Title: Lady's Choice
Fandom: Harry Potter
Pairing(s): None. Narcissa implies a one-sided Harry/Draco.
Genre/Rating: Drama, General/T
Word Count: 512
Summary: Narcissa saves Harry Potter; her POV on the scene postKing's Cross limbo. Canon.
Warnings: Coarse language.
Notes: I don't know what's with all these character study drabble things. I could be getting on with on of my actual fics or, I don't know, my 100 themes challenge, but noo. All my inspiration is in the Harry bloody Potter fandom. I still like Harry Potter – hell, I love Harry Potter, but I have other things to do, you know. The stuff in brackets is, like, little things Narcissa's mind adds. Mostly. Which was fun. I like Narcissa's mind. It's all very vain and snobby and witty there. I wish I could live in it.
('Spindler' or, more correctly, Schindler was this guy who pretended to be a Nazi while he smuggled lots of ickle Jews to safety. We watched a movie about him in SOSE last year.)
Harry Potter, Narcissa did not like.
People forgot he was a Mudblood, forgot that the Evans were muggles. They all thought Harry Potter was some goddamn Pureblooded messiah protecting the Mudbloods when, really, he was one of them. He wasn't that German muggle, Spindler or whatever his name was, saving Jews. He was one of the Jews. And everyone always forgot that.
But more importantly, Narcissa didn't like the way he looked at her son. Like he wanted to kill him or eat him (or kiss him) and hadn't quite decided which. Seeing Draco off to the school that housed a boy with such intentions set her on edge. But (aside from watching a Hippogriff tear his arm to shreds, cheering on an insane man who turned him into a ferret and bounced him down a hallway, and having a bit of a go himself in the shredding department) Harry Potter hadn't tried anything of the sort (but, Gods, she was going to kill him someday if he wasn't already dead).
Narcissa kneeled before the boy; taking in the mess of dark hair, ratty clothes, and frankly appalling glasses. (Honestly, anyone could tell he had no mother.) The Dark Lord wanted for him to be dead, but she was starting to realise that this wanton twit was the wizarding world's and (predominantly) her own family's last hope. Her Lucius, her darling Lucius, and her dear, dear Draco; her special boys who'd kill to protect her. They would have no function after this battle if the Dark Lord won and she had to do what was best for them.
So Narcissa stared at Harry Potter and prayed, prayed he was not dead yet. Because Lucius was already by her side, but Draco was not and she had to know if he was still breathing. Then she leaned forward, for once not caring that the tips of her golden hair trailed through filth and favourite robes were covered in mud and blood and grime, and pressed her ear to his chest.
For a moment she was sure her face was beside a corpse (and felt vaguely ill), but then a soft and rapidly increasing beat of a panicking heart filled her head and she needed to know. She lifted her head slightly, and moved further up, beside Harry Potter's head. She placed two cold fingers onto his neck and used her hair to shield his face. He would know, he had to know, no one else here could know.
Narcissa brought her face close to Potter's and breathed, so quietly she feared he wouldn't hear, "Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?"
And, so silently she almost didn't hear the reply, Harry Potter whispered, "Yes."
And that was all Narcissa needed. That was her reason to keep going, her reason to fight. Draco was alive, he was so close by, and she needed to ensure he was safe.
So Narcissa stood, she looked the Dark Lord in the eye (and promptly returned her gaze to the ground), and she proclaimed, "He is dead."