I Love You

I Love You

The pale, slim young woman stood in front of the mirror, white-blonde angel hair wreathing her oval face and sharp chin. She looked back at her reflection thoughtfully, dark lips pursed in concentration. Her huge, almond-shaped black eyes peered at her from underneath dark lashes, like two gigantic, sorrowful holes.

Her thin hands ran over the dress of pure white lace that imprisoned her body, wondering why she wasn't happy. It was her wedding day, after all. She tried a thin smile, decided it looked too fake, and wiped a refugee tear off her cheek.

"Narcissa?" her mother called pensively from the other room. "Narcissa, dear, are you ready yet?"

Suck it up, Narcissa, she told herself. You're no longer a little girl. She forced a weak grimace at the mirror.

"Oh dear," the mirror sighed sadly as her charge left the room for the chapel. "Weddings always make me cry."

*

Rain slated down upon the earth with an angry vengeance, while the fire crackled peacefully inside the cozy study within the castle walls. A middle-aged wizard, head bent over a thick pile of dusty parchments, sat at a large wooden desk, reading through tiny half-crescent glasses by the flickering light of two thick candles.

The peace of the room was interrupted suddenly by a pounding on the study door.

"Professor Dumbledore, sir?" a small, desperate voice cried from the other side. The man looked up, concern furrowing his already wrinkled brow, and rose.

"Coming," he said, sweeping across the study floor and opening the door. At the threshold stood a pale woman, cape and robes torn and saturated, white blonde hair mussed and dripping with rainwater, huge almond eyes looking up imploringly. In her hands, she clutched a small child wrapped tightly in a waterproof cape. "Narcissa!" he exclaimed, faking surprise. "Come in! Why, what a dreadful night for calling on old teachers, don't you think, dear?" Her lip quivered uncertainly and then she burst into sobs.

"There, there, no need to cry, come with me," he murmured.

He led the woman into his office and muttered a quick-dry spell and, with the tap of a wand, her robes were warm and dry. Seating her in a comfy chair, he stoked the fire until it blazed heartily, and rung the bell for a house elf to bring some hot tea. Sitting back in his own chair, he folded his hands and looked at the woman in front of him, who was crying softly.

"What is it, Narcissa?" he asked kindly. She looked up at him in fear.

"He's too young, Professor! I'm too young - I can't save him!" she gasped, hugging the tiny human bundle to her chest. Dumbledore's twinkling eyes darkened with worry.

"Narcissa, what has happened?" he asked patiently.

"They - the Death Eaters - they came tonight...Lucius brought them. He wanted - he wanted...him...to meet Draco," she sobbed. "It was horrible! They were going to brand him!"

"Oh, dear," Dumbledore said quietly. "That is terrible."

"I threw a few hexes, grabbed Draco and apparated as far as I could go," she said, eyes narrowing in anger. The old man allowed himself a small chuckle.

"You always were the top of your class, Narcissa," he smiled. "Bet you stumped those Death Eaters for a while, didn't you?" She smiled weakly at him and stroked her son's head protectively.

"Oh, it was just some stuff I've been practicing in my spare time..." she said, shrugging, "you know, being a homemaker isn't all its cracked up to be."

There was a small tap on the door and a house elf entered with a tea service, spilling hot steam into the room. Dumbledore thanked him and poured Narcissa a cup.

"What am I going to do?" she asked.

"Narcissa," the professor said after a breath, "tell me one thing. When you left Hogwarts you married Lucius Malfoy, obeying your parents. You were a Slytherin, and well schooled in the dark arts, but you never became a Death Eater. I lost contact with you for years - many people have been saying 'I told you so'. They say you've joined the dark forces entirely. But I know you better. You were always confused. Now you must make a choice. Which side are you on?" He looked piercingly at the woman.

"I'm a Slytherin," she said, blinking, bewildered. "I'm a Malfoy."

"You are Narcissa," he corrected her sternly. "The smartest student I've ever had. Beautiful. Clever. Witty. Loving." She looked at him for a moment.

"I...I don't want my son to die," she said. "But I don't want him in the Dark Lord's inner circle - it's too dangerous there. I just want to get him away from that world." She shuddered, and flung a look over her shoulder, as if suspicious that the darkness was creeping up behind her.

"Well?" Dumbledore asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I want my son to have a choice," she breathed. "I don't want to follow the Dark Lord anymore." He smiled, the twinkle returning to his eye.

"Then I can help you," he nodded.

"Will you take him at Hogwarts?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "But until then, I will have the Malfoy manor watched at all times, to insure your and Draco's safety." Her eyes filled with relief.

"Oh, thank you professor!" she said. "Thank you! I'll do anything in return - anything to help you! I don't want to work with Voldemort."

"Narcissa, the task I have in mind for you is dangerous and challenging, but you were always up for things of that sort. Will you take it?" he asked. She did not hesitate, but looked down lovingly at her son and then met the headmaster's eyes.

"Yes."

"Well then," he smiled. "Tell me, have you ever heard of the term 'double agent'...?"

*

Narcissa stood on the platform, clutching Draco's hand tightly in her own. Over the past twelve years, she had delivered countless messages and secrets to the light side, using her presence in Voldemort's inner circle to gain precious information. On her arm she bore the dark mark, but her heart, eyes and ears bore the mark of love.

But more than secure her son's safety, she had found new friends among the light, some of them who now lay dead as victims of Voldemort's greed and lust. But now, she was sure, that was all over. Voldemort had been defeated long ago, and now her son would attend Hogwarts.

She peered through the bustle of the crowd, searching. Draco dragged on his mother's arm, hopping from foot to foot impatiently.

"Mother!" he complained loudly. "Let me go..."

"Hold on a moment, Draco, dear," she murmured. She saw a familiar handful of red-heads weaving their way through the crowd and squinted to see better.

There, among them, stood a small, gangly boy with mussed black hair and sparkling green eyes. Narcissa held her breath in excitement. There he was, the boy who had stopped Voldemort's reign of terror, the only son of her beloved friend Lily Potter.

"Draco," she hissed urgently, pointing. "Look! There he is - Harry Potter." Draco's gray eyes searched the crowd until lighting on the object of his mother's excitement. "There, my son, is a boy to make friends with."

"Why?" he asked sharply, looking up. Narcissa covered her mouth, shocked that she had let that slip.

"Because," she stammered, "well...he's powerful, of course!" Draco looked back at the boy, who caught his eye for a moment. The mop-headed boy did not seem very powerful to him, but he nodded anyhow, because he didn't want to disappoint his mother.

"I'll speak to him on the train," he said. She smiled down at him and he blushed, shrugging back. "Mother, I have to get on the train..."

"Okay, Draco," she said, leaning down to plant a kiss on his cheek, something his father never did. Draco looked up at her in amazement, filled with a strange warm feeling that was different from the cool respect he had for his father. This was like...love.

"Bye, Mother," he said reluctantly.

"I'll miss you," she said, waving, and then said something else. He was already being swallowed up by the crowd, the roar of hundreds of voices filling up his ears. "What?" he shouted, looking for her. He shrugged, giving up, and hopped onto the train to look for the green-eyed boy.

Maybe it was his imagination, he thought, but it sounded like she had said 'I love you'.