Fire and Ice

Narcissa

Oblivious to everybody and everything in the arena, Draco stared only at the Dark Lord, unmoving.

Narcissa, twirling Draco through the air when Lucius wasn't looking, smiling as the child laughed.

Lights -amusment? entertainment? shock?- danced around in Voldemort's cool red eyes as he registered Draco's behaviour.

"But surely your father told you?"

Narcissa, begging Lucius to allow Draco to come home for Christmas from Hogwarts, as Draco watched through a crack in the door.

"My dear boy, it is indeed unfortunate that you are to find out this way." Voldemort's icy tone betrayed no emotion. Or was he not capable of any?

The Dark Lord stood, and a couple of students gasped as they saw his forked tongue slide over his teeth.

"Let's see... She died.. Not painlessly, but necessarily. Yes."

Narcissa, walking into Draco's room on his birthday and retorting, "Son, I am going to teach you how to dance."

Cracks began to show through Draco's statuesque exterior. Hiding his shaking hands, he balled them into fists.

"Lucius was not... working up to his typical high standard. He was slipping. Of course, you understand that I needed to correct that."

Narcissa, murmuring feverishly to

Draco while she thought he was asleep, crying as she whispered how much she loved him.

"She lasted remarkably long under the Crutiatus Curse, dear boy. Long enough for you to be proud of her. Her death was the ultimate push for your father to step up to his regular place."

"She cried of you, for the entire duration, Draco. There, is that not closure enough?"

Narcissa standing in front of Draco and slowly nodding after he had told her of his plans to run away after his school years are over. "I'll die before they find you," she had vowed quietly.

Voldemort's manic smile became a shocked slit as Draco's body sparked as though fireworks were alit under his body. With a roar, Draco's hand scalded red as he Summoned his wand and pointed it at the Dark Lord.

Narcissa, always saying "I love you" twice, once from her, once from the father who wasn't capable of it.

"Now it's your turn." Draco snarled, as the duel began.