All Seasons Shall Be Sweet to Thee

The Fall of the Year

Narcissa brushed the dead leaves off the tombstones. The golden autumn light softened the hard face of the granite angel carved on Pansy's headstone. Lucius's was already in shadow. Kneeling, she traced the letters of his name. Every day brought her closer to the time when she would be with him again. But not yet. She wouldn't leave Draco or Isolde.

Draco was hurting, she knew. He didn't talk about it, but she saw it in his painful movements as he limped across a room, the stillness of his face. She wanted to put her arms around him and hold him close, whisper that everything would be all right. But he wouldn't accept such gestures from her, she knew that. The time when she could cradle and embrace him had been left behind a long time ago.

So she lavished her attention on Isolde instead. Kissed and hugged her granddaughter. Gave her presents and sweets. Draco always frowned when she did that. "You'll spoil her, mother," he would say. But she would just kiss Isolde's nose, and Isolde would giggle, and a half-hearted smile would tug at Draco's lips.

She wanted him to be happy again. That was what every mother wanted for her child - their happiness. Isolde, of course, filled Draco with a deep love and pride, but he needed more. Pansy had made him happy for a few brief moments, but Narcissa had known it wouldn't last. Pansy had been too fickle, too caught up in her own pleasures. It had almost destroyed Draco when he learned that. Draco needed devotion, needed someone who would be there forever. Like her Lucius. Tears fell then, landing softly on the fallen leaves.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

The boy was dying when Draco brought him home. They were both shivering from the cold, but the boy's lips were tinged with blue, his heartbeat slow and fluttering under her fingers. Narcissa took in the black hair, the glasses, the scar. She looked up at Draco. Draco didn't say anything, but his eyes pleaded with her.

Narcissa told Draco to bring the boy, and they walked down the stairs into her potions lab. It was difficult to heat effectively, and frost glittered on the walls in the light of the torches. Draco laid the boy on the stone table.

She lighted the fire under her cauldron, then chopped and peeled ingredients while the water heated. Steam rose into the air. Draco stepped a little closer to the warmth, but he kept one hand on the boy's arm. "He doesn't remember," Draco whispered.

"Do you want him to?" Narcissa asked, stirring slowly.

"No," Draco said.

"What will his name be?"

Draco looked at the boy. "Harry," he answered softly. "What else could I call him?"

Draco held Harry's head while Narcissa forced the potion down his throat. He choked and gasped, but color began to seep back into his features. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked up at them, confusion evident on his face.

"It's okay," Draco murmured. "You're safe."

Narcissa smiled gently at Harry, and smoothed his hair, like she had done for Draco when he was little.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

When spring came, Narcissa always filled her rooms with bowls and vases of lilacs. Isolde helped her cut the delicate purple blossoms and place them in a basket, biting her lip in concentration.

Narcissa brought some to Harry. He was sitting up in bed, clutching the blankets to him.

"Where's Draco?" Harry asked.

"He had to go to town on some business, but he'll be back this evening." She sat next to Harry on the bed. "Are you feeling ill, Harry?"

Harry shook his head. "No, but I'm tired." His voice faded to a whisper. "I'm afraid to sleep when Draco is gone. I have bad dreams when he isn't here."

Narcissa laid her cool palm on Harry's forehead. "You don't have to be frightened." She began to sing a lullaby that she used to sing to Draco. Harry's eyes slowly closed, and he slid down onto the pillows. Narcissa kept murmuring the gentle words, blending them with the sweet smell of lilacs.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

Narcissa danced with Harry while Draco played a slow, meandering song on the piano. She and Lucius had danced to this song on their honeymoon. For a minute, Harry's hands became Lucius's, and she could almost smell that particular cologne he had favored.

She watched as Harry's eyes continually sought out Draco. And she saw Draco looking at them in the windows. She recognized the small smile that graced both of their features at the same moment.

Isolde began crying, and she left to go upstairs and check on her. A bad dream - quickly soothed and forgotten. Isolde's nightmares had not engraved themselves on her soul like Harry's had.

"Will Harry like the cake that we made for him?" Isolde asked her anxiously.

Narcissa assured her that he would.

"Can't we give it to him now?"

"No, we have to wait until tomorrow," Narcissa told her. "You wouldn't want to get your birthday cake on the wrong day, would you?"

Isolde admitted that she wouldn't, but that she liked other kinds of cake just as well on non-birthdays. Narcissa laughed and hugged her. A moth fluttered in, attracted by the candle. Narcissa caught it, releasing it back into the warm summer night.

v.v.v.v.v.v.

The leaves were clustered thickly on the graves again. Narcissa was brushing them off when she heard a step behind her. Harry was standing there. "Do these all belong to your family?" he asked, pointing to the tombstones clustered thickly within the iron railings.

"My husband and Draco's family," she replied. "The Malfoys."

Harry bit his lip. "But will you be buried here too, when you die?"

"Yes." Narcissa brushed her fingers against Lucius's headstone.

"Can I - " Harry hesitated. "Can I be buried here as well? When it's time?"

Narcissa smiled. "You would be welcome."

A smile broke out on Harry's face which broadened when he saw Draco coming down the hill. He hurried to meet him, kissing him and hugging him tightly. Narcissa felt the sorrow in her own heart ease when she saw the happiness on her son's face.

"It will not be so long now," she whispered to Lucius.