Narcissa Malfoy was home alone. Her son was happily married and living elsewhere, her eight-year-old grandson was a fine little man, and her husband…was…absent.
Mrs. Malfoy had escaped punishment after the war because of her lie that saved that brat Potter, but Mr. Malfoy hadn't been so lucky. People were still disgruntled, saying that he'd deserved more than just thirteen years locked up in Azkaban.
Narcissa paced sadly back and forth in her husband's study, fondling the books on his desk, just the way he'd left them before his trial. She remembered the five minutes they'd spent together before he was Portkeyed away, his plea for her to leave him and restart her life with another man. "I won't survive." He'd said softly.
He's still mine. Narcissa thought defiantly. I won't leave him till I know he's dead.
Loneliness overwhelmed her and she crumpled to the floor, sobbing.
There was a knock on the door a few minutes later. Stiffening, Narcissa dried her tears bravely and opened it. Draco stood in the hallway, looking grief-stricken and broken. Scorpius clung to his father's hand, tear tracks all over his sticky face.
"Mum." Draco's voice was no more than a whisper. "I didn't tell you. Astoria… died."
"Oh…Draco. I'm so sorry."
Scorpius snuffled.
"I came to- well, I- I want- please, take care of Scorpius, mum." Draco said, trying to act unfazed.
"Of course. Draco- " She held up her hand to silence her son. "I understand it. Scorpius reminds…?" She didn't finish her sentence.
"Yes, yes. Please, mum, I'll come back."
" I know you will."
Draco turned on his heel and walked away. Scorpius sidled up to his grandam and slipped his dirty hand into hers. "When will Daddy come back?" He asked innocently.