The early rays of the morning sun streaked in through the parted curtains of the master bedroom of 12 Grimmauld Place and emerald eyes fluttered open.
The first thing Harry registered was the soft, comforting warmth that radiated from the body pressed against his front. His arm was wrapped around her, his hand cupping a delightfully soft… orb. He recognized it instantly, of course, even before his brain fully kicked into gear.
A low moan escaped her lips as he gave it a gentle squeeze, and the woman shifted, pressing her rear against his crotch. In no time, Harry felt the unmistakable stirring of arousal, and the woman chuckled softly.
Her movements increased, and he felt himself growing harder against her shapely behind. With a deftness that surprised him, she reached behind herself, guiding him inside her. He gasped, a rush of pleasure coursing through him. It was perfect, her pussy tight and welcoming.
They moved together, starting slowly but building in intensity with each passing moment. He gripped her breasts firmly, kneading and caressing them as he bent his knees, urging her closer as she rocked against him, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.
He loved the feel of her, how smooth her skin felt against his entire body, and how her inner walls clenched and unclenched around his manhood as he kept thrusting inside her.
He closed his eyes, burying his face in her crimson locks as he pulled her flush against his front, losing himself in the feel of her body and the sounds she was making as they fucked.
The pace and ferocity of his thrusts increased over time, and the way she kept moaning his name in that wanton voice of hers kept pushing him closer to the edge. His fingers had already begun stimulating her clit, rubbing in circular motions while he pinched and tugged at her nipples from behind.
Finally, with a guttural groan, he exploded right when her inner muscles contracted around his cock and she let out a cry of pleasure. The waves of pure ecstasy coursed through both of them, leaving them trembling as they breathed raggedly. He clung to her, his face buried in her hair, and both their bodies shuddering from the aftershocks.
For a long moment, they lay cuddled up, his manhood still buried deep inside her. Their bodies were slick with sweat but they both waited until their breathing was back to normal.
Slowly, Harry lay on his back, his flaccid cock sliding out of her orgasmic pussy. Their combined juices slowly trickled out of her as she rolled over, draping an arm and leg over his body as she gazed at him.
A beautiful face framed with red hair greeted him for a moment before it slowly began to morph until Harry was staring at Nym with a smile on his face.
"Good morning to you too," he said, kissing her softly. The woman smiled, humming into the kiss before she pulled back, regarding him with pure adoration in her eyes.
"Thank you for last night," she said softly, and Harry immediately gave her lovely ass a spank, making her eyes widen.
"You're to be my wife one day," he replied. "Who'll do it if I won't?"
Nym blushed cutely at that, and the sight was so adorable that Harry couldn't help but chuckle. She gave him a mock glare before she pushed herself up so that she was lying on top of him.
"So," she began coyly. "How did it feel to wake up in bed with the bosslady? Felt good to shag her again?"
Harry chuckled, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. "As much as I enjoyed these little games you were playing with Susan mostly, I think I'd love to try the original sometime."
Nym laughed as she leaned down to kiss him. "Maybe one day," she whispered against his lips, rolling her pussy over his cock and feeling him stir. Grinning, she continued, "After all, I don't see her saying no to a fine cock like yours."
With another soft kiss, she slid off him and the bed, allowing Harry to admire her naked form. Even though her metamorph abilities amazed him, Harry loved her the most when she was herself.
Nym saw him staring and winked. "So, what've you planned for the day, Mr. Future Husband?"
Harry smiled, pushing himself up into a sitting position and leaning against the headboard. "I was thinking of visiting the Burrow. Mr. Weasley asked me to come over. I should go pay them a visit."
Nym nodded, her expression turning serious for a moment. "Yeah, that's a good idea." She glanced at the enchanted clock on the wall. "I've got about an hour before I have to leave. Auror duties, you know." She turned back to him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We could squeeze in some fun in the bath."
Harry did not need to verbally respond. With lightning-fast speed that surprised her, he leaped out of the bed and grabbed her around the waist. Giving her no time to react, he hoisted the naked brunette over his shoulder, earning a squeal of laughter.
"Put me down, you madman!" she shrieked, but she was laughing all the same.
Harry ignored her and carried her over to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind them. An hour of fun in the bath was one hell of a start to the day.
XXXXX
The roaring fireplace turned emerald as Harry stumbled out of the Floo, soot dusting his messy hair. He caught himself on the edge of the worn rug before he could completely faceplant. The Burrow looked the same, its cozy sitting room giving way to the dining area where he magically sensed the three current residents of the house.
Ginny was the first to spot him and a bright smile lit up her face as she crossed the living room to wrap him in a hug.
"Took you long enough," she grinned as Harry hugged her back, burying his face in her fiery red hair.
"Good to see you too, Ginny."
Before he could say anything else, he heard the familiar clatter of footsteps. Mr. Weasley came hurrying in, his face lighting up as he saw Harry.
"Harry! Welcome, welcome!" He clapped him on the shoulder, a smile etched on his face as Ginny pulled back from him, smiling. "Come in, lad, come in. Molly's got breakfast going."
Mrs. Weasley bustled in behind her husband, wiping her hands on her apron. "Harry, dear! You're covered in soot. Let me have a look at you." She fussed over him, trying to brush off the imaginary dirt clinging to his clothes. "Sit down, sit down. You must be starving."
"I'm alright, Mrs. Weasley, really. I had something before I came," Harry protested with a smile as he allowed the woman to lead him in, but as always, it was a lost cause.
Mrs. Weasley was already piling a mountain of eggs, bacon, and toast onto a plate by the time he found a seat. "Nonsense! You're too thin. Eat up." She shooed her husband towards the kitchen table who nodded with a chuckle. Ginny was stifling a laugh, clearly amused by Harry's helplessness against Mrs. Weasley's maternal onslaught. He gave her a playful glare before obediently sitting down and picking up his fork. Barely a second later, a full plate of breakfast was in front of him.
A comfortable silence settled over the room, broken only by the clattering of utensils as everyone began to eat. Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs, trying to find the right way to bring up the subject weighing heavily on his mind. "Ron… I'm sure he'll wake up soon," he said, his gaze sympathetic as he looked around.
The jovial atmosphere in the room instantly evaporated. Mrs. Weasley's face tightened, and the cheerful light in her eyes dimmed. She didn't respond immediately. She just stared at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap. Mr. Weasley reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder.
"He will, Harry," Mr. Weasley said, his voice strained. "Our Ron's a fighter." He looked at Harry, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and pain. "Thank you, Harry. We… we believe he'll wake up soon."
Ginny moved closer to her mother, placing a hand on her arm. "He's going to be alright, Mum. You know he is."
A single tear escaped Mrs. Weasley's eye and traced a path down her cheek. "My boy… lying there…" Her voice broke. "It's… it's not right."
Mr. Weasley pulled her into a comforting embrace. "I know, Molly. I know. But we have to be strong. For him."
Mrs. Weasley stared at her plate with a heavy gaze, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "I just... I just wish I could do more. I sit with him, I talk to him, I tell him stories from when he was little, and—" Her voice hitched. "I don't even know if he hears me."
Ginny reached out, taking her mother's hand in hers. "He knows, Mum. He knows you're there."
Mr. Weasley gently rubbed Mrs. Weasley's back, offering what little comfort he could. Harry watched them, his heart aching. The image of Ron lying pale and still in the hospital wing was burned into his mind. A wave of guilt washed over him.
"I… I'm so sorry," he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "If I hadn't dragged you all to the Ministry…"
Ginny's grip on her mother's hand tightened as her eyes flashed and she shot him a fierce look. "Shut up, Harry. Just shut up. You didn't drag anyone. We chose to go. Ron chose to go. It's not your fault."
Mrs. Weasley pulled away from Mr. Weasley, wiping her eyes as she nodded. "Ginny's right, Harry. Don't you dare blame yourself for this. Ron… Ron is courageous. He knew the risks. It was his decision." She reached out and took Harry's hand, her grip surprisingly firm. "This… this is not your burden to carry."
Harry swallowed hard, trying to control the lump in his throat. He knew they were trying to make him feel better, but the guilt was a heavy weight he couldn't seem to shake off.
A tense silence filled the kitchen. Then, Mrs. Weasley sighed, a hint of resignation in her voice.
"There's something else I need to say," she said, her gaze meeting Harry's. "About Sirius."
Harry's eyes widened, his stomach clenching.
"I... I didn't always agree with Sirius," Mrs. Weasley continued, her voice softening. "We had our differences. But… he cared about you, Harry. Deeply. And I am truly sorry for what happened to him. Truly."
Harry nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The emotions he had buried deep within, that he had inherited from the merger and had tried to forget, resurfaced, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. That means a lot." He looked down at his plate for a moment before he managed a small, sad smile. "He's with my parents now. I'm sure he and my dad are already plotting some elaborate prank to play on everyone in the afterlife. My mum's probably rolling her eyes and trying to keep them in line."
A faint smile flickered across Mrs. Weasley's face. Mr. Weasley chuckled. Ginny grinned. The dark cloud that had hung over the room seemed to lift slightly.
"They'd be causing all sorts of trouble, those two," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head fondly.
The mood had shifted, a fragile sense of normalcy returning to the kitchen. Harry finished his breakfast, the food tasting as delicious as it always did.
The rest of their time passed in lighter conversation until Mr. Weasley glanced at his watch. "Well, I should be off to the Ministry. Don't want to be late." He kissed Mrs. Weasley on the cheek and gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. "You stay safe, Harry."
"You too, Mr. Weasley," Harry replied.
Mrs. Weasley began clearing the table, her movements brisk and efficient as always. The water at the sink was already running, a cleaning brush moving back and forth over a pan. "I'll be heading to Hogwarts in a bit," she said. "Poppy needs all the help she can get. I want to be there for Ron."
"Will you be staying there till night again, Mum?" Ginny asked.
"I'll come back in the evening," Mrs. Weasley answered, placing a reassuring hand on Ginny's shoulder. "But yes, mostly."
She kissed Ginny goodbye and turned to Harry. "Take care of yourself, Harry. And don't hesitate to ask Ginny if you need anything. Anything at all."
"I will, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you," Harry said with a nod.
With a final hug, Mrs. Weasley disappeared through the door, leaving Harry and Ginny alone in the kitchen.
They heard her leave as the fireplace flashed emerald, and Ginny turned to Harry, her expression serious. "How are you really doing, Harry? Since… you know…"
Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "I'm… okay, I guess. It's weird being back at Grimmauld Place without him. Empty, you know?"
"Yeah," Ginny said softly. "I can imagine."
"At least I'm not totally alone. Tonks is living with me there now. She's been a real help," Harry added.
Ginny's eyebrows shot up. "Tonks? Really? I didn't know that."
Harry nodded. "Yeah, well… since her mother died."
Ginny's expression immediately softened with sympathy. "Yeah, I heard about that. How's she holding up?"
Harry sighed again, recalling the situation she had been in when she'd arrived at Grimmauld Place that night. "It's been hard on her. She's trying to be strong, carrying out her duties and everything, but... she's still hurting. She can try to hide it all she can, but I can see it."
And he could indeed see it. It wasn't as if they spent all the time together fucking. Even if Nym had come to terms with her mother's death and it had given her a newfound resolve that she previously lacked, the hurt was there, carefully hidden beneath the veneer of lechery and laughter.
Harry recalled a particular night when she'd been clutching hard onto him as she kept muttering in her sleep. The trauma was there, and as much as it was for both their pleasure, the sex and companionship she had found with Daphne and the others had truly been helping her.
Still, he couldn't forget, and a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes. "The Order… they didn't even realize what Tonks was going through. They didn't know she had left her mother's side at all. It's like they didn't care. They were so focused on everything else, they completely missed what was happening to one of their own."
Ginny's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
"She was alone," Harry said, his voice low and bitter. "Completely alone. I had no idea she was coming either. No one had told me anything. But when she arrived, she was barely functioning. It was heartbreaking to see her like that. I asked her to move to Grimmauld Place right away. There's no way I was letting her go in that state."
"But surely someone from the Order…" Ginny trailed off, her confusion evident.
"No one," Harry said flatly. "Not a single person knew that she wasn't even there. They still believed that she was by her mother's side. Remus and Moody and your dad were at Grimmauld Place the very next day. They didn't even know that Tonks had left, or what condition she was in. I had to be the one to tell them about it. When I did, Moody just said something about her being a strong witch and she would deal with it. It goes to show how little they care about their people. I'm starting to lose faith in them, Ginny. I really am."
Ginny looked shocked, her mouth slightly open. "That's… that's awful, Harry. I can't believe they would treat her like that. They're so… so insensitive."
She shook her head, her brow furrowed. "Those idiots from the previous war, it seems, they think that pain and suffering is something that should be normalized. That's what their behaviour indicates. The way they behave makes it look like people aren't even supposed to grieve, or as if people should just suck up their feelings and carry on without pause. They're insensitive."
Harry scoffed, a disgusted expression on his face. "Exactly. They're so caught up in fighting for the 'greater good' that they forget about the people fighting alongside them. They think that if they were alright, everyone else should be too."
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes hardening. "It's not just the Order, Ginny. It's the Ministry too. Fudge was a complete disaster, and I'm confident things won't be better in the future. Amelia Bones is a capable woman and she is fair, but I don't think there's much hope in either the administration that surrounds her or whoever her successor might be in the future. And then there are the pureblood supremacists, obviously."
He paused, choosing his words carefully. "They're all part of the problem, Ginny. Each and every one of them. The Order, the Ministry, the pureblood supremacists… they all perpetuate this cycle of violence and hatred. They're all clinging to power, trying to control everything, and they don't care who gets hurt in the process. None of them have the solution."
He locked eyes with her, his gaze intense. "We need something different, Ginny. A different way of thinking. A different approach. One that values people, not power. One that focuses on empathy, not control."
He knew he was planting a seed of doubt in her mind, gently nudging her towards a different perspective that aligned with his goals. She was one of his closest friends. He didn't want to brainwash her, but he wanted her to see the flaws in the systems they were all trapped in. He wanted her to question everything, and given the way she had talked about the people who'd fought in the previous war, he believed she had some strong opinions of her own.
Their intense conversation was interrupted by a soft sound near the doorway. They both turned their heads to see a certain light-blonde haired girl standing there, her dreamy eyes wide and serene.
"Hello," Luna said, her voice as gentle as a breeze. She smiled at them, completely unfazed by the intensity that she recognized in Harry's eyes as he gazed at her. For the barest of seconds, the serenity in her expression vanished before it reappeared as if nothing had happened. Smiling as usual, she said, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
As Ginny stood up and walked over to welcome her friend, Harry eyed Luna with a raised eyebrow. He was very much interested to know what she was here for.
XXXXX
Far away from the pleasant family home that was The Burrow, Narcissa Malfoy paced in her chambers at the dark and morose Malfoy Manor, her elegant robes swishing across the polished floor as she waited. The conversation with Harry the previous night had left her both shaken and determined, but she knew what needed to be done. With trembling fingers, she called for a house-elf.
"Fetch Draco," she commanded softly. "Tell him his mother requires his presence immediately."
The elf popped away with a shaky bow, and several minutes passed before heavy footsteps echoed down the corridor. The door burst open, and Draco strode in, his pale face twisted with irritation. His black robes were slightly disheveled, and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow. His eyes were cold and impassive as he faced her.
"What do you want?" he asked, irritation lacing his tone.
"Draco," Narcissa began, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I needed to speak with you."
"Clearly," he drawled, stepping further into the room. "But I trust this is important. I was in the middle of training."
"Training?" Narcissa repeated, her brow furrowing. "With whom?"
Draco rolled his eyes. "Really? Does it matter? I was busy. Now, what is it?"
Narcissa swallowed hard. "It's just... how have you been, dear?" she asked, her voice softening, trying to coax out the boy she remembered, the boy who used to seek comfort in her arms after a nightmare. Those days seemed like a lifetime ago, yet the memories were as fresh as yesterday.
Draco stared at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "Are you serious? You drag me away from something important to ask me how Iam? I haven't got time for your silly games. I'm in no mood for small talk."
Narcissa recoiled, as if struck. "Draco, please... there's no need to be so harsh."
"Harsh? Harsh is when someone fails to meet expectations, and everyone pays the price for their failure," Draco spat back, his grey eyes glinting with something that looked very much like contempt, and Narcissa could not believe it was directed at her.
Just a little over a year ago, he had been a relatively normal young man, albeit a pampered and arrogant one. But since the Dark Lord's return, he had transformed into this... this cruel, callous creature. Her hatred for Voldemort grew even further.
"Who are you training with?" she asked softly, already knowing the answer but hoping, praying, he would say something different.
"Why do you care?" Draco snapped, stepping closer. "Oh, let me guess. You think they're corrupting me, don't you? You think I've fallen in with the wrong crowd?" He laughed humorlessly. "You sound like a silly bint who knows fuck all, worried about her son drinking Butterbeer in Knockturn Alley. No, it's not poisoned."
Narcissa ignored his words. They seemed unimportant compared to everything else, namely, her son's demeanor.
"You're training with Death Eaters, Draco," Narcissa said, her voice tight with emotion. "You're pushing yourself too hard. Why?"
Draco's expression darkened. "Because I have to. Because unlike you, I refuse to be weak."
Narcissa flinched. "Draco, I only want the best for you."
"The best?" He let out a harsh bark of laughter. "You wouldn't know what's best if it hit you in the face. You think hiding away in this house, weeping over Father's imprisonment, is 'the best'? You're pathetic."
Crying over Lucius… It couldn't be further from the truth. However, Narcissa didn't bother to correct him.
"Draco," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I love you."
Draco sneered. "Love? Love won't restore the Malfoy name. Love won't erase the shame Father has brought upon us. You and Father—disappointments, the both of you. But me? I will bring respect back to our family. I will prove our worth to the Dark Lord."
The words hit her like a physical blow. But before she could muster a response, Draco continued, his voice dripping with scorn. "That's why you won't understand. You're too busy hiding in your room, pretending the world outside doesn't exist. Father's rotting in Azkaban, and so it falls to me. It's up to me to restore the Malfoy name, to regain the respect we lost because of his... foolishness." He spat the word 'foolishness' like a curse. "Both he and you are a disappointment. I have no choice but to inherit the Malfoy name with a stain on it, but I will do all I can to restore respect into it and bring it back to the same place it was in the Dark Lord's ranks."
Narcissa stared at him, aghast. His mind had been poisoned, twisted beyond recognition. "Draco, who told you these things? Who filled your head with such... such darkness?"
Draco's eyes narrowed, and a dangerous glint flashed within them. "You think I'm an idiot? Who needs the obvious to be told to him? No onetoldme anything. I see things as they are. I made the decision to prove myself. I asked the Dark Lord to give me the opportunity to earn respect back to the Malfoy name by getting rid of whoever the Dark Lord wishes."
Narcissa gasped. "What do you mean?"
"I volunteered to kill Harry Potter for the Dark Lord," Draco said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. "He Crucio'd me for it, said it wasn't my place."
A sharp and unexpected pang of rage shot through Narcissa, and she didn't realize in the moment that it was not because Draco had been tortured, but because he had willingly offered to murder Harry.
"And when he denied that request?" she whispered, her voice trembling.
"Then I proposed I kill Dumbledore," Draco replied without a shred of remorse. "And the Dark Lord gave me his permission. That is the reason why I've been training so hard, so that I could get it done."
Narcissa's heart lurched in her chest, her eyes wide in shock. She had clung to the hope that Draco was being forced into this, that he was a victim, just as she was. But the truth was far more terrifying.
"Draco," she began, her voice choked with despair, "I thought... I thought you were doing this because you had to. I thought he threatened to kill me if you didn't— "
"See? This is exactly what I mean," Draco sneered in disgust. "That's why you're a weak woman, Mother, because you always want to think of yourself as a victim. Always the helpless woman, always believing the worst is being done to you. But no, this was my choice."
"What?" Narcissa whispered, aghast.
"Look at you," Draco sneered, gesturing dismissively. "You're nothing like Aunt Bella or the other female Death Eaters. You're weak, and you're a stain on the Malfoy name."
Narcissa felt as though she'd been doused in ice water. Her hands began to shake, and hot rage bubbled up inside her, but before she could speak, Draco continued his tirade.
"I wanted this. I chosethis. It's up to me to fix what Father screwed up and you aren't strong enough to stand by my side. I am not some victim trapped in this. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've wasted enough time here."
Impatiently, he turned to move sharply. Narcissa desperately reached out and grabbed his arm.
Draco recoiled as if she had burned him, his face contorted with disgust. "What is your problem, woman!?" he hissed, shaking her hand off violently. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Narcissa looked at him, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and disbelief. It was as if a veil had been lifted, and she was seeing her son for the first time, not as she wished him to be, but as he truly was.
"Draco," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "I… I don't understand. How could you become like this? Do you even hear yourself? You… you're not like this. You weren't always like this." She realized she had seen this side of him, she just refused to believe it.
"People change," he said carelessly. "And it's a good thing I did. Otherwise, I'd be just like you—weak, spineless, useless."
The words felt like physical blows, but even more painful, and they stung deep within her heart. Narcissa felt like her world was crumbling around her and she was too powerless to do anything about it.
Tears burned in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She was a daughter of the Blacks, and she refused to prove him right. She was not weak, and not even her son had the right to call her one.
Her voice and her gaze both firm, she said, "Draco, I need you to do something for me."
He raised an eyebrow. "What is this now? Can't you understand you're wasting your time?"
Narcissa took a deep breath. "Swear an oath. Swear on your life and magic that you've done nothing vile to earn your Dark Mark."
Draco stilled. His expression flickered between disbelief and amusement before settling into cold disdain. "You're joking."
"I'm not."
He sneered. "You've lost your mind."
"Then swear it," she insisted, stepping closer. "If you've done nothing horrible—"
"And if I don't?" Draco interrupted, his voice mocking. "Will you cry? Will you lock yourself in your room and sob like you always do?"
"Draco," she said desperately, "please."
He exhaled sharply, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Fine," he said, eyes glinting cruelly. "I swear on my life and my magic that I was thrilled to do what the Dark Lord asked me to do for this mark. Nothing has given me more pleasure than killing a mudblood bitch's infant spawn in front of her before I killed her too."
Narcissa gasped, her eyes wide as she stared at her… no… this monster before her. She stumbled back in horror, her hands rising to her lips. "No…"
Draco shrugged uncaringly. "That's just how it works. Everyone has to do something vile like that to earn the Dark Mark. It's a test. You either go mad or you come out stronger. It hardens you. You seriously think the Dark Lord would accept any random weakling into his most exclusive club? You're an idiot."
Narcissa pressed a trembling hand to her mouth. "How could you?" she choked out, tears finally streaming down her face. The illusion had been shattered completely. "How could you do something so… so monstrous?"
She had always known, on some level, that the Death Eaters were evil, but it seemed she had never truly grasped the depths of their depravity. The casual acceptance of such brutality… it was beyond comprehension. She thought of Lucius, of Bellatrix, of all those who bore the Dark Mark, and the chilling realization dawned on her: they had all done something similar, something unspeakable, to earn their place in Voldemort's ranks.
Draco saw the look on her face, the disgust, the revulsion, and his sneer deepened. "What? Disappointed? Why? Because you thought I was different? Because you thought I wasn't like them? You're naive. A weak, sentimental fool. Crying like this? Pathetic!"
Narcissa could hardly breathe. "You… you're my son," she choked out between sobs.
"And you're a weak woman," he spat. "More like that blood traitor bitch Andromeda than Bellatrix, really. It's no wonder you don't understand."
Indeed, whatever had remained of her illusion had shattered into smithereens, and for the first time, Narcissa's true rage flared, white-hot and consuming. "Don't you dare speak of her!" She shouted, reaching out to slap him.
Draco rolled his eyes and caught her hand, twisting it with a cruel sneer on his face. Narcissa's eyes widened and she cried out in pain when he twisted it further, before he gave her a look of sheer disgust and threw her away.
Narcissa fell over in a heap on the floor, her eyes downcast as fresh tears shot out of her eyes.
"Spare me your bullshit drama, will you? Don't act like you didn't know. You—" he gave her a disgusted look "—you don't matter. You never did."
Narcissa recoiled as he turned on his heel to walk out, and with another choked sob, she managed to call out to him.
"Draco!"
He stopped with a sigh and turned around, his disdainful eyes trained on her pathetic self. "Why don't you just stay in your room and keep out of my way. That's what you're best at anyway."
"When Andromeda died," Narcissa suddenly began in a whisper, slowly looking up at him through bloodshot, teary eyes, "you were shaking. I saw you. I know—"
"Wait, you thought I was afraid? Upset?" He asked with a disbelieving look on his face. He spat on the floor, making Narcissa flinch. "Oh, you fucking bitch! Is that what you think of me!?"
Narcissa cried out in pain when Draco reached down and grabbed her hair in a rough fist, pulling as harshly as he could. She looked up at his visage, and she saw no trace of her son in this monster. His eyes were bulging in rage, his teeth gritted as he glared at her with so much loathing that she couldn't believe it.
"You think I'm some sort of weakling, bitch!?" He growled, pulling again and making her cry out. "Let me tell you why I was shaking. It was not because I was afraid. I was shaking with satisfaction that a filthy blood traitor, one I'm unfortunate enough to share blood with, had finally gotten what she deserved."
He pushed her away violently, looking at her crumpled form in sheer disgust. "Pathetic," he spat before turning around and walking out, slamming the door behind him.
Tears streamed down her face as sobs wracked her body, the sound echoing through the empty chamber that she occupied in this wretched manor. She clutched her chest, gasping for breath as the sobs overtook her.
Her son was gone.
And she had never truly known him at all.
To be continued…
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