Sometimes, on cold winter nights, during snowstorms, the wind howls so that I awaken in the middle of the night. My bedroom is almost as bright as day, for the sky in a snowstorm is a bright orange violet color, and reflects the light of the world, the street lamps sputtering outside. I rise from my bed, neglectful of the cold, and walk to the windows. My curtains are simple white gossamer – almost transparent. I push them aside lightly and look out onto the world, the sheet of snow blanketing the ground, the flakes, some as big as large white eyes, falling from the sky, whirling in torrents, falling to earth. Sometimes I see my reflection, in a window like a mirror, staring at me, seeing everything but the color of my eyes, blue as the sky on any normal day. And I wonder how I began, if I began, where I began – if only I could remember who I used to be.

She was a miracle child, something exquisite and wonderful, something too beautiful to touch, an alien creature sprung to life from merely ordinary parents. She sat there in a blue dress, hair like spun gold around her shoulders, wide blue eyes looking at everyone as if she was trying to figure them out. Innocent and all-knowing, almost a divine creature, a goddess or a queen, only six years old.

Almost all-knowing, he thought to himself as he stared at her. He was only eleven years old, but he knew exactly why he had come here, why his parents had dragged him almost three hours away from home on a Saturday afternoon. It wasn't to drink tea, no matter what they had told him. Once boys from good families reached his age, the marriage arrangements began. He had been trucked to a different home every weekend for the past three months, in search of the perfect bride-to-be. Not that he had any say on the subject; families in search of an appropriate spouse for their youngsters could hardly ask their children's opinion in matters as important as a proper marriage proposal. But, to his surprise, he approved of the choice that his parents had made. Everyone had seen the two of them and proclaimed the match "perfect".

They hadn't come with much enthusiasm, he reflected, studying the girl again. Her family was known for having hair as dark as their name, and deep-set, watchful eyes. He had seen a picture of the girl's eldest sister, who was engaged to marry a neighbor of his, and although her hair was shiny-black, her eyes were so deeply hooded that she looked dark, devious. Nobody could have called her pretty. But the stories had begun to fly that the youngest Black child was something to behold, a child of almost legendary beauty. She was only six; even in their world, she was far too young to be betrothed. But his parents were banking that their name and family history would be enough to lure the Black family into making such a favorable alliance, no matter what their child's age.

The two families were signing the papers that very moment.

"So," Maria Malfoy said slowly, "the marriage will take place in exactly twelve years' time. Lucius will be twenty-two, and Narcissa will be – eighteen. Yes. That would be perfect." Her gaze drifted over to the small blond child sitting serenely in one of the garden chairs, completely oblivious to what was going on. "And what a beautiful child she is, indeed, Hecate."

"Thank you," the woman sitting across from his mother replied, taking a slow sip of tea from a china cup and trying not to look proud. She failed miserably, "We have done our humble best to bring her up well."

"She'll be the perfect bride for our Lucius. Demure, modest, retiring – all perfect qualities in a bride, don't you agree?"

"Exactly," the woman said, "So we are in agreement? Narcissa will attend school and reside with us until the age of 18, and then she will wed Lucius at your manor? This is acceptable?"

His parents nodded, and her parents sat back, looking pleased. He glanced quickly again at the little girl, and noticed she was not there.

Had she wandered off?

He slid off of his chair and began to amble around the side of the house. It was a large house, with a sizeable garden, though neither so big as his parents'. When his mother and father had predicted the Black family would be agreeable to a favorable marriage alliance with them, they hadn't been kidding. With their daughter marrying a Malfoy, their stock would rise sky-high.

There she was. Standing in a patch of roses, staring intently at something in the grass. He followed her line of vision, and then stepped back, astonished, and a little amused.

Two boys with untidy dark hair were roughhousing, fighting like Muggles during a boxing tournament. The elder pinned his brother to the ground and began to tear at his hair. The younger, struggling, bit his brother on the bare skin of his arm. A yelp of pain, a snarl, and the two were at it again.

"Lucius?"

His mother was calling. He watched as his child bride turned to see the speaker, her expression not changing. She was most definitely a girl who was too shy to do anything more than watch life from the sidelines, he thought. Somehow, it didn't trouble him; on the contrary, he found that very agreeable. He didn't reply, only stood there and waited. The two ragamuffins in the yard had apparently heard nothing; they continued on as they had been.

"Lucius? Lucius!"

And there was his mother, and his father, and the girl's parents, coming round the corner of the house. All four wore expressions of shock and horror. His parents looked appalled. The girl's parents flushed a bright, horrid red, from mortification perhaps? He grinned; this was more fun than he had had in a long time.

"Louis, do something!" the girl's mother cried. She reached over and pulled the girl back towards her, as if she was trying to shield her from the two urchins wrestling on the grass, although she was nowhere near them.

The girl's father pushed past his parents and ran at the two boys. He yanked one off the other and began to shake them.

"How dare you behave like this in my household? Wait until your mother comes to fetch you! Now get inside and go to the guestroom! You're going to be punished!" And here he flung them forward, so they tripped on the grass and fell face-forward. The younger, frightened-looking, ran off towards the house and didn't look back. The elder stood up and dusted off his pants, glowering first at the girl's father, and then turning towards him. He stared, somewhat surprised. This boy was perhaps a year older than the girl. He had black hair, shaggy, untidy, and clothes may have been expensive, but they were coated in dirt. He didn't look like the relation of the Blacks. He looked like a street urchin. Or a Muggle, even.

"What's this?" he said snidely, glaring, "Another suitor for one of the Black girls? This would make all three of them married off, wouldn't it?" He leered, even though he was at least four years younger than him. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into." He eyed the small blonde girl.

"Although, after all I've heard, maybe I should say the same to her – "

"INTO THE HOUSE!" the girl's father bellowed, whipping his wand out of his pocket.

The dark-haired boy stared angrily, then turned and began to run towards the house. The girl's father looked towards her mother, who leaned over to the small girl and said,

"Narcissa, honey, I think it's time you went in, too. Stay in your room and don't come out until I come in. Under NO CONDITION are you to play with your cousins, do you understand? Go find Trixie or Andromeda to play with you. Scoot." She gently pushed her small daughter towards the door of the house. The little girl stared at her quizzically, then shrugged her thin shoulders in the blue dress and walked amicably towards the house, completely unaware of the danger just presented to her future in the past few minutes' time.

He stared from his parents to the girl's parents, who still seemed shaken. His mother broke the silence icily.

"Well, I think we may need to do some reconsidering, after seeing what kind of trash you allow your daughter to associate with."

"They are purebloods," her father managed, "My brother's children, Sirius and Regulus. They live with us on weekends – their father, my brother, is dead, their mother –" he floundered helplessly for an explanation that wouldn't come, "they're only seven and six years old, it was nothing but childish play."

"You may call it childish play," his father broke in, "But for a small girl intent on making a good impression on her future family, it could cause irreparable damage!"

Silence reigned. He signed, shuffled his feet. So the pretty blonde would not be his bride after all. It figured. He never seemed to get his way. But that would change, sooner or later. His eyes flashed. He was bound and determined, and he was going to school this fall. Yes. Then, everything would change.

Finally, his mother spoke.

"We cannot trust that a child raise in an environment with boys like that living in the same house, acting like Muggles and God knows what else, ruining her chances at a future," she said, calm, cold, and serene. "I do not think that we can allow our son to marry a girl growing up in this environment."

The girl's father drew himself up stiffly, "Then you may seek another girl in some home you consider of high quality," he began, but his mother stopped him.

"Nevertheless, we will honor the papers signed – on the condition that little Narcissa lives with us, in our household, where we can keep an eye on our investment."

He raised his eyebrows; this was getting interesting. The girl's mother turned white; her father stared.

"Narcissa – would go and live with you?" Her brown eyes widened; her fingers began to shake, "My Narcissa?"

"Until she is eleven, of course," his mother said sleekly, "Then she will go to school, as promised. She can visit, of course, but only on special occasions. And Lucius will of course accompany her."

Hecate Black looked as if she might faint. She grabbed her husband's arm to steady herself, "Louis – no – "

But Louis Black was staring intently at the Malfoy's with something like malevolence in his eyes. He seemed to be weighing his love for his daughter with his desire to see the Black family name upheld. Finally, he said, "But how can we trust that her virtue will be protected? There must be some limitation to her living with you. How can we be sure – " His voice trailed off, but everyone knew exactly what he meant.

His father stepped forward, "A binding spell. She will be kept in a wing of our house, sequestered there, and only you two will have the power to allow someone in to break it. We will ask your permission, of course, through the Floor Network. She will be as safe in there as – "

"As Rapunzel in her tower," Hecate spat bitterly.

Maria Malfoy raised an eyebrow.

"If the idea does not appeal to you, Hecate, there are, of course, other eligible families."

"No," Louis Black interrupted, "Done and done. We will bring Narcissa to your manor in one weeks' time. Come, Hecate." He bowed slightly, almost ironically, and guided his shaken wife towards the door of their house.

The boy looked at his father and mother, who were half-smiling, almost cruelly. His mother noticed him looking at them and cuffed him around the head gently.

"That, Lucius," she said, "is how you get your way in life."