Finding Color
Epilogue
By Mell8
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Narcissa Malfoy Apparated home with a tired sigh. She had just finished a long day at work and was very glad to be home. She handed her cloak to the waiting House Elf and headed to the nearest sitting room to have a cup of tea and to wait for her pride and joy to come say good night to her before his bedtime.
Five years ago, Narcissa had started working in the form of community service. She had no choice, the courts would have jailed her if she failed to comply, and she knew, even before she stepped into the battle strewn neighborhood on her first day, that she would hate it.
Only, she hadn’t hated it nearly as much as she thought.
For two years Narcissa had worked in various neighborhoods hit by Voldemort’s wrath. In the very beginning the best-case scenario was when she was just helping a family rebuild their destroyed home. The worst-case scenario was always when she was helping to locate the dead body of someone’s loved one.
She also gave a hand in the hospital, helping those cursed by the Death Eaters to recover enough that they could live without the need for constant aid. Sometimes she was even the shoulder that was cried on when someone died.
She learned that she didn’t hate community service and decided to continue when her court mandated time limit elapsed. It wasn’t because she finally felt she was doing something good for the community. Nor was it because she felt she needed to lend a hand to those in need. She was doing this for purely selfish reasons.
The most recent Witch Weekly cover article had been about Narcissa. When she was interviewed and asked why she did so much for the war torn community, she had answered the truth.
“I aided the Dark Lord because of love, but it was a misplaced love. Now I give aid to the community because of love. And this time I will not make the same mistake.”
Because she had seen some horrible things as she helped people ravaged by the war. Homes destroyed, family killed or permanently injured, and much, much worse, and then she would return home to her family and wonder what sort of pain they had to endure.
Her home was still intact, as was the Malfoy fortune. Her husband and son were still alive. Draco had been injured, but being blind wasn’t a hindrance to him. There were hardly any visible signs in the Malfoy household of the pain caused by Voldemort, which meant that the devastation and destruction must all be internal. Her son and her husband, and yes, even her daughter-in-law, must have some of the worst internal injuries Narcissa had ever seen. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, by helping other families get back on their feet, she could heal her own family. So she worked every day.
The sound of small feet in the hall outside perked Narcissa up from her dark musings. A small four-year-old boy dashed into the room and climbed into her lap.
“Hi Grandmother,” he said with a bright smile.
“Hello,” she replied as she gave him a hug. “How was your day?”
He perked up immediately at the question. “Well, first me and Mommy went to play Quidditch,” Narcissa winced at the poor grammar but let her grandson continue, “and then Daddy came to get us for lunch…”
He continued on, going into excruciating detail about his day. Narcissa held him in her lap, content to stroke his strawberry blond curls and listen to his high-pitched child’s voice.
His mother was just as boisterous, with a strength that had enticed Draco and was mirrored in her son. Ginevra had gone on to play professional Quidditch after the war, much to her own mother’s horror, and, despite any limitations she might have from her blindness, had quickly become a star on a broom.
Draco’s nose peeked out from under the fringe of hair that covered her grandson’s eyes and Abraxas’s chin jutted out stubbornly as the story of running off to play with the kittens in the pet shop was unfurled.
“…and then I came to see you!” he finished with a flourish. “Can you read me a story now?”
Narcissa laughed. “Of course. Did you bring a book?”
He hopped down off her lap to reach for something on the ground. The book chosen was about dragons and Narcissa sighed when she realized that she would have to read it…again.
Her grandson carefully put his fingers on the line of raised dots just under where the actual words were located on the page and moved his hand along as she read. Ginny had used a quill to poke the Braille into the picture book so her son could enjoy dragons just as much as her older brother had.
Such things were necessary, because the boy was as blind as his parents. His eyes were milky white and they glowed with the magic he used to allow him to get around normally. He was a wonderful child, but he had never seen color and had never seen a written word. Narcissa held him closer at those thoughts and wistfully hoped for the best.
They finished the book together and cuddled on the couch for a little longer before Draco or Ginny would come to find their son for a bath and bed.
“Grandmother?” he asked softly. “Do you think I’ll ever see what a dragon looks like?”
“We can go to a dragon reserve,” Narcissa said immediately, surprised that his thoughts were so closely mirrored to her own.
“No. I want to see a dragon. Mommy says I will some day; that I just have to find the person who will give me my color.”
Narcissa sighed and rested her head on her grandson’s, thinking of Draco and Ginny desperately holding hands in the courtroom five years ago. “It will be okay,” Narcissa replied softly. “Everyone finds their color someday. You will too.”
Epilogue
By Mell8
---------------------
Narcissa Malfoy Apparated home with a tired sigh. She had just finished a long day at work and was very glad to be home. She handed her cloak to the waiting House Elf and headed to the nearest sitting room to have a cup of tea and to wait for her pride and joy to come say good night to her before his bedtime.
Five years ago, Narcissa had started working in the form of community service. She had no choice, the courts would have jailed her if she failed to comply, and she knew, even before she stepped into the battle strewn neighborhood on her first day, that she would hate it.
Only, she hadn’t hated it nearly as much as she thought.
For two years Narcissa had worked in various neighborhoods hit by Voldemort’s wrath. In the very beginning the best-case scenario was when she was just helping a family rebuild their destroyed home. The worst-case scenario was always when she was helping to locate the dead body of someone’s loved one.
She also gave a hand in the hospital, helping those cursed by the Death Eaters to recover enough that they could live without the need for constant aid. Sometimes she was even the shoulder that was cried on when someone died.
She learned that she didn’t hate community service and decided to continue when her court mandated time limit elapsed. It wasn’t because she finally felt she was doing something good for the community. Nor was it because she felt she needed to lend a hand to those in need. She was doing this for purely selfish reasons.
The most recent Witch Weekly cover article had been about Narcissa. When she was interviewed and asked why she did so much for the war torn community, she had answered the truth.
“I aided the Dark Lord because of love, but it was a misplaced love. Now I give aid to the community because of love. And this time I will not make the same mistake.”
Because she had seen some horrible things as she helped people ravaged by the war. Homes destroyed, family killed or permanently injured, and much, much worse, and then she would return home to her family and wonder what sort of pain they had to endure.
Her home was still intact, as was the Malfoy fortune. Her husband and son were still alive. Draco had been injured, but being blind wasn’t a hindrance to him. There were hardly any visible signs in the Malfoy household of the pain caused by Voldemort, which meant that the devastation and destruction must all be internal. Her son and her husband, and yes, even her daughter-in-law, must have some of the worst internal injuries Narcissa had ever seen. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, by helping other families get back on their feet, she could heal her own family. So she worked every day.
The sound of small feet in the hall outside perked Narcissa up from her dark musings. A small four-year-old boy dashed into the room and climbed into her lap.
“Hi Grandmother,” he said with a bright smile.
“Hello,” she replied as she gave him a hug. “How was your day?”
He perked up immediately at the question. “Well, first me and Mommy went to play Quidditch,” Narcissa winced at the poor grammar but let her grandson continue, “and then Daddy came to get us for lunch…”
He continued on, going into excruciating detail about his day. Narcissa held him in her lap, content to stroke his strawberry blond curls and listen to his high-pitched child’s voice.
His mother was just as boisterous, with a strength that had enticed Draco and was mirrored in her son. Ginevra had gone on to play professional Quidditch after the war, much to her own mother’s horror, and, despite any limitations she might have from her blindness, had quickly become a star on a broom.
Draco’s nose peeked out from under the fringe of hair that covered her grandson’s eyes and Abraxas’s chin jutted out stubbornly as the story of running off to play with the kittens in the pet shop was unfurled.
“…and then I came to see you!” he finished with a flourish. “Can you read me a story now?”
Narcissa laughed. “Of course. Did you bring a book?”
He hopped down off her lap to reach for something on the ground. The book chosen was about dragons and Narcissa sighed when she realized that she would have to read it…again.
Her grandson carefully put his fingers on the line of raised dots just under where the actual words were located on the page and moved his hand along as she read. Ginny had used a quill to poke the Braille into the picture book so her son could enjoy dragons just as much as her older brother had.
Such things were necessary, because the boy was as blind as his parents. His eyes were milky white and they glowed with the magic he used to allow him to get around normally. He was a wonderful child, but he had never seen color and had never seen a written word. Narcissa held him closer at those thoughts and wistfully hoped for the best.
They finished the book together and cuddled on the couch for a little longer before Draco or Ginny would come to find their son for a bath and bed.
“Grandmother?” he asked softly. “Do you think I’ll ever see what a dragon looks like?”
“We can go to a dragon reserve,” Narcissa said immediately, surprised that his thoughts were so closely mirrored to her own.
“No. I want to see a dragon. Mommy says I will some day; that I just have to find the person who will give me my color.”
Narcissa sighed and rested her head on her grandson’s, thinking of Draco and Ginny desperately holding hands in the courtroom five years ago. “It will be okay,” Narcissa replied softly. “Everyone finds their color someday. You will too.”
Author notes: A.N. I did it! I finally figured out what I wanted to write for the epilogue! I really hope this completes the story and that it isn’t too fluffy. I also hope that having it from Narcissa’s perspective isn’t too odd.
Anyway, for those of you who have been waiting this long for the epilogue, please send your thanks to my shower. I was standing under the water, a bar of soap in one hand, my razor in the other, contemplating the likelihood that I would somehow manage to shave my legs without cutting myself, when a picture of Narcissa in coveralls with a little strawberry blond boy trailing after her crossed my mind. Fastest shower and shave of my life, I swear, because I had to get this written right then.
I hope you all enjoyed Finding Color. Thank you all for your wonderful reviews!
Mell8
The End.
Mell8 is the author of 7 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 90 members. Members who liked Finding Color also liked 1623 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 90 members. Members who liked Finding Color also liked 1623 other stories.
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