If his latest conversation with Hermione had spawned a plethora of dreams in which Draco could only speak French and no one but Pansy could understand him, as Easter was growing closer than ever, his thoughts were slowly drifting away from the two girls. That night they were, in fact, as far away as they could be from what language he could speak. He couldn't even talk anymore, actually. In this dream, he could only growl and howl as he traversed the castle back and forth, trying to catch the scent of his next victim-to-be. But his sense of smell couldn't make the difference with the stench of blood floating all around him. It had started with his transformation in Snape's office, right as he was drinking his potion. His first victim. Then, he roamed the dungeons, the entrance hall, he wouldn't let anyone hide or escape. Pansy was close, he knew it, because he could smell her fear, the sweat running down her temples, he could hear the sobs she was trying so hard to muffle.

As his large body turned a corner, he stopped and listened closely. The door at the other end of the corridor was barely open but he knew she was there. The beast he had become breathed a shaky, excited breath, baring his teeth. He came hurtling inside the room, the large door breaking in his way, only to enter complete darkness, in which echoed Pansy's scream. He would usually see in the dark, in this form, and yet, he couldn't distinguish anything. So, he ran. Forwards, he ran for what seemed to be hours. Then, finally, something came into view. A cobbled floor, dimly lit, to which he was getting closer. And even further, bars. His feet left the darkness to hit the cold ground of the large, cellar, a figure slowly appearing to his eyes from behind the bars. He slowed down, even became fearful as he finally came to a halt. He recognized his own cellar, he recognized his own father, staring at him from afar.

His fur, usually so light, so clean, almost pure, was tainted with blood around his mouth and all over his neck and body. Hunched, he took a few steps towards the bars with small, pathetic whines coming out of his closed maw, as if he was the victim here. His father didn't react, his expression unfathomable if it wasn't for the hatred in his eyes. The man got his wand out of his cane and, when he raised it, when green light came out from the tip pointed at him, Draco awoke with a start.

Eyes wide open, sweat running down his face, he didn't dare move, his head sunken into his pillow. He was laying on his back, breathing deeply and staring at the drawn curtains around his bed. He took a minute. The scream was still echoing in his ears, the feel of the flesh and bones breaking under his teeth present in his mouth still, he needed to get out of his head. He couldn't move anyway, as if his body was refusing to obey. All he could recognize was Crabbe. The boy was snoring in the bed next to his, so loudly it might as well have been what got Draco out of his nightmare.

His nightmare. He closed his eyes, gulped, and slowly turned his head so he could stare at the dark ceiling, noticing how cold his neck was because of his sweat, no matter how much his insides were burning. He breathed deeply. His arms were above his covers, along his body, and he slowly unclenched his fingers. He had been holding his blanket so tight that this simple gesture was painful.

Get up , he told himself, get up .

It took him another minute before he finally sat up. His shirt was soaked and he struggled to remove it. The cold air of the dormitory hit his body and he shivered, but that's what he needed. He touched his face, felt his burning cheeks, and opened his curtains. He jumped when he saw light behind the curtains of the bed in front of his. Theodore Nott's bed. No voice came to him, nor movement, but he stayed still for a moment, holding his shirt against his chest in case he'd have to hide his body. Given the lack of reaction from his fellow Slytherin, Draco finally pushed his covers away with his feet and got out of bed, wiping the sweat from his chest, neck, and back with his shirt. He abandoned it on the bed, crouched in front of it, opened his trunk and grabbed a clean one. He quickly put it on and when he got up, he realized how shaky he still was. He was barely able to walk straight towards the door. He left the dormitory, his bare feet going up the cold steps towards the common room.

He wanted to contact his parents, he wanted to be home, frankly, but he had no way of doing anything at the moment. The letter would take too long to arrive and he couldn't use the fireplace, they were probably asleep. He felt sick.

He had to grab the sofa's arm before he could sit on it, so he wouldn't fall over. There was barely any light penetrating the lake and the windows, and the only candles still burning weren't enough for the large room. He felt like it was too dark, like the room was too small. He could barely catch his breath.

He hid his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees, as he tried not to cry again. He felt like that was all he did that year. How pathetic.

.

In another Slytherin dorm, Pansy couldn't sleep either. She had been turning in her bed for hours now. She didn't dare talk to Draco. The mere thought of this sounded crazy. All these years thrown away. She had tried to give it a rest, after her talk with Theodore and the failed attempts to talk to Draco that followed. She told herself he needed more time, but maybe she did. Or maybe she was too much of a coward. She thought maybe it would go away on its own, but it didn't. On the contrary. Each day was more difficult to face, because the more days passed, the farther away it drove them. She was making it impossible for them to go back. They both were.

She sighed loudly, maybe too loudly, since Astoria turned in her bed next to Pansy, and she finally had enough. She got up, put on her slippers and her robe, and she got out of her dormitory as well.

She was about to reach the common room when she suddenly stopped, a hand on the wall, unsure of what she had heard. Maybe it was just the lake. It was always so relaxing to listen to it from the comfort of the high chairs near the fireplace. Yet, something felt off. Something told her it wasn't the water. She waited, until she heard another sob. She frowned and walked up the last few steps separating her from the common room. She slowly pushed the already ajar door, hoping it wouldn't creak, just so she'd be able to glance around. There wasn't much light, but she didn't need much more to spot Draco's white-blond hair. He was hunched over, his face hidden in his hands, and his shaking body told her he was crying. She didn't have to think about it twice, she immediately walked in the room, towards her best friend.

"Draco! Draco, what's going—"

Unfortunately, the sound of her voice sent him on edge. She didn't know if he had even recognized her, if she had startled him, or if it was just having another presence in the room but he quickly stood up, taking steps away, his back facing her, his entire body incredibly tense.

"Draco, it's me, it's Pansy," she said quickly, holding her hands up. Draco still didn't say anything, he wasn't even crying anymore. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she almost whispered. Draco slightly shook his head. "Draco, please, look at me… come back, sit down… Tell me what's going—"

"Nothing," a strangled whisper left his mouth. He raised his fingers to his lips, brushing against them as he blinked rapidly.

"Draco, please, tell me—"

"It's nothing you could possibly understand," he said hoarsely. "Leave me alone."

He didn't think he had it in him. He didn't think he could still be so mean in this moment of complete weakness. He could barely believe it. He finally turned to her though.

He was pale, his reddened eyes still filled with tears, cheeks gleaming with them. He didn't want her anywhere near him, he told himself. He didn't want her to talk to him, he didn't want to hear her voice after her screams. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone. He just needed to see his parents.

Somehow, his words didn't drive her away, or to anger, and he knew his defenses were about to drop any second when she approached him carefully.

"Tell me," she repeated.

"No!" He exclaimed, surprising her. He hadn't been too loud, and yet loud enough to take her aback.

"Even if I can't understand, I can listen," she said desperately. She knew that it would ring a bell. That was what he had told her, a year ago. He had to know she was truthful. She was there. She wouldn't leave him, not anymore, not ever again. She took another step forward and he didn't move, but his eyes and his shaky chin were pleading with her.

"Don't approach me, just go away," he said quietly.

"I'm not going anywhere," she said, still approaching. He finally looked away, turned his head even, as if it would make her disappear. "I'm not leaving you alone. I don't care if you hate me, I'm not leaving."

She finally put a hand on his wrist. She wasn't just witnessing how tense he was anymore, she could feel it.

"Look at me. Just look at me, and you'll tell me what's wrong, because you'll know I'm here to stay. I'm here for you."

"No you're not," he said quickly. He was too late to stop a sob from coming out.

"Yes, I am. I'll always be," she whispered seriously. "You know I'll always be. Even if I'm a moron, sometimes. It doesn't mean I'll leave you alone."

"It's too late," he muttered, tired. Maybe it was true. She had left him for a couple of months already. But she didn't want to believe it. She gave him a sad smile, even if he still wasn't looking at her.

"Do you really think it is? Don't you think that, maybe, everyone has the right to a second chance?" She asked. She saw that he was now looking down. She released her wrist but only to hold his hand instead. "You know, I've been trying to talk to you. I wanted to apologize. At first, I wanted to apologize for being shocked. But of course I was. How could I not be? And I realized it wasn't why I was feeling sorry, or guilty. It's because I've been a terrible friend. The worst, I'll let you say. You've been like this for years, and I was insolent enough to reject the person I've been friends with for even longer. And… And I'm not friends with…" The words wouldn't come out. Either because she wasn't ready to say it, or because she didn't want to hurt him, she couldn't even tell. "I'm friends with you. With Draco. With… the same guy who held my hand last year," she said, almost whispering now. And finally, he looked at her again. "You've always been with me. And I'm still with you."

"You were right," he said quietly and she frowned. A tear rolled down his cheek. He wasn't holding her hand back, still, and she feared she might lose him at any moment. "I had no right using your situation as if it came anywhere close, when I got mad," he said. "It's just not the same. It'll never be the same," he whispered.

Why it hit her at that moment, she didn't know, but it was like looking at her friend for the first time in ages. She only now realized how thinner he had gotten that year. How exhausted, how marked his face already was because of his monthly transformations. He didn't need scars to be visible, his eyes alone were holding the weight of his condition.

"No, it's not," she said quietly. "Being a lesbian and being… being a werewolf," she whispered, hoping it wouldn't send him off, but he didn't exactly react, "it's just not the same. But it doesn't mean it can't have the same ending when we talk about it," she said, trying to keep smiling softly so she wouldn't cry. One of them had to be strong that night, and she was ready to take her turn. "What do you say about that?"

As he stared at her, his chin, his lips, his body began to shake and finally, he closed her fingers on her hand. He slowly nodded and she couldn't help but grin, tears rolling down her eyes. They both sniffed, she wiped her cheeks, and she softly pulled on his arm so they'd go back to the couch.

He also wiped his cheeks as they walked to the sofa and they sat down, still holding each other's hand.

"I think it's time we talk, don't you?" Again, Draco nodded, staring at his knees. "It's alright, just breathe…" He did, and even squeezed her hand.

"It's just…" Something stopped him. She couldn't tell what it was, but he seemed to look around for his words. "I have… these nightmares…"

She waited, but he didn't say anything else. "Is this… You say that, and all that comes to me is your boggart," she said carefully. Draco nodded. Pansy closed her eyes and held her sigh in. She couldn't even begin to imagine what Draco's dreams must be like. "But… Draco, you know you'll never do that to your parents, or to anyone else…"

Draco only shrugged, wiping his cheeks again, and that's when she noticed. Even with how dimly lit the room was, she had seen something on his forearm. Her heart skipped a beat and she looked at Draco again, wondering if he had done that to himself, or if it came from his attack.

"I know, but it still doesn't make the nightmares go away… It feels so real, it gets me thinking… what if it's bound to happen?" He asked, thinking back to his conversation with Lupin. He regretted confessing these thoughts to Pansy. He didn't want to scare her. She didn't need to see how doubtful he was, when he had sworn he wasn't a danger to others. But what could he do? He wasn't only growing as a teenager. His other form was changing with time, and he knew his strength had as well. His temper, his appetite, his urges…

"It's been four years and you haven't done anything to anyone," Pansy insisted. "You're being careful, your parents are too… You're never going to hurt them." Why was she so sure of it, she didn't even know. Maybe she just wanted to believe in her own words.

"But I already hurt them," he said, even more quietly. Pansy's eyebrows shot up. "I ruined everything… I'm… filthy… You were right, you shouldn't associate with me, I don't even know why they kept me in their lives, I don't know why you—"

"Because they love you," she said, now pouring her heart out without having to truly talk about herself, "very much… You're too important for them to throw you out."

"But I'm useless," Draco said, staring at the dark fireplace in front of them. Pansy opened her mouth but she had nothing to say at that moment, she had to find the right words first. She understood what he meant, of course, and how lost he must feel like.

"They clearly don't measure their love for you based on how they can use you, Draco," she said. Draco looked at her, clearly uncertain. "You're their son. They love you more than anything in this world. They wouldn't abandon you."

"'Course they would… you know they would…"

She knew. And yet, that was her point. They didn't. They were supposed to, they should have, given their temperament, and yet, they didn't.

"So, tell me… How come you're still in the manor? How come you're still writing each other letters constantly? How come they're still taking care of you?"

"It's only because they don't have any other children," Draco said, as if it was obvious. "I keep telling myself that if I marry some pure-blood girl, it might be fine, they'll truly let it slide, because everything will be hidden and the line will continue but… No one's going to want to marry me. It's disgusting, just thinking about it. What a shame it would be."

Pansy couldn't say anything. She knew how right he was. He would probably never find someone matching his family's beliefs that'd be willing to marry him. Unless it was arranged, but Pansy couldn't envision Draco stuck in an arranged marriage. He was too much of a curious mind, he was too passionate. He couldn't live this kind of life. She knew that deep down, he'd want to spend the rest of his life with someone he'd be able to share everything he liked with. He'd want a friend, a best friend. He'd need real love.

"I mean," he continued, "if they had another children, they'd have disowned me… but they just don't have a choice anymore, if they want to keep the line going…"

"But again, that's the point. They didn't have any other children. Draco, they still could have one, they're young, your mother's not even forty yet. But they don't want anyone else but you, it's plain to see."

Draco shook his head and Pansy thought about it quickly.

"Besides… what if — what if you, being the way you are, it made them think about all of it? What if they—"

"They still believe in all of that stuff. Nothing's changed about that…" Draco whispered. "If it did, they clearly didn't want me to know, which would be the stupidest thing…"

"Have you ever talked about it with them?"

"I've been meaning to but… Whenever I want to, the words just get stuck… I can't… I don't want to hear it."

Pansy nodded, now holding his hand with both hers.

"But you know, I'm ready to die alone," he said. Stunned, she didn't reply. "If that's what it takes…"

"To what end?"

"So that I don't disonhour the family name more than I already have."

"You didn't," Pansy said firmly, getting a glance from him. He never thought he'd hear her say all these things, ever.

Just like him, just like his parents, the only way her beliefs and her vision of the world were able to be shaken was because of that big of an event, one that hit so close. Hadn't it been for this fateful night, Draco would have never, ever, questioned anything about his place in the society. He would have never, ever got to know any Muggle-born, he wouldn't be so conflicted about anything he'd do. He'd be like his father. Confident, powerful. And now, he was rubbing off on Pansy. Great.

"You didn't choose what happened. You shouldn't feel so guilty about it."

"Well, I can't help it…"

"I know…"

They stayed quiet for a minute, Draco still looking at the fireplace, Pansy at their hands.

"So, Granger, huh?" She finally whispered. "Is that really a future you could imagine?"

Draco slowly looked at her, disconcerted. He couldn't think about her now, it wasn't the right time. And yet, images flashed through his mind. Hermione smiling, Hermione laughing at something he said. For a second, he felt warmth coursing through his body, followed by a shiver down his spine.

"At least, she's good looking," Pansy said reluctantly. Draco snorted, then shook his head, then let go of her hand so he could cover his face. He sighed heavily.

"I'm doomed."

"Well, at least you're not a lesbian," Pansy grumbled. Draco chuckled in his hands.

Just like that, the heavy weight on both their shoulders was lifted.

"At least we're doomed together."

He smiled at her, then leaned into a hug. They held each other for at least a complete minute, tight, silent.

He couldn't completely forget his fears. Maybe she was just naive, maybe it was their age. Maybe later, she'd realize what everything meant, and she would truly ditch him. Or maybe the only reason they were still close was because they were hopeless cases.

But now, for the first time, there was also a glimmer of hope burning in the pit of his stomach. Maybe their friendship truly was stronger than this. Maybe his parents truly loved him for who he was. Maybe he could start to believe it.

"There's no bright future for us in sight," Pansy said as they finally broke the embrace. "If your parents want to force you into marriage, send me a letter… I'll probably be forced to find a husband myself…"

They leaned back on the sofa, soft smiles on their faces despite the truth of these words. They were now holding each other's pinky. They didn't have to look at each other or say anything to promise. They'd face down the world together.

.

They had stayed in the common room for the rest of the night to talk about more things, mainly to catch up for the time they had spent on their own. Draco had also explained more things about his condition, too. She needed to know, she needed to be informed and he needed to answer any question she might have.

The rest of the week just kept on improving Draco's mood, especially with their last match of Quidditch before the holidays. They had won against Ravenclaw. It was close, but they won. The Snitch had stayed hidden for the longest time, enough time for his team to be flattened at first, until Draco caught it, though narrowly. He had been so proud, and his House so happy. They had celebrated at the feast, and then in the common room. But now that they were leaving the castle for Easter, Flint was back to his usual arguing with Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor team's captain.

"Rest assured they'll always rain on everybody's parade," Pansy commented as they got on the Hogwarts Express, talking about the adversary team.

"Let's not pretend anyone else was celebrating with us," Draco said, opening one compartment they could sit in. He closed the door, finally getting away from the dreadful arguments and threats Wood and Flint were now almost shouting at each other.

"They're way too intense about it," Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

"Nothing a good snog wouldn't settle," Draco sighed.

"Do you know something I don't?" Pansy asked quickly.

"Only speculations on my part, but—" Draco began before their door was opened again, by Crabbe and Goyle.

Draco and Pansy gave each other an amused smile and gave it a rest.

.

Unfortunately for Draco, from then, time flew.

He enjoyed every second of his holidays until the full-moon, but it had gone by way too fast.

Whenever Draco turned at home, Narcissa and Lucius barely slept. They didn't go down the cellar, they had only done it the first few months of Draco's transformation, before the boy had the courage to ask them to stop. Besides, what good would it do?

When Narcissa opened her eyes that night, she spotted her husband in front of the large bay window of their bedroom. He had opened the curtains and was looking out at the grounds. Dawn would be there soon, the sky had already started to change colors, but Lucius was already dressed. Narcissa got out of bed, put on her robe and walked to her husband. Her hands on his back, going up his shoulders, she stood next to him. She didn't look outside, only at his face, at his solemn expression.

"I'll be gone before he wakes," Lucius said quietly after a couple minutes.

"You'll see him tonight…"

Lucius slightly nodded.

"Did you notice?" Lucius asked. "What he looks like?"

Of course, she had. Her grip on her husband's shoulder and arm tightened, but she just kept observing him. The way his eyes were moving showed that he was very much concerned about something, but he said nothing else of it.

.

A couple hours later, Narcissa carefully went down the steps leading to the cellar. She lit the candles on the walls as she reached the gate and she peered through the bars. Her son was laying on the mattress and given he had been pretty quiet that night, if it wasn't for a few howls, she hoped the moon hadn't been too rough on him. She opened the gate and, with a wave of her wand, covered her son with the abandoned blanket on the side of this makeshift bed. Only then did she approach. She looked up at the night sky of the cellar. It was the same little trick used in the Hogwarts' Great Hall, except it would only show a starry night sky, in which, if you knew your stars, you could find constellations. It hadn't been her doing, and she found herself going down the cellar to look at it sometimes, when her son's condition was too close to her mind.

She reached the bed and got a glimpse of her boy. His hair messy, he was curled up under the cover, his head next to the pillow, his breath calm and regular. She didn't want to disturb him, but she couldn't stay away either.
She sat next to him, her back against the wall, and she watched him sleep for a while. She observed him, really, she took notice of the lack of colour in his face, the bags under his eyes, the long, still red scars on his forearm. She knew it wasn't the Hippogriff.

At some point, Draco moved, stretched, breathing deeply as he opened his eyes and blinked. He quickly took in the shape of his mother and he didn't seem to react to her presence — or maybe he just wouldn't show her what he thought of it. Either way, she softly ran her fingers through his hair. Once, twice. The third time she did it, he moved again, lazily grabbed the pillow and dragged his tired body over to her. She knew what he wanted and she placed the pillow on her lap. Draco, covering himself up to his shoulders with the blanket, fell back asleep in a matter of seconds. She closed her eyes too, focused on his regular breathing, but she stayed awake. She just waited.

When Draco came to his senses again, he mumbled something that she didn't catch, and he didn't repeat, he seemed a bit out of it.

"What time is it?" He asked after a couple more minutes of getting acquainted with his surroundings. She closed her eyes at how hoarse he sounded.

"I've lost track," Narcissa almost whispered, staring at nothing, her fingers still operating the same mechanical movement in her son's hair. "How was the night?" She dared ask.

Draco shifted but still didn't reject her. "Fine, actually… I was very drowsy…"

She nodded without purpose.

"The Parkinsons are coming over tomorrow evening," she said. "They wanted to come tonight, but I said we were out. I thought maybe Pansy would like to sleep over, and we'd get you both on the platform the next day."

Draco listened, got the words, but not the meaning of this conversation, in this too strange setting. He got a funny feeling in the stomach, knowing that Pansy probably guessed his mother's lie.

"That'd be nice, yes," he replied, finally turning on his back so he'd be able to look at her. And finally, she looked down, met his gaze and offered him a smile. She pushed away the hair from his forehead and softly ran her fingers along his cheek.

"Isn't she a nice girl?" she said quietly. Draco almost chuckled, which would have been exceptional after that kind of night, but his lips did curl up.

"I've already told you many times, Mother… I don't fancy Pansy."

"Too bad… She's a good girl," she said. Draco quickly pushed aside the image of Hermione that was coming to his mind. "And you've known each other for so long, I'm sure she…"

Narcissa trailed off and Draco's smile faded. Yeah. Pansy was a good plan… While he didn't like to think about his parents planing his future any way they could in spite of the situation, he thought he'd seize the opportunity. His gaze drifted away from his mother's face as he stared up at the night sky above their heads.

"Pansy's my friend… Furthermore, she doesn't fancy me either." It wasn't the first time his mother was bringing up Pansy this way, but he was younger and didn't dare stand his ground. Things had changed this year, and everybody close to him was going to see that at some point.

"Then… are you interested in anyone?"

"I don't know… Not really," Draco lied. But she could sense that he was somewhat nervous. While he knew that she wouldn't use Legilimency on him, he was still getting anxious about asking the questions burning his lips. She put that on his condition, on the conversations she knew they would have at some point. She couldn't imagine, of course, what other secrets Draco was hiding.

"That's vague," she noted, still smiling kindly at him.

"I just… It's just weird. Girls are complicated," he mumbled, still trying to muster up his courage. Maybe if he… no. He was getting too anxious, he wouldn't dare talk about his doubts, in the end. "Don't you think I'm too young to think about all of this anyway?"

"Indeed, though I wasn't much older when I started seeing your father…" she commented.

"Speaking of Father, will he be here tonight?" He said, trying to push the matter aside.

"Of course he will," she reassured him, knowing how much Draco was craving both their presence. "Should I help you to your room?"

Draco nodded, regretful already. If he didn't dare now, when would he? When it'd be too late?

Narcissa gave him some privacy as he'd put on his pyjamas before she helped him to his bed and he was relieved to find the comfort of his room.

When she turned around to leave, he knew it was time.

"Mother," he called out. "Could you… could you stay a bit longer?"

Of course, she would. She didn't hesitate, she sat next to him once again but even if this time, he didn't have his head on her lap, he couldn't help but grab her cold hand. That was the downside of being in the cellar too long. Draco's hand was warm, though, one of the only upside about his condition.

"Mother, I was wondering," he said after a few minutes, "have you been… have you been talking about who I could marry?" He didn't know how to word it differently, even if he wasn't talking about people, but options.

"It came up a few times but it is, indeed, a bit too soon."

Draco couldn't help but wonder if she got what he meant, or if she was maybe ignoring the matter on purpose.

"I know it's important," he said, his heart pounding, "but it feels like…"

He stammered and she helped him out a little bit, "You know that you can tell me anything, don't you?"

He met her eyes and knew it was the truth, as much as it wasn't. Because she couldn't possibly approve of everything. And because he knew she'd be disappointed, and that was the last thing he wanted. He didn't want her to change the way she was looking at him. He didn't want for her warm smiles, only reserved to him and his father, to disappear. He had already changed their lives once, and he didn't want to do it again.

"It feels like it doesn't matter if I love my future wife, or if she loves me, for that matter," he finally blurted out. His mother's expression didn't change and he wondered what was actually happening behind her eyes. "As long as I marry the perfect masquerade… nothing else really matters, does it?"

"Don't say that," she said quietly.

"You said I could tell you anything… so there it is," he said in the same tone.

He was growing up, wasn't he? She placed his hair properly, trying to get some distance with the changes that were happening inside her son. "How could it work differently?"

"We want you to be happy, Draco," she said, "and we want you to have everything you deserve."

He couldn't hide his grimace, and the hint of anger growing in his stomach. He let go of her hand and sat up, arms trembling with the effort.

"And how does that work, then?" He asked. Taken aback, she waited for the rest of his thought. "If I look back at your family pictures, won't I find exactly what I deserve?"

And there it was, what she had always dreaded since the bite. The worst part was that he was completely in the right.

Draco had always been a curious boy, way more than she was at his age. When her sister had betrayed her family, she hadn't questioned her punishment for one second. It was logical. Her pain didn't matter, her sister's pain didn't matter. It was how things were done. Then, the scham would begin. It was as if she had never existed. They couldn't even mention her name.

And Draco, oh, Draco, he always had to ask questions about anything and everything. He couldn't keep a single one of them in his head. That changed, after his near-death experience. He didn't dare ask anything anymore. Unlike his mother, he didn't ask because he didn't doubt. He didn't ask because he doubted everything, and he was too afraid of the answers. She knew it was bound to happen.

So she smiled. It was a very fixed smile, because she couldn't hide her distress. And she didn't feel this way because of her son, but because of herself. Because of her own hypocrisy being put on display for them to discuss. Those kinds of words would have been punished, in her home. But she knew Draco had every right to take it to heart. He was, indeed, supposed to be shunned. Rejected by people who had cared so much about him for nine years, who had always loved him more than anything in the world.

So how were they supposed to do that? In one night, how were they supposed to let go of the most precious thing in their life?

She thought she'd always honor her family, because how could the opposite happen? She was able to abandon her cousin. She was able to abandon her own sister. She loved her sister. Was it because she adored her son? Because she would always put him and her husband above all else?

"That's what I thought," Draco said quietly, turning so he wouldn't be directly subjected to her silence anymore.

He shivered when he felt her hand on his back, and he turned his head further away from her.

"You remind me of him…" she whispered.

"Who?" He said, his frown apparent when he finally looked at her again.

"Your father…"

He shook his head. She didn't just say that. They were nothing alike. He wasn't brave, he wasn't powerful, he wasn't much of a man anymore…

"You do… More and more every day," she insisted, "in many ways."

Because Draco wasn't saying anything else, she continued.

"He's always stood his ground, and I see you're doing the same nowadays… He's always been passionate, he'd always go to the finish line whatever he had to do, whatever the results… When he was pursuing me—"

"Pursuing you?" Draco asked, another grimace visible, which amused Narcissa.

"Of course, pursuing me. Did you think it magically happened? I made sure it was hard work."

Draco chuckled, but soon looked disheartened again.

"What's it got to do with anything?"

"I'm just saying… You know him exactly like I do. If he wants something—"

"He gets it," Draco mumbled.

"See. You're just the same…"

Draco felt his lips curl up, he couldn't help it.

"You sure have my brains, but you two are nonetheless alike, and I am dreading the birth of the hopeless romantic in you too."

"Right," Draco let out, skeptical.

"Don't you believe me?"

"Father, hopelessly romantic? Yikes," Draco shuddered. "It is hard to believe indeed."

"I'll have you know that he had to court me for almost an entire year. He'd write letters, he'd show up at my door, he asked my father for permission to take me to a ball." The same way Draco had inherited her arrogance, he had inherited the proud little smile that was appearing on Narcissa's lips. "I was mortified when he did that, but then again… He'd have thrown himself off the Astronomy Tower had I asked."

"Are you for real?" He asked, and a familiar tut rang in his ears as she disapproved of his choice of words. Yet, just like everything else, she let it slide.

"It was ridiculous."

"I think it was brave," Draco said. He bit his lips so he wouldn't laugh when she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes.

"Look at you, changing sides." He shrugged and she smiled at the memory. "Mind you, when he did that, I stopped talking to him all together. I totally ignored him."

"But why?"

"To see if he truly was dedicated, what do you think? He never stopped trying to get my attention. He tried to look distinguished doing it, too, in front of his little friends. Clever, he thought he was. Silly he'd always be. I made sure he'd learn from other people that I was, indeed, going to that annoying ball with him. He was proud as a peacock." She herself tried to repress a smile. "But I have to say, it was kind of… cute."

"Kind of weird, more like," Draco said with another shiver. That's when his mother gave him this special smile, the one that would always make him feel so warm inside.

"Like I said, you're like him. When you'll find the girl you love, you will do anything to have her, no matter what you actually have to do. You'll tell me all about how weird you think it truly is when the situation comes. You'll see that you won't let this… unfortunate situation stop you, either."

Though uncomfortable with her choice of words, he didn't look away. "But that's not just about what I want. What about what she deserves?"

"We will make decisions when the time comes."

"Not we , Mother."

Any last trace of her smile left in her eyes faded away.

"It's going to be about her. About her, what she needs, what she wants… The line she deserves. Not me, not you, not Father. Don't you see it's flawed logic?"

Of course she did. She always had. But why couldn't they have everything?

"You know what's going on as much as I do. You know this isn't right, and it'll never be. I'm not s'ppsed to be here. We both know I should either leave, so I won't tarnish your names more than I already do, because you know what's the only kind of people that will accept me for who I truly am, if even they manage to do so… or the line and the farce I represent should just die with me."

She was the one who turned her head away, this time.