Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

A/N: This story kind of just came to me rather quickly, and I felt compelled to write it even though I told myself I wouldn't work on another story until I finished with Descent. Won't be update regularly until I finish my other story. Reviews = love.


October 31, 1981

Amor Omnia Vincit

Love conquers all. When Narcissa had been young she'd been instantly attached to the phrase. It had certainly seemed better than the Black family mantra toujour purr. Especially when there was nothing even remotely pure about her family, except for the blood that ran in their veins and even then that wasn't true. Not recently anyway. Dark magic was an infection, a corruption that had polluted the ancient and noble house of Black. Though they were not the only ones. The Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, Parkinson, Avery, on and on the old families had fallen victim to the alluring addiction to power and possibility. To darkness.

Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

Purity would always conquer. That was the family she had married into. It made her want to howl with laughter. Purity hadn't conquered a deranged half-blood maniac. No. It had failed them.

Love.

Love. She thought could conquer. Yet it hadn't saved Lucius from continuing to dabble in dangerous affairs. It hadn't saved the child in her belly from being born without a beating heart. But she couldn't stop hoping and believing it would be true. Love had given her hope, while purity had cost her her family. Her sister, her cousins...struck as though a tapestry was the only thing that wove their lines together.

It had cost Lucius a sister he no longer spoke of, and all she had done was marry for love. Married a man as pure as she was, but the only difference was that he was a traitor to his house and family, cut off and desolate.

Sirius.

Narcissa let out a weary sigh that rattled in her chest. She let her hands graze the fine wood of the crib that would no longer be needed. Her pregnancy had been a miracle. Lucius's exposure to the Dark Arts had affected him more than he liked to admit. Though now, he had no choice but to accept that his dabblings and ambitions for greatness had likely cost him the ability to continue his line.

Tears pooled in her eyes, though they did not fall.

Had it been only a year since Cassiopeia been born and buried?

She felt as though it had been a decade.

She fell in the rocking chair by the crib and clutched her stomach. No one had known of her daughter's birth and death. She'd gone into partial hiding with news of her pregnancy, but now, nearly a year after the fact and she still felt no desire to return to society.

A return meant explanations, and explanations meant that she would have to accept the reality that she would never, ever, be a mother.

Her arms wrapped even tighter around her middle.

She closed her eyes and leaned back into her chair, wondering if sleep would ever come back to her, when she felt the temperature in the room drop.

Her eyes fluttered open and she noticed the pooling light of a patronus fill the nursery.

"Cissy. You have no reason to answer this plea, but if any part of you still remembers that we once called each other family, please. Please come."

She froze, stuck in the impossible notion that she had heard her cousin's voice, let alone recognized it, after years of separation.

"Please. Please come home."

Home. Home was a notion of her childhood. Home was a memory from when she'd been Narcissa Black.

Perhaps it was her solitary ramblings and traitorous thoughts, more likely it was her loss of rationality from the nights of little to no sleep; either way Narcissa had made her decision.

With her fingers wrapped tightly around her wand, she disapparated to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

The house had seen better days. The shutters were falling, and the windows clouded. The white roses that had once grown at the entrance were wilted and rotting. Oh if her aunt could see this now.

She stepped cautiously up to the door, her wand easily pointed in front of her. Before she could even knock on the door, it had swung open.

Sirius.

His eyes were wild, darting back and forth from her to the surrounding outside. His hair was windswept and dirtied, and his clothes were torn in multiple places.

His wand was trained on her.

"What…" he cleared his throat, "What happened to your cake on your 12th birthday?"

"You and Regulus were playing with a Quaffle, and you decided chocolate mousse went quite well with Quidditch rubber."

The left corner of his mouth quirked up. "You have to admit, it was a memorable flavor."

She took a breath.

"Your 17th birthday, you sent me a letter. What did it say?" she asked.

"Blood is more than a face on a wall." Siruis said hoarsely before taking her by the arm and dragging her quickly into the house.

"Sirius what is going-"

Her question was drowned out by a sharp cry from the floor above.

"Bollocks." Sirius muttered rushing up the steps.

Narcissa frowned before heading up quickly after him. A door was swung open on the second floor, and she could hear Sirius cooing and soothing someone inside the room. She stepped closer and when she reached the doorway, she nearly fainted at the sight.

Sirius shot her a haphazard smirk.

"Cissy." he cleared his throat, adjusting the small body in his arms, "I'd like you to meet Draco, my son."

Her feet moved and without meaning to, her arms stretched out to take the bundle into her own grasp.

Draco looked up at her curiously, and her heart pounded at the soft gray-blue eyes that met her own.

"He's beautiful Sirius." she took a hand and combed through the soft strands of honey and white blonde.

"I have no one else I can ask this of." Sirius began pacing, his earlier panic roaring back into focus.

"Sirius." She shifted Draco in her arms. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm leaving Cissy."

She rocked her arms in an attempt to calm Draco back to sleep. When his eyes closed, she turned her attention back to her cousin.

"What in Merlin are you talking about?"

Sirius's expression darkened, and she caught, with dread, a familiar darkness in his own graying blue eyes.

"I'm going after a traitor."

Oh yes. She knew those words too. Lucius had said them more times than once, and they were often accompanied by a slew of spells and the obituaries in the Prophet that owls dropped off the next morning.

Lucius may have his vaults at his disposal, as well as his position, to protect him from scrutiny. Sirius, though, had nothing.

"You can't." She said darkly, gently placing Draco back into his crib.

"I can." Sirius hissed, his temper flaring, "I told you before. Family is not a face on a wall, and tonight two members of my family were destroyed by someone we all considered family. I want justice."

"You want vengeance." She interrupted, "Not justice. Sirius, think of your son. You leave now and succeed you may never see him again. You're leaving him without a father when he's already lost his mother."

"This is for my son."

"This is for you." Narcissa said harshly. "Do you think Draco cares if you avenge your friends' deaths? Think about him Sirius. If you're gone, what happens to him?"

"Please Cissy. Please take care of him." He said. He stepped to the crib and reached down to gently run a finger down his son's cheek.

"What about Lucius? Sirius." She grabbed him by the arm before he could move away from her.

Sirius looked at her. She stopped for a moment to take in the new lines she'd barely registered from her earlier evaluation. He looked so resolved. He wouldn't change his mind now.

"He won't turn away his own blood. After all, Draco is still his sister's son." Sirius said softly.

She met his eyes.

"Sirius. You're making a mistake."

Sirius's hands came up around hers untangling her grasp from his arm.

"It's my mistake to make."

He stepped away from her and fled the room. Draco, as though sensing his father's disappearance, woke and promptly began to cry.

"Hush love." She murmured, picking Draco back up from his crib. She looked around the room, hopelessly, as though there were answers in the dark walls and furniture. Draco buried his face in her chest. "Oh gods." she said tightening her hold on the tiny body in her arms. With one final look around the room, she disapparted.

She landed back in the nursery with Draco still quiet in her arms. She waited for Lucius that night, sitting in the rocking chair. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. She rocked. Eventually Draco fell asleep against her breast. Still, she stayed seated in the chair.


In the end, Lucius came with the Prophet. He paused in front of her and steeled his cool gaze on the bundle in her lap.

"This is Draco." She said meeting his eyes. Lucius said nothing, stepping closer until he could look directly at Draco's face. For the first time since she'd known him, Lucius staggered as he took in the child's features.

"Hers." He breathed looking up quickly at her.

Narcissa nodded once.

Something flashed in his molten eyes, and it stopped her lungs from filling with precious air.

Wordlessly, he handed her the prophet.

Sirius Black apprehended for murder of one Peter Pettigrew

She dropped the paper quickly. "No. He didn't…" She glanced up at Lucius's face.

His jaw clenched. "No." He agreed, "I didn't believe it either." She stood abruptly minding Draco.

She looked back and Lucius and narrowed her eyes.

"You know he didn't do it."

"I have conjecture, but I can't use my knowledge of unregistered animagi and character to explain why one man is missing and the other is his supposed murderer."

Lucius looked down at Draco. There was acceptance in his eyes as he spoke next.

"He can't be Draco Black."

Narcissa held him tighter against her. She must have failed in hiding her shock at his easy acceptance, because Lucius seemed to smile slightly in understanding.

He sighed tiredly dropping to sit in the rocking chair she'd vacated.

"But he can be Draco Malfoy." Lucius said looking up at her and then dropping his gaze to Draco.

"Draco Black Malfoy." Narcissa whispered.


Draco became her son, and Lucius became his father. Though, it felt with every year that passed, Draco began to withdraw. He had questions. Merlin, how he had questions. Questions. Dreams. Things that Narcissa couldn't begin to answer. Things she didn't want to answer.

How could she explain to a child that his father had left him and that he would likely never see him again?

Like most things though, it seemed they were quite out of her control.

Draco sat straight on the edge of her bed, clutching a book opened to a familiar photo.

He looked up at her, with a strength that should not be present in a 10 year old.

His gaze dropped back to the book in his hands, his fingers tracing faces she knew as well now as she did 10 years ago.

She sat on the bed and took a corner of the book into her hands.

She saw her cousin's joyful face as he turned between his friends; the Hogwarts castle in the background.

Draco traced the curves of his face, the one's that had always been less sharp than Lucius's, that were mirrored on the man's face in the photo. He let out a breath.

"He's my father, isn't he?"