"Harry! You can't. You'd both be hunted all your life by Aurors and dementors."
                              
"Save the lecture, I didn't do it."
                              
"As for what she will say... it'll give you more determination. You can always say what happened for her. Go find her. I will look up more appeals cases. I think that because they didn't even ask him if he wanted to make a statement before his sentencing. It might be a technically, but it might work."
                              
"Thank you... so much," Harry said.
                              
"No problem... I'm on board Harry. I want this as much as you. I'm sorry if I haven't been putting my heart into it, but I'm tired of fighting. And I don't want to argue with Ron, but you are right. Malfoy, whatever he's done, doesn't deserve to be in Azkaban."
                              
Harry hugged her. He couldn't imagine a better friend, a better sister. She gave him a tight squeeze and sent him after the matron of the Malfoy family.
                              
***
                              
Narcissa Malfoy walked from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement defeated. It had been months since she saw her boy or heard how he was. All they would say that he was still alive and no visitor requests would be granted unless one of them were dying. 
                              
She almost reached the gate in the atrium when someone said, "Mrs. Malfoy?" 
                              
She recognized the voice. She turned and saw the Savior was behind her and hooded.
                              
Before she could form a response, Harry Potter asked, "I need to talk to you. Is there someone we can go?"
                              
She nodded and stepped toward the fire, grabbing a handful of powder. "4850 Dartford Road."
                              
She stepped into the Floo and out into her cramped apartment. Potter followed behind her. "Welcome to my new mansion," she said, stoically.
                              
"Thank you. How are you?" he asked formally.
                              
Narcissa gave him a dirty look. "My husband is dead, my son was taken from me, I'm been torn from my home and forced into a self-imposed exile... working to pay rent. How do you think I am!"
                              
"Sorry... I didn't know how to start the conversation. I just wanted you to know... I went to see Draco."
                              
"What! Oh my Morgana!" she shrieked, grabbing onto his robes. "How is he? Is he okay? What did he say?"
                              
"Calm down... I... it's not all good news," Harry said, grasping one of her hands tightly.
                              
"He's dead?"
                              
"No, but he's in a lot of pain... emotionally. From the dementors... in particular."
                              
"No! I-I..." she took her hand back and buried her face into her hands. Harry pulled her against him. They weren't close, but she needed comfort. "Dementors... he was always so scared of them. During his third year... he nearly went to shambles. He almost didn't come home for the holidays, but Lucius made him."
                              
"I remember Fred and George said he went running into their car. Why? What did he..." Harry didn't finish his sentence. The idea that 13-year old Malfoy was terrified of dementors seemed to confuse him.
                              
"His father was very strict. Sometimes he'd... get carried away. I tried to protect him, but there was little I could do. The dictates of Lucius's pureblood draconian upbringing made him force the correct behavior that his son resisted."
                              
Harry pulled away to look into her face. 
                              
She nodded, somberly. "It wasn't just Lucius. I taught him the same twisted values... I just didn't beat it into him."
                              
"H-How?" the boy who lived asked.
                              
"He couldn't show emotion or weakness. Lucius would hit him, humiliate him or lock him in the closet until he controlled his emotions. When he was older, Lucius would use his wand. A stinging hex or even the Cruciutas Curse if he messed up bad enough."