucius, just as he was regaining his balance, and stabbed her husband in the chest.

Lucius' gray eyes widened. He stared at her in amazement. "You – you – " he managed.

"Me," Narcissa breathed heavily. "Never underestimate a mother's love for her child."

She let go of the sword.

Lucius staggered back a few feet. He could not take his eyes from her. He yanked the sword out of his chest and let it clatter to the floor. Blood began to pour from the open wound in his chest, and he tried to stop it with one hand. He stumbled and fell against the staircase. He looked from his wound to Narcissa, and then, his head fell back.

Narcissa stood as if rooted to her spot. Slowly, she stepped forward, very aware of the loud noises her shoes were making as she stepped off of the Oriental rug and to the marble floor. Every step seemed to grow louder. She walked over to Lucius' form, sprawled across the staircase.

This had been her husband. This broken, bleeding, lifeless form had once been the body of her husband. She could not understand how such a man had come to this. But most of all, she could not take her eyes from his face. Those steely gray eyes were suddenly at a loss for maliciousness. They were wide-open, staring at nothing. Lucius Malfoy was finally dead.

"Draco," Narcissa suddenly remembered.

Leaving Lucius lying on the staircase, she turned and fled to her son, who lay unconscious on the floor. He can't be dead; she thought desperately, he can't be dead. He is all I have left.

His pale skin was seared with the lines of the curse that had enveloped him and finally claimed him. His face was deathly pallid. She trembled as she checked his throat for a pulse. One, two. Yes! It was there. Draco was alive, but only barely.

Narcissa rocked back on her heels, a real terror slowly rising in her chest. There was no use calling for a servant to help her; she knew that upon Lucius' entrance, all had surely fled. There was no way that she could possibly heal her son; she had no experience at all. She would have to take him somewhere to someone she could trust. And there was no way she could take him to St. Mungo's or the Ministry – they would want to know how she had killed Lucius, and she could not say an Unforgivable Curse – she would be put in prison.

But she knew where she could go.

With terrific effort, she pulled her son up so he was leaning on her. She dragged him over to the fireplace in the main hall, and placed him inside. Struggling, she reached for some Floo powder. Draco stirred and moaned slightly.

"It's all right, Draco," Narcissa whispered, "We're going to be safe."

She raised her fist and screamed, "Albus Dumbledore!"

The powder fell, the fire ignited, and Narcissa and Draco were gone.