In the aftermath, it is raining. Perhaps it is the world's way of grieving for the dead, fat, wet drops of we know, we're sorry, it's gone now, and you tilt your head so that the world's grief will mask your own. Tears that had been stamped out of you as a Black, and forbidden as you'd taken your place as the mistress of the Malfoy household, join the rain that is working its way through the grime and dirt and blood – the fear and the uncertainty and the rage – that mars your pretty face.

Your breath catches as you glimpse your sister. Your only sister, now that Bella is dead, is holding a baby and on her knees, staring into the lifeless face of her daughter – your niece. Her face is distraught and even from here, you can see her hands shake as she reaches out to smooth a stray hair from Nymphadora's face. Your heart clenches and your hand scrabbles blindly towards Draco's, locking around his wrist, subconsciously reassuring yourself that yes, he's alive, he's breathing, he's here. And then you realize with a jolt, Andromeda has lost her husband as well. She is, for all intents and purposes, alone. Widowed because her husband was a Mudb- a Muggleborn. In retrospect, the reason for his death seems quite stupid. The sympathy that rushes over you overwhelms your mind, which has convinced itself over the past decades that Andromeda simply didn't exist.

A hand finds yours, fingers linking with yours as you turn, almost surprised at the contact. Lucius stares straight ahead and seems not to acknowledge that any contact has been made, but his hand grips yours almost painfully, as if he too is reassuring himself of your existence.

You scan the crowd. It's as if you're invisible – nobody cares about the Malfoys any longer, your name is synonymous with dirt, your pureblood status means nothing. The image your family has worked so hard to maintain is shattered, and the air of prestige and importance that has always surrounded you is no longer.

And perhaps this is a good thing. Hogwarts is not the only thing that has to be rebuilt.

It is raining when you reenter Malfoy Manor. Lightning casts looming, ominous shadows upon the walls, which you so painstakingly decorated as a newlywed. It almost seems as if that time was in an alternate reality, and memories seem hazy at best. You remember the vague intimidation you felt walking through the front gates, the joy at making a house into a home, taking it upon yourself to make love with Lucius in every single room –

And now you stand, looking with tired eyes across a table at which the Dark Lord himself sat, playing your family as if they were nothing more than pawns on a chessboard – good for strategy, but easily disposable. Here, in front of the empty fireplace, your sister beat a seventeen-year-old girl down to the floor and carved the word 'mudblood' into her arm. Unspeakable acts have occurred in this house you worked so hard to fill with happiness. You do not realize how revolted this makes you until you look down at your hands, which have turned white at the knuckles from being clenched so hard.

"Narcissa?"

You turn, and look into the hollow eyes of your husband, and remember how bright they used to get after a particularly good fly with Draco, or after an especially passionate night in bed, and immediately vow to bring the light back. Your first priority as a woman of Black heritage is to serve your husband, and your first priority as the Lady of Malfoy Manor is to make sure that the Lord of the house is well tended to.

You disregard these. It has never been a pact of servitude between you and Lucius. He knows, and you know, that what was intended as an arranged marriage quickly blossomed into love, and that is your first priority. To love Lucius, to care for him and nurture him and bring that darkness away from the eyes you love so much.

You go to your husband, walk straight into his awaiting arms. Outside, the rain continues to fall.

The day the letter comes, there is a storm. You and Lucius are sipping tea in the main dining room when Draco skids in.

"Potter's coming up the drive." His voice shakes on the last word.

Lucius stiffens and you stifle a gasp. Your whole family knew this moment was coming – Death Eaters are being rounded up and thrown into Azkaban, it's sheer luck that your summons has taken two months to come. You will be asked to testify, you'll be shamed in front of the entire Wizengamot, and it'll be a miracle if any of you face less than life sentences in Azkaban. Lucius has been a Death Eater all his life. Draco tried to kill Albus Dumbledore. You'd rather die than be left alone with your husband and son in prison.

The heavy clunking of the brass knocker against the front door interrupts your racing mind, and you see Lucius start to rise.

"Wait." It comes out before you even realize you're thinking it, and you find yourself stepping ahead and walking to the front door first, Lucius and Draco close behind.

Your first thought at seeing Harry Potter is that he looks healthier, far more vital than he did when he walked into the Forbidden Forest on that memorable day. Perhaps its just motherly intuition – god knows how your eagle eyes can spot when Draco's been skipping meals or not getting enough sleep – but you know Potter's been missing neither, looking fully rested and well fed for what you know is the first time in over a year. You suppose it's a fringe benefit of being a surrogate son to Molly Weasley, who you remember has always tried to take everyone under her wing, even as a student at Hogwarts five years your senior. Still, his eyes look troubled, and your eyes don't miss the ministry scroll in his hand either, and you send a silent prayer to whoever may be listening, imploring them not to rip your family apart once again.

"Come in out of the rain, Mr. Potter." Harry looks bewildered at the gesture of kindness, and then mildly uncomfortable as he steps into the house where the Granger girl was tortured mercilessly, where Bella killed that house-elf, where your family threatened to summon the Dark Lord. You don't blame him.

You glance at Lucius and Draco, who wear identical expressions of mingled anger and fear, but you know neither of them are stupid enough to lash out at your guest – all three of you are more scared of what's written on that scroll than anything else. You're about to turn to lead Harry into the sitting room when he speaks.

"Listen, I just came to drop this off. I've got somewhere else to be, but I wanted to give this to you in person. I'm sorry it's taken so long." It comes out in a rush, and it's evident that he wants to be anywhere but here. It strikes you suddenly, that disregarding everything he's accomplished, Harry Potter is still a seventeen-year-old boy, and wears his emotions on his sleeve. You can't bring yourself to make the boy feel any more awkward, so you extend an arm.

He holds the scroll out and drops it into your hand. With a nod at you and your family, he mutters, "I'll just show myself out." And in less than two minutes of his arrival, he Apparates back out of your home.

Lucius and Draco stand on either side of you, two pillars of strength in your moment of weakness. Taking a sharp breath, you break the wax seal on the scroll and unfurl it. A small piece of parchment falls out and flutters to the floor. Ignoring it, your eyes scan the Ministry notice.

Official Notice from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement

I, Harry Potter, hereby grant Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy an official pardon from the Death Eater trials of 1998. They are to be cleared of all charges. They have proven themselves to be invaluable additions to the war effort and…

You don't realize that a cry has escaped from your throat until you hear Lucius whisper "Narcissa…" under his breath and you know he too, has read the scroll's contents and you stare at each other in wonder. The silence is broken by Draco, who bends to retrieve the parchment that has fallen. Your eyes widen, and then cloud with tears once you realize what it is.

To Mrs. Malfoy,

That wasn't the first time a mother's love has saved my life. Thank you.

Harry Potter

You swear you can see a tear glistening in Draco's eye, and you allow yours to fall, as the storm outside rages on.

A/N: And so begins my return to fanfiction after 3 years! Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 blew my mind and I was feeling nostalgic. I thought Narcissa deserved some kudos for playing a huge part in saving the wizarding world. Also I just think she's an incredibly classy, elegant woman and wondered what it would be like to write from her POV. Hope you enjoyed!