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1
Narcissa watches as her husband is taken from her, overwhelmed by exhaustion. She is profoundly weary of witnessing yet another loved one being ripped away from her grasp.
This was the cost of their allegiance to the Dark Lord.
A punishment for their failure to meet his expectations.
Hushed yet fervent discussions ensue about the fate of Narcissa and Draco. Bellatrix's laughter rings out with cruel joy, proclaiming that Draco should feel honoured; at last, the Malfoys will be redeemed.
"Lucius was utterly spineless, Cissy," she sneers, declaring him unworthy of the Dark Lord's notice.
Narcissa remains silent, harbouring her thoughts. Since the Dark Lord's return, Lucius had been desperate, futilely attempting to recover the trust he had squandered. After losing a significant artefact, the Dark Lord subjected him to days of torment. Narcissa, barred from offering any aid, feared he might perish, all while maintaining a facade of normalcy for Draco.
The Department of Mysteries was meant to be his chance for redemption. "The plan will work," Lucius had insisted stubbornly. "The Dark Lord will recognise my value."
Yet, he was taken away.
Tomorrow, the Dark Lord intends to brand her son.
"You weren't marked; this is the correction," Bella states nonchalantly as if the lack of a mark was Narcissa's failing. But Narcissa understands that it is, in fact, her deliverance.
Lucius now resides in the Ministry's custody, under the watch of the Dementors, mercifully far away from the Dark Lord. She must take action.
Narcissa drafts a letter to her dearest friend.
"Please, he's just a boy."
***
Severus binds her with an Unbreakable Vow. Narcissa consented without a second thought—to conceal Severus's true allegiances and to renounce the Dark Lord forever. Ultimately, this would be her salvation, her way to safeguard her son.
Narcissa enlisted the aid of their house elves. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort became aware of Narcissa's plan. The Manor could no longer shelter them. Narcissa, held the pendant around her neck tightly, prayed for the fortitude to undertake what was necessary, even if it meant Lucius would face consequences.
I am sorry my love but for our son...
Draco would resist leaving, they raised their son with pride and Narcissa knows Draco wants to help his father and regain the Dark Lord's favour. But it’s futile, Narcissa can see it as clear as day. Bellatrix hinted what Draco's mission will be and it is a punishment, a failure the Dark Lord wants to force her family into.
Narcissa resorted to sedating her son. She meticulously packed and magically condensed their possessions, casting one final, lingering gaze over his room and the family photographs.
With a heavy heart, she took one last look at the Manor, Draco unconscious and feather light, she held him upright from his shoulders. The elves then assisted her in apparating away.
"I'm sorry, Tinsy," she murmured, bestowing freedom upon her elves with the gift of clothes, her final act to ensure their safety. Tinsy accepted the gift with a deep bow and tear-filled eyes.
Narcissa was truly leaving everything behind.
Severus provided them with a Portkey. "You've made the right decision," he assured her. As she gazed at him, possibly for the last time, she realised the gravity of departing from her closest ally.
A better friend would ask, what about you? Would implore Severus to come with.
But there was no time.
They spun and fell by the magic of the Portkey- gracefully but shocked nevertheless- in Romania.
Charlie Weasley welcomed them with a lopsided grin.
***
Draco's frustration was palpable. Upon awakening, he erupted, "I could have done it! I could protect you! Protect father!"
"It is no child's job to protect their parents!" Narcissa retorted vehemently.
"You don't trust me," Draco accused her. "You think I'm not capable, that I can't achieve greatness under the Dark Lord!"
These were words Narcissa had heard before, echoed from her husband and now from her son. She was exhausted.
"It is done." There was no point in arguing. They had left the Manor, returning would be a worse fate.
"What are we even supposed to do here?" Draco cried out in despair. They both looked apprehensively at the foreign land. "How can we possibly help Father from here?"
Narcissa's gaze swept across her surroundings—her refuge and her cage, for the time being.
"Survive." That's all that Narcissa can hope for in this war.
Romanian valleys are a rugged beauty - vast greenery secluded in between towering mountains that touch the sky.
Charlie Weasley, clad in his dragon-handler gear and every exposed skin was filled with burn scars or dirt. His hair was tied in a short bun and his freckles were less pronounced against his tan skin and burly biceps. He held out a hand to greet them.
Draco had turned beet red, ashamed at being caught in a sleeping embrace of his mother but took his handshake with his chin uplifted. Charlie’s grin did not falter.
A Weasley. How swiftly the Galleons have flipped against them. If before Narcissa would turn her nose upwards and refuse to meet their eyes, now they were at the mercy of one.
Charlie nodded politely at her.
"Welcome to our dragon sanctuary, Mrs. Malfoy. I’ve been told you’ll be staying with us for an indefinite time.”
“It seems so,” She replied with as much grace as she could.
“Well, you are both welcome here. The others aren’t formal members of the Order but we have a few refugees stay here for a while and I’ve told the rest about keeping your presence here a secret. It’s not as if we can tell anyone, but they are all under a Vow.”
“Good.”
Charlie gestured for them to follow. "I'll give you a tour so you can settle in." Narcissa and Draco trailed behind him, albeit reluctantly. "This sanctuary, as you've noticed, provides a safe haven for dragons from around the globe. Each valley, cave, and forest has been tailored to accommodate the varied needs of different dragon species, ensuring they can live as freely as possible while remaining under our guardianship."
He waved towards the expansive terrain, highlighting distinct features: "In those larger caverns, we house the Hungarian Horntails, they like solitude and the rugged landscapes. And in those forests to the west, you might spot a Ukrainian Ironbelly, though they're somewhat reserved around newcomers."
Narcissa stumbled slightly, her heels digging too deep in the cracks on the uneven ground. Charlie laughed lightly, "It might be wise to change into more suitable attire for this terrain." He glanced at Draco's silken robes. "I doubt those will hold up here."
"But these are our clothes," Draco retorted.
"Perhaps you could transfigure something, or I could lend you some of mine?"
Draco's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, an emotion Narcissa might have teased him for, had her thoughts not been preoccupied with the manor, her husband, and everything she had left behind.
Her hand unconsciously brushed her diamond pendant, a betrothal gift from Lucius, representing their thoughts for each other. Lucius's counterpart was the dragon-eye design on his wand. In times of peril they could reassure each other with a gentle squeeze but its cold and unresponsive now. Lucius's cane was confiscated when he was sent to Azkaban.
Although she did this for her son, she still wished the pendant to grow warm and calm her worries.
Charlie, meanwhile, engaged Draco with tales of the sanctuary, "I remember the first dragon I successfully relocated here—a young Swedish Short-Snout causing havoc in a Norwegian village. The wings span wider than three houses and it had a broken fang, poor chap, but I reined it in quick enough. Got this mark here, fiery beast!”
Draco, however, seemed unimpressed.
They eventually halted before a modest cottage, appearing more like a shack than a residence. It's roof made of cheap shingles and the walls adorned with heavy wood and humble furnishings.
"What is that?" Draco inquired.
"This will be your stay, right beside the Healing Nest. We're short-staffed, and usually it’s easy work for the inexperienced, cleaning work and managing the hatchlings and injured mothers. With your potion background, I thought you might lend a hand–"
"You expect us to work?" Draco interjected, incredulous. "We're refugees seeking asylum!"
Charlie paused, then turned to face Draco directly, with Narcissa positioning herself defensively behind her son. They were isolated, without allies, in unfamiliar territory. Charlie was much larger and had faced larger Dragons.
"Listen, I've never met you, and I'd prefer not to start on the wrong foot," Charlie began. "But, I've heard about you from Ron and Ginny. I'll tell you the truth, what they told me, wasn't flattering—maybe on a normal day in London you wouldn't spare someone like me the time of day. But if you're to stay here, you'll contribute. This isn't a hotel; we're self-sufficient and we work as a community. Snape gave me the impression you wouldn't be a problem." His tone hardened, "Will you?"
Draco turned to Narcissa, visibly offended by Charlie's bluntness—a Weasley rebuking him, of all people. Narcissa was too weary to protest. She hadn’t expected anything, her mind too focused on leaving the clutches of the Dark Lord.
She gently rested a hand on her son's shoulder.
"We would be glad to assist. Tending to Dragons, might not be so different from managing the Manor's peacocks," she offered softly.
Draco's expression tightened, a clear sign of his displeasure, but he remained silent, not daring to show disrespect in front of a stranger.
Without another word, Draco marched into the cottage, opening the loose hinge of the doors, not looking back.
"Thank you for the tour," Narcissa said, her tone subdued.
Charlie responded with a conciliatory smile, "I'll bring dinner later, and you can rest for today. We'll start fresh tomorrow?"
"Yes, that would be agreeable," she replied.
Narcissa continued to fidget with her pendant, her thoughts drifting back to London.
***
Narcissa and Draco were compelled to swiftly adapt to the routine of life within the Dragon Sanctuary.
Charlie was right; it was better to be practical. Narcissa switched her attire to something more suitable and appropriate for the outdoors.
She managed to shorten Draco's robes and transform their silken fabric into a more durable and rough material. She enchanted their coats to transform into more practical vests and altered her robes into rugged long pants. Her stilettos were transfigured into sturdy covers that wouldn’t cause her to stumble every five minutes.
She stored all her jewelry, except for the pendant, securely in her trunk to keep them clean and was somewhat saddened to trim her nails. However, assisting the staff with healing cuts and bruises necessitated quick and agile movements. She couldn't jeopardise her work because of a nail.
Having studied the course, Narcissa was proficient in the basics of Healing, though Lucius had initially dissuaded her from applying this knowledge. "Just learn for fun. Malfoys don't work," Lucius would say, thinking it comforting.
Being a renowned Healer had once been her dream, with the ability to wield complex magic and snatch people from the jaws of death, but she later married and was content with her new life as a wife and mother, somewhat spoiled by Lucius's lavish attention.
Now, she would be able to practice Healing as much as she wanted, although it took her some time to adjust to her patients—all Dragon Keepers, the majority of whom were wizards from Europe—and locals from the village. The language was difficult to get used to, but she tried to follow the jokes as best as she could. Socialising was a skill she prided herself on.
Narcissa kept her hair up in a loose bun and tried to maintain her polite decorum. After a week, she was almost used to the smell.
Under Adriana's guidance—the onsite Healer—Narcissa had to reacquaint herself with many procedures. The typical spells included anti-burns and Episkey, along with brewing potions for Pain Relievers, Skin or Bone regrowth, and even some specifically for the Dragons.
Narcissa spent most of her time working alongside Adriana. Draco, initially sulking in a corner until Charlie coaxed him out, was tasked with carrying potions and assisting the other Dragon Keepers.
There were days filled with tranquillity and others so bustling that Narcissa scarcely had a moment to sit down save for a quick sip of water.
Narcissa wasn’t keen on meeting the nearly sixteen-tonne creature, but Adriana would complain of her back aches and knew Narcissa couldn’t skip it.
They cleaned the dragon’s wounds (usually scratches and tears of claws due to travel), oiled their wings (tired from their travel), or helped the mothers who had just laid their eggs.
“The mothers are extremely volatile now, so best make sure the team is ready to help,” Charlie warned.
There was one Dragon, red and large, that was separated in another enclosure. Brown skin, a spiked tail, and bronze horns protruding from its head– one of the most dangerous dragon breeds Charlie explained, the Hungarian Horntail.
“Is this the one that nearly ate Potter?” Draco asked, eying it with a quiver.
“Well, yes, unfortunately, she didn’t mate last year and is a little grumpy. So be careful here, Oi!–” They hastily moved aside as the Dragon breathed fire in anger. “--she’s a little jealous, as you can see. Poor girl, we’ll help you find a mate soon.”
Narcissa was not keen on seeing that happen any time soon.
“Her name is Scar.”
Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course, everything is related to Potter.”
***
Draco struggled to adjust, like a Plimpy out of water, initially clinging close to Narcissa near the Healing Nest. As summer waned, Narcissa avoided dwelling on the happenings at Malfoy Manor. Typically, this time of year would find her and Draco embarking on a shopping spree in preparation for his final year at Hogwarts.
Instead, Draco sat on one of the cots, aimlessly practising charms.
Then Charlie arrived.
“I need extra hands to manage the workload; too many young ones are growing increasingly hungry as they prepare for hibernation. You’ll be handling my second load.”
Draco grimaced at the sight of the large woven basket brimming with fish and meat. Though they enchanted it to be featherlight, excessive magic could agitate the dragons, requiring Draco to bear half its weight on his shoulders still.
Narcissa felt a surge of protest, her natural instinct to want to coddle and protect her son, but Adriana interceded.
“Let the boy be occupied; he’s been sulking for too long, hasn't he?”
Narcissa stood at the edge of the window of the Healing Nest, her gaze fixed on Draco as he followed Charlie Weasley towards the heart of the dragon sanctuary. The air was crisp with the onset of fall, a busy season for the sanctuary, as they prepared the dragon enclosures for the colder months ahead. There were sixteen dragons (Scar included), each requiring attention to ensure their habitats were secure and reflective of their natural environments.
The single dragon, urged by the other hatchlings and seeing the bloom of dragon young, would fly and puff their wings to find a proper mate. It was incredibly loud and disturbing. Narcissa found Scar snipping angrily at a smaller dragon.
She thought of Lucius and how eager he had been to win her hand, pretending her with a clumsy bouquet of flowers. Lucius was older than her, but they were both inexperienced in love when they first met.
It took him a while to get the confidence, but Lucius was a complete charmer when he did.
Laden with working gear that seemed to dwarf Draco’s slender frame. He moved with a determination Narcissa had seldom seen in him. His steps were unsteady, his arms visibly straining under the weight, yet he pressed on.
Narcissa wasn’t used to seeing her son, her baby struggle, so she tried to open her mouth to express her concerns, only for Draco to preempt her. "They're already—no, Mother, just let me be. You've already got us into one mess."
She fell silent, slightly hurt by his words, but she respected his need for independence. She continued to watch as Draco found his footing in this new, rugged life. Charlie had not only enlisted Draco's help in reinforcing the enclosures but also in the crucial task of feeding the dragons.
Despite their initial reservations, they quickly found their rhythm in the sanctuary.
Scar was spotted snuggling nicely with a brown dragon.
2
It was fall, September 1 had passed, and the weather was getting colder, especially here in the valley.
One brisk morning, Narcissa watched from their cottage window as Draco stepped out into the chill, clad in simple outdoor wear. He moved with a newfound ease, heading towards his assigned duties with the younger dragons and their enclosures. They had an influx of younglings that were too big for the hatchling enclosure yet not large enough to live with the adult Dragons. Charlie taught Draco their names and what to do to feed them.
Seeing her son working diligently brought an unexpected warmth to Narcissa's heart. The weather might have worsened, but watching Draco adapt and find purpose thawed something within her.
For the first time since their arrival, she felt a flicker of hope, a sense that perhaps they could forge a new life here, one far removed from the shadows of their past.
***
Harvest Season came, and begrudgingly, Narcissa was now well acquainted with manual labour and helping out the staff. Following Adriana into the bustling marketplace to purchase essentials, they had to stock up for the colder months. Despite her initial revulsion at the thought of engaging in what she considered menial tasks—work she believed suited only for house-elves—the necessity of blending in and not further alienating herself and Draco from the community compelled her to participate.
The Dragon Keepers ate together in a Communal Hall. The cooks were a couple of local squibs who sometimes needed help maintaining fires and feeding the staff.
Together with Adriana and the villagers, Narcissa learned to thresh wheat, separating the grain from the chaff. She husked corn, marvelling a bit at the golden kernels that would feed them through winter. Barley was gathered and stored for making bread and brewing, while sugar beets were processed into sweeteners, essential for preserving food and sweetening meals during the bleak winter months.
Sunflower seeds were collected and dried, not just for their oil but also as a nutritious snack. Potatoes were dug up and stored in cool, dark places to prevent spoilage. She was thankfully saved from handling meat or poultry, but she knew the women's villages made it a communal effort to keep eggs, meat, milk and cheese.
The communal effort extended to the production of wine, an activity that saw the village come alive with the excitement of the RO-WINE festival.
The influx of tourists for the festival made Charlie suggest they change their appearance, “The blond is pretty telling, isn’t it?”
Narcissa's hair took on a strawberry blonde hue, masking her signature black locks, while Draco's hair was dyed jet black. When Narcissa first saw Draco she felt her eyes burn, she didn’t realise Draco would look so different. She clutched her pendant tight, missing her husband.
Besides, muggle tourists were also magical. The scent of blood attracted vampires, and they also frequented the local pub of the sanctuary. They helped give the little village an economic boost, and the Vampires loved seducing the local muggles to “feed on”.
Draco surprised Narcissa by informing her he was leaving with Charlie to visit one of the festivals in Transylvania.
She was rightfully anxious, but Charlie assured her nothing would happen: “It’s just old geezers telling lost stories and muggles dressing up funny. I thought it would put his mind out of Hogwarts.”
She was reluctant, but she wanted Draco to be happy…and he seemed so, returning home drunk and waking up the next morning with a headache, later, with visibly brighter spirits.
Narcissa was used to spoiling her son and taking him to visit their families, parties and rich villas with all the world's luxury.
But watching her son thrive, filled out from the hard work and far removed from the shadows of their past in London, Narcissa felt a sense of peace.
“Have you heard?” Charlie asked, visiting the Healer’s Bay, pulling back his long red hair in a bun and grinning from ear to ear. “Scar’s pregnant.”
London seemed so far away.
***
Dragons mainly slept through winter, and the Keepers and staff had less work than usual. Narcissa learnt how to knit from Adriana and would produce colourful wool sweaters for Draco to wear, coupled with Heating Charms. They were set for the cold season.
Narcissa was folding her freshly laundered clothes when the tranquillity was abruptly shattered by Charlie bursting into her cottage.
“We have visitors,” he announced with a hushed urgency.
Narcissa’s heart skipped a beat, instinctively knowing the identity of these ‘visitors’. Panic surged through her as she asked, “Where is Draco?”
“I’ve called him in,” Charlie replied, his eyes briefly scanning the cottage before focusing on her. He nodded towards her neck. “The pendant.”
With a moment of hesitation, Narcissa recognised the risk of wearing such a conspicuous piece of jewellery. No ordinary villager would possess something so lavish. Reluctantly, she removed the pendant, concealing it beneath a soiled rag in an empty tin.
Her wand remained discreetly tucked in her pocket.
“Let’s just act natural, go on with our daily routine and avoid them,” Charlie advised.
Narcissa remained inside the cottage, her heart racing with fear that the Death Eaters might discover her. The ‘visitors’ were perhaps requesting a tour, buying the dragon scales or blood the sanctuary sold, or lounging at the pub.
Too close. Too dangerous.
Two agonising hours later, Draco returned to the cottage, his appearance dishevelled, reeking of manure. His words hushed, “I had to know…” answered Narcissa's silent query. “It was Dolohov and Terrance.”
The realisation that Lucius was not among them offered a sliver of relief, though the danger loomed large. They weren’t out of the clear yet. The Dark Lord must need Narcissa and Draco enough for him to employ two of his men to find them. If it were the Manor they desperately needed, they would just free Lucius from Azkaban. No, the Dark Lord wanted to use them as punishment, perhaps hoping to tie Lucius to become more obedient.
Narcissa shuddered to think what awaited them should they be found.
Draco was determined to maintain their facade and insisted on completing his chores. “We have to act like we belong, don’t we?”
Narcissa paced the kitchen, fraught with worry, unable to concentrate on her knitting project or anything else.
As dinner time approached, Charlie visited, sharing news with a light-hearted chuckle: “They left. They tried to provoke one of the dragons but got more than they bargained for, haha!”
Despite Charlie’s attempt to lighten the mood, Narcissa found it difficult to return the sentiment.
***
December was draped in a sombre mood. The Death Eaters hadn't returned, but the shadow of their visit lingered, a constant reminder for Narcissa.
Narcissa tried to put her mind at ease and busy herself with tending to the new pregnant dragon mothers. Scar would huff rudely when she dropped by the dragon’s enclosure, turning its head away.
Narcissa wasn’t one to seek approval from dragons, but it wasn’t helping her with her mood.
“Fine, be like that then,” she said haughtily, filling her food bucket with food. “I used to be sought out at parties, wearing the best dress robes in town.”
Scar continued to ignore her. Narcissa had to distract herself from doing something brash, like demanding the dragon speak with her.
Charlie occasionally brought snippets of news from London. He supplied the Order with potion ingredients and dragon-related defences through his connections.
“It’s mayhem there with the Muggle-born registration. People are fleeing for their lives,” he'd report, the gravity of the situation hanging heavily in his words.
“The news? It's all propaganda now.”
“And the reforms—letting Dark Creatures hunt Muggles freely.”
“They’re purging the Ministry, throwing people into Azkaban by the dozens,” he finished, painting a bleak picture of the chaos unfolding.
Draco was young and perhaps more curious than brave and would engage Charlie in deep discussions into the night. They debated the current state under Voldemort's rule, providing Draco with insights into the war they were shielded from.
Charlie spoke of his family with a heavy heart. “Mum and Dad are hiding out—branded as blood traitors,” he said with a grimness that underscored his concern. “I’d hide them here if I could, but they're set on fighting.”
“Why?” Narcissa overhead them. “Why risk it all to fight the Dark Lord? No one can defeat him.”
Charlie was silent for a few seconds. “If we start believing that, he’s already won.”
The day after New Year’s, Draco confronted Narcissa with a haunting question, “Were we wrong?”
Were they?
Narcissa was torn. She wanted to defend their past, the pride of pureblood heritage she had once held so high. But facing their reality—hidden away, their grand life reduced to memories—made her question it all.
“What matters is that we’re safe,” she found herself saying, her response reassurance to Draco as much as an attempt to soothe herself.
There were deep fissures in the beliefs she had clung to, the ideology that had led them to seek refuge in a place far removed from the world they once commanded.
But they were safe. That was all she needed now.
***
It was February.
Within the sanctuary, a tragedy unfolded as one of the dragons, a venerable Hungarian Horntail, suffered the loss of her hatchlings within her womb. A tear, likely caused by her advanced age and the affliction of her eggs led to her heart-wrenching moans that pierced the silence for three nights straight.
With Narcissa's diligent assistance, Adriana had to perform a complex surgery to remove the spoiled eggs, allowing the majestic creature a chance at recovery.
The task was arduous and macabre. They were drenched in sweat, eyes sunken without proper rest and sleep, the tension palpable in the air. Dragon skin was harder to cut, and keeping a large live Dragon asleep and cooperative throughout the procedure was daunting and exhausting.
Narcissa tirelessly levitated large buckets of water, shuttling them back and forth to cleanse the wound and hydrate the grieving dragon mother. When the ordeal finally concluded, the dragon bore a significant scar across her belly.
"She’s only visited our sanctuary periodically during mating season," Charlie said, patting her large red scales. I guess this one was her last one. She is getting older, and she might need to stay here longer, poor girl.”
"She will be fine,” Something deep in Narcissa wanted to believe. Having just finished dressing the wound, she gently patted the dragon’s belly.
Scar lay with her massive head resting on the ground, enveloped in a profound sadness from the loss of her young. Empathizing deeply, Narcissa committed herself to the dragon's care, offering food, song, and solace. She understood the agony of losing children all too well, having endured three miscarriages before Draco's birth.
Narcissa tenderly cared for Scar's head, finding the dragon surprisingly gentle under her touch. “I’ve never seen a dragon so taken by another human before,” Charlie said, entrusting Scar’s care entirely to Narcissa. Maybe it's best for both of you," he suggested.
3
It's March.
Charlie is restless, the cessation of news from London signalling that the situation has become even more dire and ominous. Charlie has every reason to be anxious. It’s his whole family back in London. The last piece of information they received spoke of the Fallen through an old wireless.
Snatchers had murdered Ted Tonks.
That night, Narcissa held Draco wordlessly, contemplating Andromeda's sorrow for the first time in her life. It was cruel of her to forget her sister, whom the Dark Lord obviously targeted. Narcissa had known this was possible, but she had woefully forgotten it.
The thought of losing Lucius made her own hands tremble with dread.
Narcissa couldn't pinpoint when the shift occurred, but Draco's eyes changed; his shoulders straightened each morning, and he worked on his chores with a much harsher and more serious cross of his brow. He preferred to be left alone, his hands busy, but the storms in his eyes never left.
The peace they sought here was only temporary. They could never truly escape the war.
One morning, she awoke to find that Adriana had informed her Draco had insisted on accompanying Charlie. They had taken an unregistered Portkey to London.
Narcissa collapsed to the floor, her world collapsing, her eyes seeing nothing but darkness.
"What in Magic's Circe was Draco thinking?"
Clutching her diamond pendant in a grip tightened by fear.
***
The other staff members steered clear, giving Narcissa space in her distress. Feeling adrift and unsure of her next steps, she nonetheless continued her routine of feeding and staying by Scar's side, both finding solace in each other's company. The longing to return to London was strong, yet the risk of being captured by Death Eaters and the uncertainty of locating Draco if he was indeed with the Order weighed heavily on her. Moreover, her diamond pendant, which had always been a source of comfort, now lay inert against her chest, never once emitting the warm glow that indicated Lucius’s presence. The absence of its warmth left Narcissa too fearful to consider the possibility that Lucius might no longer be alive.
What could she possibly do?
***
As Narcissa tenderly patted and cleaned Scar, she opened up to the dragon in a way she hadn't with anyone else. She spoke of her upbringing, ingrained with pureblood ideologies, always striving to do what was deemed right for her husband and family. She recounted the hollow comfort Bellatrix's return had brought her, failing to fill the void of true familial connection. Narcissa's voice grew heavy with guilt as she told the dragon about Andromeda's loss, the pain of knowing her sister had suffered greatly. Through it all, her fear for Draco's safety loomed largest, leaving her feeling utterly lost.
To an outsider, she was talking to herself, but she truly believed Scar understood her.
Scar huffed in response, nuzzling her nose and hot breath against her. Narcissa gazed into the dragon's yellow pupils, finding valleys of wisdom and years in them, a tumultuous fire of magic that beckoned to her. It was a call to action if only she had the courage to heed it.
"I don't know what to do." She confessed to Scar. She was never one to take action. She was the wife and the mother. Could she be more?
As Narcissa gently extended her hand towards Scar, the air between them began to shimmer with magic, and something extraordinary occurred.
A warm burst of radiant, pure magic emanated from Narcissa's palm, weaving through the air like golden threads in the moonlight. She felt a bond of magic sizzle from her core, connecting to Scar's magic.
Narcissa gasped, and her eyes shut at the waves of emotions she felt- compassion, understanding and a fierce protectiveness. Raw and powerful, gifting her with solidarity.
Scar relaxed under her touch. The dragon's scales, cold and hard as armour, seemed to soften, absorbing the warmth of the magic surrounding them. A soft glow illuminated the space where Narcissa's hand hovered, highlighting the intricate patterns of her scales and casting light into the shadows of her pain.
The magic settled, and a profound sense of peace enveloped Narcissa and Scar. The dragon lifted her head for the first time since her loss, her eyes reflecting a spark of renewed life. The dragon began to stand.
"Scar?"
The dragon loudly grunted and raked at the enclosure, demanding to be let free.
Narcissa blindly heeded it, careful not to stand too close to the spiked wings. The large red magical bond between them was left encircling her wrist, and it connected to Scar's back, maintaining the connection.
Narcissa has no idea where Scar wants to go, but it is flexing its wings and shaking its scales. The yellow eyes urge Narcissa to do something.
The other Dragon Keepers surrounded them. Many looked on in shock.
"A dragon and rider bond! Why, I never thought I would live to see the day!" Adriana looked on from the growing crowd. Narcissa, you and Scar, but you two have a special bond."
A bond?
"I feel like Scar wants me to do something."
"Listen to your magic," A dragon keeper advised. "A bond is incredibly rare; it is when a dragon feels indebted to help a wizard or witch fulfil their desire."
"Is that true, Scar?" Narcissa whispered, stepping confidently towards the Hungarian Horntail. "Do you wish to help me?"
Scar nuzzled her gently in agreement, then gestured towards her back. Clad in simple robes and pants, the diamond pendant around her neck catching the light, Narcissa freed her hair from its tie. With a deep breath, she stepped onto Scar's feet, gripping its scaly skin and mounted Scar's back, feeling a connection like no other as the dragon took to the skies.
The others looked on with great awe.
Soaring above, the wind was cold and harsh, and Narcissa gripped Scar's spikes for dear life. But there was no fear; instead, for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of clarity about what she must do.
***
For three consecutive nights, she flew, pausing only during daylight to feed and grant Scar ample rest.
From the direction of Hogwarts, a large, albino and hurt dragon adorned with metal chains soared freely through the air—a clue if anything else.
"Something tells me we have to go to Hogwarts."
Scar nodded in agreement.
With a resolve hardened by determination, Narcissa urged Scar to Scotland.
When she arrived, it was dark. Encasing Hogwarts was a vast dome of magic, under siege by giants and Acromantulas, and a procession of wizards and witches in black cloaks and silver masks marching toward the castle. The sight filled Narcissa with dread, and she feared for the children within.
"We can't let them do this- to a school of children, come one, Scar!"
Together, Narcissa and Scar ascended, unleashing flames that scattered their adversaries. Spells flew towards them, but Narcissa, fortified by purpose, deflected each attack.
From her aerial vantage, she fought off the encroaching magical creatures. Acromantulas, Giants and an army of trolls. They were evenly matched against the dragon and rider. Scar blew fire and used its wings to protect Narcissa, whilst Narcissa aimed as many spells in attack as she could.
The magical sphere protecting the children collapsed, and hundreds of Death Eaters swarmed into the castle. It was harder to know who to defend and who to fight whilst also searching frantically for the sign of anyone with blond hair.
Narcissa and Scar continued to fly and sweep across the grounds.
Then, amidst the chaos, her eyes caught the distinctive bubble-gum hue of her niece's hair just as Bellatrix- her sister's wide eyes were as manic and filled with bloodlust- raised her wand to strike. Without hesitation, Narcissa drew her wand to intervene.
“NO!”
Bellatrix stumbled backwards, her spell missing Andromeda's daughter by mere inches. She glared at Narcissa and howled in disbelief.
“Cissy! What are you doing?”
“Stop this, Bella!” Narcissa shouted in warning, her wand aimed squarely at Bellatrix. Laughter was Bellatrix’s only reply. “Cissy, turn against your own sister? You wouldn’t dare—”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do anymore! Harm my son—or any of these children again, and I swear it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
The confrontation left Bellatrix incensed, sparking a fierce duel.
“Face me directly, Cissy! Stop hiding on your dragon and fight!” Bellatrix taunted.
Narcissa dismounted from Scar, but the magical red bond still held. Scar flew overhead in a protective circle, warily watching Narcissa as she engaged Bellatrix in a duel. Narcissa was not as skilled in spells as her sister; she was almost overwhelmed until Molly Weasley stepped in to save her, delivering the final blow.
Molly extended a hand to Narcissa, saying, “We take care of our own here.” Grateful, Narcissa accepted, her mind racing with concern for Draco. “Have you seen Draco? Is he—” She hesitated, fearing the answer, “Is he still alive?”
“Ah, the brave boy,” Molly replied, her eyes twinkling with pride. “He saved my Fred; the last I saw, they were holding their own on the other side.”
“Thank you,” Narcissa breathed, a weight lifted from her heart.
She mounted Scar again, now driven by a singular purpose—to find her son.
***
The battlefield below her roared with increased chaos as Narcissa took to the sky with Scar.
She spotted a blonde wizard with black hair streaks surrounded by redheads waving at her among the ruins. She nearly broke into tears of laughter, so relieved!
Suddenly, a group of Death Eaters rushed in, wands drawn, and attacked Draco. Narcissa's heart clenched in fear. She swiftly urged Scar to fly lower, and the dragon roared and blew fire to warn off their enemies. They screamed and ran away with singed robes and fallen masks. Her heart pounded, and her eyes flinted frantically for Draco.
There!
She nearly fell off Scar, overwhelmed with the urge to hold him. Embrace him. Draco returned the sentiment. He was tall and strong enough to lift her up.
“Oh Draco, my son, are you okay?”
“I am! Mother, you were on Scar! Charlie says there hasn’t been a proper Dragon Rider in years!” His grey eyes were bright and alive and filled with gleaming pride.
Narcissa continued to sob and hold her son with joy and mixed agony. “I couldn’t do it without you, my brave, brave boy.”
The world was almost perfect again.
Her diamond pendant warmed– Lucius, she gasped– and suddenly, the Dark Lord’s voice could be heard throughout the castle.
***
Narcissa insisted Draco explain everything that has happened since he left her. There was resentment but also pride as she heard him retell his adventure.
Charlie and Draco stopped at Shell Cottage at first to ensure the Weasleys were safe. Then Potter and his friends arrived, barely escaping from Malfoy Manor. Draco helped Harry retain a magical object from Gringgots. (The flying dragon was your doing??) Now they are here, helping give Harry time to finish his task and defeat the Dark Lord once and for all.
“Potter said he saw Father.”
“He is alive?” Narcissa said breathlessly, not daring to hope.
"He refused to identify Potter- he, Potter thinks he tried to help him them escape by stalling time."
Hope bloomed in Narcissa's chest.
The castle was quiet, and the one-hour reprieve was used to heal others and regroup, but Narcissa knew this detente could not last. She felt the pendant still warm on her chest.
“I have to find your father.”
“Mother–” Draco’s face was pained. “He’s still with them, even if Potter was right–”
“I love him.” Because Draco couldn’t understand anything else.
She mounted Scar again, pressing her heels atop her scales and feeling Scar's body quiver and its wings flap beside them. The last she sees is Charlie reaching for Draco’s hand.
The Death Eaters had cowardly retreated into the forest. All she needed was to see Lucius and-
Scar was not an inconspicuous dragon, but even from high above, she spotted, in between the dense foliage, a large group with Hagrid at its centre.
Lucius was forced on his knees, his hand on Harry Potter’s chest. Her poor husband was pale and frail. Narcissa immediately urged Scar towards him. Lucius looked up, and his eyes widened.
With a shrill scream, Scar bellowed a large belly of fire. The Death Eaters were caught by surprise, scattering and fleeing from the turmoil. Voldemort hurled curses towards them.
Narcissa grabbed Lucius and Potter– who, by some miracle, was thankfully alive.
“My love?”
“We’re getting out of here!” She screamed against the wind, gritting her teeth, as Scar soared in the skies again.
Potter sat up and choked. “No! Mrs Malfoy– no, you have to let me finish this!”
“I saw you take the curse!” Lucius heaved. How did you survive?!” He gripped Narcissa with flimsy clumsiness so as not to fall from the dragon.
“It doesn’t matter- you must take me back!” Potter shouted. "We have to end this once and for all!"
With a nudge to Scar, Narcissa nodded and lowered them to the ground. Harry immediately jumped off and bellowed a spell after spell, the battle had resumed in fury. All of them rushed into the new fray of battle. Draco was fighting gallantly by Charlie's side.
“Lucius, stay with Scar. She will protect you!” Lucius whimpered. His eyes were conflicted, but he stayed by the large dragon as Narcissa ran towards her son, ready to defend him.
Neville killed Nagini, and The Dark Lord snarled spell after spell with anguish.
Facing a powerful wizard, Narcissa knew she was outmatched, but Scar valiantly shielded her. Lucius stood by her. “Never again,” she whispered, determined, though obviously terrified.
“Traitors, all of you! The Malfoy line will end here!”
Before Voldemort could release his final spell, Potter stepped forward and met his spell, and there was a large blast of red light.
Voldemort’s body fell in a heap on the floor. Narcissa was closest, and it only made sense that she confirmed what their eyes were seeing. Voldemort's hand was empty. Potter held his wand. She blinked a few seconds before kneeling, trembling fingers holding his silent pulse.
The Dark Lord has taken so much from her, never again.
Standing, she locked eyes with Harry, a profound understanding passing between them. "He's dead," she affirmed, her voice steady, marking the beginning of hope.
Scar flexed her wings and roared gallantly for all to hear.