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Chapter Ninety-Five
Narcissa's Dream!!
Narcissa was dreaming.
The dream dragged her back to that winter — the winter she wished she could forget.
Draco had been very small then. She had accidentally taken the wrong potion and, in an instant, found herself as a child — a girl the same age as Draco but with no magic, unable to even hold a wand.
She tried to contact Lucius at once. Surely he would know how to reverse it.
But Lucius didn't respond. Not that day, not the next.
On the third day, desperate, she left Malfoy Manor to find a house-elf for help — only to be greeted not by loyalty but by terror.
The elf seized her, dragged her out of the Manor, and delivered her straight into the hands of several dangerous-looking Muggles.
Listening to them talk, she realized the truth: they were after Draco.
The elf had mistaken her appearance for some kind of curse, assumed she was the child they were hunting, and handed her over.
She tried to think of a way out, but three days passed with no opportunity.
She was tied up.
Starved.
Weakened.
When she escaped, she swore she would kill every one of them.
But on the fourth day, her captors came with terrifying news.
Lucius had already struck back. He had inspected every house-elf, found the one under the Imperius Curse, and uncovered enough clues to track these men down.
The captors panicked — convinced the Malfoys had released a decoy to confuse them.
And the "little child" beside Narcissa must be the bait.
So they decided to kill her.
The wife of Malfoy Manor, thrown out like trash.
Just when she thought she would die, a small boy rushed in.
Narcissa stared at him, cold and resigned. Another child to die with her. How pointless.
But the boy slammed into the man holding her — and sent him flying.
She stared, stunned, as the boy dragged her toward the door.
More men chased them, shouting about ransom, revenge, and tying up loose ends.
She ran with him, legs shaking, the only thought in her mind: I must live. I am Narcissa Malfoy. I refuse to die here.
Then, mid-run, the boy collapsed.
He dropped to the ground, pale and shaking.
"It's not me they want," he said weakly. "Run. You go first!"
Narcissa almost laughed.
Foolish child.
They wanted her — and now they wanted him too. He was an idiot if he thought otherwise.
So she turned and ran without hesitation.
She thought she saw shock on the boy's face.
What, did he expect a Black to be kind?
But she was starving, exhausted, and didn't make it far before collapsing in an alley.
She curled up, praying the men wouldn't find her.
But they did.
Narcissa's heart froze. No wand, no strength, no escape.
She had abandoned that little boy. And now she would die for it.
Then she saw him.
The boy stumbled into view, drenched in sweat, his face ghost-white, green eyes trembling with fear.
"Hurry," he whispered. "Climb on."
He crouched down.
So small. So thin. Barely strong enough to stand.
A strange warmth stirred in her chest. You're out of strength yourself. Why come back?
But those eyes… steady, determined.
She climbed onto his back.
They ran. Or rather, he dragged her forward while fighting his own failing body.
She couldn't remember the path — only his white knuckles, his trembling breath, his voice urging her onward:
"Hold on… we're almost there…"
They almost made it.
Then a flash of green light cut through the air.
Narcissa froze.
So this is how it ends. Better than being tossed into the street like rubbish.
She closed her eyes.
But the boy stepped in front of her again.
The curse hit him — she knew it did — and yet he still forced himself forward, hauling her along.
They crashed through alleys and bridges until the boy shoved her over a small railing.
Behind it lay a hidden water passage.
At the far end — Hogsmeade.
A secret escape route.
She could survive. She could return. She could take revenge.
And the boy — she would take him home, raise him, teach him never to waste his kindness on someone like her again.
She looked back.
The boy collapsed into the shallow stream, unconscious.
His faint voice echoed through the tunnel:
"I'm okay… keep going… you'll be safe…"
Safe?
Narcissa turned, numb.
They had escaped.
How could such a small child — a child Draco's size — protect her this whole time and still…
Still fall alone?
She ran back, heart pounding.
No. No… it shouldn't be like this!
They were at the end. They were safe.
How could he fall now?
How could he—
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