TIME

XI

Time kept ticking, and the years passed.

Each year, it seemed, Harry Potter completed another seemingly impossible task and the Dark Lord grew in strength, and Draco refused to speak of any of it at home. She knew her son, though, and so she knew that he spoke of the emerald eyed boy in school. She knew he spoke poorly of him, and knew her son wasn't well liked- that fact had taken a toll on him.

Draco was fourteen now, with paper-thin skin and long eyelashes, with skittering eyes and shaking hands, with evil men and women breathing down his neck. He never seemed to stop growing, and Narcissa watched all the while.

The Dark Lord had taken up residence in the manor, and brought a string of devoted followers with him. Gone were the sunny days spent in the garden, days full of love and laughter- instead came a shadow passing over the grounds and bringing everyone to the tips of their toes, as though they were dancing on eggshells.

The dungeons were full of innocents who were just born in the wrong families; the walls echoed with their screams as Bellatrix carved skin and howled with manic laughter, and the corridors filled with the slithers of the Basilisk and the wet sound of Voldemort speaking to it in its native tongue. And still Narcissa held her head high and composed herself as she almost always had: with a stone-cold poker face and eagle eye.

Meetings stretched on for longer. Draco was now being called to them, and that terrified her- but she made a vow when he was born: she would die for him- and so she began making appearances, too.

Draco always sat beside her, his eyes always downcast and his eyes always sullen, lifeless, and his hands shaking, and she always had her hand on his thigh, attempting to keep him grounded.

Potter was mentioned frequently, and Draco always had the most curious of reactions. His fingers would tense, his shoulders would rise, his pulse would appear in his neck. And then he would relax, and then it would be normal, and no one ever noticed except for Narcissa.

She always wondered. What was it about Potter that affected her son? No mention of Pansy or Blaise or even Theo ever brought such a reaction, and it bewildered her.

She thought that maybe, just maybe, he was rooting for Harry, too.