It was better when Lucius Malfoy wore his mask, because then Barty did not have to look him in the eye. In all those years between being locked up in his own room and then in Azkaban, he had managed to survive off the slim hope that perhaps Narcissa had told Lucius that she could not marry a man she did not love. Perhaps she would have managed that since her parents were dead, so she had no one to answer to anymore. Of course, Barty was assumed dead to the general public, but that was another story. Too many years had passed. They were not even young enough to believe in dreams anymore.

He had not even considered the possibility of Lucius and Narcissa having had a child. In Barty's mind, there was only one child that Narcissa could ever bare, and that one had died before it had entered the world. It was easier then, when they were sixteen and certain their young lives were going to come to a far too sudden end, since somewhere along the line a contraceptive spell did not work. They laughed because it was all that they could do. They laughed because it was easier than facing reality.

Barty laughed when he read the name 'Draco Malfoy' off of the class roster. There was nothing he could say, as the aging carcass of a man that was Mad-Eye Moody would not care in the least about who the parents of Draco Malfoy was. At first he tried to make-up excuses for the boy's name. Perhaps Lucius had married someone else. There had to be other people with the surname 'Malfoy', right? He could have been satisfied with that answer, but instead he asked Dumbledore who the mother was of the boy. The question seemed to confuse Dumbledore, but Barty left well enough alone, as he had gotten his answer.

As if Draco was not enough to deal with, the very fact that he was at Hogwarts brought back more painful memories than any pensieve could handle. Every room, corridor, and stone in the wall seemed to mock him with the memories of chasing the golden-haired girl down the hallway and climbing to the top of the Astronomy tower to look at the stars while wondering if anyone had ever flown a broom off the top of it. Surely they had, but it had probably gotten them detentions. There was no sense in attempting to fly—such things were better to only talk about.

Perhaps turning Draco Malfoy into a ferret and then dropping him on the ground over and over again was a little uncalled for, but it had felt good. Besides, Barty could have been far more wicked, but that would have blown his cover and then the Dark Lord would have grown displeased with him. That would have been the one thing worse than having the Malfoy brat wandering around in the first place.

The Malfoys attended the First Task, as such was expected by people of high society. Barty intentionally did not take the Polyjuice Potion that day. A cloak would have to suffice; besides, he was quite skilled at getting lost within a throng of people.

She looked different. She seemed taller with high heels and thinner with a corset pulled too tight. He knew not only that she must have been in pain, but also that she was so used to it by now that she was probably numb. Her skin was more pale, her fingernails were long, and her hair was straight and fell to the small of her back, instead of those soft curls that only reached a little past her shoulders. She was posh and polished. There remained no trace of little 'Cissa Black'. Instead, there was only 'Narcissa Malfoy'.

When she snuck away from the crowd, he grabbed onto her wrist and pulled her under the Hufflepuff bleachers. It was the same place where, at age fifteen, they discovered that 'love making' was nowhere near as romantic as either had expected…at least not during the first try.

She had not been expecting anyone, especially not Barty. She knew that he was not dead, as most had assumed. Lucius had told her that it was Barty's mother who was buried under his name. Still, she had not been expecting to see him. In fact, she hoped that she did not. She had done so well in pushing him out of her mind over the past decade; to see him again would be far too much.

"You make a wonderful trophy," Barty said as snidely as he could muster, in hope of hiding how his words were catching on sorrow.

"You make a wonderful criminal." She did not move away from him, though. She never could. So long as she could see him, she could not get away. He was still the same boy she had known. Perhaps. Except that boy had a girl.

"Didn't I always?" That grip turned into a caress of her hand. He looked down at that same hand once kissed and tried to find the perfect engagement ring for. It was still just as soft, but the nails were long and perfectly polished.

"You don't bite your nails anymore."

Narcissa nodded, "It wouldn't be fitting. The polish stays on now, too. See, no chips or anything."

"I liked it better with the chips. Gave it edge." He forced a smile. Barty was able to laugh as he tortured the Longbottoms, yet he could never be harsh towards Narcissa.

"Lucius wouldn't see to it," she shrugged casually, "I need to represent him in all I do. He's a powerful man."

"I never liked him."

She rolled her eyes, "Of course you didn't. I had to marry him."

"Not just that--"

She laughed—a sound that he could recall as clearly as back in the days when they were last on the Hogwarts campus, "But you know I like to pretend that is the only reason!"

"He's a wanker."

"You torture people and have your mother buried in your place."

"You married a man you don't love."

She shook her head, "Touché."

Barty closed his eyes, holding her hand close to him, yet not daring to step closer, "Am I the only one who still clings to yesterday? You have your life, I have….a hidden identity."

"I have a son."

"Is he mine?"

Narcissa raised her eyebrows, giving him the same sort of expression she would have given him if he had just suggested she run around the Quidditch pitch completely naked.

"No," she responded matter-of-factly, "He doesn't have freckles. Besides, you and I would have had a girl."

He had to laugh at that. Besides, it was not as if he liked Draco, anyway.

"A girl? What makes you say that?"

"Because," she mused in a sing-song voice , "That's just how it would have been. Kaitlyn Crouch. Spelled K-A-I-T-L-Y-N."

"That name's unremarkable. Or, at least not 'Draco'."

"Lucius picked that name."

"That, my dear, is child abuse," he grinned, "You should not be married to a man who names his children something in Latin."

"He wanted to go on the 'star' theme like the rest of my family."

"But you're a flower."

He kissed her. She stepped back.

"I'm Lucius' wife and Draco's mother."

Barty had forgotten that. For those few moments, she was his again. Then again, perhaps she only was to him.

"You are Cissa Black."

"I am Narcissa Malfoy."

She turned her back to him and started back towards the pitch.

She did not even look back.

Oddly enough, neither did he.