Needing a few moments to compose himself, Harry Apparated not to the foyer or the front door but to the edge of the French countryside estate Narcissa Malfoy née Black inhabited. It, as well as most of the old Black family estates, had been inherited by Harry through Sirius. Knowing that he could use that wealth to provide for his family, which Narcissa had steadfast become following her trial, made Harry wonder if Sirius would be proud or peeved.

Definitely peeved.

Between Narcissa strength of will and Kreacher's dedication to the task, the old manor was quickly restored to a new glory far surpassing itself. The three minute walk to the front entrance helped Harry still his nerves, his shame overwhelming any anger he had earlier, but he was absolutely dreading telling Narcissa what had happened. She had seemed so lost without her son, and this was how Harry so-called helped.

Molly Weasley had always been kind to Harry as he grew up, including him in her family: he had nine Weasley jumpers to attest to her kind heart. But Narcissa Malfoy didn't just let him in, she took him in and took care of him the way no adult really had before. She gave him guidance, she passed on what she thought was important knowledge, and when he made the formal appeal for the rights as Head of the Potter and Black houses, she told him just how proud she was of him.

Even Sirius, for all that he had done for Harry, couldn't compare. Their brief time together never reached the same depths, and all the while the ghosts of Harry's past tinted their relationship. Harry would always be the boy who lived to Sirius, because he was the only one of the Potters that Sirius loved so dearly who did.

He had never really had someone cherish him like Narcissa had.

And all of this from a woman who lost her husband and son to a war she wanted so little to do with. All of this for a boy who she could have been killed for protecting.

Harry tried to shake the thoughts away but they lingered. He had for weeks convinced himself that nothing would change when Draco was released, or if it did it would be for the better because Narcissa would visit London more often. But Draco's face, blanched and terrified, haunted Harry and he knew Narcissa wouldn't let anyone hurt her son.

Not even Harry. Her great capacity for love had a limit and Draco was it.

With his spirits low, Harry entered through the front entrance and immediately felt the drop in temperature. Outside it was a gorgeous late August afternoon that bordered on sweltering, but inside it was cool and temperate. With the gardens in full bloom, Harry guessed Narcissa would be hosting them in the solarium and found his way there without spotting Kreacher once.

Narcissa was seated when Harry arrived, looking over her shoulder and through the glass walls to her beautiful garden. Her long golden hair was in curls that pooled around her shoulders, her face unreadable. Harry's heart broke a little at the sight of her, not sure she would want to see him much after today.

"Harry dear," exclaimed Narcissa with a pleased tone when she noticed him from the corner of her eye. She stood and kissed Harry's cheek, a gesture he still wasn't entirely used to from either the Malfoy matriarch or from Hermione, and looked him up and down. She nodded, deciding he looked well enough, and resumed her seat.

"I told Kreacher you would likely eat before joining us this morning but he insisted. I think he misses you."

Harry snorted at the fresh fruit, pastries and coffee on display, knowing Kreacher might miss him but that he was much happier with Narcissa than he would ever be with Hermione. Harry did pour himself a glass of coffee, silently asking Narcissa if she would like one as well. She had slowly been instilling proper manners in him and while the idea rankled him at first, her efforts were touching and complying was easy enough.

"How is Draco doing? Is he well?"

Harry winced and looked down at his lap, to ashamed to look up. He started by describing Draco's first days in the house, how Hermione was trying to stop Draco from hiding within himself because she read books about how that happens after lengthy incarcerations, some of the potions he noticed Draco had been given by the healer, how he massacred his hair after something stupid Harry said.

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully throughout, smiling at some parts and scowling at others. It made the confession Harry was building himself up to make so much more difficult.

"Harry, what aren't you telling me?" Narcissa asked, no nonsense, after Harry dropped off mid-sentence, unable to finish.

And like that the floodgates broke. Harry confessed how tense the house had been, in particular between Harry and Draco. He prefaced with Draco's snide remarks about the Weasley's and how they continued to bother Harry, then rushed right in to the fight they'd had just before Harry left. He cringed as he forced out the horrible things he had said about Draco not writing and almost didn't mention the violent burst of magic that destroyed the poor table but by this point the confession was just pouring out of him and his fear with it.

Finally he managed to stop talking, looking as though he was going to be sick. Narcissa sighed, a low exhale that made Harry wince again.

"You and my son are much better suited to each other than you know."

Harry looked up, torn between insulted and shocked.

"For your information, Harry, it is not easy for me to be here while my son – or should I say one of them – is in London, suffering. I was not there for him when he needed me most, and I expect him to resent me very much for that. I know that I do."

Narcissa took a long, delicate sip from her coffee before continuing.

"He must have been so alone in that frozen purgatory. I imagine it hardened him greatly. It will do him no good if I rush in now, while he has yet to figure out how he feels, and mother him. He must come to terms with what happened to him and decide if he wants me there. In his heart of hearts he knows I will be there the moment he asks, but any sooner and I will only make his recovery harder."

Narcissa wavered at the end of her explanation, but said nothing else. She took another sip of her coffee.

"While I doubt you'll agree with me now, I very much believe you and Hermione will do him a world of good."

Harry wanted to disagree but having been forgiven by Narcissa was enough to strengthen Harry's resolve when it came to Draco.

"I promise I'll be better for him."

Narcissa turned her full attention to Harry and gave such a loving smile that for a moment his breath caught.

"I know Harry. You're family, and family looks out for each other."

Harry stayed well into the afternoon, enjoying Narcissa's company and readying himself for the inevitable apologies he would have to make, to Draco who deserved one and Hermione who would demand one. Kreacher loaded him up with homemade treacle tart and chocolate raspberry gateau ("the young Master Malfoy's favorite.") before taking off. He stopped by the bakery down the lane from their townhouse and grabbed eclairs for Hermione and trudged home.

By the time he arrived at the townhouse, he was feeling much happier. It was when he tried to open the front door and got an overwhelming electric jolt through his body that he figured out Hermione was home and less than happy.