7. Saving Narcissa

Time flew fast for the students at Hogwarts. It seemed like only yesterday when they'd boarded the Hogwarts Express, but now two months have already passed. The lessons were becoming more complicated, professors started demanding more output, homework and projects were piling up like crazy, yet in spite of it all, a general feeling of euphoria still permeated the castle. Perhaps, because they all knew that things could've been worse. Perhaps, they were just thankful that they'd survived the war. Or perhaps, they were just happy that they could now look forward to a better future and forget about the ugliness that the war has brought into their lives.

Although for some, the horrors of the war haunt them still. The survivors did not all belong to the side that won, after all, some were, either by choice or unfortunate circumstance, caught fighting on the other side of the fence. And today, one of those who used to belong to that unlucky few would be reminded of the harsh consequences of the war's outcome.

Lunch time at Hogwarts had always been a noisy, almost chaotic, occasion. It was during this time that the owls would come swooping in to deliver the students' correspondence, usually letters or parcels from home or subscriptions to Witch Weekly or The Daily Prophet. And so, aside from the mad grab for quick meals before the going off to their next classes, news (including gossip) from home or their chosen subscription, preoccupied the students during this time.

As the letters were unfolded, and parcels were opened, the din would also intensify since the students would now be talking about what they received from home, more often all at once. Today, however, an eerie silence ensued following the owl deliveries as all eyes suddenly found their way to the group near the back, the only ones who seemed oblivious to what was happening around them.

It was considered the 'elite' group of Hogwarts since the Head Prefects were almost always there together. Ever since their truce, Hermione and Draco had formed a habit of sitting together during mealtimes. They didn't know how it started, they surely did not make any verbal agreements about it, it just turned out that way. Working closely together on their projects and assignments as Head Boy and Girl had made them quite at ease with each other's company. Although they could still get on each other's nerves every now and then, those moments were now the rarity instead of the norm.

They would often be seen eating with either Draco's friends, which consisted mostly of Zabini (and usually Parvati, now that they were officially going out together; after him and Pansy parted on friendly terms), Pansy and Nott or Hermione's set which consisted of Harry, Ginny, Luna and Neville. Or on rare occasions even a mix of both (Ron would sometimes join them when he's not sitting with Padma and her friends). The lines that delineated their differences before were fast getting blurred, but no one was complaining; even Harry and Draco were now exchanging more that two words a day (which was a feat in itself)!

Lunchtime talk today was about Quidditch and Harry and Zabini were having a very lively discussion about it in between bites of lamb stew and corn bread. Draco wasn't really participating, yet he would often nod, smirk, or even snort at either Harry's or Zabini's remarks. The three of them would not be getting any owl deliveries so they were not too keen on the messengers flying overhead. Only Hermione received a parcel from a dark barn owl that swooped past them.

But it wasn't from home, it was just her Daily Prophet subscription. Still, Hermione wouldn't pass up the chance of reading any parchment that has a written word on it, so after finishing up her shepherd's pie and downing her pumpkin juice, she untied the string around the parcel and took out her copy of the Daily Prophet. Draco was just about to (finally!) join in on the now very heated conversation between Harry and Zabini when he felt Hermione's hand grip his arm. He turned just in time to see the dawning horror in her eyes.

"Draco..." she said, her voice was barely above a whisper, yet he heard the anguish in it. She slowly slid the paper in Draco's direction.

The breath was nearly knocked out of his lungs when he read the headline: NARCISSA MALFOY ARRESTED FOR ALLEGED WAR CRIMES. WHAT FATE AWAITS HER? AZKABAN OR THE DEMENTOR'S KISS? Below it was another article: SEARCH FOR CELEBRATED DEATH-EATER, LUCIUS MALFOY, CONTINUES.

Harry and Zabini stopped mid-sentence and turned to look down at what Draco was reading. It was only then that they noticed the unusual lull in the Great Hall. When they turned around, they saw that the whole congregation of students was staring at their group, some were even craning their necks to get a good look at Draco.

Meanwhile, the subject of their interest was clutching at the paper with his hands, crumpling the edges in his tight grip. He need not look around to see the eyes that were now glued to him, he could feel them. His heart was hammering against his chest and he could feel the anger building within him, but he tamped it down and closed his eyes as he tried to calm himself.

"Come on, let's go," he heard Hermione whisper beside him.

"Malfoy! Let's get out of here!" Harry said, the urgency in his voice unmistakable. Draco would've told him to shut up, but he knew that Harry meant well. He's had his own share of unwanted attention, after all. He knew how to deal with it.

"Draco, let's go!" This time, it was Zabini. Draco slowly opened his eyes and stared at the damning words before him. He could almost hear his world crumbling around his ears. He wanted to scream, to tear his hair out, to make the earth swallow him whole, to throw hexes at everyone who was now staring at him like he'd grown two heads overnight!

A had squeezed his arm, and he turned to see Hermione's eyes intently focused on him. There was no pity nor condemnation in them, just determination and strength. And as if she had imbued him with her power, Draco found himself getting up to his feet and walking out of the Great Hall, Hermione beside him with Harry and Zabini following closely behind.

He could feel the eyes of the whole school stabbing at his back and his feet almost stumbled (his legs were like jelly), but a small hand slipped into his and gripped his fingers tightly. He looked down and saw Hermione's fingers intertwined with his own, lending him with a rare kind of compassion that he never even thought he would receive from anyone. He wrapped his fingers around her smaller ones, thankful for her unexpected show of support.

As soon as they were out the great doors, though, he reluctantly let go of Hermione's hand and started to walk away from the group.

"Malfoy, we need to see the Head Mistress," Harry called out to him. Draco stopped and sighed.

"Look, Potter. This does not concern the school. I'm on my own on this one," Draco replied, turning around to glare at Harry.

"No, you're wrong about that. Just trust me on this one, Malfoy. You're not alone."

"Oh, please, Potter! This is not about House unity or camaraderie, or whatever. This is about my family being a bunch of Death Eaters! And how we can never be anything more than that!"

"Draco Malfoy! Don't you dare say that!" Hermione cried, shaking her head.

"I think it's better if we just hear out what Potter has to say, Draco," Zabini interjected.

Draco snorted, turned on his heels and started walking away again. Frustration was now threatening to engulf him. Why could they not just let him go? They can't help him on this, can't they see that?

"Malfoy, I know you don't want my help. But I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing this for your mother. We need to save her," Harry threw at him.

Draco stopped in his tracks. What? Why would he be doing something for my mother? Is it just his 'savior complex' acting up again? Does he really believe that he has the power to save everyone?

He turned on his heels and walked back to Harry. "What are you playing at, Potter? You don't even know my mother."

Harry nodded, "I may not know her that well, but enough to know that I to owe her."

Zabini turned to Harry, a curious, questioning look etched on his face. "What are you going on about, Potter?"

"Let's go to the Head Mistress, first. I'll explain later," Harry said, walking past them. "Just trust me for once, Malfoy."

Both Zabini and Draco turned to Hermione, their brows knotted in question. She shrugged her shoulders and gave them a small smile.

"Let's just do as he says," Hermione said as she followed her best friend. Zabini furrowed his brows and tilted his head at Malfoy as if saying, your call, bro. Although Draco had no inkling as to what Harry was talking about, his curiosity has been pricked. He needed to know what Harry meant by 'owing' his mother, so he nodded to Zabini and they ran after the retreating figures of Harry and Hermione.

The group reunited in front of the gargoyle statue that led to the Head Mistress' office, what used to be Dumbledore's. Harry stepped in front of it and said, "I don't know the password, but my name is Harry Potter and I need to see the Head Mistress. It is very urgent that I speak with her."

A few seconds passed and then the gargoyle stepped aside to reveal an ascending circular staircase. Harry motioned for the others to follow him as he stepped onto the stairs, which had now started its slow ascent to the upper floor. Upon reaching the top floor, they all disembarked and walked into the smooth, marble floored office of the Head Mistress.

Harry looked around, eyes starting to blur as nostalgia almost choked him. He'd visited this room several times during Dumbledore's tenure, more often than not under quite less pleasant, or even normal, conditions. When he looked up, he was startled to see the intelligent eyes of Albus Dumbledore twinkling at him behind the large, ornate desk. It took him a moment to remember that this was just a portrait and not the real wizard he'd almost idolized since he first set foot in Hogwarts.

A few moments later, Professor McGonagall stepped out from behind the portrait of an old, medieval witch. She threw a quick glance at the four students, then with a swift flick of her wand conjured four poufy armchairs.

"Sit down and make yourselves comfortable." Then, she went to her desk and took out a square tartan tin can from one of the drawers. Deftly popping the lid, she walked to Zabini and placed the can in his hands. "Have a biscuit, all of you", she said before going back to sit behind her desk.

Zabini squinted at his companions, unsure of what to do. Harry mouthed, Get one then pass it on. Zabini nodded and did as instructed.

"I know why you are all here. It's good that you have accompanied Mr. Malfoy. He needs all the support he can get right now," Prof. McGonagall said, nodding to each one of them. Her eyes rested on Draco, silently assessing him. "I'm sorry you had to find out about it this way, Mr. Malfoy. I had tried to persuade the editor of The Daily Prophet to postpone the printing of that edition. Unfortunately, I was too late. I suppose my sources are not as good as they used to be."

"I understand, Professor," Draco said, eyes downcast, focused on the swirls of the marble flooring. He wished he could be more appreciative of the Head Mistress' concern, but after trying hard to control the fury churning inside him, he just felt numb.

"Professor, I would like to testify on Mrs. Malfoy's behalf," Harry said. Draco's and Zabini's heads snapped to him in unison. Hermione just bowed her head, a small smile curving her lips.

Prof. McGonagall nodded as she looked at Harry from the top of her rectangular spectacles, wearing what seemed to be eerily similar to Dumbledore's usual expression.

"I had guessed as much," she said after a few beats. She turned to Draco and gave him the tiniest of smiles, but her eyes were kind and full of empathy. "We will do everything we can to help out in your mother's defense, Draco. I would also do my best to support Harry's testimony."

There was bewilderment in Draco's expression, so Prof. McGonagall swept her eyes back to Harry. "You haven't told him, have you, Potter?" she asked.

Harry shook his head, "I haven't had the chance, Professor."

"Well, I suppose now is as good a time as any to tell him about it."

"Tell me what, Potter?" Draco piped in, no longer able to rein in his curiosity.

Harry turned to Draco and sighed. "I'm sorry, I should've told you this a long time ago. But I never seem to find the right time to broach the subject."

Draco raised his brows at Harry in a careless manner. He might appear cool to everyone around him, but deep inside his gut was twisting every which way and his heart was thumping like a congo drum.

Hermione gave Harry a small nod, encouraging him to continue.

"During the last battle here in Hogwarts, your mother saved me, Malfoy," Harry said, looking straight at Draco.

A loud gasp from Zabini broke the silence and all eyes snapped to him.

"Sorry," he said, raising both hands in mock surrender. "Please continue."

"What do you mean by that, Potter? How did my mother save you?" Draco asked.

"How come your mother never told you this? How come she never told anyone this?" Harry quipped, shaking his head. Actually, he already knew the answer to that, but still, he could not believe that Narcissa kept her silence, even to her son.

"Tell me what, Potter?" Draco almost screamed. He was at the end of his patience.

"When I went to the Forbidden Forest, Voldemort used the killing curse on me. I'm sure that for a few seconds, I really died. But I came back. I felt like I got dragged through hell, but I was alive. Now, as I lay there on the ground, knocked out by the curse, I was thinking of ways to escape. It seemed hopeless since I knew that the moment I got up, everyone would start cursing me. Then, your mother came to me. Bellatrix wanted to make sure that I was dead so she told your mother to check up on me. Your mother saw that I was still alive, but she told Voldemort that I was already dead. Had she told him that I had survived the killing curse, Voldemort would've just cursed me again and I doubt if I would've survived that second round. So, by that single act, your mother turned the tide of the battle. She gave me another chance to fight and defeat Voldemort."

By the end of Harry's tale, tears were streaming down Draco's face. He knew why his mother had saved Harry. She did it for him. She wasn't just giving Harry a second chance to fight, she was also giving her son another chance to redeem himself, another chance to shake off the shackles that have bound him to the twisted traditions and beliefs of their family. She knew that only Harry could defeat the Dark Lord, and she made sure that it would happen.

He also knew why her mother never told anyone, not even him. It was her own way of atoning for her sins. Because just like him, she didn't think that it was enough to give her a clean slate. She didn't think that one single act of goodness deserved to be glorified because her 'evil deeds' far outweighed it.

But if truth be told, his mother never really did anything to deserve Azkaban or the Dementor's Kiss. Yes, she remained loyal to the Dark Lord, but only in support of her family and her husband's wishes. She was never a Death Eater for she never took the mark. She was never on active duty nor she did she ever use the Unforgivable curses on anyone, not even during the war.

So, yes, Potter was right, her mother needs to be saved. She deserves to be saved.

And he would do everything in his power to make sure that she is.

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