TIME

XVI

Time went on, and no one blamed Draco for letting the Golden Trio go.

The days slipped by, and Draco kept growing. He still wasn't eating and sleeping, and he seemed... faded. He looked like glass, and it broke Narcissa's heart. She longed to run her hands through his hair and tell him it would be ok, it would all be ok, but she couldn't.

He belonged to the universe, not to her.

News was slow coming in, but eventually they learned that Snape was Headmaster and so Draco returned to school.

The manor was so cold and empty these days. Narcissa longed for her old life.

Then, one morning, a message came through: Harry Potter was back at Hogwarts, and it was go time. They all apparated to the grounds outside of the school, and the war began.

She stayed on the outside of it. It was as though she was looking through grey-tinted glasses: mass destruction and death and fear was everywhere, and somewhere amongst it was her son. It seemed as though she was in a warped universe: she watched as Molly Weasley ruthlessly Avada Kedavra-ed a Death Eater, watched as a student got attacked by Fenrir Greyback, watched as a body fell out of an upstairs window. She was numb to the world, and her only thought was of Draco.

Draco, her beautiful little dragon. Draco, the boy who didn't have a choice.

After an eternity of fighting, a voice rang inside of her head, and she knew exactly where she needed to go.

They huddled in the Forbidden Forest as they awaited Voldemort and, inevitably, Harry. Hagrid was being held captive, tied to a tree. Silence stung her ears as she worried endlessly about her son.

Time passed. Leaves rustled, wind blew, and Harry didn't come.

The Dark Lord was growing restless, and, just then, a sigh sounded and Harry appeared wandless, vulnerable and ready to die.

Except he wasn't alone. Narcissa could feel it- an endless stream of motherly love, completely enveloping him.

She was struck, once again, how young he was. This child, who wasn't even eighteen yet, who should have had his whole life in front of him, was going to die here today. He was sacrificing himself for the greater good, and Narcissa had never been so angry at the world.

Potter lifted his head, and his eyes were so green. His jaw was set, his hands outstretched, his hair a mess, and he dropped something onto the mossy ground.

This was the boy who Narcissa's son loved. Injustice was a cruel, cruel monster.

Voldemort started a speech, and Harry's hands twitched. He closed his eyes, and a flash of green struck him right in the centre of his chest.

His eyes didn't even open. His face relaxed, and he looked like a baby, and he fell. And that was it.

The boy who lived had become the boy who died, and time stopped.