A/N: It seems only fitting to start this story on Draco Malfoy's birthday-June 5. This is my first Dramione fic, so I would appreciate any feedback you guys have for me. I hope you enjoy this first chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Narcissa Malfoy sat in a well-worn wingback chair, tucked against the far edge of the parlor. Her slender fingers drummed against the side of a teacup as she watched her son dart through the air on the latest model broomstick. She couldn't remember the name, but she did remember the look on her son's face when he opened the package. The slight widening of his eyes, the curve of his mouth into a subtle smile. Draco had learned long ago to hide how he felt, but there were certain things a mother noticed.

Now that Draco was out of sight of her husband, he held nothing back. Narcissa could see the unadulterated joy on her son's face as he dove down into a spiral that made her stomach pitch with worry before pulling up at the last second to skim the sky. These were the rare moments Narcissa saw her son smile.

The last time she had seen Draco smile—really smile—was when he was 5 years old.

They had been walking through non-magical London when Draco saw her. A muggle child standing outside a book store with her parents. She had brown frizzy hair spilling past slight shoulders and a book clutched against her chest. As if by instinct, Draco's eyes snagged on the girl and he smiled. That was all Narcissa remembered before she saw the book fall to the ground and heard the scream that comes from being bitten. She remembered the look of outrage on the other parents' faces and the horror on her husband's.

"Mine," Draco had said proudly, holding out the other child's arm as proof. Narcissa saw the bond take root. Saw the ragged puncture of each tooth transform into a smooth silver scar. The same kind of scar on her own arm. The muggle girl looked at it curiously before yanking her arm away. Tears were already starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

A dark-haired woman who Narcissa assumed to be the girl's mother crouched down to comfort her. She made shushing noises and lifted a hand to smooth the hair from the girl's face. The father, however, looked torn between comforting his daughter and yelling at the parents responsible. The corner of his mouth twitched as he locked eyes with Lucius.

"Can't you control your son?" As if further proving his point, Draco was now trying to hand the sobbing girl the book she had dropped on the ground. He looked genuinely confused as to why the girl was crying.

"Don't cry," he pleaded, gray eyes shining as though he might start crying himself. "You're supposed to understand. You're meant to be mine."

"We need to get him out of here," Lucius spoke in hushed tones to Narcissa, careful not to let the girl's parents overhear. "He's imprinting."

There were times in Narcissa's life where she had to assess the situation and take control. The day her beautiful baby boy imprinted on a muggle had been one of those days. Narcissa pulled herself to her full height and arranged a smile on her face that almost felt natural after years of practice. Glancing at the mother who she felt would be more receptive, she spoke in the smooth cultured tones one would expect from one of the highest pureblood families.

"I apologize for my son Draco. He's going through a biting phase," she gestured toward the girl. "As a mother, I'm sure you can understand." Now that the girl had stopped crying, the mother had seemed to relax as well.

"You know, I could have sworn your son broke the skin from the way Hermione screamed," the other woman said. "But I can't see any blood."

She gingerly picked up her child's wrist, turning it this way and that in the light looking for breaks in the skin. Narcissa held her breath as the silver mark glinted against the pale tender skin. Maybe muggles couldn't see the mark? She raised an eyebrow at her husband who shrugged.

"As much as I'm sorry for the way my son acted, we really must be on our way." Lucius gaze cut toward his son who had been staring longingly at the girl named Hermione. "Draco, come."

With obvious reluctance, Draco rejoined his parents. However, even as they were walking away, Narcissa noticed Draco glancing at the muggle family until they were out of sight.

The next day, Draco asked her and Lucius when he could see the muggle child again. Lucius paled before pounding his fist on the dining room table.

"I will not have my only child and heir associate with a filthy muggle!" Lucius scowled before rising out of his chair to tower over the boy. "Generations of Malfoys would turn in their graves. Not to mention their portraits would curse you in the hallways."

Draco trained his eyes on the floor as though doing so would make him invisible. Narcissa knew that her son avoided certain hallways because the portraits scared him. Not that she could blame him. Many of the Malfoy ancestors, while pureblood, were uncouth to say the very least.

While Narcissa didn't like it when her husband lost his temper, this was something that needed to happen. She would not have her child imprint on a muggle. It would tarnish the Malfoy name, not to mention her own family of origin.

"But she's mine," her son whispered. "She belongs with me."

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, Lucius leaned heavily on his cane before sinking into the closest chair. He looked tired, as though the years were finally starting to catch up with him.

Later, once Draco was tucked into bed, Lucius confessed that he had no idea how to handle their son.

"I just don't understand why he can't imprint on a nice pureblood girl. It's not as though we don't socialize enough with the other high wizarding families." Lucius glanced at his wife who merely shook her head. Her own silvery scar given to her many moons ago glinted under the lamplight.

"You know that's not how that works," she said. "I seem to remember how relentless you were when we were in school." She ran her thumb over the scar as though out of habit.

"I know a witch," Lucius spoke slowly as though choosing his words carefully. "She's very talented at memory charms. Maybe she could give our son a second chance."

"You mean erase his memory of the girl?" Narcissa was afraid of the thought of letting some strange witch rummage through her son's mind and take what didn't belong to her. But, what choice did they have? If they didn't erase their son's memories quickly, he would eventually give in to his veela instincts and that would mean trouble.

"Okay," Narcissa murmured after some time, leaning into her husband sitting on the couch beside her and closing her eyes. "But that doesn't mean I have to like it."

The next morning, Lucius scheduled the appointment. The next week, their son forgot all about the girl named Hermione.

Now looking at her 17-year-old son following the breeze on his broomstick she had to wonder how long it would last. She and Lucius both knew there was a mudblood girl named Hermione who attended the same school as their son. She felt certain that it wasn't his Hermione but had no proof.

Either way, Narcissa knew from her own experience that it would only be a matter of time. Draco would find the girl again. He would regain his memory, and this time he wouldn't let her go.