Lucius was not thrilled to have an audience. Having a tube removed from one's trachea was generally not the most graceful thing in the world. The whole set up was ridiculous; Hermione had already said that it wasn't much different from a muggle machine. It was more or less and enchanted bellows connected to a tube that was currently in his throat. He was grateful for it because he'd be dead without its intervention, but it was supremely uncomfortable now that he was conscious and breathing on his own. And now he had to have the damn thing removed with approximately fifteen people as spectators.

"All right," the healer said, "I'm going to pull it out now. It will feel strange, though it shouldn't hurt. You might experience a gag reflex so here's a pan just in case. Coughing and a scratchy throat are normal. Ready, Mr. Malfoy?"

Somewhat miserably, Lucius nodded his assent. The healer grasped the tube and in one smooth, practiced yank it slid out. He was coughing before it left his mouth.

It went on for nearly five minutes. His eyes were tearing and his throat felt like it was on fire. Draco and the healer were discussing some kind of potion while he attempted to forcefully eject a lung. That was when Molly Weasley stepped forward decisively and waved her wand at him.

"Levamentum gutter."

All of a sudden, the pain and scratchiness, along with the urge to hack up his alveoli, were gone. Lucius blinked, stunned. The healer turned to Molly with wide eyes.

"Is that a spell of your own creation?"

She nodded, unfazed. "It's similar to other pain relief and antitussive charms. I just made it more specific to the throat."

"It's genius. However did you think of it?"

Molly looked at the man incredulously. "Possibly because I raised seven children? Those seven children?" She pointed at the cluster of redheads. "Along with my husband and half of my childrens' friends."

The healer was oblivious to her sarcasm. In fact, he looked ready to explode with excitement. "Mrs…Weasley, was it? Would you be interested in patenting that spell?"

"Patenting?" she asked.

"Yes. It entails--"

"Do it," Lucius interrupted. His voice was still a bit rough from thirst and abuse of the involved structures. He plowed on anyway. "There's a lot of money to be made in patenting spells and charms. The patent means that you get the credit for inventing the spell, and every time it's used, a very small royalty goes to you. It's only a knut, but a spell like that – one that works very well, as evidenced by my ability to speak at present – would be put into wide use with the right advertising. Wizards and witches across the world would be using your spell, not to mention healers and hospitals, and that adds up. It could be very lucrative."

"He's right," Fred – or George? – said after a beat of silence. "We've patented some of our W3 products, like the Skiving Snackboxes, and it makes for a lot of additional income."

The other twin spoke less than a second after his brother had finished. "Mum, you've got dozens of self-invented spells like that one. Why not make good use of them? Get the credit you deserve?"

"Oh, I don't know," Molly hedged nervously.

"It sounds like a great idea," Bill chimed in. "Merlin knows we wouldn't all be here if not for some of your spells."

"Don't remind me," she said, her hand against her chest. "I need time to think about this."

"It doesn't have to be right this moment," Arthur said. "We can talk it over later."

"If you decide to go ahead with it, you will need someone to do your numbers and ensure that you get the best possible contract," Lucius stated, operating on feelings of guilt and impulsivity, both of which he was becoming more used to lately. "I would be happy to provide that service."

"Oh…er…well, that is very kind of you, Mr. Malfoy, but we don't really have the money for that."

"I was not intending to charge you," he said, as if he gave out freebies every day. In reality, he had rarely ever done such a thing, but if he was going to make some ridiculous attempt to patch things up with a family he'd ridiculed groundlessly for years…Molly looked flabbergasted, but Arthur had a small smile on his face.

The mention of money brought him back to the more sobering reality he was in. "Speaking of money, I need to talk to my goblin representative from Gringotts as soon as humanly possible." He looked at the healer. "Would it be possible for you to place the call for me?"

The healer nodded. "Right away, Mr. Malfoy." He exited the room in due haste.

"That's right," Harry spoke up. "Gringotts. What were you trying to tell us?"

Lucius took a breath and glanced at Draco. This was going to be difficult. Even though Lucius was beyond sure that it was not Narcissa who had done this to him, he didn't have concrete proof. In the absence of that, the authorities would be looking for his ex-wife. Still, he had to tell things the way they were – with the minor omission of how he'd charged in like a reckless Gryffindor and absconded with the very woman who'd done this to him.

"My ex-wife – or a woman Polyjuiced to appear as her – did this to me. She had a forged marriage certificate to make it look like we had remarried. I will admit that I was not as thorough in my post-divorce cleanup as I should have been; if they couldn't tell that the certificate is a fake, she'll have access to my vault. That was her exact intention."

"The checks," Ginny said, snapping her fingers. "She took a box of your checks."

He nodded. "She wouldn't be able to take all the money; it would arouse suspicion. She probably figured that I would die from the poison and since I was on my own, no one would notice for a few days…giving her a window in which to forge checks for whatever she wanted, using up the money she left behind."

"But wouldn't I notice?" Draco asked. And even as he did, his face went pale.

"What?" Lucius said sharply.

"She's already done it!" he said, his hands curling into fists. "Last night, when I was out, my account stopped working. I called you and you didn't answer. I figured it was just a glitch and could wait until today." He looked ready to be sick. "She took my money, too."

"Impossible," Lucius stated.

"Why?"

"Your account is separate. I learned well enough from my father's sticky fingers that precautions must be taken when it comes to family money. When you graduated Hogwarts, I made it so that your account could only be accessed by you. Neither your mother nor I can access it without your presence and express consent. So, if she made any attempt to go after your money, Draco, it would have set off alarms for the goblins. They probably just froze your account until they could figure out what was going on. Your money is safe. Mine, on the other hand," he sighed, "I'm sure that it is long gone."

"Maybe not," Hermione offered. "Maybe she tried to access Draco's vault first! I bet they caught her."

"Yes, just like they caught us," Harry said sarcastically. Ron coughed. Hermione looked crestfallen.

"That was true?" Draco asked incredulously. "You really did break into Gringotts during the war?"

"It was luck," Hermione said weakly.

"Nah, all talent," Harry grinned.

At that moment, the door opened and a goblin scurried in. It made straight for Lucius and ignored everyone else.

"Mr. Malfoy," the goblin said, making a hasty bow. "We have been attempting to owl for hours. Now it is obvious why you didn't answer."

"Yes, Skulblad, I was less than able to respond. I appreciate you coming so quickly."

"It seems as though you have some inkling of what's happened." The goblin sighed. "Your ex-wife, Narcissa Black, came into the bank yesterday evening around 20:30. She claimed that you had remarried and presented a certificate. You had indicated in the positive for the remarriage clause on your vault, Mr. Malfoy, so we honored her certificate and gave her access to your vault."

"What's the remarriage clause?" Hermione asked skeptically.

The goblin turned to eye her. "Well, as you can imagine, young lady, the affairs of wizards and witches can change at a moment's notice and there is a great deal of paperwork and bureaucracy that must go with it. About thirty years ago, we created an option to allow for easy reinstatement of vault privileges after a marital reconciliation, rather than go through all that rigamarole."

"I enabled it after…well, that's not important," Lucius trailed off, thinking of the first and only time (up until three years ago) that he and Narcissa had nearly dissolved their marriage. The poor woman had suffered through two miscarriages in a row and he was heavily pressured by his father to 'find a woman who could bear him an heir, not some barren waif'. The things they had put up with those first few years! They had agreed to try one more time, and if that didn't work, the heartache would be too much to bear. That reunion had resulted in Draco and all else was forgotten in the joy of finally having a baby.

"I should have disabled the clause after the divorce," he sighed, pulling himself from the memories of his son as an infant. "But it was the last thing on my mind at the time." That was not strictly true; if he was honest with himself, he had been hoping against hope that Narcissa would come back to him. Perhaps leaving that clause on his vault had been his last subconscious method of denial.

"Of course, Mr. Malfoy," Skulblad nodded. "We would not have realized that anything was off if she hadn't tried to access your son's vault, as well. As per your orders approximately five years ago, his vault was made inaccessible to anyone but him. Both you and your wife signed for this, so we thought it strange that she would try to access his vault with full knowledge of that prior agreement. Unfortunately, by the time we pieced this all together, she had already left. We froze your son's assets just in case. They can be reopened in approximately ten business days, if we start the paperwork now."

"No convenient clause for that, huh?" Draco muttered under his breath.

The goblin had the grace to look uncomfortable. "No. To our great regret, Mr. Malfoy, your funds are…"

"Gone," Lucius finished. It was not as terrible as he might have thought. He knew he wasn't destitute; he had money in other places. Still, that was a hell of a lot of money to suddenly be deprived of.

"We are terribly sorry, sir."

"That makes two of us."

Skulblad fidgeted. "A small amount remains in your vault: approximately 8,000 galleons. We have frozen your account since we reached the conclusion that she was deceiving us."

"Eight thousand galleons is a small amount?" Charlie asked to no one in particular.

"Yes, sir, it is in comparison to the previous total of--"

"Skulblad," Lucius said sharply, "I would appreciate it if my vault's contents, past or present, were kept confidential."

"Of course, sir."

"What's the matter?" Ron grumbled. "Don't want to discuss money with the peasants nearby?"

Molly turned a deathly glare upon him, but her youngest son wasn't in arm's reach. "Hermione, dear, please smack him for me."

Hermione did as requested, and none too gently. She smacked Ron upside his thick head. It left him dazed and indignant.

"Hey!"

"Next time choose us, Mum!" Fred and George chorused simultaneously.

"Oh, no," she said, "I'd never hear the end of it."

"For your information, Mr. Weasley," Lucius stated, only just managing to control his sneer, "it is common tact that dictates that people do not discuss their bank accounts, pay rates, or inheritances. I haven't demanded to know the balance on your family's vault, have I?"

"No," Ron admitted grudgingly. "Never stopped you from holding it against us, though."

Lucius bit the inside of his lip. Tactless or not, the boy was right. It was time for some maneuvering. "Well, you can take comfort in the fact that every person in this room probably has more money than me now. Point and laugh, if you will. I shall try to endure it with as much grace as you did."

"Which was not very much," Arthur chuckled. No doubt he was thinking of the time they had come to fisticuffs.

"It wasn't particularly graceful of me to press that button, anyhow." That was as close to an apology that he could offer. He just wasn't capable of anything more at the moment; his dignity had already been severely bruised by the breathing tube incident.

"I can't believe she would do this!" Draco exploded suddenly, bringing them back to the real crisis. "Why would Mum…? I don't…I don't understand!"

"It wasn't her. I'm absolutely convinced of it," Lucius asserted.

"Mr. Malfoy, the woman in our security images in every way resembles your ex-wife," Skulblad said.

So did the woman I was kissing, until she jabbed me in the neck and poisoned me, he thought. "Polyjuice. Narcissa would not do this. I have wronged her, but never so greatly that she would attempt to kill me. And she would never, ever harm Draco in any way. I would say this woman's attempt to steal his money is proof enough. The woman who defrauded me and your bank is not Narcissa Black."

"Is that possible?" Hermione spoke up. "The Polyjuice, I mean. I thought for sure, after…er…those thieves broke into the Lestrange vault with the Polyjuiced Bellatrix, Gringotts would alter their security protocols."

The goblin actually rolled his eyes. "We know it was the three of you, Ms. Granger. As your actions benefited the greater good, we chose to overlook the fact that you committed no less than thirteen distinct crimes, not to mention completely discrediting our institution, at that time." Skulblad pursed his leathery lips. "I daresay some of the goblins were sympathetic to your cause. The economy was rubbish under that charlatan Voldemort anyhow. We have never had a worse run of business, not since our inception."

"Hermione has a valid point," Harry said after a moment. "There's no protocol for detecting Polyjuice?"

"It is what it is, Mr. Potter. Polyjuice is extremely difficult to detect. We have people working on it constantly but no one has yet figured out a way to test for the potion."

"Then there is no concrete way that we can prove it wasn't my mother?" Draco asked.

"At this time, no."

"It wasn't her," Lucius said firmly.

"I second that," Ginny spoke up, surprising everyone. "She's still in love with you."

"Thank goodness I'm not the only one who noticed," Hermione sighed, relieved.

"What?" Lucius's brain stalled as he looked back and forth between the redhead and Hermione. True, Narcissa had caved to his charms that one time, in this very ward as a matter of fact, but that was far from an admission of continued love.

"She nearly chewed through her lip with worry when you were in here last," Ginny elaborated. "A bitter ex-wife plotting to steal all her husband's money just doesn't sit at his bedside for days and days."

"Or dive into his bed as soon as he's better," Hermione muttered.

Upon the realization that their rendezvous had not been as discrete as he thought, Lucius promptly wished he could disappear. Several people spoke on top of each other.

"What?" Draco blinked, catching on to what Hermione had said.

"You slept together?" Ginny shrieked, and he couldn't tell if she was excited or enraged. "She didn't tell me that!"

"A lady never tells," Molly interjected.

"WAS I IN THE ROOM?" Draco demanded.

"Yes," Hermione answered for him.

Lucius was sure he was turning a delicate shade of scarlet. "Clearly you were not as asleep as we thought."

"That's…disgusting." Draco looked to be on the verge of illness.

"And you were awake, Hermione? Why didn't you just throw something at them?" Harry cracked.

"The same reason I never threw anything at you and Ginny for the three months I lived in Grimmauld Place with you," Hermione shot back. It was Harry's turn to color endearingly. Ginny had no shame; she just shrugged.

"Silencing charms, children," Bill chuckled. "Do we need a refresher course?"

"Oh, because you're so great at them," Percy snarked, his first words since arrival. "When we were teenagers--"

"There is far too much personal information being tossed about in here," Lucius said, trying to regain control of the situation. "As much as I would love to believe that Narcissa's presence when I was injured and her…ah, willingness to, er, engage in a bit of reckless behavior several echelons below our current age group, means that she still loves me…it is irrelevant. It is the attempt to access Draco's vault that gives her away. As Skulblad said, Narcissa knew of the separation of Draco's account, so she would know better than to even try. Paired with the fact that she would never steal her son's money, anyhow, it is enough evidence for me."

"She does still love you," Ginny insisted.

A pain lodged in Lucius's chest. He knew that wherever she was, Narcissa was in terrible danger. Even if she miraculously still loved him, the Milanese mafia was between them. She might already be dead.

"Please don't say that," he murmured, feeling a headache coming on. "I need to talk to Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Lucius had made his desire not to speak to anyone except the Minister of Magic quite clear, among other things. Arthur herded his reluctant family, including Harry and Hermione, out. Honestly, he felt a little bit bad for the man. It was quite apparent to him, from Lucius's reactions and the look on his face when his ex-wife was mentioned, that he was still quite besotted with her. It was a case of it being obvious to everyone but the two people involved.

Ginny had inherited her mother's instincts; Arthur had no doubt that his daughter was correct in her statement that Narcissa still loved him, as well. Hermione's backup only made it more certain. He wasn't really fond of matchmaking but at present he wished he could deliver a swift kick in the arse to both Lucius and Narcissa. They were wasting time.

Ron couldn't resist a parting shot. As they prepared to leave, his youngest son turned back to Draco, who was leaning in the door frame looking tired.

"So, ferret, how does it feel to be the one who doesn't have any money, for a change?"

The blond's eyes narrowed. "A right sort better than it feels to not have any dignity, I'd imagine."

Arthur paused, ready to break up a fight if necessary. Draco had certainly inherited his father's ability to shred a person with words. To his surprise, Ron and Draco only glared at one another in a grudging stalemate. Harry laughed and shook his head. Then Hermione took Ron by the arm with a long suffering sigh of, "Come along, Ronald." It felt distinctly like some sort of détente as the group began to move down the hallway.

Molly wrapped her arm around his waist and smiled up at him. "I think this is the start of a lovely friendship, don't you?" Her grin indicated a certain level of sarcasm.

"It seems that way," he smiled back. "Mollywobbles, dear, I think you should seriously consider the patenting idea."

"We'll talk about it after I help Ginny with the nursery. Ginevra, did you hear that?"

"Yes, Mum," she sighed. "And here I thought Harry and I might get some privacy so we could have a quickie…"

"Oi!" Fred protested. "You're still our little sister, Gin."

"Yeah, keep your sexual escapades to yourself," Percy agreed.

"We live in a magical world where you are pure and innocent until death," Bill chuckled, reaching out to muss his sister's hair.

"Oh, right, and how do you explain this baby in my uterus?" she retorted with a roll of her eyes.

"Immaculate conception, of course," Charlie nodded. Everyone laughed - except Harry, who was once again turning redder than his old house colors.

Lorenzo knew something was wrong the moment Narcissa was led out. She was limping and her eyes were red and puffy from crying. The poor thing had almost certainly broken her ankle. The thug that dragged her along was not being particularly gentle or considerate of her injury and that might have been enough to cause the desolate, pained look on her face. Instinctively, he knew that wasn't it.

Giacomo did, too. As soon as she came into view, his advisor's eyes narrowed and filled with rage.

"What did you do to her?" he demanded coldly.

"Shut up," the thug growled.

"If you harm her in any way, I will be the end of you," Giacomo vowed. Lorenzo gaped at him; this was a man who didn't lose his temper and didn't make threats. That, he'd often said, was for lesser men. Then again, Giacomo had never before been in love.

All the fire had drained out of the pretty blonde. She hobbled beside her captor, silent and hollow-eyed. She barely acknowledged the people around her. Lorenzo examined her, feeling more and more concerned. Giacomo had made it abundantly clear how feisty his fiancée was with a limp of his own. It had resolved now, but that didn't change the fact that this Narcissa Black had fought off a man twice her size when she scented danger. Where was her fight now?

"Hurting Ms. Black was not part of the bargain, brother," he snapped at Gaetano, who stood smugly by the door. He said it for Giacomo; he could tell that the other man was barely containing his rage. And considering no one had ever seen Giacomo Cannavare angry, he wasn't eager to start now.

"I have done nothing to her," Gaetano replied, eyeing her with disinterest. "If any harm has come to her, you can blame my wife. She was locked in a pantry with her."

"You are soulless," Giacomo hissed, taking a step forward. "First you betray your brother and now your wife? I have very few kind words for her but she is still your wife!"

"You have no brother to betray, so far as I know, Giacomo. But you, too, have betrayed your would-be wife, or have you forgotten that?" Gaetano shot back. "You are handing her to me now so my dear brother can have his wife back."

"Why do you need her? You've already gotten what you needed from her ex-husband," Lorenzo challenged. He glanced at his first-in-command. Giacomo was poised on the edge of something stupid; they both knew it. If Giacomo lost his head the deal would go sour and he would never see Jocasta again. His children would never see their mother again.

"Insurance, brother," he smirked. He waved a hand and two more people appeared seemingly from nowhere; they had been there all along under a disillusionment charm.

Lorenzo's breath caught in his throat. There was Jocasta, his Jocasta. She was tied and gagged with a purpled bruise across her cheek. Other than that blemish, she looked all right and was actively struggling against the man that held her. He couldn't rip his eyes from the bruise, though. Spots danced before his eyes and suddenly he was as angry as his consigliere.

"How dare you strike my wife!"

"She fell," Gaetano said coldly.

That is what I will tell the authorities after I push you off my namesake, Lorenzo thought, envisioning the church of San Lorenzo. He fell.

"You have always been creative in your threats," Gaetano chuckled, and Lorenzo realized he must have been thinking out loud. Gaetano shot a look at the consigliere. "What, Giacomo, not going to reign in your master?"

"No," the ex-healer snarled. "I will assist him in whatever vengeance he dreams up."

Gaetano was quiet, his eyes detached. At length he said, "Do you want your wife back or not, brother?"

Lorenzo bit his lips. He had to control himself. He was lucky that Gaetano had not already called off the trade. Greedy men in power didn't usually respond well to violent threats. Fortunately, he and Gaetano had always been prone to the occasional fight and in their family, death threats were learned early. Nonetheless, it was better that Jocasta was alive, safe with him but a little bruised, than stuck with Gaetano and his lot. He saw now that he would have to make this up to Giacomo; it was a terrible thing he'd done, asking him to give up his fiancée to the very men he wanted so desperately to save his wife from. Even more terrible was the fact that Giacomo had agreed.

He had asked his advisor to betray the one woman he had ever loved. Even if he had a plan to get her back, there was no guarantee that she would return to a man who had used her as a pawn in a very dangerous game. Lorenzo knew that Giacomo had only done it for him, because his loyalty to the Scattori family came before anything else. Anyone else would have been turned down flat. The guilt compressed his chest, making it hard to breathe.

"Yes," he said raggedly. "I want my wife back. But I will have your word, brother, on what little honor is left between us, that no harm will come to Ms. Black."

"I hold all the cards, Enzo. You have nothing to bargain with. Don't insult me."

"Once upon a time I had honor, and loyalty...are those meaningless now?"

Gaetano looked him straight in the eye. "Yes."

Draco stared at his father. Since the discussion of his mother's supposed love for him, he had been quiet and rather morose. Lucius wasn't one to jump for joy over anything, but this wasn't the reaction he'd expected; he knew his father had taken the divorce hard and it wasn't because of the gossip or the mudslinging. No, the pain in the man's eyes, then and now, spoke of fractured love.

It didn't make sense, not this time around. Hermione and Ginny were saying that Narcissa still loved him. As unpalatable as it was to think about his parents doing anything remotely sexual, it was a good sign that it happened, right? There was no love lost between Draco and Giacomo; he could give two shits if his mother married him or not. He was a decent man, one who probably did love her…but that didn't change the fact that he'd stolen her from her husband who, it turned out, loved her just as much, if not more.

Draco sighed. A creak distracted him a moment later; he turned to see his father sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Hey," he cautioned, "what are you doing? The goblins are taking care of things at Gringotts. Just rest."

Lucius shook his head. He tentatively leaned forward, testing the ability of his muscles to hold him up. The poison must have completely worn off at last; he was able to stand. His physical presence was only slightly diminished by the ridiculous gown the hospital had put him in.

"Where do you think you're going?" Draco demanded.

"Where is my robe?" Lucius replied.

"That's not an answer. It's over there in the cupboard."

Lucius strode over to the indicated cupboard and pulled out the midnight blue robe. Draco looked at it in slight surprise; his mother had bought that on a trip to Paris and he knew that his father hated it. Why had he been wearing that? The only time he'd known him to wear it was when his mother suggested it. Lucius never had the heart to turn her down.

"The short answer is that if Shacklebolt isn't here in the next fifteen minutes, I'm leaving," his father said while digging through the pockets of the robe.

"Dad, I really think you should consider staying at the Manor. These people are obviously out to get you. Your flat isn't safe."

"I won't be staying at either dwelling." He located whatever he was looking for, yanking a stack of parchment from the pocket.

"What?"

Lucius turned to him. "There is more to this whole situation. I didn't want to go into great detail with all the Weasleys here. You should know, though." He held out the parchment. "It's all in there."

Hesitantly, Draco took the parchment. He almost didn't want to read it; he'd already had enough bad news via parchment today. However, his quick eyes tore through the words and the now-familiar (if still exceedingly uncomfortable) panic flared again.

"They've got Mum," he said softly. Now his father's gloom made perfect sense.

Lucius nodded. "Cannavare is a member of the Scattori crime family. Not by blood, but he's in deep enough. I went to Milan to try to get her out of there."

"By yourself?" Draco said sharply.

"Yes, by myself. It would have been fine if they had not Polyjuiced someone to be Narcissa. I was out-planned."

Pieces fell into place. Draco rubbed his temples. "They knew you would come. You grabbed the impostor and brought her back to the flat…"

"Where she poisoned me and left me to die before stealing my money, making it appear for all the world that my ex-wife was enacting vengeance upon me. Meanwhile, your poor mother is probably tied up somewhere, or, Merlin help me, dead…"

"Don't you dare say that!" Draco pointed an accusatory finger at Lucius. "She is not dead."

"How can we be certain? They have her, Draco. They would have to, to make the Polyjuice. What more do they need of her now that they have my money? You know how these organizations work. People are eliminated when they no longer serve any purpose."

Draco knew that his father was right. That was standard Mafia procedure. His mother could very well be dead, but he refused to believe it. He couldn't believe it. He leaned on the back of a chair, struggling to keep his composure.

"So…what do we do now?" he asked. His father had to have a plan.

"Now there is no 'we'," Lucius murmured. He refolded the blue robe and set it on the bed. Draco was quiet, knowing that his father wasn't finished. The other blond stared off into space for a moment. "Have you noticed, dear son, that the news is very slow on the uptake since Rita Skeeter disappeared?"

His grey eyes narrowed. He had, in fact, noticed that very thing. The press was not nearly as aggressive without Skeeter butchering boundaries at every turn.

"True," he allowed. "If Skeeter was here, she would have been in this room before any of us, shoving her Quick Quotes Quill in your face."

"Exactly." His father's eyes narrowed into a familiar expression of absolute slyness. "At this moment, nobody on the outside knows what's gone on. More importantly, no one knows if I am dead or alive, save the Weasleys , the goblins, and the direct hospital staff, of whose silence I am already assured."

Draco caught on quickly. "Are you thinking of playing dead?"

"That I am." He extracted his wand from the folded robe and tapped it idly against his palm. "Do you think you can play devastated son for a time?"

He thought. It would take quite a lot of acting. If he were in a situation where his father was vengefully murdered by his mother, who had also made off with a significant chunk of her late ex-husband's fortune…well, it definitely called for some emotion. He had never been as good of a thespian as his father but he was still better than most.

"I can do it, yes." He frowned. "I would rather help you find mother, though."

A muscle twitched in his father's jaw. "Draco, I have had to live through almost losing you twice. I can't do it again."

Draco blinked, unaccustomed to such bluntness or sentiment. He had to choke back a lump in his throat when he said, "Father, they can come after me here just as easily as if I was with you."

"That is why you will stay at Hogwarts with Hermione. You'll be safe there."

"I have classes, Father. I can't just--"

"They will give you time off to grieve. I don't intend this to take long. The more time goes by, the more danger your mother is in."

Draco blew a breath out between his lips. This man was so much his father, having an answer for everything, and so much a stranger with his declarations of caring. It was that odd combination of behavior that made him agree.

"All right."

Narcissa knew what was happening; she knew she was being traded, like so much chattel, for Lorenzo Scattori's wife. She couldn't hate him for it; it was what Lucius would have done in Lorenzo's position. But Giacomo had agreed to it. He hadn't put up a fight for her. How could she mean anything to him if he was willing to surrender her like that?

And really, that was irrelevant. Lucius was dead. They had been trying and trying to end him and they had at last succeeded. The means of preventing it had been here all along and she had been too stupid to see…and now he was gone. The pain sliced through her again, causing tears to well in her eyes. She just wanted the earth to swallow her whole in that moment.

She was dragged behind where Gaetano and his lackeys stood. She vaguely noticed the other woman as she passed by, led by another generic burly enforcer. Perhaps Jocasta Scattori was trying to look at her, to say something with her eyes, but Narcissa only saw her feet, one in front of the other as she walked.

Very little could have propelled her out of her depressive fog. However, when she heard Lorenzo Scattori speak, addressing his daughters, her head snapped up. Renata had emerged from wherever she was sequestered and Daniela was trailing behind her. Narcissa immediately tensed. The children should be kept out of this. It wasn't safe for them to be here.

Lorenzo only just managed to untie his wife's hands before Renata launched herself at her mother. The dislike Narcissa had formed for the girl dissolved. Perhaps she was just stressed and her odious behavior stemmed from that. Narcissa had to admit that even she was not on her best behavior during times like these.

However, the newfound affection for the beleaguered teen disappeared a second later, when Renata did not release her mother. Before anyone could do anything, the girl had pulled a wand and stepped behind her mother, pressing the tip against the woman's throat. Narcissa's mouth fell open, and she was not the only one.

"Renata!" Lorenzo's cry was fierce and betrayed. "Drop that now!"

"No, Papa," she responded, tightening her grip. Jocasta was still gagged; she couldn't say anything, though her eyes had filled with agony.

"Deceitful child!" Giacomo thundered, pulling his own wand.

"Giacomo, no!" Lorenzo barked. The consigliere fired no spell, but kept his wand raised. That was when Narcissa felt a wand touch her own throat. Her fiancé didn't need a verbal warning; he immediately dropped the wand.

"Renata," Lorenzo tried again. "Renata, please! This cannot be your choice. I cannot have my own daughter be my enemy."

"I am not your enemy, Papa," she retorted. "The Mancinis are your enemy and you have grown blind to this! This is the only way."

Lorenzo's attention turned to his brother. The hatred that filled his eyes was almost inhuman.

"What did you do to her?" he shouted. "What have you done to my daughter?"

Gaetano shouted back, mirroring his anger. "I have let her find the way, brother. You have lost yours and in doing so lost all of us!" He twirled his wand between his fingers for a short moment before raising it. "And your first mistake was ever listening to him." The wand settled on Giacomo.

Narcissa could see the way he evaluated his chances in his eyes. He was not so unlike Lucius, really; there was that quick, calculating flash during which he considered the odds of his situation, of being able to recover his wand before someone hit him with a spell. Then there was the solidarity of decision, reached in seconds. Giacomo wasn't even going to try. And Lorenzo Scattori certainly wasn't going to risk stopping his brother when his wife and daughters remained on the battlefield, two defenseless and the other a traitor.

For the first time in hours, Narcissa felt something other than sorrow. She was…enraged. How dare they! How dare they murder her ex-husband and then try to murder her future one! Giacomo's actions didn't matter; Lorenzo had forced his hand. She saw in the way he'd dropped his wand when they threatened her how he really felt. Damned if she was going to let them take another man from her!

Gaetano was waving his wand. "Avada ked--"

Her melancholy had lulled her guard into a false sense of security. He wasn't holding on to her. Narcissa lunged, knowing it might be the last thing she ever did.

She caught Gaetano's wrist and wrenched it upwards just as he was finishing the curse. The jet of deadly green light flew wildly off course, crashing into the ceiling and leaving a black, scorched mark.

"Vacca!" the thwarted man hissed. A second later, as expected, Gaetano's fist met her cheek.

The man could punch. Stars exploded behind her eyes, red and green, and then burst in a flare of yellow as she hit the wall. Yellow was quickly followed by an all-consuming black. She tried to fight it, desperate to see whether it had made any difference or if Giacomo would fall dead anyway, but the tide of unconsciousness claimed her like a rip current.