The Bond of Brothers

Edit 8-19-12: I realized while writing the next chapter that I'd completely left out an important detail in this chapter! If you've already read the chapter, you really don't need to reread it. I only added a few lines to Harry's conversation with Snape and I'll make note of what I changed at the beginning of next chapter.

A/N: Ok, just want to respond here to a couple of anonymous reviewers who really dislike the idea of Ginny being in the story since I can't do it privately. I'm sorry you don't like her character, but in the summary for this story, it clearly says this will be H/G. If this bothers you so much, then there are plenty of other stories out there that don't have this pairing. Although I respect your opinions, this pairing is the only one I had planned for this story from the beginning and isn't going to change.

And for anyone else who has reservations about Ginny being with Harry, I'm sorry but I've always been an H/G shipper, and I can't really see myself writing anything else. I do agree with most of you that Ginny's character was never fully developed in the books and it was a bit of a fan girl type relationship, but I hope I can overcome that in this story. Ginny is going to be important to Harry and how he deals with his changing relationships in this story, so hopefully she'll become much more than an old, slightly obsessive fan girl who ended up with the hero. ; )

A/N2: As for the lateness of this chapter, I have no other excuse apart from I lost motivation, which is a terrible one I know. I will henceforth refrain from making any promises on when chapters will be posted. Although I'll try not let more than a month or two go by without one.

THANK YOU! All my lovely reviewers! This is the most reviews I've ever gotten at this point in a story, so thank you so much!

Chapter Three:

The Platform was crowded like normal, but this year the happy chatter of returning students and the sniffling of parents as they said their goodbyes grated on his nerves more than usual. All those ignorant, carefree children whose biggest worries were pathetic insecurities… never before had he wanted to be a part of their number, but this year he found himself jealous of them. Glancing around, he caught sight of Potter making his way onto the platform surrounded by his entourage of poor red heads and the know-it-all Granger. He saw people whispering as they caught sight of the scar headed hero and couldn't help sneering.

"Let's all make way for the Chosen One," he scoffed under his breath so only his mother could hear. She looked sharply in the direction of Potter, something flashing in her eyes, but it was gone before he could make it out.

"You know I don't like you talking about him like that," she told him off quietly, readjusting his clothes and brushing away imaginary dust.

He felt the familiar irritation make his skin itch at his mother's persistent defense of the pig-headed boy-who-lived. She had been doing it long before he even went to Hogwarts, but only when his father was not around to hear. And since he'd been locked away, she'd been trying with more force to get him to play nice with Potter. "If you think I'm going to lay down at his feet like all these other idiots…"

"I don't think he wants that..." He almost didn't catch her words, his mother spoke so softly, her eyes lingering over Potter as he hugged Weasley's mother. She turned back to him, saying louder, "Just remember, Draco, there is more than one side to this war."

He made some noncommittal noise, looking away. Unlike his mother seemed to think, he was painfully aware that there were two sides, and he feared that he was on the loosing one. But there was nothing he could do. He's father had made sure of that.

"Remember, Severus knows of our… situation," her voice hitched, and Draco grew uncomfortable, checking to make sure no one was listening in on their conversation. "He has offered his assistance, when you should need it."

"If I should need it, you mean," he snapped. He was practically an adult, and as such didn't need his mother or professor coddling him. The task he had been assigned was his alone, as was the burden it carried. "Which I won't."

"It is good to be brave, my son, but too much of it is foolish."

He glared at her. "Do not compare me to one of those blithering Gryffindors."

"You know," she sighed, a far off look in her eye. "I never liked the students being sorted into Houses. It makes us forget our similarities, and focus only on our differences."

Draco could not hide his shock, never before hearing something of the like from his mother. He'd always thought she was a proud Slytherin, just like his father, and just like he was. But in that moment she almost sounded like the light wizards and witches who aligned themselves with Dumbledore. He was trying to come up with something to say in response, but was interrupted by the shrill whistle of the train.

"Go, Draco," his mother spurred him, giving him a light push when he stayed rooted to the spot. "Go on or you'll miss it. Remember what I said."

Still dazed, he allowed the throng of students to swallow him up and carrying him onto the train where he found a Slytherin compartment and quickly seated himself by the window. He looked through the glass, searching the crowd of parents till he found his mother. He caught her eye, and she gave a small wave, mouthing the words 'I love you' as the train pulled out of the station.

Draco leaned back in his seat, choosing to remain in silence for much of the following trip, speaking only when absolutely necessary. Since the Dark Lord had assigned him his task several weeks ago, his mother's behavior had started to worry him. He'd known since childhood that his mother was never the supporter that his father was, which he'd understood. He never fancied the idea of kissing another wizard's feet like the Death Eaters appeared to do himself. Of course, he never thought he'd be faced with the possibility either; growing up with the firm belief that He-who-must-not-be-named was dead and gone.

Lately, however, he'd begun to suspect that his mother's reluctance to support the Dark Lord ran deeper than a desire to not be reduced to a mere follower. Her offhand remarks from his younger years about not giving in to prejudices and to be respectful to the boy-who-lived had increased and become more instant. And her last comment on the platform only added to his suspicions that his mother didn't agree with the Dark Lord's ideals at all, or at least not completely. This greatly troubled him, almost as much as the consequences he faced if he failed in his task. If it was discovered that his mother was opposed to the Dark Lord… He feared what would happen to her, especially after the failure and subsequent punishment of his father.

His worried thoughts persisted all the way through the train ride and well into the Welcome Feast. Only a bony elbow sharply jabbing into his ribs was finally able to distract him.

"Draco," the persistently whiny voice of Pansy hissed in his ear. "Potter's been staring at you for the past five minutes!"

Narrowing his eyes he looked across to the Gryffindor table, slightly surprised to see that Pansy was telling the truth. For his part, Potter looked embarrassed at being caught and hastily turned away, joining in on his friends' conversation. Shrugging it off, he went back to his meal, realizing he'd hardly eaten anything and the only thing left on the table was dessert.

Several minutes later, as all the students were getting up to leave, he noticed Professor Snape weaving his way through the masses. Interestedly, he watched him approach Potter, say something he couldn't make out over the bustle, and turn to walk out of the Hall, an irritated Potter trailing after him. Moving quickly, he made it out into the Entrance Hall just soon enough to catch the unlikely duo heading down a lesser-used corridor, one he knew led to Snape's personal chambers.

He was debating on whether or not he should risk following Snape and Potter when Pansy's shrill voice called out to him.

"There you are, Draco!" She looped her arm securely in his, pulling him forcefully in the direction of the Slytherin dormitory, prattling on about her summer as if he cared. Sighing, he allowed her to guide him away, deciding to keep a closer eye on Potter this year, as well as Professor Snape. His mother's constant reminders that Snape was there to help him played in his mind. If his mother's allegiances were uncertain, than it was a very short leap to assume that the Potions Master wasn't as loyal as he seemed either.

000

Harry had barely managed to endure the train ride, which seemed to him to be longer than normal, and was now sitting in the Great Hall, impatiently picking at his food, willing the feast to end. The glass vial filled with memories sat like a hot ember in his pocket, his thoughts occupied with speculation after speculation of what they might contain. Looking up at the Head table, he was trying to think of the best way to approach Snape about viewing the memories when Ron's voice invaded loudly in his mind.

"Did you know Lupin was coming back this year, mate?"

Harry's eyes slid down from the Potions Master to land on the newly returned Professor Lupin who was speaking with McGonagall. "No, he never mentioned it."

"At least we'll have proper instruction in Defense this year," said Hermione, bringing his attention back to his friends.

"Yeah, anyone would be better after that toad," Ron agreed between mouthfuls of potatoes. Harry unconsciously flexed his hand, stretching the scarred words, I must not tell lies.

"Harry doesn't want to continue the DA," Ginny spoke offhandedly, her eyebrows raised. He mentally cursed, knowing she had waited till the middle of the Welcome Feast to bring up last nights conversation on purpose.

"What?" This came from Neville, who was sitting on his other side. "Why not?"

"Harry, learning how to defend ourselves has never been more important," Hermione added before he could answer, her tone laced with disapproval.

He shrugged, having no desire to explain himself at the moment. "You said yourself class will be better with Professor Lupin teaching again."

"Yes, but," Hermione had that gleam in her eye that he'd long ago recognized to mean that she was gearing up for a long winded debated. Quickly, he moved to cut her off.

"Look, can't we talk about this later? It's the first night back."

Hermione let out a breath of irritation, but went back to her supper, exchanging glances with Ron and Ginny. Ignoring his friends for the moment, Harry let his attention stray, his eyes drifting across the room and settling on a certain blond boy who sat at the end of the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting with his normal lackeys, but, like him, seemed to be somewhere else. He looked at his robe covered left arm, knowing what black tattoo was now burned into the pale skin beneath it.

It had only been a matter of time, he thought, the idea that Malfoy was a Death Eater not surprising in the least. No, what was troubling about this recent development was the unknown task he'd been assigned. Surely it couldn't be that terrible when Malfoy wasn't even of age. What could he possibly do when he was still inside the walls and protections of Hogwarts under the eye of Dumbledore? But, if it were as trivial as he imagined, why then would Mrs. Malfoy go through the effort to seek him out and ask for his help?

Malfoy was picking at his food when Parkinson whispered something to him, and his grey eyes moved to meet his. Embarrassed at being caught staring, Harry quickly moved his eyes away, pretending to listen to Ron go on about the Chudley Cannon's outlook for the coming season. A few minutes later, the last of the food was cleared from the long tables. As one, the students stood and began to make their way out of the Great Hall, the first years gathering timidly around their respective prefects while the older years fell into familiar routines.

"Potter," a cold voice spoke his name distastefully. Harry turned from his place in the throng of students clambering for the wide doors to find the one professor he actually wanted to speak to. Snape sneered down his crooked nose at him. "Come with me. We need to discuss the continuance of your Remedial Potions lessons."

He felt his face grow hot. "Yes, sir." He broke no argument, despite being upset at the old excuse of remedial lessons, especially seeing how he hadn't even gotten into the NEWT class. He needed something from the greasy git, as much as he was loathed to admit it, and angering the professor would make getting answers harder.

Snape peaked an eyebrow, but said nothing else. As Harry followed him from the Hall, his stomach grew agitated, the little food he'd eaten churning uncomfortably. He could feel the glass vial in his pocket with every step. The older man led him down a small passageway he'd never ventured in before. There were very few portraits lining the cold walls, and the floor sloped steadily downward. The air grew stale as they descended into the dungeons, all the time neither breaking the silence.

Finally, Snape came to a stop in front of a seemingly innocuous stretch of wall across from a painting of a magnificent looking snake wrapped around a bloodied sword.

"These is the entrance to my personal office and chambers," Snape said, narrowing his eyes. "You will not give away the location or password unless you wish to be meant with severe consequences. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Harry replied, unsure, not quite understanding why the professor who hated him the most would trust him with this.

After a moment, Snape seemed satisfied and faced the bare wall, saying just loud enough for him to hear, "Lilium Candidum."

A great slab of stone separated itself from the rest of the wall at the password, pushing first inwards and then sliding to the side. Moving through the newly created doorway, Harry looked around his surroundings with undisguised interest. Apart from the lack of windows, one would not know they were in the dungeons. The front room was open and spacious. To the left, a fire crackled warmly in an iron grate, the heat chasing the dampness from the air. Two armchairs that appeared well worn sat before the flames, neither of which were in Slytherin colors. To the right, there was an ornate wooden desk littered with parchment and several stacks of potions books. There was only one portrait in the room, and it hung directly behind the desk. It was an older wizard with black hair and a beard that was beginning to grey who was currently sitting in a chair, snoozing. A silver cane with a black bird handle leaned against the frame. The rest of the walls were covered in woven tapestries, although they didn't depict any particular scene, rather just intricate patterns. There were several more doors leading off from the room, but all were closed.

"Sit, Potter," ordered Snape, settling into a large chair with carved armrests situated behind his desk. Cautiously, Harry lowered himself into the only chair that sat in front of the desk. He swallowed, not knowing what to say or do next. Mrs. Malfoy had said that Snape was expecting him, but this only served to make him more uneasy.

He cleared his throat, deciding to start with an easier topic. "What did you mean by Remedial Potions?" he asked.

"Exactly what I said, Potter," Snape drawled. "The Headmaster wishes for you to continue learning Occlumency."

"With you?" he exclaimed, then bit his tongue.

Snape's eyes darkened. "Did you have someone else in mind?"

"No," Harry tried to recover. "I just meant, after what happened last time… I'm just surprised."

"Rest assured, Potter," warned Snape. "This is your last chance. A repeat of last year's incident, and there will be nothing the Headmaster can do to spare you from my punishment."

Harry paled with guilt, for what he'd foolishly done and for what it had ultimately cost him in the end. "I understand, sir."

"I'm pleased to see you posses some small amount of decorum, Potter," said Snape. "Lessons will be every Thursday evening at eight o'clock sharp. They will be held here. I trust you paid attention and will be able to find your way back, and recall the correct password as well."

"Yes, but," he cleared his throat. "How can I be taking remedial potions when I'm not even in your class this year?"

Snape eyed him distastefully. "Given your… particular… circumstances, the Headmaster has asked me to take you on despite your lackluster grades in the subject. Rest assured, this leniency will not extend through the year. You will be expected to keep your grades up that same as the students who earned their place. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied through clenched teeth, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to prevent him from saying something he'd later regret.

"Very well then. You are dismissed." Snape moved his attention to a particularly thick stack of parchment on his desk. Harry didn't move, sitting awkwardly in his chair. Now what was he supposed to do? He couldn't leave, not yet, not without finding out what memories had been given to him.

A few seconds passed while Harry frantically tried to come up with something to say. When it was obvious that he had no intention of moving, Snape looked up at him through strands of oily hair. "Are you deaf as well as stupid, Potter?"

"No, I just-"

"Spit it out."

Deciding to forgo the use of words altogether, Harry dug his hand in his pocket and produced the small vial, placing it carefully on the desk. Eyes widening slightly, Snape glanced between him and the memories, expression blank.

"Whose memories are those, Potter? And how did you come to be in possession of them?" Snape asked, arching his eyebrows. Harry met his onyx eyes, and knew the professor was completely aware of the situation but was simply waiting to see what he'd do next. He felt a burst of irritation. Snape was probably laughing at him in his head.

"You already know," he said firmly, done playing games.

Leaning back in his chair, Snape appraised him openly. "Indeed, I do. Though I confess, I did not believe you would actually approach me. But, I suppose, curiosity is a terrible thing, pushes better judgment to the wayside."

"Can you help me or not?" he snapped, his tolerance growing dangerously thin.

"Under other circumstances, I would give you a detention for carrying around what could potentially be dangerous knowledge and neglecting to inform an adult of an encounter with a woman associated with the Dark Lord. However," Snape stood from his chair, snatching up the vial. "I am well informed on the situation."

"So you know the task Malfoy's been given?" he spoke the question before he could think better of it.

Snape hesitated. "Yes, and it is of no concern to you."

"No concern?" Harry scoffed. "Obviously Mrs. Malfoy doesn't think so or she wouldn't go through the trouble of asking me for help!"

"It is not necessary for you to know, Potter," Snape responded coolly, now with his back to him as he stepped over to a nondescript cabinet Harry hadn't noticed before.

"But it must be something bad, or dangerous, or-"

"The Headmaster is aware of it, as am I, and that is enough." Snape's tone left no room for argument, and Harry reluctantly fell silent, although he had by no means given up. The professor turned to him, Dumbledore's pensieve cradled delicately in his arms. Gently, he placed the stone basin on the desk. Unstopping the vial, he upended it, the silvery contents spilling into the billowy liquid, casting it in tones of white.

Harry's heart beat with renewed excitement. He stood up and leaned towards the basin, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"You will speak of what you see to no one. Not even Draco."

Harry nodded, willing to agree to just about anything with the memories so tantalizingly close. "Alright."

"I will be here when you come out if you have questions," Snape said, almost all traces of his usual coldness gone.

"You're not going in with me?" Harry asked. He hadn't been sure the professor would let him go alone, although he was glad for it.

"She gave them to you, Potter." It was all he offered.

He bit his lip and breathed in through his nose. Unable to wait a second longer, and giving himself no time to back out, he plunged his face into the cool liquid, and he tumbled head first into the unknown memories.

000

The dungeon classroom was full of bright-eyed first years, equal parts nerves and eagerness for their first potions lesson. A squat, chubby professor sat at his desk in the front of the classroom, waiting the last few minutes before class was to start, allowing any straggling students to make their way. Several potions bubbled, black caldrons placed on pedestals, and the colorful fumes made the room seem at once hazy and whimsical.

Towards the back of the classroom, four boys huddled together, all wearing their new Gryffindor badges with pride. There was a bespectacled, messy black haired boy with brown eyes who was whispering conspiratorially with a second ebony haired boy, all those his fell straight, the edges brushing into his blue eyes. A boy who looked tired despite a full nights rest with a head of light brown hair listened in quietly to his friends' whispers while he got his quill and parchment ready for any note taking. And the last boy, one who resembled a mouse in hair, face, and eyes, scooted closer to the previous three, a wanting expression on his features, desperate to fit in.

At the center, front desk sat two girls, one with straight locks of silvery blond and the other with thick waves of auburn. The former had a snake embroidered on her badge, while the later sported the same crimson and gold lion as the four plotting boys in the back. Both girls already had new rolls of parchment and new quills with full inkpots arranged on their desk. They waited patiently for class to begin, the red head girl bouncing slightly in barely controlled excitement.

The door to the classroom swung open with a small bang, and a pale boy bearing a Slytherin badge with stringy black hair and dark eyes rushed in. The Gryffindor girl waved enthusiastically at him, and the boy quickly weaved through the desks to take the empty seat beside her.

"I was beginning to think you were going to be late for the first day of class!" the red head exclaimed to the boy.

"I took a wrong turn," muttered the boy, cheeks tinged with red. The blond girl snickered.

"What's so funny?" the boy shot across the desk to his fellow housemate. She didn't answer, but stopped laughing and shrugged her shoulders.

"It's nothing to feel bad about, Sev," the red head assured her friend. "The castle is even bigger than what I imagined from your stories. I'm sure first years get lost all the time."

"I wasn't lost."

"Isn't that what happens when you make a wrong turn?" The Slytherin girl smirked, and the boy crossed his arms grumpily over his chest.

The Gryffindor girl turned to assess the other. After a moment, she held out a hand and said, "I don't believe we've met. I'm Lily Evans, and this is Severus Snape."

The blond looked appraisingly at the offered hand, then, almost cautiously, she took it. "Narcissa Black." She flashed a pristinely white smile. "And I believe I met Severus last night at the feast."

"Black," Severus grudgingly acknowledged.

"Hey, Evans!" the messy haired boy shouted from the back of the classroom, grinning quite charismatically for an elven year old.

Instantly, Lily's mouth twisted in annoyance. "Be quiet, Potter!" she hissed back at him before resolutely ignoring him and his friends.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, seemingly reconsidering something. "Are you a muggle-born, Lily?"

The Gryffindor breathed in and puffed out her chest. "Yes, I am," she spoke proudly.

"Well then-"

"Black, watch yourself," Severus cut in, eyes narrowed at Narcissa warningly.

"I was only going to say," Narcissa said frostily to Severus before flashing another smile at Lily. "That any witch who can tell off my idiot cousin and his obviously equally idiotic new friend is all right with me."

"Er, thanks," said Lily, looking relieved. Severus merely looked stunned. It was at this point that the potions professor stood up, and all the students' attentions were diverted to the front of the classroom.

"Good morning class, and welcome to first year Potions! My name is Professor Slughorn…"

The scene swirled away in black and white bursts of mist, and was quickly replaced by another.

Several years had passed, and now a sixteen-year-old Narcissa Black sat at a front desk, facing a black board that read NEWTs Level Charms. She was apparently early for class, as only two other students were in the room.

"Hello, Narcissa," Lily Evans greeted as she walked in and took the vacant seat next to her.

"Lily," Narcissa smiled politely. "How was your summer?"

"Apart from meeting my sister's oaf of a boyfriend, it was pleasant. Honestly, I don't know what she sees in him."

"Yes, well it is unfortunate that we can't pick and choose our relatives."

Lily nodded absently. "How did you do on your OWLs?"

"Outstandings in Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions. Exceeds Expectations in everything else." Narcissa flipped her long hair over her shoulder. "You?"

"The same," Lily laughed lightly. "Looks like we'll be seeing a lot of each other for the next two years." Both girls smiled.

After a moment, Narcissa cleared her throat, saying quietly, "I've noticed you haven't spoken to Severus yet."

Coldness settled in Lily's eyes, her smile falling. "No."

Narcissa sighed. "He really misses you, Lily. I can tell. He's just too proud to apologize."

"Then he shouldn't have called me that foul name to begin with." Lily's voice was hard, but her face was lined with hurt.

"He didn't mean what he said. You know Potter and my cousin bring out the worst in him."

"You don't know that," Lily challenged. "With all that's been going on lately, I wouldn't be surprised if Sev really did see me that way."

Her face going white with anger, Narcissa leaned in close to Lily, hissing through clenched teeth, "How dare you say that? You've known Severus before you even came to Hogwarts. You know he would never think about you like that!"

Lily crumpled. "It's just… all the attacks… How can you be sure?" Her voice was hardly more than a whisper.

"I know," Narcissa squared her shoulders and raised her chin. "Because I am the same. Neither Severus or I think any less of you, nor will we."

Astounded, Lily looked at the Slytherin with wide eyes. "You don't? I always thought…"

"It's talent and skill that make a witch or wizard, Lily, not their family name." Narcissa's lips were pressed into a thin line, but her grey eyes had softened somewhat.

"I'm sorry I misjudged you," Lily shook her head. "You've always been perfectly nice to me, it was wrong of me to just assume-"

"It's alright," Narcissa waved away the apology. "I don't make it a habit to express my beliefs, unlike some of my more senseless Gryffindor relations." The corner of her lip twitched with amusement. Lily grinned, and the tension dissipated between the girls.

Just then, a rowdy group of boys came tromping into the classroom, a young James Potter in the lead. "There's my Lily-flower! How would you like to…"

The memory faded away, another following quick behind.

Lily and Narcissa were huddled studiously over a small table at the back of the library, several large tomes spread out between them, each scribbling furiously across sheets of parchment. Both were so consumed in their work that they failed to notice a boy approaching.

"Lily, what…" James spoke up, brow furrowed in confusion, distrust in his eyes, startling the girls.

"James!" Lily cried, jumping to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," he replied, eyeing Narcissa, clearly upset by her presence.

"How did you find me? I thought I told you I was going for a walk around the lake."

Stealthily, James stuffed what looked like a worn bit of parchment further into his back pocket. "I've got my ways," he replied flippantly.

Lily harrumphed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you've found me. Now, if you wouldn't mind going away, Cissy and I are trying to study."

"Cissy?" James sounded both flabbergasted and disgusted.

"Yes, James," Lily replied hotly. "Do you have a problem with that?"

James spluttered. "Of course I've got a problem with that! She's a bleeding Slytherin for Merlin's sake, Lils!"

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Potter."

"But those Snakes are all evil!" James nearly shouted, growing red in the face.

"Oh, just like all muggle-borns are worthless?" Lily snapped back.

"What?" James gaped, stunned. "No! I didn't say… I've never believed that!"

"Neither does Cissy." Lily placed her hands on her hips, looking smug.

"But," James turned to Narcissa who had thus far remained silent, watching the argument with cool indifference. "You're a dark witch, your family-"

"Is the same family as your friend Sirius," finished Narcissa. James looked like he'd been slapped in the face with a dead fish.

"Cissy is my friend, James, just like Sirius is yours." Lily took a step closer to her new boyfriend, putting a hand on his arm. "You're going to have to accept that if this relationship is going to work."

The thought of losing Lily seemed to be the last push James needed, and he slowly nodded. Turning to his girlfriend, he said, "You're right, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions… I was just a little bit… shocked, I guess."

"It's okay, but I'm not the one you should apologize to."

James face puckered like he'd had a strong taste of lemons, but he faced the Slytherin girl nonetheless. "I'm sorry, Bla… Narcissa. Any friend of Lily's is a friend of mine."

Narcissa nodded, and Lily smiled, relieved. She pulled James to the small table, and they both sat down, all three taking a moment to get used to the new situation. Then, James smiled mischievously, spouting off a joke, and all three laughed.

The library zoomed away, the sound of their laughter echoing into the next memory.

The living room was cozy, several upholstered chairs and a couch arranged on the floor, a crackling fire, and charming Christmas decorations flitting around the ceiling. Two steaming cups of tea sat next to a bowl of sugar and a pitcher of milk along with a plate of biscuits. Lily and Narcissa, now a couple years out of school, were sitting in the two chairs closest to the fire.

"I've been anxious sense your firecall earlier," said Lily. "What's your big news?"

Without preamble, Narcissa replied, "I'm pregnant."

Lily gasped excitedly, although there was a sadness around her green eyes. "Oh Cissy, that's wonderful news!" She leaned back in her chair, chuckling. "I was worried it was going to be something dreadful, what with the war."

Narcissa didn't say anything, her eyes gazing unfocused at the dancing flames. She looked far from happy.

"When did you find out?" Lily asked.

"Yesterday," was the subdued response.

"And what did Lucius say?"

Turning to face Lily, Narcissa whispered, her eyes flashing with unshed tears, "I don't want to tell him."

Instantly, Lily moved forward and took her distraught friend's hand. "Oh, Cissy… I thought Lucius wanted children?"

"He does," Narcissa spat bitterly. "A child that can be raised under the cruel, harsh thumb of the Dark Lord and his sycophants."

"Cissy…"

"I will not condemn my child to a life of servitude to a monster." Narcissa's face was hard, her eyes shards of ice. "I will not."

This time, the memory did not change, but rather shifted.

The cozy living room remained the same, but the Christmas atmosphere was gone, replaced by one of childhood. Small toys were scattered across the floor, a blanket and several burp clothes draped across the furniture. A baby of two or three months with tufts of black hair and startling green eyes lay curled in Narcissa's arms as a smiling James and Lily looked on.

"He's beginning to smile," James announced, sounding ridiculously proud. "Real smiles, you know, not just scrunching up his face and what not."

Baby Harry gurgled, waving his pudgy arms.

"Has Draco started to smile?" asked Lily.

"Once," Narcissa replied wistfully. "Just this morning."

"Isn't it amazing?" James asked, eyes alight with the wonder of fatherhood.

"Yes, it is," answered Narcissa, although she sounded despondent. She offered the child to James who took him happily. He bounced up and down, tickling the boy's belly.

Arms now relieved, Narcissa let them drop heavily to her side. She sat down, and Lily did the same.

"How are you holding up, Cissy?" Lily looked thoughtfully at her friend, words laced with concern. "Everything okay between you and Lucius?"

Narcissa sighed wearily, the bags under eyes growing more pronounced. "No worse than I expected."

"He hasn't hurt you…" James trailed off warningly.

"No, no." Narcissa smiled wanly. "My husband is many things, but, as impossible as it seems, I love him, and him me. He would never lay a hand on me."

"You look tired, Cissy," Lily observed.

"Sleep does not come easily when worry for my son occupies my thoughts." Narcissa sighed, leaning back in her chair, her shoulders sagging under an invisible weight. "Sometimes I feel like taking him and running away in the middle of the night, but I've no where else to go."

"You and Draco are always welcome here, Narcissa," James told her firmly, arms gently rocking Harry who was falling asleep.

"And put you in even more danger by harboring a Death Eater's wife and son?" Narcissa shook her head. "Don't be so ridiculous, James. I could never do that to you and Lily. You've both already done so much…"

There was a pregnant pause where all three adults turned their attention the snoozing child in James' arms.

"I do have one favor to ask."

"Anything," chorused James and Lily together.

"If something should happen to me-"

"Cissy, nothing's going to-"

"We're in the middle of a war, Lily. Do not be naïve." Lily snapped her mouth shut, eyes resigned.

Narcissa continued. "If I die, I want you to take care of Draco." She shut her eyes, a single tear escaping and rolling down her white cheek. "I love Lucius, but I fear what would become of my son if he were raised only by his father."

"We promise, Cissy." Lily gripped her friend's hand tightly in her own.

"Thank you," Narcissa breathed, eyes moving to the peacefully sleeping Harry, still so full of innocence.

"My greatest fear," she spoke in a hushed whisper. "Is that Draco will take the mark like his father. The thought alone is almost too much to bear…"

With a sucking sensation, the memory faded to black, and Harry was expunged out of the pensieve, landing on shaky legs and breathing hard.

"Well, Potter," Snape drawled from his seat, a glass of what looked suspiciously like fire whiskey in his hand. "I suppose you have questions."

000

End Chapter Three! I'm not incredibly happy with Draco's part of this chapter, but I really felt it was time to bring him into the story, so that's that.

As always, review! And thank you for reading!