Harry Potter 1. Chapter 1

AN) This fic shall split into two versions from chapter three onwards (mostly). It will be plain in the chapter title which version it is, as it will have "Canon (blah)" as warning that it is NON-slash and what I see as ACTUALLY taking place after book five & before book 6, instead of writing 2 different stories which I was haggling over for a while, but I really don't want to do. These two versions will vary somewhat, though how much shall depend on the slashy bits…

In this fic I'm taking into account all the books and the movies that are available to the public.

WARNING: this fic contains implied family violence and you may find it disconcerting. This is a companion piece to my fic "We Are", also a Draco thoughts centric fic. (HUGE! Hug to those who reviewed on you guys are so SWEET!)

Disclaimer: Funny, this one—Draco is not mine, belonging as he does to JKR. It is a strange thing to purge ones mind on paper like this.

You heard nothing…

I don't exist…

----

By the way the poem at the beginning of this fic is MINE! If I catch anyone using it without permission…. I'll hunt you down & do a Snape on you! (Stirs potion threateningly) .

Father

Like a sword you forged me,  
You made me who I am.  
You are my father,  
--I am your son.

* * *

Father—Lucius Malfoy: Bringer of Light; right hand of the Dark Lord; fallen angel, Lord of bad faith: you're hell on earth.

You are my elder, and my teacher in most things. You hold power and respect, prestige and control. I should revere you but I hate you and I fear you.

Yet I'm like you. Ironic really…

When you are strong I fear you, nothing stands in your way; when it does you find a way to destroy it. You rail at Mother as if she was an unliving doll: feeling nothing, dumb to your words and careless thrown pain. I wish she were… perhaps it would be better that way.

I hate you

But I want to be like you

Not your cruelty to her but your strength: to be like stone with no feeling, to love nothing and no one but yourself. You're invulnerable, untouched by fear of any kind. Almost—immortal, untouchable: either by time nor weakness or folly.

Of that I am proud

Yet I want to kill you, destroy you—replace you. I want to own myself, with power over others: to create and destroy by my will. To be feared yet loved by some.

I hate weakness, I fear it—I despise it. I hate this hold you have on me. Like a puppet I am pulled by fear, the one holding strings—only you.

You made me as I am!

You broke me as a child, grinding me to dust with your heel—I could do nothing. Only hide in the bathroom fighting tears, hearing yells and curses: slapped down, beaten and cowed. I withdrew and grew cold, adopting silence. Emotion was a weakness—I could see that. Showing anything: a mark of fear. Feeling anything: a dangerous task.

At home a mask I forged, to the world I wear it, seeming bored. I am but two halves, not what I make you see.

* * *

Mother—beautiful font of silence, why did you just stand and watch? He holds your soul in fear I know, yet what of me? You bore witness as he broke me yet you did nothing! Why? Am I not your son?

I don't understand how I came to be. Father, how can you create another when the woman to be the mother you disregard? Mother, why did you let him touch you thus when he treats you so… Did he love you then? Did he make love to you? Or did he take you, fuck you and let you bleed. I'll never know

I don't want to. I fear the answer…

Mother? To love someone, how does one stay sane? They can destroy you. Their demise; a sure thing surely, will rend one asunder. Will it not?

How does one love?

Without power over the other, how do things work? I don't understand…

I think—to be safe, utterly, what a dream! Impossible.

But what a dream—

To sleep so, twined with another: with trust, understanding—nothing more…

So fucking unreachable!

Goddamn this life that we must dance along such fated lines! Like dogs whipped to obedience, what are we? What the hell am I!

A Malfoy, forged in stone—I feel nothing

* * *

Father—we are inviolate are we not? We hold our own against the world! A Malfoy a thing of stone, we are untouchable! Owned by none, we rule others: no one else important.

But you fell--

I hate you when you're strong but when you're weak? What am I supposed to feel!

To see you weak brings me shock, I am unbalanced.

My world on edge, I am falling.

I feel lost--

* * *

(Takes deep breath)

AN) Dear god that was cathartic! My parent's interaction over the years ever since I can remember, his duality with caring and violence and how I felt last year on hearing of my father's heart attack and seeing him after the operation… weak, drained of color, delirious—I don't know. To live in the shadow of somebody so strong with a streak of such unthinking cruel obscenity—kinda makes you question many things in life. What truly matters, among them... And working in retail as I do, seeing others with the same histories, others trapped in such vicious circles, my views on humanity are perhaps tarnished.

Shrug

To live is never an easy thing… those who we love and who love us are the most precious things. Pity we seem to sometimes forget that…


	2. Chapter 2

In this fic I'm taking into account all the books and the movies that are available to the public, that **INCLUDES SPOILERS** **for Book 6** so if you don't want to get an eyeful as you haven't read it yet, don't read it! (Points to the **Back** button)

WARNING: This is what I think happened over the summer of Draco's fifth year, after Harry sent his father to Azkaban and the scenario behind Draco's sixth year task. Also, it gives more of an emotional background to both his and his mother's behavior in the sixth book.

You heard nothing…

I don't exist…

----

_Chapter 2: Chosen destiny…_

'You whom I respect now brought down, so much power shown as nothing, why? How do we become like paper dolls, fragile, breakable—alone? We are nothing without power; the toys of others, to be crushed underfoot like ash. To gain that power, to have brushed others aside to grasp it and have it snatched from our fingers in turn; how does one remain? How do you stay safe? How does—'

'Oh gods, who am I now? What am I? Mother, who are we? Will Father's capture change anything? Will our power slip? I—'

'What will the Dark Lord say?'

'So we have fallen from grace… All that we are rescinded, now in dire straights hanging by a shriveled thread, we are alone. I am alone. As always…'

'Father, what should I do? How should I become? As legal Malfoy, what am I? What can I do? Does the Dark Lord know of me?'

Alone in the darkened room stood two figures, mere silhouettes, one cadaverously tall and thin, the other slender though deathly pale as she sank into a voluminous curtsy, black robes pooling like spilled ink at her feet; the one before her raising a skeletal hand in careless acknowledgement of her presence.

"Rise." He hissed, his voice high pitched, unsettling. "Narcissa Malfoy, there comes to my attention your son, Draco. Charming child, so mannered and soon to come of age is he not?"

The woman's low voice replied, "Yes, my Lord." Narcissa bowed her head even lower, her loose white blonde hair sweeping in a shimmering curtain past the sides of her face, concealing any expression; the hands folded in her lap were lax, revealing nothing.

Voldemort reached down, skeletal fingers running through Narcissa's hair. "Your son remains still at Hogwarts under the tutelage of Dumbledore, he is—doing well, I hear. Does this please you?"

She shifted in obeisance, "As it please you, my Lord."

"As it please me…" he whispered. He smiled, a stray shaft of moonlight leaving his face in utter shadow, his eyes glowing red, the pupils slit wide taking in all the light they could. "Yes, it pleases me."

"As you wish, my Lord." She responded quietly.

He continued, "It pleases me that he rests as such within the bosom of Hogwarts, like a snake hidden in the grass, a dragon shunned with night. He is…in a position of some usefulness." His hand strayed once more through Narcissa's hair, playing with the long strands and weaving them through his fingers before drawing a length out into the shaft of moonlight, watching the ghostly shimmer play over his waxen flesh.

Her voice hollow, emotionless, she answered. "We are as you wish of us, my Lord. What is it that you desire?"

His hand fisted, catching the strands he still held and wrenching her head up so their eyes could meet. "The dragon must waken from sleep. He must end his petty ways and redeem his fallen name, for Malfoy is my right hand no longer and I desire restitution for the folly his sire has done. This you know. Do you understand?"

Time seemed to stop within the shadowed room as the pallid woman arched her neck into the restraining hand, as if to stare deeper into his face and touch his soul: to see truth among lies, reality beyond deception and life—perhaps, beyond death. What she saw… if she saw anything, was enough. Her face remained passive: a mask of snow, carved ice, and eyes pale, uncaring. Her mouth curved slightly in a quiet smile and he released her hair, yet she remained in her arched position, eyes locked to his. "When do you wish his audience?"

"Tomorrow night, midnight."

He vanished and she was alone in the room once again. Frozen like a broken statue of veined black marble she stared unseeing out the massive window across the room, a single name falling from her numb lips—

"Draco"

Trapped she was, like an insect in glorious amber: imprisoned, forever on display. Her eyes closed to shield all feeling as she felt icy fingers of terror take hold of her soul. Her only child… and once again she could do nothing. She sighed softly. As the wife of a powerful man she had everything a woman could wish for and yet it was the simplest things she forever lacked. That her son be safe from harm and unknowing of war was now at an end, he would learn and he would be lost and yet— he was so young…

Her face crumbled in agony as she collapsed to the floor in silence, her hand gracefully trailing up her chest and fisting the black velvet over her heart. She couldn't breath. Like being crushed to death the room rushed up to her and fear swamped her mind as deathly shivers rippled out across her skin, and she whimpered in terror.

"What have I done that it has come to this, I thought you were safe—" Her voice broke. "Not at Durmstrung, away from your father for all but 2 months…no Dark Arts teachings." She sobbed, her hand coming up to press despairingly against her mouth. "Why must you be as you are?"

Her breathing ragged she hauled herself off the floor, leaning heavily against the chair next to her as she gathered her shattered composure around her once again. Her husband in Azkaban and her son briefly home from school on summer holidays, she had… much to think about. Now, after the Dark Lord's visit and his new and terrifying interest in her son, her thoughts were thrown in turmoil and she knew that life as she had known it had ended. Before her she had a choice: remain silent as she had for so long and watch the destruction of her only child before he fully grew to manhood or break her silence and forge a binding with one who could save his life.

For herself she desired nothing, she was forfeit and she accepted that. She looked at the handsome clock arranged on the mantle above the massive marble fireplace and was surprised that it was barely beyond half past one in the morning; Draco would be asleep… she could watch over him as she once had so long ago, before shadows had become their friends and innocence had been lost. Moonlight drifted in fleeting patterns across the rich carpet as seconds ticked into minutes and she decided on her final course, she smoothed her hands down her heavy robes and swept from the room in reflected silence.

Once again the room was empty, save its shifting shadows, dark secrets and the gentle ticking of the clock above the mantle as time moved inexorably foreword and destinies changed hands once more.

. 

AN) So, did you like? Next chapter is a mothers thoughts of her son as she watches him in the innocence of fitful sleep. Reviews inspire my writing so POUR IT IN! Or I might stop here…

snort

I wasn't even intending that this be a chaptered fic, it was meant as a one shot but then I read the 6th book &… bloody HELL! Inspiration knocked me flat!


	3. Chapter 3

In this fic I'm taking into account all the books and the movies that are available to the public, that **INCLUDES SPOILERS** **FOR BOOK 6** so if you don't want to get an eyeful as you haven't read it yet, don't read it! (Points to the **Back** button)

WARNING: This is what I think happened over the summer of Draco's fifth year, after Harry sent his father to Azkaban and the scenario behind Draco's sixth year task. Also, it gives more of an emotional background to both his and his mother's behavior in the sixth book.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't have a 6ft 1in, pouty, white blonde haired boy toy that I can pole dance with/on. No, nothing is mine but the plot! As this is technically all a MISSING scene…

You heard nothing…

I don't exist…

----

Chapter 3: Innocence 

The hour is late and I am weary yet I cannot rest. My footfalls nearly silent on the thick carpet that spans the length of the corridor, the doors of ancient Malfoy apartments lining the walls like silent sentinels. This is my home and yet still I find myself walking in cautious silence, I was not born a Malfoy though I have borne its next Master. I still feel as a visitor, an outsider; the secrets within are hidden from me, they shift, just out of sight.

As I pass a high window, fleeting light catches my eye. Simple moonlight, so benign yet how terrifying when it plays the herald to forgotten dreams: unwanted and dark, the terror of the night and its mirror in the mind fragmented.

My thoughts swirl once again to the task at hand and the son I birthed so many moons ago.

* * *

For a woman giving birth can be the most important event in ones life, certainly the most physically taxing. Nothing else can ever truly compare. To bring forth life into the world after carrying it close to your heart for nine months, hearing the first screams of surprise, outrage, joy and then peals of laughter and sodden crying over scrapes and broken hearts and dreams. It's… quite an experience to live through. Some of us loved being mothers and some… found it a trial, while others never would be, sometimes for the best. 

To become a mother is not something that should be taken lightly, or done without care and yet—What other choice do we have? As women we are bound to our wombs, to give life is our function and duty, to give birth to an heir, our hope. At least for those of privilege…

From the moment of knowledge that we are with child we are bound to its fate, unknowing of its gender we hope, our sole concern its safety and health, that it grows strong and sure.

So much love we give, to imagine them hurt—it's too painful. I can't— I can't let him do this. If he does he will lose himself and be no more... and I will have nothing

My eyes blankly take in the coiled door handle in front of me as I reach for the latch to Draco's room. It turns swiftly in my pallid grasp: silent, oiled and smooth, stepping quietly inside, it closes just as well.

Turning around, a fleeting smile sweeps across my lips as I view the barely controlled chaos perched almost lazily on a convenient corner of your favorite chair by the window. It's a wonder the chair hasn't tipped over yet. A sigh disturbs the moonlit silence of your room as I move to lighten the load, or at least put a dent in it. Crumpled haphazardly on top is a school robe, the Slytherin crest stitched to its breast showing a few stray threads around the edges, I run my fingers through them idly, lost in thought. Watching you grow from infant to child to young boy and now nearly a man… I can no longer watch over you, you have grown beyond my reach.

A clear drop of salty water falls nearly unnoticed on the heavy wool still bunched in my grasp, my eyes barely catching its fleeting glimmer as it swiftly seeps into the cloth. My fingers stray to my face and feel wetness trailing down my cheek. I'm crying… I hadn't noticed

Almost absently I fold up the wrinkled robe, noting how much you've grown from the small boy chattily going to your first year of school at Hogwarts. So much has changed since then; so much has been lost

#Clink#

I whirl around in surprise as the gentle sound of something small and metallic hitting the hardwood floor rouses me from my thoughts. My face slips back to a composed expression as understanding clears my mind: you dropped a necklace you'd had in your hand; it now lay, possibly broken, gleaming faintly on the dark floor. As I drew closer to pick it up, I see that it is a locket: pale white gold with a long thin chain, a simple oval. A pretty trinket, perhaps a gift or a personal choice, I leave it closed as I lay it gently on the nightstand by your glass of water, taking a seat in the light chair by your bed. Hand outstretched you remain sprawled on your bed, sheets twisted around you, wound by troubled dreams. Fevered sweat a glistening film over your naked chest as your breathing grows labored and once again a shadow I cannot see roils your sleeping mind. I long to reach out and hold you in my lap as I once did but now I can only watch, softly brushing your hair from your face when the damp strands fall too far astray. Dark brows draw together as if in pain as you whisper in fear, words I cannot understand falling from your lips as you begin to writhe once more; your hand, now empty of its precious gift, curls into a fist and draws close to your heart, as if a talisman. A shudder wracks your frame and you flinch violently as if struck—there is silence for a broken moment, then a single word falls from your lips, a name I know too well… a name known by all for the last 15 years of this life

"Harry—"

My eyes close for naught as tears prick and flow unchecked, the irony a stabbing pain within my breast. I can do nothing— This is a burden you must bear, of it I know nothing as you have said nothing, but— I shall leave this knowledge in silence. Whatever choices you make you must live by them, as we have all done. Sometimes… to the detriment of others: such is life, as it were. To care for another as you do beyond the asking, nothing can bring more joy yet wreak so much pain.

Eyes still misty I reach out, gently running my fingers through your sweaty mussed hair, stroking your scalp and softly caressing the sharp planes of your face. You lie for the moment in stillness, turned towards me as if sensing me, seeking comfort long remembered. I love you—you are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood; your birth an agony I remember, your life above all I treasure. Though I cannot evade the Dark Lords request, I can bind another to guard your safety, one who can complete the task that has been set if you should falter. But your mind—so open, if your heart should be seen… you will be forfeit. It must… be shielded; you must learn to guard it, only then can you be safe within His sight from His prying mind.

My brows draw together in deep thought over this new dilemma: who could teach you, who was good enough yet close enough to teach you such a dangerous lesson? Who… Who could I trust…

Damn!

The hand resting in my lap curls into a fist, nails biting into my palm; my wedding band cuts into my finger as if reminding me of my duty, the sacrifices I have made—and the lives I've taken. Perhaps this is payment for my sins, if there are such things. My hand uncurls, rising to brush errant strands of pale blonde out of my face. I'll be damned if this is the end and we are ground to nothing, whatever it takes. Whatever it takes! We shall get through this

* * *

As if frozen in time light falls into shadow and dreams dwell where we fear to tread, I shall guard you as I have since your conception… this time from one more cruel than your father. Though you think I have done nothing, I have! I bleed inside to see you think me weak for I am not… I am a woman guile my only sure weapon. 

A smile of deep sadness spreads across my lips… I will do all I can yet I must lastly contend with you. No longer a child you wish to prove yourself, to your father always and now to Him—such is that that we must bear our burdens, all that we are as nothing before our fears and hidden weakness, that we must bow as others hold sway.

As night deepens into slow approaching dawn, I fall into silence; your form still, worn out as you dream another dream. I sit in peaceful vigil, path decided and mind at rest, all that remains, execution as the pieces chose their places on the board and we dance once more to the follies that plague our lives. All shall be as it was meant, Bella shall teach you the craft of silence, bound by blood as she is and you shall learn, as you have no choice

Neither do I—but such is our fated life

* * *

O.o 

(Bursts into tears)

Muuummyyyy! (Glomps mum with hearty squeeze… victim slowly turning blue from lack of oxygen…) Oooops... Gomen!

AN) I don't have a son, nor am I actually a mother at all; I simply took a few tentative steps in the shoes of the woman who gave me life… and found the soul I needed to give Narcissa flesh and bone. I also slipped inside myself on how I'd feel in her place… (Wipes stray tear from eye… grabs hankie)

Next chapter! Draco's revelation, what he feels meeting Voldemort for the fist time and just HOW he gets the "task" he attempts so very hard in book 6!


	4. Chapter 4

AN) AGAIN, this chapter is the canon, **non–slash **version! If you're after the slashy one, go to the one that does NOT say "Canon" in the title! (Points to **back** button.)

In this fic I'm taking into account all the books and the movies that are available to the public, that **INCLUDES SPOILERS** **FOR BOOK 6** so if you don't want to get an eyeful as you haven't read it yet, don't read it! (Again, points to the **Back** button)

WARNING: This is what I think happened over the summer of Draco's fifth year, after Harry sent his father to Azkaban and the scenario behind Draco's sixth year task. Also, it gives more of an emotional background to both his and his mother's behavior in the sixth book.

Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't have a 6ft 1in, pouty, white blonde haired boy toy that I can pole dance with/on. No, nothing is mine but the plot! As this is technically all a MISSING scene…

You heard nothing…

I don't exist…

----

Chapter 3: Canon Innocence 

The hour is late and I am weary yet I cannot rest. My footfalls nearly silent on the thick carpet that spans the length of the corridor, the doors of ancient Malfoy apartments lining the walls like silent sentinels. This is my home and yet still I find myself walking in cautious silence, I was not born a Malfoy though I have borne its next Master. I still feel as a visitor, an outsider; the secrets within are hidden from me, they shift, just out of sight.

As I pass a high window, fleeting light catches my eye. Simple moonlight, so benign yet how terrifying when it plays the herald to forgotten dreams: unwanted and dark, the terror of the night and its mirror in the mind fragmented.

My thoughts swirl once again to the task at hand and the son I birthed so many moons ago.

For a woman giving birth can be the most important event in ones life, certainly the most physically taxing. Nothing else can ever truly compare. To bring forth life into the world after carrying it close to your heart for nine months, hearing the first screams of surprise, outrage, joy and then peals of laughter and sodden crying over scrapes and broken hearts and dreams. It's… quite an experience to live through. Some of us loved being mothers and some… found it a trial, while others never would be, sometimes for the best.

To become a mother is not something that should be taken lightly, or done without care and yet—What other choice do we have? As women we are bound to our wombs, to give life is our function and duty, to give birth to an heir, our hope. At least for those of privilege…

From the moment of knowledge that we are with child we are bound to its fate, unknowing of its gender we hope, our sole concern its safety and health, that it grows strong and sure.

So much love we give, to imagine them hurt—it's too painful. I can't— I can't let him do this. If he does he will lose himself and be no more... and I will have nothing

My eyes blankly take in the coiled door handle in front of me as I reach for the latch to Draco's room. It turns swiftly in my pallid grasp: silent, oiled and smooth, stepping quietly inside, it closes just as well.

Turning around, a fleeting smile sweeps across my lips as I view the barely controlled chaos perched almost lazily on a convenient corner of your favorite chair by the window. It's a wonder the chair hasn't tipped over yet. A sigh disturbs the moonlit silence of your room as I move to lighten the load, or at least put a dent in it. Crumpled haphazardly on top is a school robe, the Slytherin crest stitched to its breast showing a few stray threads around the edges, I run my fingers through them idly, lost in thought. Watching you grow from infant to child to young boy and now nearly a man… I can no longer watch over you, you have grown beyond my reach.

A clear drop of salty water falls nearly unnoticed on the heavy wool still bunched in my grasp, my eyes barely catching its fleeting glimmer as it swiftly seeps into the cloth. My fingers stray to my face and feel wetness trailing down my cheek. I'm crying… I hadn't noticed

Almost absently I fold up the wrinkled robe, noting how much you've grown from the small boy chattily going to your first year of school at Hogwarts. So much has changed since then; so much has been lost

"Nonono, I can't. I won't! Not her! No—"

I whirl around in surprise as you cry out in pain, shocking me from my thoughts; yet naught but a dream…taking a seat in the light chair by your bed I settle down to watch your troubled sleep.

In your restless slumber you flail around as if falling, limbs writhing wound in torment. After a while you fall into a period of stillness, hand outstretched and you remain sprawled on your bed, sheets twisted around you, wound by troubled dreams. Fevered sweat a glistening film over your naked chest as your breathing grows labored and once again a shadow I cannot see roils your sleeping mind. I long to reach out and hold you in my lap as I once did but now I can only watch, softly brushing your hair from your face when the damp strands fall too far astray. Dark brows draw together as if in pain as you whisper in fear, words I cannot understand falling from your lips as you begin to writhe once more; your hand curling into a fist and drawing close to your heart. A shudder wracks your frame and you flinch violently as if struck—there is silence for a broken moment, then fear spills from your lips as I never heard in waking sound

"Nooo— Mother!"

My eyes close for naught as tears prick and flow unchecked. I can do little— but a dream you see yet with time, who knows? Whatever choices you make you must live by them, as we have all done. Sometimes… to the detriment of others: such is life, as it were.

Eyes still misty I reach out, gently running my fingers through your sweaty mussed hair, stroking your scalp and softly caressing the sharp planes of your face. You lie for the moment in stillness, turned towards me as if sensing me, seeking comfort long remembered. I love you—you are flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood; your birth an agony I remember, your life above all I treasure. Though I cannot evade the Dark Lords request, I can bind another to guard your safety, one who can complete the task that has been set if you should falter. But your mind—so open, if your heart should be seen, you will be forfeit. It must… be shielded; you must learn to guard it, only then can you be safe within His sight from His prying mind.

My brows draw together in deep thought over this new dilemma: who could teach you, who was good enough yet close enough to teach you such a dangerous lesson? Who—Who could I trust?

Damn!

The hand resting in my lap curls into a fist, nails biting into my palm; my wedding band cuts into my finger as if reminding me of my duty, the sacrifices I have made—and the lives I've taken. Perhaps this is payment for my sins, if there are such things. My hand uncurls, rising to brush errant strands of pale blonde out of my face. I'll be damned if this is the end and we are ground to nothing. Whatever it takes! We shall get through this

As if frozen in time light falls into shadow and dreams dwell where we fear to tread, I shall guard you as I have since your conception… this time from one more cruel than your father. Though you think I have done nothing, I have! I bleed inside to see you think me weak for I am not, I am a woman guile my only sure weapon.

A smile of deep sadness spreads across my lips… I will do all I can yet I must lastly contend with you. No longer a child you wish to prove yourself, to your father always and now to Him—such is that that we must bear our burdens, all that we are as nothing before our fears and hidden weakness, that we must bow as others hold sway.

As night deepens into slow approaching dawn, I fall into silence; your form still, worn out as you dream another dream. I sit in peaceful vigil, path decided and mind at rest, all that remains, execution as the pieces chose their places on the board and we dance once more to the follies that plague our lives. All shall be as it was meant, Bella shall teach you the craft of silence, bound by blood as she is and you shall learn, as you have no choice

Neither do I—but such is our fated life

O.o

(Bursts into tears)

Muuummyyyy! (Glomps mum with hearty squeeze… victim slowly turning blue from lack of oxygen…) Oooops... Gomen!

AN) I don't have a son, nor am I actually a mother at all; I simply took a few tentative steps in the shoes of the woman who gave me life… and found the soul I needed to give Narcissa flesh and bone. I also slipped inside myself on how I'd feel in her place… (Wipes stray tear from eye… grabs hankie)

Next chapter! Draco's revelation, what he feels meeting Voldemort for the fist time and just HOW he gets the "task" he attempts so very hard in book 6!


End file.

Harry Potter, Drama