Hello all. It's been quite a year, hasn't it? Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of my husband's death. I stepped back from things when that happened. I needed to give myself time to grieve. Now, a year later, I feel strong enough to attempt writing again. I'm pretty rusty, but I hope you enjoy this short story in spite of it. There will be three chapters. They're all written; parts 2 and 3 will only need to be edited. This story is un-beta'd, so let the reader beware.

Chapter 1: The Mirror

Narcissa dried her eyes once again with the white linen handkerchief her husband had given her and neatly folded it back, but she didn't know why she bothered. It would only be a matter of time before she would have to use it again. How many tears could one cry? It seemed her supply was inexhaustible. The little piece of cloth was already wet through and through.

It had been eight months. Eight months of grieving, eight months of her arms aching to hold her son. Eight months of visiting his grave, even though there was nothing in it. Draco's body had been incinerated by the hellish Fiendfyre his friend had set loose in the Room of Requirement right before the final battle. If that wasn't ironic Narcissa didn't know what was. Out of all the dangers Draco had faced, to be killed by a dragon. A horrible firestorm of a monster conjured by the overweening arrogance and colossal foolishness of a clumsy, bumbling classmate. Of course, there was no way she could have expected Harry Potter or Ronald Weasley to have saved him. They'd been too busy trying to escape the fire themselves and had barely made it out in time.

"Cissa…..it's getting late," Lucius said. "You need your rest. Tomorrow begins a new year and with it, I hope, new beginnings. Time works wonders, so I'm told."

Narcissa snorted. She couldn't help it. Time works wonders? And…..new beginnings? Was her husband seriously saying that to her? Could time bring Draco back? Could time fill their now silent, empty manor with the happy sounds of his voice?

Holding his hand out, he beckoned her to take it. "Come, love. It's time to retire."

Ignoring the proffered hand, she flashed him a look of incredulity. "Do you honestly expect me to be able to sleep? My only son, my one true source of comfort, is dead. How can there be a new start when the future of our line is gone?

An anguished expression crossed his face. "I know. I miss him, too. But darling…"

"No," she interrupted whatever he was about to say. She didn't want to hear it. "But nothing. If you're tired, go to bed. I have other matters to attend to."

"Cissa…" he grumbled. He could guess what she had in mind.

"No! No more. I've always given in to you and look what that's accomplished. I mean it, Lucius. Stay out of this."

Her husband bristled. The one thing he had always hated more than anything was his authority being challenged. Losing all patience, he hissed, "Have you forgotten last time? This is madness, Narcissa. It will do more harm than good. You're being reckless."

"Me?" she laughed, the sound brittle to her own ears. "I'm being reckless?" She gave him a look of pure scorn. "That's rich coming from you."

Uh-oh. His wife's hair had begun to shine with an unearthly glow. He'd seen that once before, years ago when she'd been pregnant with Draco, right before she'd hexed him so badly he'd been unable to show himself in public for at least a week until the oozing from the sores had stopped. It was an experience he would rather not repeat. For underneath all his arrogance and bullying, Lucius Malfoy was a coward. Especially when confronted by a pissed-off member of the Black family. He immediately backtracked. "It's just…..I worry about you, my dove."

Shaking her head, she refused to listen. She was done with the conversation. "Tonight is New Year's Eve. If I don't do it now, I'll have to wait an entire year until next year's end." Giving him a look that brooked no argument, she stated, "My mind is made. Don't attempt to change it."

Lucius observed the stubborn set of her jaw, her arms crossed against her chest in defiance, even though her bottom lip still quivered with grief. Sighing in defeat, the only living male of the House of Malfoy acquiesced by quietly leaving the room. Narcissa waited a few minutes, calming her nerves and preparing herself for what she was about to do. Then she left her chambers, holding a candle aloft as she made her way down the dark corridor. The silence called to her as she passed by Draco's room; eerie whispers of long ago days danced along her skin, bringing out goosebumps. His roguish laughter; his impish smile; his hurried footfalls as he ran through the rooms while playing chase with his personal elf, Cocoa Bean. The crashing of chess pieces whenever he and Theo Nott played wizard's chess. A small whimper of pain escaped her lips; how could sweet memories hurt so much? They felt like daggers to her heart. Still, despite her grief she carried on, determined to proceed with her task.

Before long she reached the room where she knew it was kept. A room that she had used only once before. That had been when Draco, still just a toddler, had suffered his first loss, although he had no clear memory of it.

Adhara Blanche Malfoy. Fair-haired, one of the brightest stars in the sky. Gone too soon. She was the first reason to cause Narcissa to use the looking glass. But Draco had saved her from yielding to its deadly lure. That was what her husband was worried about…..the thrall of the mirror. It was the way of things; magic came with a price. Enchanted objects carried with them temptation; a hidden hook. A bewitchment that could, left unchecked, drive one into insanity. Or an early grave.

Now that her son was gone, she had no safety net this time. But Narcissa was beyond caring. If she succumbed, Lucius would grieve, but ultimately, he would recover from the loss of both his son and wife, if it came to that. The last war had shown Narcissa her true place in her husband's heart. Below his ambitions and pride. She had been an afterthought. A much-after afterthought.

It was poetic justice that he was now hers.

Moving slowly, she removed the cloth cover, then the binding spell that had held the mirror's power in check. As soon as she did so, its surface began to undulate, reminiscent of a soft wind upon a body of water. It paused; for a moment the glass was still before swelling again. This time, instead of waves, its face bent and twisted to create an image. It was a likeness of Narcissa herself as she had looked when she'd last used the mirror. With tear-stained eyes and a fullness of face denoting a more youthful appearance. She sucked in a breath; she'd forgotten the mirror's somewhat-sentient qualities. It knew who was standing in front of it. It remembered.

Biting down her bottom lip in hesitation, she tilted her head, studying the resemblance. Finally she spoke.

"Show me Draco Malfoy," she commanded while being sure to hold the candle in front of the glass. She watched, spellbound, as her image reached out from inside the gilded frame to take the candle from her grasp. Once the task was done, her likeness faded into the background as the mirror quickly swallowed the flame, the very element that had created the magical looking glass in the first place. The light immediately began to grow, highlighting all the dark places within the mirror. She cried out when the bright spots began to coalesce and turn into white blonde hair. Still so soft looking. So recognizable. Grey eyes, lit from within, followed underneath. Soon, the rest of Draco's face filled out. Raising a trembling hand, Narcissa touched the glass as if to caress her son's face.

"Darling boy," she whispered brokenly, tears once again trailing down her cheeks.

"Mother," he responded. Narcissa shivered at the sound. "Why have you summoned me?"

"I wanted to see you….had to see you," she corrected. "Tonight was my only chance."

"Chance?"

"I'm so sorry!" she blurted out, unable to contain her heartbreak any longer. "I never meant for you to be drawn into your father's schemes. And for you to have to pay the ultimate price for his folly…..I'll never forgive him…."

"Mum…."

"Did he ever consider us? Could he not foresee this possibility?"

"Could you?"

Draco's question stopped Narcissa from further unspooling. Sniffing, she said with as much dignity as possible, considering the hurt his words had caused her, "I did everything I could to keep you safe."

Draco sadly shook his head. "No, you didn't. Not everything. Not the one thing that could have saved us all."

"Son….what are you saying?"

Instead of speaking, Draco shifted from the center of the mirror to one of its sides. Narcissa looked on as the vacated space filled once again with light, but this time it manifested in curly brown hair that glowed under the brightness. Warm brown eyes came next, staring unafraid at the grieving witch. Narcissa watched, bewildered, as the rest of Hermione Granger took form. She was still wearing the bloodied sweater she'd worn when she had last seen her.

Unblinking. Unfeeling.

Dead upon her living room floor.

"Miss….Miss Granger?" Glancing back at her son, she said, "I don't understand. Why is she here?"

As if in answer, Draco began to move. It was bizarre seeing her son reach out to pull Miss Granger into his arms; stranger still was the way the young witch seemed to be completely comfortable resting against his chest. Her astonishment was complete when she saw Hermione embrace the arms that were circling her waist.

What were they doing?

Narcissa's eyes traveled back up to look into her son's. They were clear. And resolute.

"She was always meant to be mine," he said simply. "As I was meant to be hers."

Narcissa gaped. Never in a million years had she expected him to say that. "I beg your pardon?"

"It's true," the former Gryffindor concurred. "Unfortunately, we only discovered it on this side of the veil."

Narcissa blinked. She wondered if she was seeing things. Had her grief driven her mad?

Noticing his mother's look of sheer amazement, Draco quietly said, "Hermione Granger is my soulmate, Mother."

She looked back and forth between her son and the comely witch in his arms.

"Are you certain of this?"

She noticed that Draco's hold on Miss Granger tightened in response to her question. "There are some things one learns…..on this side of the veil…..that really can't be argued with, Mum."

"I think I saw it...just before I crossed over," Hermione admitted. She turned her head to give Draco a sweet kiss on his jaw. Watching the tender display left a lump in Narcissa's throat. "Right before the end…...I saw a stream of light...or maybe it was magic. It connected us. I saw the pull it had on you when I passed."

Draco winced, his eyes filled with regret at the memory. "I felt it. A strong tug, almost like the kind of pull one feels using a portkey. But far more powerful. Then I felt it…..well...snap, I suppose you could say. Something like a cold wave washed over me. Like a horrible loss. Painful, too. I remember looking down to my chest to make sure I wasn't bleeding, the sensation had felt so strong. I hurt for days, although I didn't understand why."

Narcissa remembered that time as well. She recalled being puzzled by Draco's reaction to the witch's death but chalked it up to her being a classmate of his.

"I'd wanted to help you….I just didn't know how." Draco buried his face in Hermione's still abundant curls. "I'm so sorry I failed you."

She lovingly rubbed his arm, trying to give him comfort. Narcissa couldn't help but observe it was where Draco had received his mark. "I know. I forgave you, Sweetheart. Even before it happened. I saw your face. I felt your fear. It was the same as mine."

Narcissa couldn't help but sense she was trespassing on a private moment, as it was obvious the couple had forgotten she was on the other side of the glass watching, but she asked anyway. "Just to be clear, although I'm sure it is….we are talking about the night when you were brought to the Manor, Miss Granger?"

"We are," Draco answered for Hermione while ghostly tears threatened to spill from his eyes. "I wanted so badly to do something...anything….to stop Aunt Bella. But I couldn't think….."

"Shh….," Hermione soothed. "Let it go. There's no use torturing yourself with if-only's. It's over."

"I can't help it," he whispered morosely.

"Son….you shouldn't punish yourself over something that was not your doing. You didn't cause that to happen. Unlike your friend," Narcissa spat viciously. "Vincent Crabbe deserves eternal torment for setting loose that damnable fire." Her outburst over, her next words were as mournful as Draco's had been. "My son is forever lost to me…..all because of him."

What Draco said next shocked the older witch. "No, Mum…...I died because of what we did. Or rather, what we didn't do."

Narcissa's face paled alarmingly. Seeing it, Hermione said, "Draco….I don't think your mother's ready to…."

"Yes, she is or she wouldn't have called us. She needs to grasp the truth of things."

Surprised at the strength of his words, Narcissa asked, "You think I don't?"

The look he gave her was eerily similar to the one she had earlier given to Lucius. "Frankly, no."

Swallowing, she steeled herself. "Then, please Son. Enlighten me."

Draco took a deep breath, not because he needed air but because he was frustrated. "I've been trying to. Don't you see? My fate was sealed the night Hermione died. Because we did nothing to save her, she wasn't alive to save me the night I died."

Narcissa froze. The threads of life were so interconnected, humans had a hard time knowing which strings were the ones vital to their continuation…. but what Draco was describing was something beyond that. An intricate weaving only twin souls shared. A rarity. Two halves of one soul that made a common thread of life. A thread that would unravel if part of it was taken.

She thought back to what Miss Granger had said. Right before the end…...I saw a stream of light...or maybe it was magic. It connected us. I saw the pull it had on you when I passed.

They literally could not survive without the other.

"That was the cause of my doom," Draco, interrupting his mother's thoughts, reiterated. "Not Vincent acting like the idiot he always was."

Hermione and Draco saw it when Narcissa finally accepted the truth. Her face crumpled with pain. She felt like screaming at the senseless stupidity of it all. Their pureblood ideology…..their fight against muggleborn inclusion…

They had been signing Draco's death warrant without even realizing it.

"If I had only known," she sobbed, her misery all the more bitter with the knowledge that her son's end could have been averted.

"Well….you know now," Hermione ventured to say.

That brought Narcissa up short. "And how does that change anything?"

"Because now that you know, you can go back to right the wrong. You're a witch, Mrs. Malfoy. You can travel time."

Blotting her tear-stained face with her hands because she couldn't remember what she'd done with the handkerchief, Narcissa sniffed. "Oh, dear girl…..I wish that were true. But the Ministry confiscated all known time turners and hid them only Merlin knows where."

"What? Why?" That came from Draco.

"Because they were afraid. They feared the possibility of one getting into the hands of someone who would try to go back to change the outcome of the war."

"Wait….." Hermione said. " You're saying Harry…...he did defeat Voldemort?"

Narcissa nodded, offering a weak glimmer of a smile at the young witch. "Yes. He did."

Hermione closed her eyes, her pale face alight with peace. "It was worth it, then."

But Draco's thoughts had skipped several steps ahead. "Love, do you realize what this means? If my mother can go back and change what happened that night with you, then we could possibly have a future after the war. Voldemort would be dead. I would be free."

Narcissa felt a stab of guilt hearing Draco's words. Her own son had been a slave to that fiend. Just as she had. Once again, she felt a white-hot anger directed at her husband. Right then, she made a vow within her heart. Some way, somehow, she would go back. She would right wrongs. And if Lucius Malfoy even tried to thwart her, she would hex him to within an inch of his life. She would do whatever it took to give Draco and…..and…... his other half a future.

Hermione seemed to have guessed Narcissa's thoughts, for she said, "There may be another way to travel time. A way without having to use a time turner."

Narcissa's eyes were piercing. "Tell me. I'll do anything I can to get my son back."

"If you're successful, my life going forward will be with Hermione. Can you accept it?" Draco's gaze held a challenge.

The older witch didn't hesitate. "Yes. Of course." Looking at the curly-haired beauty, she added, "If you can forgive me for my part in what happened to you, I promise going forward to treat you like one of my own."

Hermione's pale white cheeks hinted at a tinge of pink, a carryover from life when her cheeks would bloom a rosy blush. "Draco loves you. I'm sure in time I will as well."

Narcissa put a hand to her heart and offered the first genuine smile she'd ever directed at the muggle born. "Thank you, dear."

Giving her a quick nod, Hermione got back to the business at hand. "In the Department of Mysteries, there are different rooms. Some I'm sure you know. Love, Death, Space…..and there is also one for Time."

"Indeed, Miss Granger. A subject that has now gained my full attention."

"Hermione."

"Pardon?"

"Please. I would prefer it if you would call me by my given name."

"Of course. Hermione. As I was saying, I am aware of that particular room. That's where the time turners used to be stored."

"Yes, well…..what is not commonly known is that each room has an entry point into the study subject. For instance, in the death room, there is a veiled arch."

"I remember Lucius talking about it…..it's a portal, isn't it?"

"So it would seem. Sirius passed through its veil."

"Granger, are you sure Time has a portal?"

Hermione raised her brow at Draco's use of her last name.

"Sorry, love," he chuckled. "Habits apparently have a harder time dying than we do."

Narcissa shivered. She wasn't ready to hear any dark humor related to her son being dead. Especially from him. It didn't seem to phase Hermione though.

"It should. An arch. A door. Something."

"And you need me to use that opening to enter time and change the past." Narcissa had already connected the dots.

Hermione nodded. "Please."

Draco watched his mother absorb all she'd been told. Then she asked, "Do you have any idea how it will work? Can I select which point in time I want? And once I do, how will I know which past event to change?"

"That's simple, Mother. Go back to the night when Hermione was captured and brought to our house, and stop Aunt Bella. I've told you; if you want to save me, you must save her."

'It's not simple, Son. How many outcomes will that one act alter? What if doing that changes the course of the war?"

That brought Draco up short; he hadn't thought of that. Looking at Hermione, he saw her biting her lip guiltily. She knew there were no guarantees.

"But I thought you wanted to save me," he said in a low voice. "Or did I not just hear you say that you would do anything to give me a chance?"

"Of course I did. And I meant it, my Dragon. But I can't be as irresponsible as your former friend. All actions have consequences. We must tread carefully."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, then hesitated, before finally saying, "When it comes to time, no one can be sure of how things will play out. For all we know, you having this conversation with us has already changed certain things. But we have to have faith."

Faith? Narcissa had had little experience with it or the feeling of trust; so few in her life had deserved it, but she nodded anyway. If that was what it took, then that would be her choice. Because when it came down to it, there really was no other option.

If you're so inclined, I would love to hear from you. I've missed you all.