Following the war and the trials that came after, the survivors have finally begun to move on. Harry, a trainee auror, knows he has one last person to thank, but little does he know that a well meaning social call will turn

NARCISSA

Narcissa could not sleep. She tossed and turned in the bed, spreading limbs over to the cool side of the bed and turning back when that too became warm and uncomfortable. Her eyes were weary but her thoughts were full. She had been reading through volumes of law records for Lucius so long that her head was buzzing. Draco had barely spoken a word to her at dinner, he had requested to eat his meals in his room, but she forbid the house elf to serve his food anywhere but the dining. Draco had barely touched his food and ignored all her attempts to make conversation.

She thought idyllically of inviting Javor to Sunday lunch and letting Draco open up to him, and have him solve everything for her. Somewhere in the darkness she heard a murmur, in the hallways, the portraits were gossiping amongst themselves.

"What is it?" She asked lazily in the darkness.

"I'm not sure, I shall go and find out." the portrait of Magdalena Malfoy answered. Narcissa waited, turning over again hoping she might find a comfortable position to fall asleep.

However, her bedroom door burst open and the unmistakeable sounds of a house elf's sobs filled the room.

"Mistress! You is needing to get up now!" But Narcissa was already sitting up and her raised her wand to the lamp beside her. The house elf was reaching for her with eyes wide and full of tears; her pillow case tunic covered in blood. "It is master Draco! Please Mistress! Illy is not understanding!" she sobbed. Narcissa grabbed her dressing gown and barely managed to drag it over her shoulders as she rushed through the corridors in the direction of Draco's room.

"No mistress! He's in the cellar."

"The cellar?" Narcissa gasped, she apparated downstairs, to the top of the cellar with Illy following close behind her. The enchantment that blocked people from entering the cellar had already been broken by Draco and he had not recast it. She opened the cellar door and looked down into the depths where a ungenerous light cast over the stone floor revealing nothing further into the room. She rushed down the steps.

"Draco!" She called out. She saw him at once, hunched on the floor, his wand arm shaking while his left arm bled profusely. "What have you done, you idiot!" She said rushing to him, his eyes bore into her, huge but empty while his body seemed to convulse. She looked at his arm, it was bleeding continuously, with more blood than seemed possible even if he'd cut an artery. For his arm looked like it had been cut into, directly onto the tattoo etched in his forearm.

She cast several healing spells she knew, but all attempts she made to close the wounds seemed to open again.

"What have you used?!" She shrieked, but Draco could not answer, his head lolled to one side and his eyes lost focus. She shook him.

"No! Draco I can't apparate out of this room…come on!" She pulled his good arm over her shoulder and hoisted him with difficult. Draco used the little strength he had to walk up the stairs beside her, splattering blood up the stone staircase.

No sooner had they reached the top, she took a deep breath and disapparated from the Manor to St Mungo's.

They arrived in the main entrance. During the travel, Draco weakened, and upon apparition Narcissa almost fell forwards under his weight. Waiting Mediwitches rushed forwards to help, levitating Draco onto a trolley.

"What's happened?" One asked

"Spell damage." Was all Narcissa could think, remembering the floor she needed. The other visitors looked over in alarm at the scene, and Narcissa realised that her white night gown was seeped in her son's blood. The mediwitches examined Draco's arm, and exchanged glances on noticing the tattoo, but made no comment.

"What spell did he use?"

"I don't know, I found him like that."

"Right, let's take him straight up. What's his name?"

"Draco."

"Draco stay awake, we're taking you to a Healer now. You're bleeding! We're going to use bandages to temporarily stop the bleeding. If you can hear me move you're fingers. Let's go, he's not responding!"

The mediwitches transported him to spell damage using their emergency elevators, Narcissa followed close behind as fast she could in her slippers.

She waited patiently in the waiting room. A mediwitch had given her hospital robe to go over her stained night clothes, it was kind of her, but Narcissa did not care, her heart was racing almost as quickly as her mind. What had Draco been doing? Casting spells on his arm, on the tattoo. To remove it? Could he be so foolish. What spell had he used that she could not heal, no usual one surely, that would be easy to heal. After what felt like hour, a curly haired Healer approached her.

"Mrs Malfoy?"

"Is he alright?"

"My name is Healer Aziz," he smiled "Your son will be fine, I believe. We have managed to stop the bleeding, but as I was unable to diagnose which spell he used I have to keep him under observation should the bleeding start again, as it might."

With a deep sigh, Narcissa closed her eyes and put her hands to her face for a moment.

"Thank you." She said softly. "I'm afraid I don't know which spell he used…I found him that way."

"You were right to bring him straight in. When he wakes up we'll be able to ask him. But you can go in and see him if you wish, but please alert someone if he wakes up. I have given him a dose of Dreamless Sleep, that ought to do him some good."

Narcissa could not place her thoughts as she looked at her son lying motionless and colourless on the hospital bed. His arm was heavily bandaged and the set with a purple paste that had hardened on the folds. She took his good hand in her own, she kissed it and pressed it to her cheek. It was cold and firm, a man's hand, unrecognisable from the tiny baby's hands that had once clasped her fingers so many years ago.

As she sat beside him, she realised it had been some time since she been alone with like this. Recently, whenever she tried to, he would only brush her off and turn away, unable even to bestow a smile on her. What had happened that made him hate her? What had made him curse himself? Where had her smiling, happy son gone?

Damn the Dark Lord. Damn him! Damn Voldemort! She thought to herself, and a jolt of fear shuddered through her. He was dead and gone but still she feared saying what she thought aloud. His legacy lived on; her son's state was proof of that.

There was a small pop beside her, Narcissa sniffed back her tears and glanced at the house-elf that had appeared beside her carrying a leather suitcase above her head.

"What is it?"

"Mistress, Illy is sorry to disturb, Illy I knowing she should not be leaving the house without permission but she is wanting to bring Mistress spare clothes."

"Thank you." She said briefly.

"Illy wonders how is the young master?" the elf said peaking at her unconscious master.

"Master Draco is safe now, but will remain in hospital for the time being, as will I. Gather him some things for when he wakes up though, clothes and books and so forth" She explained.

"Of course, Mistress." The elf bowed and prepared to disapparate. Narcissa stopped her.

"Illy. Tell me, why was Draco in the cellar?"

Illy diverted her eyes and put her hands together nervously, then she began rock backwards and forwards, faster and faster. Narcissa had seen this in house elves countless times. Illy was obedient enough, so the only concern she would have for avoiding answering questions would be if she had been ordered not to by someone else and was now weighing up which order was more important.

"Illy, whatever master Draco told you, I override that."

The elf's eyes weld up with tears.

"Oh mistress. Illy begged young master not to do it . Illy doesn't like that place at all. Young master became angry with Illy, and says that I is no longer allowed to help him, but had to stand watch outside the cellar. All the while he is casting strange spells that Illy is frightened of, Mistress."

"What sort of spells?"

"Illy is not knowing spells, Mistress, but Illy is feeling something awful in the air when young Master is casting them. He is getting books from Master's library and trying many things."

"Was he trying to remove his dark mark?" Narcissa asked in a low whisper. Illy shuddered at the mention of the mark, and shook her head.

"Young master was pointing his wand at it, but Illy isn't understanding why. "

"Very well, Illy. You may go. However, when you return with Draco's belongings, I want you to bring me a list of the books he was studying from. All of them!"

"Yes Mistress." She bowed with a crack she disapparated. No sooner had she gone, there was a knock on the door and Healer Aziz returned with, what seemed to be, a superior Healer. She was a tall, dark haired woman, with horse like features and thick, round glasses. Without acknowledging Narcissa, the Healer marched forwards and examined Draco's arm.

"Hmm." She said to herself. "Aziz who told you to use this dressing?"

"No one, Healer Gerdwich, it was my own idea. It was the only thing that stopped the bleeding." Aziz said almost pleadingly. Healer Gerdwich stood up at full height again, and crossed her arms in thought.

"Well I just can't examine it like this." At last, she looked over at Narcissa. "You're the patient's mother."

"I am."

"I'm Healer Gerdwich; Head Healer in Spell Damage. Your son possesses the Death Eater's Dark Mark, is that correct?"

"He does…" Narcissa said tentatively. Even after answering so many questions during the trials, she was still unused to speaking openly about it.

"If you'd come to me before the war, I'd say we were working on unknown territory, but now we've done some research on this Mark we may be able to make some sort of diagnosis. Aziz, wake the patient up. 2 portions of Revive to 1 portion of Invigoration Draught, ought to do it. I'd rather not risk putting any more spells on him for now."

"Can't we let him sleep?" Narcissa protested. "Just for a while."

"No, for one thing I don't have all day, second we don't know what's going on under those bandages. The sooner we find out the better. Aziz?"

Healer Aziz was already pouring carefully measures spoonfuls of potion into Draco's mouth. Draco woke up, at first slowly and then all at once. His eyes suddenly darted around in a panic. Narcissa held onto him and hushed him. He looked at her with confusion then winced in pain.

"Draco Malfoy?" Gerdwich asked. "You're in St Mungo's, do you remember what happened? Draco nodded unsurely and pulled his hand out of his mother's grip. "Good. There are some questions I need to ask before we can operate any further on your arm. First of all….what were you planning to do to that tattoo of yours?" She asked jerking her head towards his arm.

Draco exhaled and closed his eyes meditatively. After some deliberation he cleared his throat hoarsely.

"To get rid of it."

Narcissa groaned audibly.

"Draco, how could you?"

Draco ignored her and focused instead on Gerdwich's solemn expression.

"Can you tell me what spell you used?" Stubbornly he shook his head, his mouth remaining tightly closed. "I see." Gerdwich said standing up straighter, she raised her eyebrows. "So it was a curse then, was it? Did you try to curse your tattoo off?"

"Of course I didn't, I'm not an idiot." Draco snapped.

"I'm glad to hear it." The healer nodded with mock admiration. "Now that I know you're a bright boy, I'll continue shall I?" She drew up a chair by magic and sat beside Draco, staring at him beadily. "Now, that tattoo on your arm, the dark mark, is a dark spell cast by a dark wizard who operated within the realms of unofficial, often illegal magic. That makes it fairly difficult to diagnose, as you can imagine. So, since you refuse to explain what happened, I will have to assume what occurred. The first guess is that you tried to remove the tattoo using a simple spell and failed, the tattoo rejected it causing this rupture in your arm. The second guess is that you were unable to use a simple spell and explored into some other, rarer magic which went terribly wrong? Which was it?"

Draco said nothing. Narcissa put her hand on his shoulder.

"Come Draco, you must tell us what happened. It doesn't matter."

But Draco glared at his mother with an anger he had never directed towards her. So surprised was she by it, that withdrew her hand and looked to Gerdwich for help.

"I can't imagine, that You-Know-Who took well to his followers trying to remove his mark," the Healer continued. "I suspect that is that there is a curse on it. Now, you may not know, but the way curses work is that they form in the wound and spread across the body like fire across gunpowder. They travel along every vein and artery, nerve tendon and bone, if necessary; until the whole host is affected. To try to avoid that, I have two options; the first is to diagnose the spell and try to reverse it. The second; is to remove your arm, and any other body part affected before the curse spreads. The choice is all yours."

"Draco…" Narcissa pleaded, but Draco only lowered his eyes, ignoring his mother.

"If I tell you the spell, that doesn't guarantee you would be able to reverse it, particularly since you're not sure how the mark may react. Is that right? Draco asked. Gerdwich nodded.

"That is true."

"Then I don't think I have many options. He said sullenly. "I cannot tell you."

"Draco you must! There is a chance-"

"I can do what I like, Mother!" He snapped. Gerdwich, although disinclined to show it, seemed rather surprised by Draco's decision. Her manner had changed slightly, the confidence she had exuded when she entered the room, was replaced by a forlorn dejection. Her nostrils flared, as she breathed in and gathered her previous authority.

"There is one more issue for you to consider, Mr Malfoy. If self preservation is not enough to sway you to tell us I have to explain that the dark mark is based on a proteon charm, which as you know, connects it to all the other Death Eaters who bear it. That's correct, is it not?"

"It is." Draco said unperturbed.

"Well, this may be affecting them too. This decision is not necessarily yours alone."

Draco sneered.

"Why should I care about them?" He asked callously. Narcissa, gasped.

"Darling…Daddy's in Azkaban." She whispered.

"They can all rot." Draco said to Gerdwich, directly. "It makes no difference to me."

Gerdwich paused, her face devoid of expression.

"As you wish…" She said, standing up and drawing away her chair. "Unfortunately, you lack the right to sentence prisoners to death, so there will be checks made on the Azkaban inmates in question, to see how they have been affected by this. Well...I will leave you to it. Somebody will come to change your bandages in about an hour. Good day Mr Malfoy." She said turning and leaving the room with Healer Aziz close behind.

Narcissa found herself caught in an awkward silence with her son. She waited for her brain to make sense of her son's decision, his stubbornness and his obvious resentment.

"Draco…" she said hestitantly.

"Mother?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Giving up?" she shook her head. "It doesn't matter what spell you used. People get brought into spell damage for doing all sorts of spells, illegal, legal, unknown and bizarre. They are Healers they've seen it all before. The trouble you'll get in for it will be nothing to the trouble of not having it sorted out."

"How can you say that performing illegal spells won't get me into trouble? I'm on probation, Mother! You and Father have done this me…you're the reason I'm in this position."

"We can talk about this some other time, Draco. Right now we just need to get you better…"

"What have I to show for it? For all the things you and Father made me do? What do any of us have to show for it?"

"It's not worth dying for! Not after everything we've been through." She said, feeling the heat of the anger and the guilt raising up inside of her

"Who is we? Why do you always refer to my actions and decisions as we?"

"Because we have stood by each other! It is because we stood by each other, right to the very end that we're even here!"

He narrowed his eyes at her.

"Good." He said darkly. "If you're so obsessed with us sticking together, I'll have my arm removed and you can care for your crippled son instead, but I'm not going to be carted off to Azkaban with the rest of them…I'd rather be dead than be counted amongst the likes of Father!"

Narcissa slapped him, as she had never done before; across his face, a great stinging slap like a uncivilised muggle. Her heart was raging so fast she was panting. Draco on the other hand only turned his face back to her with repulsion. Narcissa diverted her eyes, and stood up away from the chair, lifting the case Illy had brought. She turned to the wall and gathered her nerve, unable to look at him.

"Do as you wish. I give up!" She muttered.

AN: Thanks