I really thought I'd put this fanfiction to rest, but the end ofDeathly Hallows inspired this second epilogue as it were. I know there are no loose ends to tie up, but I wouldn't have been happy if I didn't write this. It's not an amazing chapter, there may be an element of 'out of characterness' so criticism is very welcome. Thanks for all the reviews over the past few years. Characters and the Harry Potter Universe are copyrighted to J.K Rowling.

.:Fin:.

She thought she saw the boy she had saved, the Boy Who Lived, out of the corner of her eye, but it did not matter, it did not even truly register with her. It only mattered that her own son was alive and that he was sitting next to her albeit wan and ashen. Her voice had grown hoarse as she had screamed out her son's name over the din; her eyes had frantically scanned each nook and cranny, each dead body for a glimpse of her son. What would she have done if Draco had died? The thought chilled her and she instinctively drew her son closer towards her; for the first time since he was child, Draco Malfoy did not recoil away from his mother's touch.

The past year had seemed like a surreal dream or rather an unending nightmare. Voldemort had commandeered their home, tortured countless victims within its ancient, silent walls and killed them when they had served their purpose. No, she was lying. It had not just been the past year that resembled an unending nightmare, but the past twenty years. The Dark Lord had been an albatross hanging around the Malfoy family's collective necks... but now he was gone, dead, killed by Harry Potter. Did this mean they could become a 'normal' family? Narcissa did not know; 'normal' to her had been sharing her husband, her son and her sister with the Dark Lord... The Malfoys would hardly be able to slip back into domestic life when they did not know what domestic life was. However, any thoughts of the problems they would face dissipated as Narcissa felt her husband's arm slip around her waist drawing her and Draco closer towards him. Her heart ached, but whether through joy or grief she could not discern. Oh, how she had longed for any form of affection, a simple gesture, a glance from Lucius... and now he was holding her like he had done all those years ago when they were carefree at Hogwarts. No, even then we were not carefree... even then the Dark Lord infected our lives. Narcissa could feel a swelling of emotion rising inside her, her skin breaking out into goosebumps as she attempted to dam the surge of tears that threatened to spill from her bloodshot eyes. Before she could stop herself Narcissa had wrapped her arms tightly around her son, burying her face into his blonde hair. He smelt of smoke and ash. Oh Merlin, how close had she come to losing everything?

The cheers, the laughter and the tears that surrounded them did not register to Narcissa. It was as if the Malfoys had been ostracised from this merriment, this rejoicing over the fall of the Dark Lord. All Narcissa could hear were her husband's choked utterings of thanks to Merlin, Circe, even God that his family was alive. Draco did not say anything, he did not have to; Narcissa could feel his body shake as he sobbed silently, his lips pursed in a vain attempt to stop them from trembling. His sooty hands opened and closed into fists in an attempt to exert some control over his body, his blackened fingernails biting grooves into his skin as his sobs increased. Narcissa wished she could take his pain away, erase the past few years, make him forget the terrible things the Dark Lord had made him commit, but she could not; all she could do was hold him and soothe him with broken words.

"Sshh," murmured Narcissa, her lips pressed against the crown of Draco's head.

Narcissa's cerulean eyes opened to look up at her husband. Azkaban had broken him. His eyes, once hard and unforgiving, were fearful andhaunted. The lips that would often sneer or grimace were now trembling just like his son's; much like Draco, Lucius still clung to his pride, but the way his wife looked at him threatened to expose him and strip away his only defence.

"Cissa," whispered Lucius, her name dying on his lips. He had lost the strength to speak, but Narcissa could see his lips forming the syllables of her name.

"Don't," she whispered back, her head shaking slightly. "You don't need to say anything."

"I'm sorry," he choked, his voice breaking.

Narcissa was stunned into silence, her eyes widened slightly as she heard her husband utter those unimaginable words. Never had she thought to see a remorseful side to Lucius, never had she thought that she might have to be the strong one when all was said and done. She did not know what to say; sometimes silence was the best answer….

"Bellatrix? Done for! Should've seen Mrs. Weasley in action!" came a voice, shattering the safe familial cocoon, the simple silence.

Bellatrix… The name was almost alien to her – a distant shade from her past. Narcissa had not even realised that her own sister had fallen in battle. Was it wrong for her to feel… elation? A happiness that her sister would not darken her door again, that she would not bring Voldemort's evil into her home? No, it couldn't be wrong. Although she couldn't help but look to where a sizeable crowd were gathering around where she assumed her sister's broken body lay...

"Well, little Pansy is coming along in leaps and bounds," tittered Violet Parkinson, her eyes fixed on Dorea Nott who had, moments before, been bragging about her newborn son, Theodore. "Basil obviously wanted a son; we both did, but there's still time!"

Narcissa hated playing hostess to the wives of her husband's 'friends', but it was one of many roles expected of her especially now that their futures were all so uncertain... Seven women, including Narcissa sat in the day room, bone china tea cups held in well-manicured hands or set on one of many mahogany tables dotted around the room. It was a bitter winter morning with the first snow depositing delicate snowflakes on to the windowpane. Each woman had turned up in their finest in the hope of outdoing each other and their hostess, but Narcissa managed to outshine them all with her cold beauty and eye for detail. She surveyed each woman with an appraising eye; Cruesa Greengrass had been a few years above her at Hogwarts, sister to Stefan Wilkes, and married to Oscar Greengrass. Oscar had not been initiated into the Dark Lord's inner circle, but still had no qualms about leaking information to Him from the Ministry of Magic. And then there was of course Saffron Goyle, whom Narcissa had known as Saffron Parkinson when they attended Hogwarts together…

"You're very out of sorts today, Narcissa," commented Violet Parkinson, her lips drawn into a thin, determined line.

"I cannot imagine what you mean, Vi," smiled Narcissa over her teacup. "Just because I am not wittering on about my son does not mean I am 'out of sorts' as you so eloquently put it."

Violet laughed nervously, trying to shake off Narcissa's slight. A silence descended upon the group of women following Narcissa's curt reply until Miranda Bulstrode nervously cleared her throat and broached the subject they were all too afraid to mention…

"Awfully sorry to hear about Bellatrix and Rodolphus," offered Miranda quietly. "Terrible place…"

Narcissa placed her teacup back on her saucer with the slightest of tinkles as her cool blue gaze travelled to Miranda.

"Quite," offered Narcissa in response.

The incident with the Longbottoms had occurred not two weeks past. It was a dreadful sight from what she had heard a last ditch attempt to discover the whereabouts of the Dark Lord. Ever since the night her sister had been dragged cackling insanely to the courtroom Narcissa had attempted to harden herself to the fact that she was alone – Andromeda had gone, Regulus had been murdered for treachery, Sirius was in Azkaban and now Bellatrix was joining him. Had anyone ever lost so much? The family she had clung to so fervently had all but perished in the wake of the Dark Lord.

"What do you think will happen to us?" ventured Hestia Crabbe, nursing her teacup in the seat of her lap.

"Nothing," replied Narcissa simply. "We will continue as we have done. We will support ort husbands and ensure our children's futures. What more is there to do?"

The lessons she had been taught over and over again were given new life as she advised the circle of women around her. Her knuckles had turned white, nails biting into the palm of her hand as she subconsciously clenched the fabric of her robes in an action that suggested both fear and anxiety. Oh, she was scared, but not for herself. She was scared for her son and for the husband who had pushed her away for the four years they had been married.

"Are any of us safe?" whispered Saffron Goyle, her eyes dewing as she looked to Narcissa.

"In Circe's name, what a sorry tea party this is!" declared Narcissa curtly, rising to her feet. "If I'd have known what miserable company I'd have to endure I would not have wasted my time."

Eyeing each woman with contempt, Narcissa paused before abruptly leaving the day room, robes billowing out behind her, the heels of her shoes clicking cleanly upon the tiled floor, the whispers and gossip already heralding her exit. She needed to see her son, the one constant in her tumultuous life… Making her way to the nursery Narcissa silently opened the door lest her son was asleep.

"…He killed the dragon and rescued the beautiful enchantress, Lyra, from the tower," said Lucius to a little bundle neatly nestled in his arms. "That's where your name comes from. Your great ancestor, Draconis, was renowned throughout the land for his deeds. It is a name to be proud of… Draco."

Draco cooed contentedly, his feet kicking out from under the shawl Lucius was holding him in.

"Now, what other stories are there…" mused Lucius, completely unaware of his wife's presence until she closed the door behind her. Lucius did not even turn around, but merely placed the gargling Draco back into his crib whilst clearing his throat.

"I did not expect you back," started Narcissa coolly, stepping up to her husband's side, her cold gaze softening as she looked at their son.

"The Ministry are easily bought," replied Lucius, folding his arms across his chest. "Pay the right people and they will believe anything. In Bagnold's eyes I was under the Imperius curse…"

Narcissa closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh.

"… But in Moody and Crouch's eyes?" she offered, an eyebrow arched.

"They are nothing," said Lucius, his tone dangerous. "Crouch is too busy clearing his own name and Moody's glory days are over."

"As are my sister's," said Narcissa, looking directly at her husband.

Lucius did not even have the grace to meet his wife's gaze; instead he turned and walked towards the fireplace, leaning against the mantelpiece. His brow was drawn into a frown, the flames from the fire dancing in his steel-grey eyes.

"Bellatrix knew the consequences of her actions," he said finally, "as did Rodolphus, Rabastan and Barty Crouch. It was foolhardy, but they were the strongest believers in our cause."

"The cause is over!" spat Narcissa, her voice louder than she realised. "I thank Merlin that our son still has a father. What if it had been you in Rabastan or Barty's place?"

Lucius turned and looked at his wife, his grey eyes hard and narrow.

"Then I would have suffered the consequences," said Lucius, his tone quiet and dangerous.

"Of course because our son means that little to you," retorted Narcissa coldly.

"I'm warning you don't bring Draco into this, Narcissa," warned Lucius, grabbing the top of his wife's arm.

"Don't touch me," snarled Narcissa, throwing off his arm. "You've got blood on your hands."

The statement was metaphorical, but regardless Lucius looked down at his hands examining them in the firelight.

"Name one pureblood family that does not have blood on its hands," murmured Lucius, rubbing his hands together awkwardly. "It's for the greater good…"

"Listen to yourself!" spat Narcissa angrily. "What greater good can come out of murdering the Potters, torturing the Longbottoms?! The Longbottoms were pureblood! When will it be our turn?"

Narcissa was visibly shaking now with a mixture of anger and fear. No one would believe that Lucius had acted under the Imperius curse, no one with the slightest slither of intelligence. With the Dark Lord gone, the Malfoys had lost their first line of protection against the angry mob of half-bloods, muggleborns and families looking for vengeance. Having pureblood status was dangerous; being the sister of Bellatrix Lestrange was dangerous…

"Don't be ridiculous," snapped Lucius

"Ridiculous?" retorted Narcissa, looking at her husband with disbelief. "The Order may be weakened, but it is not broken!"

"The Potters are dead, Sirius in Azkaban, the Longbottoms dribbling in St. Mungo's. Oh I think the Order is quite broken," replied Lucius, turning away from his wife. "Broken beyond all repair…"

Narcissa shook her head. Was he still so blind? Her cerulean eyes looked past the ceiling and up to the heavens. Gods give me strength, she thought as she looked back to her husband with a renewed clarity.

"Something stopped you from joining Bella and Rodolphus," whispered Cissa, her words barely audible. "You could've gone. Why didn't you?"

Lucius returned his eyes to the fire watching the figures dance in the flames. Had he even heard her words?

"Why didn't you go, Lucius?" probed Narcissa once more; her husband's name felt alien on her tongue.

"You know why!" shouted Lucius, rounding on his wife, his eyes burning with a fervour Narcissa had not seen in their four years of marriage. "In Merlin's name, you know why I didn't go…"

Narcissa shook her head, her mouth open as if to protest, but no words came out.

"I…" began Lucius, his voice quieter now. "I can't…" He paused and looked back at the fire, his arms leaden at his sides. A soft hand intertwined with his.

"I know," said Narcissa softly. "I know."

It was all she needed to hear. The two of them stood there, hand in hand, silhouetted against the glow of the firelight. His fingers were stronger than she remembered as they interlinked with her own. This one small sentiment, this one small action was a lifeline for the both of them without which they would be cast asunder into the depths of despair.

Narcissa averted her dewy cerulean eyes with a mixture of shame and loathing from where her sister lay. However, the moment she did Narcissa felt a gentle hand cupping her cheek, fingers dusting her hairline.

"We can't stay here," said Lucius, his fingers drinking in his wife's flesh. It was a sensation he had not experienced in a long time.

Narcissa nodded knowing that soon enough they would need to return to their home. She could not help but wonder whether it would still be standing, or whether it had been torn down as a relic of the old pureblood order. Narcissa subconsciously bit into her lower lip as she thought about the decline of families like her own… the Blacks, the Malfoys, the Lestranges. They were little more than worthless antiques – a vestige of a time past.

---

"He's asleep," murmured Narcissa as she closed the door behind her.

Lucius nodded dumbly standing on the other side of the bedroom gazing out the lead-paned window. Two Aurors were patrolling the grounds of the Malfoy estate occasionally casting wary glances up at the master bedroom where Lucius stood. It felt like they were under house arrest… prisoners in their own home. How long would it last for? How long before an enquiry into Voldemort's rise to power was ordered by the newly instated Minister for Magic? How long before he was torn from his family once more and consigned to life in Azkaban? No, he would never let it come to that. He would rather die then shame his family again. Death would be the cowards way out, came Abraxas Malfoy's voice loud in his mind. Then it suits me, thought Lucius, resting his head against the windowpane.

Narcissa watched her husband watch the Aurors. What was he thinking? Narcissa was sure he was not thinking about the blood stains splattered over the dining room table and the great hall… Perhaps he was thinking about their son, their precious boy who was still shuddering with sobs even in the depths of sleep? Tearing her eyes from her husband, Narcissa slid into the velvet-cushioned stool before her vanity table. Her hair had lost its lustre from the smoke and dust at Hogwarts; however, she habitually picked up her hairbrush and began brushing through her hair with long, methodical strokes. It was all she could do to dam the tears that crashed inside her again and again, threatening to burst forth in an unstoppable torrent. Her eyes were focused on the haggard reflection in the mirror, but they were not seeing. They were blind, looking past the mirror at some unattainable object far away. It was because of this that she visibly jumped when Lucius put his hand on her shoulder.

"Come to bed," he said, his voice thick, the words ungainly on his tongue.

Narcissa blinked and she could see again. Her husband stood over her as he had done all those years ago, but this time he did not look half so intimidating. He looked human. The tear tracks, the worry lines, the deathly pallor were all testament to his mortality, his fragility. Laying down her gilt hairbrush, Narcissa nodded her head mutely. It felt strange truly watching her husband undress after so many years of polite aversion of the eye. Their marriage bed had been cold. They had been intimate of course, but not with the same passion that had marked their early romance at Hogwarts, a romance that had, for a time, been unfettered by the shadow of the Dark Lord. Lucius was still lean, the rounded muscle of his youth transformed into a more sinewy, wiry muscle that came about with age. His once flawless body bore the scars of the Dark Lord's rage and bidding, silvery-white blemishes criss-crossing his abdomen.

Lucius was soon down to his small clothes, his eyes fixed on Narcissa who stood on the other side of the bed. Narcissa's fingers trembled as she undid the buttons down the front of her robe. It felt like she was undressing for her wedding night all over again. The nerves were ever present, intensified by the way Lucius was looking at her and the silence that hung about them. Shrugging the heavy robes from her slight frame, Narcissa stood before her husband in a white shift. She looked like a fallen angel with vestiges of dust and ash clinging to her eyelashes and hair. Lucius silently gestured for the two of them to get into bed as he pulled back the heavy velvet and cashmere coverlets. Narcissa slid underneath the covers noting how the curtains that framed the bed frame were musty and moth-eaten. She felt the weight shifting as Lucius also climbed into bed. The bed was like an ocean with the two of them either side of it, a gulf of cold sheet dividing them. Lucius rolled on to his side and looked at his wife across the vast expanse, his hand reaching out under the heavy covers.

"You're so far away," he said, his voice betraying the slightest hint of emotion.

Narcissa blinked back the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes before she turned to face her husband. Her hand slid underneath the covers, surprised to find her fingertips brushing against his.

"You've always been so very far away," she replied, a sad smile flittering across her lips.

"I know," said Lucius, drawing a little closer to his wife, his fingertips linking with hers.

"I thought I would lose you," admitted Narcissa, closing her eyes. "Today, yesterday… I thought I would lose you everyday. I braced myself for the day you wouldn't come back."

Lucius shook his head, his fingers tightening around hers.

"I'm not going anywhere," he said.

"Don't," replied Narcissa, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.

"Narcissa, I'm not going anywhere," he said again, this time with more force.

"I cannot count how many times you have said that and then gone back on your word," whispered Narcissa, her voice close to breaking. "The times you went to Durmstrang, Bulgaria, Azkaban… I think I lost you a long time ago."

Lucius Malfoy fixed his wife with a lingering look before moving close to her and pulling her towards him with strong arms. Narcissa's head rested upon Lucius chest as his arms encircled her, his fingers dancing across her smooth skin. Her eyes screwed shut as she tried to stop herself from crying, her body wanting nothing more than to give into exhausted sobs. She could hear the steady rhythm of Lucius' heart beating in his chest. Lucius was a man, a man full of imperfections and faults – the slightest irregularity in his heartbeat was testament to that.

"It is true, you lost the man I was," said Lucius, his words murmured into Narcissa's hair, "but you won't lose me."

"Promise me," she choked, her bottom lip trembling. Gods above promise me you won't leave us.
"I promise you," swore Lucius, tilting his head to look into his wife's dewing eyes. "Until the end of my days and beyond."

"Do you remember the day you asked me to marry you?" began Narcissa, the words escaping from her before she could stop them. "I asked you about your love and loyalty for me… if you could remain loyal to me and love me as you loved Him."

"I remember," replied Lucius. Those words have haunted me every day.

"Then tell me true," continued Narcissa, looking deep in to his eyes, "did you ever love me, Lucius? Was I ever anything more than a pretty face, an old name, a suitable wife?"

A protracted silence lingered between husband and wife, a silence that Narcissa believed confirmed her original belief that he did not love her.

"Did you know that both our fathers wanted a match between Bella and I?" said Lucius, seemingly going off on a tangent. "However, I told my father I could not marry Bellatrix… I told him that my match lay elsewhere. That it lay with you. That it always lay with you."

Lucius paused profoundly as he shook his head.

"Does that not answer your question, Narcissa?" asked Lucius, gently stroking her hair. "Does that not tell you that you were more, much more, than just a name, more than just a suitable wife? Does that not tell you that I love you? Every day I spent in Azkaban was made bearable because of you, yet each day was marked with the fear that the Dark Lord would take his vengeance out on Draco… and you. No matter how much I buried my love for my family he knew that you and Draco were my weakness." Lucius kissed the crown of her head, his lips lingering amidst the tangle of her blonde hair. "You are still my weakness, Narcissa."

She could not stop the tears that dropped on to Lucius' naked chest. Even when he kissed her tears continued to silently trace down her cheeks, even when they made love her eyes were still misted over with tears. Only when they had both tasted ecstasy and were laying in each others arms their bodies beaded with sweat did Narcissa's tears cease, tears that had been dammed up for decades.

"The wedding night we should have had," murmured Narcissa as she lay there, the cool breeze caressing her skin.

Lucius nodded his head, his eyes lulling open and closed. The whole situation was surreal. The Dark Lord had been vanquished. They were free. Would he wake up in the morning and find Voldemort leering over him? Every time he closed his eyes those snake-like eyes bored into his mind… even in death Voldemort would not let him be. The feeling of his wife's hand closing around his anchored him to reality; thoughts of Voldemort, death and imprisonment were chased away. It would take time for the leers and the abuse to lessen, indeed it might never lessen, but Lucius could only hope that by the time Draco was his age he would not have to live as an outcast. Part of him felt sickened that the Malfoy name was dirt to the new wizarding order, but for once Lucius put his pride aside. It was a rare occurrence, but as he looked over at his wife's living, breathing silent form, all thoughts of pride, blood and legacy were shoved to the back of his mind. It could have all ended tonight, in a way it had all ended, but here they were… alive and together.

"What happens now?" asked Cissa, a blonde eyebrow arched.

"I don't know," he admitted.

"Good," she said curtly. "A fresh start then?"

A fresh start? thought Lucius, looking up at the Malfoy crest emblazoned above them. Could they wipe the slate clean? Could they expel the Dark Lord's lingering poison from their lives? Forcing a wan smile to his lips, Lucius cast Narcissa a side glance.

"Yes," agreed Lucius, closing his eyes, the snake eyes leering at him still, "a fresh start."