Alone... Narcissa's story

Some days, I look back and I wonder...what if? What if I'd left Lucius like I wanted too? What if Bellatrix hadn't been corrupted by the false promises of the Dark Lord? What if Draco hadn't followed in his father's footsteps? What if our lives were perfect right now, and Draco had married a nice, pureblood girl rather than...I can't say it. Even now, after it's over, it's hard for me to think about it, let alone hear the words from my own mouth. Regret rises in my throat like bile, reminding me of all the times I could've followed my heart, but didn't.

It started a couple of years ago... when Draco was still in Hogwarts. He was so adorable; he even let his hair grow a little. It framed his delicate face and warm gray eyes that iced over as time and influence froze my little boy's heart. He made me so proud, he looked just like Lucius in his Hogwarts days. I remember that day when we were sitting at breakfast during the Holidays. The snow on the windowsill glittered in the winter morning sunlight. I asked him,

"So Draco, how is school?"

At first he just grunted and continued eating his cereal. Then I repeated the question...

"Are things going well for you in school?"

"They're fine, mother. Things are fine."

Of course I wasn't convinced (he does this a lot lately... probably learned it from Lucius. Oh the morals he teaches our son...), so I just smiled at him and asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes, mother. I am fine. Everyone is fine." His voice adopted a loud, harsh tone. At first I thought maybe it was because I wouldn't let him attend Durmstrang that year. I didn't want him so far away, is that so unforgivable? But then, mother's intuition told me that it was something else... perhaps something darker. Maybe I could just talk to Draco later.

I'm the only one besides his father who calls him by his first name. Draco, my little dragon. I went to visit him at the school a few weeks before. Hogwarts was just as I remembered it; same ghosts, talking portraits, trick staircases... all of his little friends were calling him "Malfoy." I remembered being called "Black" during my school days. I just thought it was cute. He'd kill me if he knew I thought that.

After breakfast I went to find Draco. He was in his room, as usual, writing in that journal of his, wasting away. The only sounds to be heard were the scratching of his quill and his low mumbling. I sat next to him on his messy bed (though I'd kindly asked him to make it earlier that morning). He quickly snapped his journal shut, as it I were going to snatch it from his grasp.

"Darling, I get a feeling that there's something you're not telling me. You've been locked up here during the whole Holiday doing God knows what," I said using my motherly voice, trying to place my hand over his.

Like I predicted he would, he just shot me that look that said 'Go away mother'. The pain in my heart worsened. My beautiful boy was pushing me away.

"Do I have to tell you everything? I told you I was fine. What more do you want?" he asked scornfully.

I was hurt, though I tried not to show it. I think he knew though, because when I got up to leave, he looked the tiniest bit concerned, his arctic eyes warming for the slightest moment.

Then I begin to think, maybe if I hadn't tried to hide my feelings all of these years that he wouldn't be stone cold like his father. Maybe if Lucius had shown just a portion of love or concern, Draco would be different. I brought these thoughts to his father's attention, and he just said-

"Narcissa, you can't expect the boy to stay little forever. He's at that age where all children drift away from their parents." A typical man thing to say. Just how oblivious was he?

"Not 'all children' do, Lucius," I said. I still couldn't understand... why didn't he feel our only, precious son slipping away like I did?

He just waved me out of his office, like he usually does when I bring up something that has to do with our son. Suddenly, I had the fantasies that I had about burning his things in the fireplace when I found out he was cheating on me with Bellatrix.

Oh yes, my dear sister Bellatrix. She always hated me for being the one to marry Lucius. Is it my fault that he likes blondes? Or at least I thought he did before I found her undergarments in his dresser. I knew they weren't mine because they were lace-trimmed with a 'BL' embroidered on them. Yes, she's married, but something tells me that she doesn't give a damn either way. Sickness took over me as I lifted them out of the bottom of that drawer. I cut them and burned them as soon as I found the fireplace. I never told him about my findings, he'd just deny it all. The man never faces his problems. And for that our marriage is failing.

Then after Lucius landed himself in Azkaban, Draco came home over the summer of his sixth year telling me his wonderful news: He was going to become a Servant of Voldemort. Fear, anger, and betrayal burned through my veins like never before. After I slapped him across the face, he packed up and left. I remember the look of utter disgust on his face before he slammed that door, never to return. He was leaving me. My baby, gone forever. I couldn't grasp it...why was he doing this to me?

That's when I found them... the letters. I'd gone up to his room after I had sobbed (alone, might I add), and looked around his room. Traces of my little boy could be found everywhere, from his Quidditch broom in the corner, to the cupcakes I gave him on the floor, to the potions kit on the table. I told him it was dangerous to leave it out like that. I figured that with no house elves someone had to clean this pigsty. I went to clean out the junk under his bed... all right, I'll admit, I wasn't cleaning. I was searching. Searching for some answers as to why Draco would make such an awful decision. Sure enough, I found my answers within the letters, dating back to the last summer. The parchment was crisp under my touch.

Who were they from, you might ask?

They were from Harry Potter. Love letters.

The last one was a breakup letter, I believe. If I recall correctly, the ending was, -

I'm sorry, Draco. I can't keep living this lie. It's over between us now.

-Harry

My heart ached for my poor boy.

I saw scars on Draco's wrists as I watched him shove his things in a trunk. Vicious red streaks marred his porcelain skin, severely clashing with its colour. I asked him what they were... he just turned back around and thrust a bag of gold Galleons in the trunk. My guess is that they were for the trip to wherever he was destined to go. I also assumed that this letter was the reason for his obviously rash decision to leave me here. Alone.

He didn't answer my letters. I don't even know if he read them or simply threw them into the fire, the flames unable to crack his heart of stone. Neither did he return any thanks for the sweater I sent him, in case it was chilly.

The last I heard anything about Draco was that they found his body in Albania. He was covered in blood, and the Dark Mark was engraved on his forehead; his once pure skin now tainted with that filthy stain. The same mark that Lucius bore on his forearm. The mark that once you have it, there's no washing it away. You can't get rid of it, once it's there. Once you bear the Dark Mark... he owns you. You are his puppet for whatever sadistic plot he has going in that nasty mind. And my son was lying dead because of it. No mother should have to lose her child to the Dark Lord. It was in that moment when I found out, that I wanted to die.

I picked up his cold, lifeless hand and whispered "Why, my little dragon, why?"

What happened to the days when he would kiss me goodnight every evening after I tucked him in? What happened to the hugs, or the simple "I love you, mummy"s?

I suppose there's no use wondering, now that he's gone. Now no childish shrieks of delight ring throughout the manor. No footsteps can be heard throughout the halls. Now I have no one...

All I am left with are ghostly sighs whispering in the wind. They tell of my son and of my solitary existence.

I am alone. Bound to wander the earth until old age and death accept my body. Until the day my son and me are reunited.