All I Need

You work so hard for your children. You spend years taking care of them--not just feeding and sheltering them, but making sure they're happy, putting them through school, worrying about their health, so on and so forth. In the midst of all that, sometimes you forget why you had them in the first place.

I have to admit, that did apply to me. Between work and other duties, I tended to lose track of my hopes for Draco. I suppose a parent shouldn't have expectations for their child, though I must admit there are avenues I would have been loath to see him walk down. But in all those years, he never did disappoint me.

I remember when he started school, all those years ago. He was so nervous about leaving home, especially after hearing that conditions at Hogwarts weren't exactly what he was used to. All I could tell him was to keep his chin up, and not to let his anxiety show. When he came home that year at Christmas with numerous tales of his exploits, I knew he had done well, and that he would eventually make me proud. I knew how hard things were for him there, what with Dumbledore's policies and having to deal with the Potter boy. He rose to the occasion spectacularly.

The school seemed to make constant exceptions for Potter, and Draco was understandably jealous. His second year, I made sure their house Quidditch team was outfitted with the best brooms money could buy. Perhaps it was seen as buying Draco's way onto the team, but I knew he was a talented flyer. Besides, Gryffindor had most certainly cheated the year before, letting a first year onto their team, and this was perfectly legitimate compared to that. I suppose it goes back to the fact that I've never liked Dumbledore, and seeing him make exceptions for this boy who had done nothing but live angered me, escepcially when Draco was so overshadowed. I wanted his school years to be filled with happy memories, and between Potter and Dumbledore, it seemed nearly impossible.

Potter. He should be dead. He's the one who put me in here. He's the one... It's hard to be angry anymore, they only gather hungrily when I rage. But I can tell already that they're waiting, lurking in the shadows, knowing that I will break soon. I know how bad it will be. I know I can't speak coherently anymore, and that for me to have been in here for two years now and still maintain this much sanity is amazing. But I've managed. At the times when it's been the hardest, when I want nothing more than to give up and let them take what's left of me, I stop and let the memories filter through like snapshots...

Narcissa holding our beautiful baby. Draco, barely able to walk, trying to run and greet me when I got home from work. Teaching Draco to fly across the countryside, the sunset dappling his laughing face through the trees. Draco, fast asleep, nestled up next to the wolfhounds. Draco nearly in tears over leaving for school. Draco. Draco.

I won't be able to remember it anymore, because I'm going to let go, let them have my mind, and it'll be over. I'll be another one of the moaning ragged masses piled into the cells. It shouldn't have ended this way. None of us should have ended this way. When Fudge slipped me the note this morning, I already knew what it was going to say. His eyes gave it away.

I wish it hadn't been Potter who did it, but there's no room left for rage now. There's only room left for mourning. One way or the other, the light of my life, my baby, is gone now. I know the tears are falling now, even though I can't feel them, because they're getting closer, and it's so cold. The last thing I want to remember is how proud I am of my son who gave his life for the right thing. That's all I need to ever know.