AN: This is set just moments after Bellatrix's escape from Azkaban. I will be following the plot of The Order of the Phoenix, until after the Department of Mysteries

Chapter One

Narcissa Malfoy hung up her cloak, pausing briefly to dust a piece of lint off the dark fabric. Her fingers found the clasp of her necklace and it fell down into her hands. She placed the diamond necklace on a holder, reliving the joy she'd felt when her husband had presented it to her last Christmas. Things were easier then, quieter. The Dark Lord hadn't returned and she had her husband back – he was happy, felt safe. Things had changed. She sighed slightly, torn between her loyalties.

She combed her long blonde hair, flicking it expertly over her shoulder. Getting ready for bed, she didn't expect the frightened voice of her son from a few doors down.

"Mother!" he shouted. "Mother!"

Narcissa put down the hairbrush. "Draco?" she called out in response. "What's the matter?"

She found him in the corridor, hand resting on the banister of the tall staircase.

"There's someone in the garden. By the statues," he told her.

Narcissa frowned, returning to her room to fetch her wand. With it in hand, she quickly strode to the stairs. "But the enchantments, they're only supposed to let family through," she muttered more to herself than Draco. "Get your father," she called to Draco, who was standing helpless at the top of the staircase. He nodded and moved towards his father's study.

Lucius joined Narcissa in the entrance hall. Together they draw their wands higher, both casting Lumos non-verbally. They stepped out into the courtyard, eyes searching round the gardens for signs of movement.

Something caught her eye and she turned, noticing Draco had also stepped out of the house. "Get back inside," she hissed, whipping her wand round to push him inside, closing the door in front of his face.

"Who's there?" Lucius said out into the night. "Show yourself…" They stepped further out into the shadows. "I'm warning you! Show yourself!"

A high-pitched cackle echoed in the enclosed garden. Narcissa turned, casting her wand light towards a statue. "Who's there?" she called, voice trembling a little.

A shadow moved from behind the statue, a silhouette appeared, shapeless and small. "Cissy? Is that you?" came a whisper.

"Who is that?" Narcissa replied, mind working over the facts of the situation. An idea suddenly dawned on her. "Bella? Is that you?" Her voice was a crisp whisper, barely believing what was before her.

From behind the statue stepped Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed in rags, hair wild and out of control. Her eyes flickered madly and she clutched the wand she'd been able to retrieve from the guards tower before Disapperating. She stood hunched, as though bearing a great weight. Her feet were bare and she shivered in her small ragged dress.

"Oh, my… Bella!" Narcissa lowered her wand and ran over to her sister, placing a protective arm around her shoulders. As she began to lead the dishevelled witch into the Manor, Narcissa noted that her sister rested on her a great deal more than she would have expected. Bellatrix was always strong and here she seemed so broken. "Let's get you inside, in the warmth."

Lucius followed, a concerned frown adorning his features. He put down his wand, but did not put it away. Bellatrix was armed and they never had gotten on – he feared Azkaban would have broken her already fractured mind.

"He's back," she muttered, barely seeing where she was going. Narcissa shushed her and tried to keep her moving, but Bellatrix kept stopping, asking incessantly, "He's back? My Lord has returned?"

Once inside, Narcissa sealed the door, leading Bellatrix into the main living room of the Manor. With a wave of her wand, she lit the fire and pulled a chair close to it. Sitting Bellatrix down in front of the flames, she got the full view of what Azkaban had done to her sister.

She was gaunt, emaciated; her hair a tangle of curls and frizz. The robe she was wearing was tattered, falling off her bony shoulders. Several scars and deep cuts adorned her arms and legs and, where she could see through the material, her chest and back too. She bore the tattoo of her Azkaban prison number on her long neck and Narcissa knew no magic would remove it. Bellatrix trembled slightly, and Narcissa was sure it wasn't just from the cold. She placed her hand on her sisters' knee, eyes probing the dark menacing ones before her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, immediately admonishing herself for her foolish question.

"Cissy, tell me," Bellatrix pressed. "Has my Master returned?" Her eyes sparkled in the fire light, a gleam of madness and obsession present.

Narcissa sighed, feeling she'd get nowhere whilst this question remained unanswered. So she looked up at the dark haired witch. "Yes, Bella, He's back," she said quietly.

Bellatrix started to laugh, a manic cackle that built with intensity, and clapped her hands gleefully together. "I knew it! I knew it! I could feel Him," she said, a strange lilt to her voice. Her eyes fell down to her left arm, and she fingered the mark there with interest. "I felt Him calling me, and now, now I get to return to his side, his most faithful!"

"Yes, but first you must get well," reasoned Narcissa. "Come with me, I'll bathe you, get you a hot meal, some clothes… Come Bella, please." The blonde tossed her hair and moved to support Bellatrix in standing. Together they moved to leave the room and climb the stairs to the bathroom. Over her shoulder Narcissa said, "You might want to tell the Dark Lord she has returned and that his plan to take over the Dementors has been successful. You will tell him to wait, of course, to see her. She is not strong enough yet."

"Yes I am! I have strength enough for him," Bellatrix tried, ignoring Lucius curt nod, but got no further. On their way to the bathroom, Bellatrix noted a tall blonde haired boy peering out from behind a half closed door. Her eyes met his and she gave him a serene smile which seemed totally out of place on her otherwise haggard face. "Your son has grown, Cissy," she commented as they walked past.

Narcissa turned on the taps and quickly filled the claw foot bathtub with water and bubbles. Helping her sister out of her ragged dress, heart rate increasing as she took in the bruises and marks that covered her flesh. Holding back tears, Narcissa helped Bellatrix into the bathtub and began to wash her dirty skin, gently as she could, with a yellow cloth. Slowly the dirt began to fade, leaving pale skin that was almost translucent. Bellatrix didn't flinch, not even when Narcissa ran the cloth over her open wounds, cleansing them. She glanced down, a look of desire in her eyes when her sister washed her Dark Mark. It pulsed and caused Bellatrix to breathe in suddenly.

Choosing a brown bottle from the shelf, Narcissa tackled Bella's hair, combing through the thick cream coloured liquid that seemed to melt through the tangles and wild curls leaving sleek locks behind. Satisfied, Narcissa rinsed the liquid off, gently stroking Bellatrix's forehead as she did so, fearing her sisters lack of response to the pain of the water on her cuts was something serious.

Summoning a towel Narcissa pulled Bellatrix out of the bath, wrapping her tightly in the fluffy material. She shivered despite this, and Narcissa led her quickly to one of the spare bedrooms. She left her there momentarily whilst she fetched a night gown and night cloak for her to wear, dressing her as though one would a child. Bellatrix said nothing during this, her eyes busy with thought.

"Now, Bella, are you hungry?" Narcissa asked, eyes searching her sisters face.

For a moment Bellatrix did not respond, sitting down on the bed instead and folding her arms around herself. Eventually she looked up, shaking her head to indicate she wasn't.

"Let me treat those wounds," Narcissa said, summoning two potion vials, a cup and a new cloth. Gently she applied the first potion to Bella's cuts, watching satisfied as they began to close into thin lines. Taking the second potion she poured a measure into the cup, handing it to Bellatix to drink. She took it, sniffed it, then drank it willingly. It seemed to make her feel better as she unfolded slightly. Her eyes got heavy and she blinked slowly.

"Come now, rest," said Narcissa hastily, pulling back the dark sheets of the bed. "Rest…" Bellatrix fell beneath the sheets, eyes closing almost immediately. Narcissa had seen the physical damage done to her sister but had no way of knowing the extent of the psychological damage. From what she knew of Azkaban it drove people mad. Bellatrix had been there for 14 years; Narcissa could only imagine how disturbed she had become – she hadn't exactly been all together before her incarceration.

Whilst Bellatrix slept, Narcissa quietly left the room, meeting her husband in the hall. "Well?" she asked.

"He has been told," Lucius replied, voice hushed. "How… How is she?"

"Resting," came Narcissa's tearful reply. "She's so broken, Lucius."

He nodded, seemingly understanding. Narcissa fell into his arms and sobbed gently. He rubbed her back, fingering the fair hair that trailed down her back. She pulled away, wiping her eyes, and looked up at him. "I don't think we've seen the worst of it yet," she said. "I think it's affected her more than she's letting on. I'm going to stay with her tonight, in case she wakes." They kissed goodnight and Narcissa returned to the bedroom with Bellatrix. Lying next to her sister, she tucked the blanket tighter around her, brushing a lock of curly hair out of her face as she did. There was more damage to see, Narcissa knew that, but for now she would rest.