"Draco?"

Draco finally looked at his beloved. Hermione's soft brown eyes were a lighter shade of brown under the sunlight. Beautiful, and worried.

He looked over to his parents again and said, "Care to explain what I just saw?"

Narcissa looked at Hermione and softly clasped her hand into hers. "Darling, you might not want to hear this so you might like to go in the chateau."

Hermione looked to Draco's direction and found him already watching her. Whatever conversation is about to happen can be nothing short of intense. It might hurt her, and permanently alter her relationship with the older Malfoys. Yet, she wanted to stay, and the look in her eyes were enough to communicate that.

"I'd like to stay," she responded politely to Narcissa.

"Miss Granger," Lucius' voice was sharp almost like a warning.

Draco stepped forward until he was an inch away from Hermione. Her back against her forearm, half of her body was hidden behind him.

"Father, you heard her. She will be hearing what is discussed either way, with or without her in the vicinity."

Lucius scowled, "you truly are a whipped dog. And for what, for her? For this-"

Draco took a step forward, challenging him to say another word.

"Lucius," Narcissa spat.

"Hermione, it is not what you think it is." Narcissa offered. The Gryffindor was finding that hard to believe with each passing second. What else could it be but what she was taunted with from the beginning. Why were they so optimistic that decades old prejudice would be forgotten, that in the end, love triumphs?

"I am not foolish. My blood status has always been brought up to me, used to push me down. Your son loves me and I love him, it was juvenile to think for a minute you could look past that and wish us happiness."

Lucius scoffed.

Narcissa stepped forward and motioned for Hermione's hand and then reached for Draco's. Puzzled but curious, Hermione allowed the Malfoy lady to hold her hand. They watched as Narcissa closed her eyes and Lucius turned away, looking at the shattered glass. Then, everything went dark.

"Draco," called the woman's voice.

Hermione and Draco were in a ruined garden, by the looks of it, Malfoy Manor's. It was so dark it could hardly be called a garden, it was more a graveyard.

They followed the woman, as she walked through the path. She had pristine raven black hair with a streak of white cutting through the darkness. Long black robes moved softly in her wake with every step. It was Narcissa, almost unrecognizable from the woman she was now.

A kneeling figure was in the distance. And for the first time, colour met their eyes. It was as if they had been watching a black and white movie and a splatter of paint was dropped. There was red everywhere. It looked like a massacre.

As Narcissa approached the figure, the couple followed. Although, Draco already knew who it was and what was to happen.

The figure shook gently from silent sobs. His pale hair was in disarray and stained scarlet and maroon. His hands were dripping with fresh blood, replacing the darkened blood that had previously flowed and now dried on his marble like skin. He had been running his fingers through his hair it seems, multiple times.

"Draco, darling, please come back in" whispered Narcissa.

"You don't understand, mother." Draco looked at his torn hands.

"I can't. There's no point. I've hurt so many people. I killed. I can't go back. I can't sleep. How do I live like this? his voice was hoarse and he did not look like the Draco that Hermione knew. His face was paler and more hollow and dark circles shadowed his equally darkened eyes."I am being haunted by my own mind."

"My child, I understand. You had no choice, it is not your fault."

He pulled away from her, "but it is. I could have defected, i could have but I didn't. I was a coward. I let fear of death drive me, and now I wish I had just let him- let him kill me instead. Everyone thinks I'm evil. What am I supposed to do? How do I redeem myself when people can't look past what I've done. I can't even forgive myself, so how will the rest of the world?"

"Evil people do not think they are evil. They justify the horrors they have committed and don't grieve as you do. You're not evil, my darling."

She looked around at the ruined garden, her rose bushes torn apart and red petals littered the path. She took a deep breath and steadied her son's shaking hands.

She conjured an English rose, pale pink and in stark contrast to the petals that surrounded them. "Rosa Gentle Hermione," she stated.

"Close your eyes, Draco. Let me take the weight. Allow me to bring you peace."

Draco looked at the flower that was in his hand and close his eyes. He didn't know his mother was going to achieve that but he did it anyway. He was just so tired. A second before he shut his eyes, he saw a glow emanating from his palm. Healing, he thought.

Unbeknownst to Draco, as Narcissa healed his hands, she had taken the shed blood, taken the dark magic absorbed into it and the grief and carried it. She would not let the war and the Dark Lord destroy Draco. And the Dark Magic embedded in his blood was sure to do that over time. So she silently took it, and cast a spell that allowed it to be kept at bay until Draco found true enduring happiness. Then, she may go. This didn't allow for a long period afterward, and she was sure to wither away within a couple years time.

Draco opened his eyes to his healed hands, save for silver scars from the rose thorns. He took the pink rose and felt lightness wash over him.

"Thank you, Mother," he whispered as his eyes shut once more, falling into a deep sleep on his mother's shoulders. Narcissa held him as she let her own tears fall.

Lucius, stepped out from the shadows, his face grave.

"My love, what have you done."