A/N: Sorry it took me a while to update—life keeps happening! I skipped a few years, but I hope the flashbacks will help.

Disclaimer: NOTHING is mine, not even the events that happen in this chapter.

Mirror

What have I become? I thought as I looked in the hallway mirror.

I stared at myself.

My hair was perfect—blonde, straight, long, done up in a tight bun.

My blue, blue eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, yet somehow I'd managed to make them prettier with eye shadow and mascara—and magic, of course.

My hands had spots on them from cleaning—Dobby was gone, and we'd never been able to replace him—and cooking. And writing letters, of course. Thank-you notes for all the get-well-soon cards. And of course, informing Draco of the circumstances here at home through letters.

I slouched—and neither Black's nor Malfoy's slouch!—and my clothes were in disarray.

I looked terrible, for my standards.

Lucius—my slightly cruel, scary, strong husband—was in Azkaban. And the Dark Lord hated us, which is never a good thing with Lord Voldemort.

I remembered the day Draco had gone off to Hogwarts for the first time…

I cried so hard Lucius almost refused to let me out of the house. "What will people think?"

"Is it wrong to be a loving mother?" I spat.

Draco was not there to hear, or else I'd have stopped the argument before it began.

"We are Malfoy's! We don't cry, Narcissa. Malfoy's are strong."

"I'm not a blood Malfoy, so maybe I'm not—"

He almost struck me; I could see it in his eyes, and I noticed as he flexed his fingers.

"Narcissa…" he muttered warningly.

I raised my eyebrows. I was a Black, not a Malfoy, and Black's do cry. And we are cheeky, even if it means punishment. "What, Lucius? What's wrong with me not being a Malfoy?"

"You are a Malfoy!" he thundered. I turned my eyes skyward, and he remembered Draco. Lowering his voice, he said, "You are a Malfoy, Narcissa. And if you weren't, you'd be a Black, and they're strong too."

I almost shouted, "And don't you forget it!" or something equally ridiculous, but I caught myself, wiped my eyes, and headed outside, not bothering to wait for Lucius to extend his arm.

When my baby boy was on the train, leaving, I waved until my arm hurt.

He was gone.

For months.

Merlin, did I want Christmas to come.

Christmas hadn't been so satisfactory, and Lucius and I had had a bit of a fight…

When Draco came home for the holidays, I was sure he wasn't my baby boy anymore.

"Drakey!" I screamed as he stepped off the train, and I ran to hug him.

He didn't respond right away, and when he did, it was an uncomfortable,

"Mu—um! You're embarrassing me!"

I stepped back and said, "Candy, my big boy?" I wasn't fazed in the least; because I knew when we were no longer in public he'd be fine.

"Mum!" he said sharply, but accepted the sweets from my outstretched palm.

"Draco," Lucius said formally, but he smiled (and it reached his eyes) as he shook Draco's hand.

"Well, let's go home, then, yes?" I said, eager to have my boy back.

But once there, he raced to his room. "I've got to owl Goyle! He might come over the day after Christmas!"

"But—but darling—"

"Let him go, Narcissa…he has friends, you know."

"He had friends before, Lucius, and he still made time to talk to us!"

"He's eleven years old, Narcissa! What are you going to do?"

"He's still a baby, Lucius. He's not old enough to live on his own, to pay his own way, so is he old enough to go off and act like a surly teenager?"

Draco didn't come down, though he must have heard us.

Lucius didn't call upstairs for him.

Did I have any company?

I remembered my desolate thoughts all too well.

How different was it now?

Lucius was in his own world then, figuratively, and now literally.

I was alone.

Draco was gone—not forever, or anything, but gone, far away from me.

Lucius is in Azkaban now—that was the difference. I wasn't such a mess then. Only—

"Dobby?" I called.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Get me an easel. And paint please—" Too lost in my misery was I to even put effort into being cruel to Dobby, allowing a polite "please" to slip through my lips, "in the shed out back…" I trailed off as he Disapperated with a quiet, "Yes, Mistress Malfoy."

I put my head in my hands. Muggle painting? What in Salazar's name was I coming to?

I'd realized as I'd painted that I'd said 'please' to Dobby.

Draco had been there to help, then.

He wasn't now.

I remembered the time I'd felt actual love for Lucius Malfoy.

He simply sat with me for awhile. I cleared my throat, and he smiled. Almost maliciously, I suppose, looking back. At the time, I almost melted to that smile.

Then, it came.

The kiss.

The end of me.

He looked at me, hard, his eyes boring into my own. I was overcome with a sudden longing, which had never happened to me before.

And then he leaned in, and so did I.

We were kissing.

I was on Cloud Nine.

And of course, the Christmas after Draco was born…

I even dared to smile.

Lucius smiled too.

"Ah, my love, he will be great one day," he said, grabbing hold of my hand.

"Maybe, dear, but I'd rather he be a good, sweet boy than anything else. All I want is for him to be happy," I replied truthfully.

"Well, yes, I love him. And I want what he wants. But he has to marry a pureblood."

I laughed, leaning my head on his shoulder, for this was the child we created.

Maybe it's hypocritical, but at that moment, I felt real, true love for this man.

This man that, a moment later, I would hate.

"He's not one year old yet, for Merlin's sake!"

"He'll grow up faster than you think," he murmured, his eyes glued on our son.

"And when he does?" I prompted.

"He'll go to Durmstrang," was his response.

But really, I had disliked him, on the whole.

Hadn't Draco been a mistake?

Though he was the light of my life, he wasn't wanted on my part.

Two bottles of Firewhisky.

"Here?"

"Why not?"

Because I couldn't.

But I said nothing, smiled a bit.

I toasted.

I toasted to us.

To our marriage.

What a lie.

I had too many.

He had too many in his pocket.

I know.

I know because they kept coming.

"Let's get out of here," he whispered.

I giggled.

He Apparated us to some flat somewhere.

He had more.

Now that we had somewhere to stay, so did I.

It was awful, in retrospect.

He got me drunk.

Lucius Charles Malfoy.

He got me drunk.

Nine months later, Draco Malfoy was born.

Oh, Draco!

Come help me!

Come save me!

Christmas Eve is always our anniversary.

We always spend it with Draco, because what else will we do?

We don't love each other.

This Christmas Eve is coming soon.

Draco is coming home…thank God.

The day he came home, I ran to him.

But I stopped myself before I hugged him.

"Mummy?" he asked, and hugged me. My fifteen year old son, who for years refused physical contact, hugged me.

Just like that day, four—or was it five?—years ago…

Was the world over?

But then Draco came in.

"Mummy?" he said quietly.

The world righted itself as he hugged me.

A/N: I know it consisted mostly of the flashbacks of other chaps, but some were from this chapter I wrote, then had to delete because I had already written that chapter! Yeah, sometimes I'm an idiot!

I know that this format is more appropriate for the end of the story, but I thought it fit well here…

Review please! Reviews make an author's day—especially mine! They make me smile!! Please?

I want to take up this last bit of space to say: Thanks so much to Time Vortex, even if she's very busy and doesn't have time for my fics right now. Thanks so much for being a fantastic editor! I really hope you get less busy soon (and good luck with stress!) And I so WILL thank you, it's not your fault you've been busy! Many hugs and chocolate!