Just a boy
It was the phrase Narcissa Malfoy repeated to herself over and over again when she saw the haunted look in his eyes, the defeated expression on his face.
He was just a boy.
She had repeated the phrase over and over in her mind when she visited Severus, she had to save her son. She had to help him.
He was just a boy.
Her sister shared gleefully with her the details of the night Dumbledore died. She knew her son couldn't do it. She knew he would be traumatized from seeing Dumbledore's death. She was right. He could barely cope.
He was just a boy.
She watched him at their home when the snatchers caught Potter. She saw his horror at seeing the Granger girl tortured. She thought she would be sick as well. She saw how terrified he was of the Dark Lord.
He was just a boy.
She saw him fight, she saw him injured, she saw him terrified yet determined.
He was just a boy.
She saw the Potter boy lying on the ground, the same age as her own son, supposedly dead. She saw him lying there and realized that could've been her son. That could be her son lying on the ground. She felt his heartbeat and for a second considered telling the Dark Lord the boy was alive, but then she imagined her son lying on the forest floor and she had to lie.
He was just a boy.
YOU ARE READING
Harry Potter oneshots (warning: tearjerkers)
FanfictionJust a collection of feelsy Drabbles.
