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Today was one of the most significant days in Harry Potter's life. With a little luck, even brighter days awaited him in the future. In one week, he would attend his first lecture at the European Institute of Magical Studies (EIMS).
It was just the beginning of many firsts. For the first time in years, Harry was leaving the safety and familiarity of England. It was also his first time living in a new magical community beyond Hogwarts. He had so many firsts to look forward to, and secretly, he hoped one of them would involve something more personal—something that would finally shed the last vestige of his boyhood.
Harry stood in his modest bedroom at 12 Grimmauld Place, now his permanent home since the end of the war. The house had been cleaned and restored to livability, though it still bore the somber weight of its past. His few belongings were packed into enchanted trunks, gifted by Hermione for his birthday. The rest of the house seemed to sigh in relief, as if glad it was no longer Harry's main concern.
In the corner of his room, he saw a faint shimmer of his invisibility cloak folded neatly atop a stack of books. Kreacher had insisted on polishing it, claiming it was too precious to neglect. Harry sighed, taking one last glance at the room that had sheltered him through the aftermath of Voldemort's fall.
A knock at the door startled him. "Harry? Are your things ready? Draco and I need to help get them downstairs."
Harry turned to see Draco Malfoy leaning casually against the doorframe, his signature smirk tempered with genuine camaraderie. Over the past two years, they'd formed a tentative, even surprising friendship—one built on shared grief and a desire to leave the darkness of the past behind.
"Everything's ready," Harry said, gesturing to his luggage. "Is Narcissa driving us to the station?"
Draco chuckled. "Driving? Don't be daft, Potter. We're taking the Floo. Mum would never risk her hair in Muggle transportation."
As if summoned, Narcissa Malfoy appeared behind her son, regal as ever. At forty-one, she carried herself with an elegance that seemed untouched by time. She had a natural beauty that the war had only sharpened, her silken blonde hair cascading down her back and framing a face that could have graced the halls of Malfoy Manor as a painting. Her icy blue eyes softened as they settled on Harry, though the faint air of propriety remained in her posture.
"Are you certain you have everything, Harry?" she asked, stepping into the room. She wore robes of deep emerald, tailored perfectly to accentuate her slim waist and delicate frame, while a subtle golden trim hinted at her Slytherin heritage.
Harry nodded. "Yes, Mrs. Malfoy. Thank you for all your help."
Narcissa's expression wavered for a moment, as if she were weighing her words. Then she smiled, a faint yet warm gesture that made Harry's stomach tighten uncomfortably. She had been kind—almost too kind—since he'd agreed to let her sponsor his studies. And now, standing this close to her, Harry found himself acutely aware of her presence. The faint scent of jasmine lingered in the air, and her robes shifted to reveal curves that made him avert his gaze before his thoughts betrayed him.
"Draco, take these trunks downstairs," Narcissa instructed her son, breaking the moment. "I'll accompany Harry."
Harry hesitated, but Narcissa gave him a small smile, guiding him to the doorway with a gentle hand on his shoulder. Her touch was cool and light, but it sent an inexplicable shiver down his spine. He swallowed hard, willing his thoughts to focus on the excitement of the day ahead.
Narcissa wore a pair of elegantly tailored, form-fitting black trousers and a modest but snug black blouse that clung to her legendary curves. Her slender waist flared into perfectly balanced hips, and her graceful figure was complemented by a generous bust that strained slightly against the fabric of her blouse. Harry quickly averted his gaze as a wave of warmth spread across his cheeks.
"Are you boys nearly ready?" she asked, her voice tinged with a faint melancholy that softened her normally composed demeanor. Her forced smile barely masked the emotion flickering in her vivid blue eyes.
"Yes, ma'am," Harry replied, clearing his throat. "This is everything."
Narcissa frowned lightly. "What about your bedding?"
"It's in the suitcase," Harry said.
She sighed, shaking her head with a touch of exasperation. "I wish you'd let me buy you a few proper things for your dormitory, Harry. You're as stubborn as your mother ever was."
Harry grinned faintly. "Then I suppose I come by it honestly. Seriously, Mrs. Malfoy, your family has already done so much for me. You don't need to get me anything."
"Harry is a simple bloke," Draco interjected from across the room, smirking as he leaned against the doorframe. "He's got all the basics covered. Trust me, he'll be fine."
Narcissa rolled her eyes in mock frustration. "Harry, how many times have I told you to call me Narcissa? And just because you insist on doing things on your own doesn't mean I have to like it."
Harry held her gaze for a moment too long, finding himself momentarily lost in the crystalline blue of her eyes. The words he had rehearsed for weeks finally spilled from his lips.
"Two years ago, you took me in," he began, his voice faltering as emotion tightened his throat. He paused, willing himself to continue. "I don't know where I'd be if you hadn't opened your heart and your home to me. You and Draco saved my life."
Narcissa's eyes glistened with unshed tears, and even Draco, usually stoic, seemed affected. She placed a gentle hand on her son's shoulder, giving him a small smile. "Draco, sweetheart, would you mind giving Harry and me a moment?"
"Sure," Draco replied, his smirk returning as he stepped away. "I'll start packing the Floo powder."
When Draco left the room, Narcissa closed the door softly behind him before turning back to Harry. Being alone with her always left him uncomfortably tongue-tied and flustered. Narcissa Malfoy was a striking woman—elegant, radiant, and utterly captivating. And though she had treated him like a son, Harry couldn't entirely quell the feelings that veered far beyond the maternal.
Since taking Harry in, she had treated him with care and kindness, almost as if he were another son. Yet, despite her maternal gestures, Harry couldn't deny the way his feelings for her sometimes strayed into far less innocent territory. Even now, left alone in her presence, a heat began to stir within him, his thoughts wandering unbidden into X-rated fantasies.
Narcissa quietly closed the door behind Draco and turned to face Harry. She stood for a moment, studying him with an intensity that made his heart race.
"Your mother would be so proud of the strong, brave young man you've become," she said softly, her voice warm and affectionate. "Lucius and I are proud of you, too."
"Thanks, Mrs. Malfoy," Harry said awkwardly, then quickly corrected himself. "Er… I mean, Narcissa."
She stepped closer, closing the distance between them until she had to tilt her head slightly to look him in the eye. "Every time I see you, it seems you've grown taller," she remarked with a small smile.
Harry chuckled nervously. "I've been a bit of a late bloomer," he admitted. At six foot two, he now towered over her, a stark contrast to the boy he had been just a few years ago. "It wasn't much fun being the shortest at Hogwarts."
Narcissa's gaze lingered for a moment on his broad shoulders before returning to his face. Her expression softened with concern. "And how are your growing pains?"
"Nothing I can't handle," Harry said. The truth was, since moving into Malfoy Manor and eating proper meals, his body had changed dramatically. The manual work he'd done helping around the grounds, coupled with regular exercise, had sculpted his once-thin frame into something far more substantial. Even his former classmates had barely recognized him the last time he'd visited Hogwarts.
"Sit down, sweet boy," Narcissa said, motioning toward a nearby chair. "Let me check your shoulders one last time before you leave."
"I'm fine, really," Harry protested. "I should help Draco with the luggage."
But Narcissa's raised brow left no room for argument. "Sit," she said firmly, her tone brooking no dissent.
Resigned, Harry slipped into the chair. His stomach fluttered as she stepped behind him, her presence intoxicatingly close. "I've been doing the stretches you taught me," he offered, trying to keep his voice steady. "They've really helped."
"Good," she murmured, her hands brushing lightly over his shoulders. Her touch sent a shiver down Harry's spine, and he felt his pulse quicken. "Make sure you keep up with them at school.
"I'll send you another set of instructions to make sure you're doing everything correctly," she said, her voice almost a whisper.
Harry's heart pounded in his chest, the mix of relaxation and arousal leaving him dizzy. All he could do was nod, grateful for the chair beneath him as he fought to steady his breath.
Narcissa rested her soft hands on Harry's neck and gently squeezed, sending a wave of relaxation through him that curled his toes. "Sweetheart, you're so incredibly tense. Are you sure you're doing the exercises the way I taught you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Harry murmured, slumping forward in the chair.
Her thumbs glided down the back of his neck and over his broad shoulders, her touch igniting a fire that made him acutely aware of every inch of her closeness. "Do you still have the enchanted parchment with the exercises?" she asked, her tone calm but intimate.
Harry shifted uncomfortably, his jeans growing tighter as his body betrayed him. "Yes, ma'am."
He had reviewed that scroll with photos far more often than necessary, replaying her demonstrated movements in his mind until every detail was seared into his memory. It was impossible not to.
Narcissa deepened her massage, her hands pressing more firmly as she worked over the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. Her warmth seemed to seep into his skin, her presence both calming and utterly overwhelming. "Good," she murmured. "I'll send you another scroll, just to be sure."
Harry's stomach flipped with excitement at the idea. Another parchment for his collection? Yes, please. He sank further into the chair, his troubles momentarily forgotten under the soothing magic of her hands. Yet, his arousal only grew, a heady mix of relaxation and forbidden desire leaving him helpless.
Her thumbs traced upward, pressing into the base of his skull before sliding through his untidy black hair. A shiver ran down his spine as she gently massaged his scalp, her touch so deliberate, so careful.
"If you're ever in pain, owl me immediately," Narcissa said softly, her words brushing against him like velvet. "It's not far to EIMS. I can Apparate there in a heartbeat."
Harry's throat tightened as her magic fingers continued to melt his tension—though not the fire building inside him. Words failed him entirely as her touch loosened every muscle in his body, save for one.
"This is much better," Narcissa said with satisfaction. "But let me check your chest for tension."
He tried to mumble a weak protest, but she was already circling the chair. She stepped closer, her elegant robes brushing his knees as she stood between them. The bulge in his trousers was impossible to hide, but Narcissa said nothing, her serene composure unbroken.
She leaned in, her robes bringing her warmth and scent closer, a delicate fragrance that reminded Harry of blooming roses on a warm day. Her hands found his shoulders from the front, her thumbs tracing the line of his collarbone as she applied gentle pressure.
"How does that feel, darling?" she asked, her voice so soft it felt like a caress.
Harry swallowed hard, his voice hoarse as he replied, "Amazing."
It was a weak response, and he cursed himself for being so tongue-tied, but what more could he say? Every nerve in his body was alight under her touch, and his thoughts were a whirlwind of chaotic desire. Her hands moved lower, sweeping across his chest, her fingers lingering as she kneaded the tension from his pectoral muscles.
Harry gripped his knees tightly, fighting the growing urge to touch her. His mind raced with images of sliding his hands up her waist, feeling the curve of her hips, the softness of her skin. His trousers strained unbearably as his body responded to the thoughts he couldn't push away.
"You're so much more relaxed now," Narcissa said with a gentle smile, her hands gliding back up his shoulders and into his hair once more.
Harry nodded, his throat dry. "You've… never done the head massage before."
Narcissa giggled lightly, a sound so unexpected it caught Harry off guard. "Oh, that? I picked it up from my hairdresser. She gives the most divine scalp massages."
A sharp knock at the door interrupted them, but Narcissa didn't flinch, nor did she pause her ministrations. Harry, guilt flooding through him, froze, unsure whether to jump up or stay put.
But Narcissa's calm, unbothered demeanor anchored him. She continued the massage with effortless grace, her hands steady and reassuring as if the interruption were nothing more than a passing breeze.
Harry nodded, licking his dry lips. "You've not done the head massage before."
Narcissa let out a delicate giggle, a sound that sent his heart racing. "Oh, that? I picked it up from my hairdresser. She gives the most divine scalp massages."
A sharp knock at the door shattered their private moment, and Harry resisted the urge to jump up, overwhelmed by a mix of guilt and embarrassment.
"Come in," Narcissa said, her composure unshaken.
The door creaked open to reveal Lucius Malfoy. His cool, disinterested gaze flickered briefly over the scene: his wife standing close to Harry, her hands still resting on his shoulders. If Lucius noticed the intimacy of the moment, he gave no sign of caring. "Narcissa, the elves have loaded most of the bags. Should I have them take Harry's as well?"
"He has growing pains," Narcissa replied smoothly, ignoring the implication in Lucius's tone. "I was helping him relax. It's nothing unusual."
"Fine," Lucius said with a dismissive wave. "I'll see to it that the heavier trunk is placed properly. Harry can handle the rest."
Her tone was so sincere, so gentle, that Harry found his frustration dissolving into gratitude. For all her elegance and poise, Narcissa Malfoy's concern for him felt deeply genuine.
The world snapped back into focus, and Harry realized how the scene must look. "I'm much better now, Mrs. Malfoy. You can stop."
Narcissa pursed her soft, pink lips and narrowed her eyes, studying him with an intensity that made his skin prickle. "Fine, but promise me you'll keep doing those stretches I taught you."
"I promise," Harry said.
Her gaze flickered for the briefest moment toward the visible strain in his trousers before settling on her husband, who remained in the doorway. "Take the heavier trunk, Lucius. Harry can manage the others himself. He'll be down in just a minute."
Lucius gave a curt nod. "Very well."
With an elegant flick of his wand, he levitated the largest trunk and disappeared down the hall, leaving the door slightly ajar. Narcissa stepped back and moved to sit gracefully on the edge of Harry's bed, her robes pooling around her like liquid silk.
Taking advantage of the moment, Harry discreetly adjusted himself, angling his arousal to keep it hidden as best he could. Once satisfied, he grabbed the remaining trunks, avoiding Narcissa's gaze.
But she watched him, her eyes occasionally flitting to his movements with an unreadable expression. "Sweetheart, there's one more thing I want to ask you," she said gently. "And you don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable."
Harry hesitated, unsure if this was her way of buying him time to compose himself or genuine concern. "Ask away, Mrs. Malfoy."
Narcissa shifted slightly, crossing one elegant leg over the other as her composed demeanor softened into something more maternal. "Have you heard anything from your aunt or uncle?"
Harry winced, the question landing with the weight of a Bludger to his chest. The Dursleys were a subject he tried to bury deep. After years of neglect and disdain, they had finally severed ties with him completely once the protection charm on their home was no longer necessary.
"Thankfully, no," he said, his voice flat. "It's been years since they've tried to contact me."
Narcissa sighed, her posture relaxing slightly as though reassured. "Good. I was worried they might try to cause trouble for you, especially now."
"Why would they?" Harry asked, frustration creeping into his tone. "They wanted nothing to do with me. I don't even exist to them anymore."
"Because people like them are often spiteful," she said, her voice tinged with disdain. "Why did they treat you the way they did in the first place? I don't trust them not to sabotage your future, even from afar."
Harry clenched his jaw but nodded. "That chapter of my life is over. It's time for a fresh start."
Narcissa's expression softened into a warm smile. She stood, closing the distance between them, and pulled him into a hug. She often hugged him, and though it initially left him uncomfortable, he'd grown to crave the moments of care and warmth she offered so freely.
Her body pressed against his, her slender arms wrapping around him as she drew him close. He couldn't ignore the feel of her soft curves pressed against his chest or the sweet, heady scent of her perfume that clouded his senses. Still, he hugged her back, letting his arms encircle her slim waist.
Her presence was overwhelming, yet soothing, and his voice dropped as he whispered into her ear, "Thanks for everything, Mrs. Malfoy."
Narcissa sniffled softly, her voice thick with emotion as she whispered back, "I love you, sweetheart. I'll always be here for you."
Her lips brushed lightly against his cheek, leaving a warmth that lingered even as she pulled away, her blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
The journey from Malfoy Manor to the European Institute of Magical Studies (EIMS) was done in two legs. First, they took the Floo Network to a nearby magical transport hub, and from there, they boarded an enchanted carriage for the final stretch. The trip was relatively quick, though Harry couldn't deny the sense of nervous excitement bubbling within him.
Since Draco had far more luggage, they settled him into his dormitory first. His quarters were just across the courtyard from Harry's. The decision not to share a room was intentional, giving each of them their own space while still keeping them close enough for convenience.
Moving Draco in took longer than Harry anticipated. Narcissa fussed over every detail, arranging his potions ingredients with precision, smoothing the bedding on his four-poster bed, and charming the curtains to drape just so. She even took the time to organize his posters and hang a few carefully selected decorative tapestries on the walls.
By mid-morning, Draco's quarters were in pristine condition, and the trio made their way across the courtyard to Harry's building. With only a small trunk and a few personal items, Harry's belongings were far easier to manage. They crammed into a lift with a crowd of first-years, all of them bustling with chatter and excitement. After what felt like an eternity, the lift doors opened on the third floor.
Narcissa stepped out first, her presence commanding as always, while Harry and Draco followed with the luggage in tow. Harry did his best not to glance at Narcissa's figure as she led the way, though it took a conscious effort to focus elsewhere.
"What's your room number, darling?" Narcissa asked, glancing back at Harry.
"I'm in Room 369," Harry said.
Draco snorted. "Seriously? Sixty-nine? That's brilliant."
"Really, Draco?" Narcissa's icy stare pinned her son in place.
Draco shrugged, grinning. "What?"
"Let's keep it appropriate, shall we?" she said, shaking her head.
Harry coughed to stifle a laugh. "It's down this corridor and to the right."
A minute later, they arrived at Harry's assigned dormitory. The door was open, revealing a chaotic scene inside. Stacks of enchanted trunks, bags charmed to expand, and various magical artifacts cluttered the small room. Two young wizards were arranging a set of bookshelves, while the beds had already been claimed and neatly made.
The taller of the two, wearing a well-worn Gryffindor scarf and a vintage Weird Sisters concert t-shirt, glanced up. His gaze flickered briefly to Narcissa, lingering on her poised figure before meeting her eyes. "Er, can we help you?"
"Apologies," Narcissa said smoothly. "We thought this was my son's dormitory."
Although Harry wasn't her son, she often introduced him as such to avoid raising eyebrows or sparking questions. It was easier that way, and Harry found it comforting rather than awkward.
Narcissa turned back to Harry, her brow furrowing. "Are you certain this is your room, darling?"
Harry's heart sank. He was positive this was the right room, but he pulled out his acceptance letter to double-check. His stomach dropped as the confirmation solidified what he already knew. "Baker Hall East, Room 369," he said, holding the letter out for her to see.
Narcissa leaned over his shoulder, her frown deepening as she scanned the parchment. "That's odd," she said, before turning her attention to the two boys in the room. "Are you both certain you're in Room 369?"
The taller boy, wearing a faded Weird Sisters tank top, nodded and produced his own parchment. The second boy, whose messy hair looked as though he'd just stumbled out of bed, did the same, though his cheeks turned pink as he added, "I was on the waitlist. Then last week, bam, my housing came through. I would've been stuck trying to find a room otherwise."
The taller boy laughed. "Good luck with that. Every place nearby filled up months ago."
"Oh, dear," Narcissa murmured as she studied the second boy's parchment.
Harry's stomach sank further. "I think housing made a mistake."
"I think you're right," Narcissa agreed. "Harry, send me your letter with the owl-messaging charm. I'll contact the administration while you head to their office. The address is here at the bottom of the parchment."
Draco clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder, his expression unusually sympathetic. "That's rough, mate. Wonder how they mucked this one up?"
They had barely left the dorm room before Narcissa pulled out her enchanted mirror to contact the housing office. During the short walk to the administrative building, she was transferred twice and put on hold. Harry could only imagine how overwhelmed the office must have been during orientation week.
The building itself was a small, nondescript structure near the heart of the campus. Parking their carriage proved challenging, and by the time they entered, the waiting room was packed with anxious first-years and their equally frustrated parents.
The overhead magical lamps flickered, casting a pale, sterile glow that seemed to emphasize the tension in the room. There were only a handful of staff, each of them occupied with complaints or questions.
Narcissa ended her call with a sigh. "We'll have to join the queue," she said, leading Harry to the back of the line.
Nearly two hours later, a frazzled staff witch waved them over to her desk while Draco stayed behind to hold their spot in the waiting area. The woman introduced herself as Diane and listened attentively as Narcissa and Harry explained the situation.
Diane nodded, her brow furrowing as she asked a few clarifying questions. As she listened, her fingers flew over the keys of her enchanted quill, which tapped out notes onto a glowing magical ledger. Her expression darkened as she leaned closer to the enchanted scroll, reading silently for a moment before giving them her full attention.
"It says here that your housing contract was canceled an hour before the deadline," she said, looking at Harry over the rim of her spectacles.
Harry sat up straight, leaning forward as if to see the screen himself. "No, ma'am. I never canceled my housing."
Frowning, Narcissa began drumming her perfectly manicured fingers on the desk, her sharp gaze fixed on Diane. "Is he still enrolled in classes?"
Diane tapped her quill against the ledger a few more times before nodding. "Yes. Harry Potter is listed as a full-time student, admitted directly to our advanced magical defense program. Quite impressive!"
Narcissa smiled proudly, patting Harry's arm. "He's brilliant."
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "At least it's not a total disaster."
"Hold that thought," Diane said, her tone cautious as she tapped the ledger again. "It says here you've submitted a request to withdraw from the program. It just hasn't fully processed yet."
Narcissa's eyes widened in alarm, and she clutched Harry's hand, practically leaning over the desk. "That's not correct. He has no intention of withdrawing."
"I'm here, ready to begin classes," Harry said firmly. "Can you cancel that request?"
Diane nodded and made a few more taps with her quill. "Done. As far as enrollment goes, I've canceled the withdrawal. You're good to go."
Narcissa visibly relaxed but kept her hand on Harry's, her thumb gently stroking the back of his hand. Harry wasn't sure if she was even aware of the gesture, but it kept his nerves at bay despite the situation.
"What about Harry's housing?" Narcissa pressed. "We need it reinstated."
Diane grimaced slightly. "That's a bit trickier. The best I can do is move his name to the top of the waitlist. We usually have students who don't show up or change their minds before classes begin. When a room becomes available, we'll contact him."
Harry swallowed hard, trying to suppress the unease curling in his stomach. "How long will that take?"
"Usually just a week or two after classes start."
"A week or two?" Narcissa's tone hardened, and her composure cracked slightly as anger seeped into her voice. "Classes haven't even started yet. What is he supposed to do until then?"
Diane hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. "He could find a room to rent nearby, stay at an inn, or perhaps stay with a friend. If his family home isn't far, he could commute temporarily."
Narcissa's voice dropped, and her words came through gritted teeth. "How did this happen?"
The tension in the room was palpable, and Harry could see Diane visibly shrink under Narcissa's piercing gaze.
Diane withered under Narcissa's icy glare, her composure faltering as the weight of the elegant witch's fury bore down on her. "I looked it up," Diane said hesitantly, "and in the notes, it states that your guardian, Vernon Dursley, called a few days ago. He claimed Harry Potter had been killed in a magical accident and would not be attending."
Narcissa shot to her feet, her fists clenched as her controlled anger boiled over. "He did what?" she hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel.
Diane recoiled slightly, clearly intimidated, her eyes darting nervously to Harry as if he could somehow calm Narcissa's wrath.
Harry gently squeezed Narcissa's hand, trying to reassure her. "My uncle's a horrible person," he said with a weary sigh. "You told me he might pull something like this."
Narcissa turned her gaze to Harry, and some of the fire in her expression ebbed away. She let out a slow breath before sinking back into her chair, her posture sagging with the weight of frustration. "I'm sorry, Harry. It's just… that man has put you through so much. Can you add a note barring him from accessing Harry's records ever again?"
There it was again—she had referred to him as her son twice now, and each time sent a strange jolt through Harry. He didn't entirely understand why, but it stirred something deep within him, something he wasn't quite ready to confront.
Diane, eager to appease Narcissa, clattered away on her enchanted quill. With a final flourish, she hit the glowing acceptance rune on her desk and gave them a satisfied nod. "It's done. I've added a full explanation of what happened today. Normally, only Harry would have the authority to withdraw himself, but in extreme cases like this, we make exceptions."
"The man is vile," Narcissa muttered, her voice laced with venom.
"Can you also add Narcissa Malfoy to my approved list?" Harry asked. "She's listed as my emergency contact. You should see it on my file."
Diane nodded and tapped at her ledger again. "Done. I've got you and your mum listed as contacts. Anyone else?"
"No," Narcissa said firmly, her voice softening as she glanced at Harry. "Thank you for your time, and I apologize for losing my temper. It's been a long and trying day."
Diane waved her apology off with a small smile. "I completely understand. We'll get Harry squared away. Good luck to you both."
Narcissa reached for Harry's hand, her fingers intertwining with his in a gesture that sent his heart racing. The warmth of her touch and the gentle strength in her grip conveyed a fierce protectiveness that made Harry's head swim. There was nothing strictly maternal about the way she held his hand, and Diane's fleeting glance toward their clasped hands wasn't lost on Harry. Still, Narcissa's focus remained entirely on Diane.
"Is there anything else we need to do?" Narcissa asked.
"No, ma'am. We'll be in touch as soon as a room becomes available," Diane replied.
Narcissa inclined her head in thanks before turning toward the exit, still holding Harry's hand as they made their way to the waiting room. They found Draco slumped in a chair, half-asleep, but he straightened as they approached.
Even as they stepped out into the bright sunlight of the courtyard, Narcissa kept hold of Harry's hand. She pulled out her enchanted mirror, tapped the surface with her wand, and held it to her ear.
"Who are you calling?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
Narcissa flashed him a smile so warm it made his insides flutter. "The cavalry, sweetheart."
Thank you for reading! If you want to read chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11,12, 13, 14, 15 right now and discover even more stories, join me on . Your support helps me bring you even more magical adventures!
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