Narcissa ran. She didn't know how long, she didn't know where, but she ran, until her lungs screamed for a breath.
At home her lovely boy was waiting for her, with that disgusting being who didn't deserve to be called his father and her husband.
Narcissa had always had to react secretly to maintain order in the perfect and ambitious Black family and had had to fight for friendship with the people she cared about, including not a few Mudbloods and Muggle-borns.
Alice was pureblood, but she wasn't like the others. Like purebloods Blood Supremacist Slytherin.
Alice was just everything she didn't know she ever wanted so badly.
He loved her, even though no one in his family, including her, would ever accept their relationship.
The only person she told about Alice was Andromeda. Narcissa knew she could trust her.
Oh Alice, her Alice. She loved her Italian accent, her nose like that of a painting, her curves not very defined, her crystalline smile, her brownish red lips.
Her short brown hair was short and thick, her brown eyes with long lashes always staring into hers.
Yes, she loved her.
They had always secretly whispered in each other's ears that one day Narcissa would run away with her and they would go and live in the Italian countryside and have a sweet baby.
Alice was like Spring and the sun.
Narcissa like late Autumn and the moon.
But then there was Frank. Oh, how Narcissa had hated him. Frank, the smiling shy boy. Obviously Alice had a crush on him and her parents, despite being very supportive towards him, decidedly preferred Frank more than her. She was a Black.
But Alice, her look when she looked at her. Yes, Alice still loved her too. Or maybe not?
He hadn't seen her since their last few months at Hogwarts. No.
She hadn't seen her since her marriage to Frank.
She had been forced to marry a Malfoy and they had a son who was now 11 years old.
When he'd come home for Christmas the day before, he'd bragged about being in Slytherin house. Obviously.
But then, a few minutes ago, before she ran off like a fool… He had said something seemingly meaningless.
Alice and Frank had had a son.
Of course she knew it, when those damned Death Eaters had tortured her insane because of the prophecy that bound her to her son. If only he hadn't been born, if only she still had her Alice...
Draco had shown her a photo.
His eyes were like hers, as was his shy smile.
She missed her.
Her sun.