Author's Notes: The beautiful, beautiful art for this story is now posted at evian-forkDOTlivejournalDOTcom/101868DOThtml – evan_fork did an incredible job and I urge you to go admire it!

My own for the story is here: farm8DOTstaticflickrDOTcom/7050/6895044623_0acd8244b9_zDOTjpg

dragon_gypsy is creating a fanmix for it, which will be linked as well when completed.

)O(

Narcissa did not look at Madam Pomfrey when she came out of her study after the sun had risen. She – Narcissa – had not moved in all the time she had spent watching the sunrise, only sat and gazed out the window and dreaded going down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

"How are you feeling?" Madam Pomfrey asked, bustling about, fluffing Narcissa's pillows and then stooping to clean up last night's spilled soup. Narcissa's stomach turned as the matron cleared up the congealed broth from the floorboards. A pale film had formed over the soup, and Narcissa found herself staring at it, so transfixed that she did not realize that she had been spoken to until Madam Pomfrey straightened again and looked at her expectantly. "Well?"

"Pardon me?"

"I asked how you were feeling," she said with a touch more impatience. "Did you sleep well?"

"Oh…" Narcissa blushed a little and bowed her head, letting her hair fall down over her face as if that would conceal her lie. "Yes, Madam Pomfrey. I slept very well, thank you."

"Hmm." She gave Narcissa a slightly suspicious look, but said nothing. "Good, then. You'd best be going down for breakfast." She pulled the sheets back.

"Breakfast? Oughtn't- oughtn't I stay here a little longer?" Narcissa asked tentatively. She had been hoping to prolong the time before she would have to see Lucius Malfoy again as much as possible, but Madam Pomfrey shook her head sharply.

"You're not ill, so I can't keep you here. Now go to your dormitory, get your things together for class, and be sure that you eat plenty, get fresh air and exercise, and drink enough water. Simple things. Your health won't improve if you neglect it."

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey," Narcissa murmured, her cheeks flooding with colour. She managed to get out of bed, then sketched a small, polite curtsey, as her mother had taught her and hurried out, slipping her shoes onto her feet and tugging yesterday's skirt straight as she went.

The walk from the hospital wing down to the Slytherin common room seemed unbearably long, and Narcissa was sure that she felt the eyes of every person she passed boring into her. Her cheeks were on fire, though surely no one knew…

But what if they did? If Lucius had gone and gossiped about her arrival to her sisters, what if he had spoken to other students about it too? What if he knew more about what had happened than he was letting on? What if he knew why she had fainted…?

Now Narcissa, she chided mentally, how could he? How could he know when you don't even know yourself? You're being silly, Narcissa.

She pushed the thoughts out of her mind as best she could, keeping her head down and hurrying down to the common room in the dungeons. She avoided people's eyes as she stepped inside and made for the girls' dormitory. A few people greeted her, but she did not respond, and scarcely dared to breathe until she was alone.

Her school trunk was still at the foot of her bed, where she had left it at the beginning of the winter. She unlocked it, and looked with some relief at the untouched contents – carefully folded blouses, skirts and robes, handkerchiefs monogrammed with her initials and a sachet of rose petals tucked in to keep things smelling sweet. Her bag was stowed tidily in the corner, and she grabbed it up, locked the trunk once more, then rushed out, once again ignoring greetings from other students.

She was almost out of the common room before she felt someone grab her arm.

Narcissa dropped her books immediately, and they fell to the floor with a crash. Her body instantly curled in on itself, and she threw her free arm up to protect her face while she struggled with all her might against the person who had grabbed her arm. They let go immediately and she went sprawling on the floor, tears filling her eyes both from fear and from the pain of her bony body making contact with the stone floor.

"Dear God, Narcissa!"

It was Bellatrix's voice, thank God. She sounded impatient, annoyed, perhaps even a little bit angry, but she did not sound dangerous, and she did sound familiar, and that was all that Narcissa cared about. She looked up at her sister with wide, eyes, trying as hard as she could to force back tears.

"What was that for?" Bellatrix asked, and her voice softened a little when she saw the look on Narcissa's face. "You look a mess, Narcissa – why did they let you out of the hospital wing if you're in this state."

"I didn't want to stay in there," Narcissa told her immediately. It would be easier to say that then tell her that she wasn't really sick, and Bellatrix must have believed her, because she shrugged her shoulders slightly.

"Well, of course you didn't want to. No one ever wants to stay in the hospital wing – why would they?" she asked, and from her tone, Narcissa immediately felt her insides shrivel with embarrassment for saying something so stupid. Bellatrix made her feel stupid far too often, she thought, probably without ever meaning to do it.

"But," Bellatrix continued, "if you're going to be squealing and throwing your arms up and dropping everything every time someone touches you, then I think you probably ought to be in the hospital, not out here. Wouldn't you say?"

Narcissa swallowed and nodded. "I'm sorry, Bella."

"Oh, don't be sorry." Bellatrix held out her hand and Narcissa took it, helping herself to her feet, all while she trembled nervously. Her voice softened into a quiet, almost comforting tone. "Would you like me to take you back up?"

"No! No." Narcissa shook her head vehemently. "I'll be all right."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure," she said, though of course she was anything but. She swallowed hard, forcing a smile. "I suppose… I'm just a little bit shaky, that's all. I probably… I probably just need to eat, is all. I'm fine."

Bellatrix nodded, and let Narcissa go, and Narcissa started up the stairs, clutching her bag to her chest and repeating, like a quiet, painful mantra in her brain, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine.

But no matter how many times she thought it, or even how many times she whispered it under her breath in the hopes that that would convince her more, she couldn't even begin to bring herself to believe it.

If anything, she thought, staring at the ground while her lips moved still in the shape of the words I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine, the more she thought it, the less she was able to believe it.

If anything, she thought, with every repetition, she could only make herself believe that she was less fine than anyone could ever know.

She could only make herself believe that she was less fine than even she knew.

And that terrified her.

Narcissa looked at no one as she crept into the Great Hall, keeping her head bent so that her long, pale hair shielded her face. She took her usual seat at the end of the Slytherin table and hoped that no one would notice her and ask how she was or worse – where she had been. If Narcissa had known how to disappear entirely, she would have willingly done it.

But she could not disappear. She could only sit and hope, and hoping did little good.

She had only just sat down when Lucius Malfoy marched over to her and sat beside her. "Narcissa."

God, not him; anyone but him.

Narcissa raised her head and managed a small, shaky smile. "Oh, hello, Lucius," she said, in a sweet, perky little voice of the sort that she used with her father, which she hoped would convince him entirely that there was nothing wrong with her – that there could be nothing wrong with her – that she was just the happiest girl in the world, and that she had most certainly not fainted yesterday for any reason that would be of even the slightest interest to him.

It did not work. Lucius was looking at her with a very serious expression, clearly not put off at all by her sweet, sugared tone or smile.

"What happened yesterday?" he demanded, and she flinched a bit. Even though she had been fully expecting questions to that effect, she had not been prepared for such bluntness. Lucius was not often blunt – he usually spoke with such eloquent grace and tact that it could be quite impossible to grasp his meaning.

"Pardon me?" Narcissa asked politely, then, in an attempt to distract him, "won't you have some pumpkin juice?" She reached for the pitcher, but Lucius grabbed her hand, stilling it.

"Don't try that, Narcissa," he told her. "Do you think I'm really stupid enough to be distracted that easily?"

She blushed a bit, trying to pull out of his grasp. His hand was too strong, and it made her heart pound in fear for reasons she could not explain. "Please let go of me, Lucius," she told him, trying to sound composed but managing only cold and nervous. "Of course I don't think that you're stupid."

"Well, then…" He let go of her wrist but didn't take his eyes off her, "tell me what happened yesterday."

"You know as much as I do. I fainted, that's all." She sounded more defensive than she had intended to, and tried to calm herself. "I'm still a bit sick, I suppose. I hadn't eaten a proper breakfast."

"Don't try that on me, Narcissa!" His voice was a great deal sharper than she would have liked, and she cringed away from him. "If you had been sick or hungry, you would have been walking slowly, and you wouldn't have just happened to faint the second that I touched your arm. I know how fainting works, Narcissa; I've been around enough Pureblood girls, and they're always passing out at the drop of a bloody hat."

"You just startled me, that's all," Narcissa said quietly, and Lucius snorted.

"You really do think I'm stupid, don't you? You expect me to believe that just being startled made you pass out in the street?"

"It did!"

"If it startled you that much," Lucius said, quietly, seriously, in a much darker voice than Narcissa was comfortable with hearing, especially from him, "then there's something wrong. Something very wrong, Narcissa, and don't try for another minute to tell me that it's nothing."

"But it is nothing," Narcissa insisted, her voice trembling. "Really, Lucius, it's nothing to worry about." And it's none of your business in any case, she added viciously in her mind, but didn't say it and forced herself to smile a bit. "Nothing at all."

Lucius shook his head. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

Yes, I do. Please believe it.

"Well, why wouldn't you?" she asked with a small, innocent laugh.

"Because it's not true!" he barked.

Narcissa took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, squeezing her hands into fists beneath the table and digging her nails into her palms until she felt sticky wetness around them. The pain was not unpleasant – she felt a little clearer for it, a little less harried and less worried about what Lucius thought.

"I assure you, it quite is," she told him, as pleasantly as she could manage. "But if you don't want to believe me, then I don't suppose that there's anything that I can do about it. I'm dreadfully sorry that you think something's wrong with me, because I can promise you that nothing is."

Lucius glared at her for a moment, and Narcissa looked back, with a sweet, pleasant little smile. Finally, he let out an impatient huff of air and stood up.

"All right," he said. "All right. I was hoping that I could help you – and I could, if you'd just let me – but clearly you don't want my help."

Too right, I don't.

"So I'll just be going," he told her, then turned and stormed off with all the dignity that he could muster.

Narcissa let out a sigh of relief when he was gone, wiping her forehead slightly and closing her eyes. She inhaled deeply, trying to draw air into lungs that, she realized only now, she had been all but clenching. She hadn't even known that it was possible to clench one's lungs.

"You look wretched, Cissy," Andromeda said, slipping into the seat beside her.

"So everyone keeps telling me," said Narcissa, allowing herself to sound a bit sulky this time. Andromeda was one person who Narcissa felt able to relax around – even with Bellatrix, Narcissa was constantly keeping herself stiff and steady or else she would be teased for babyishness.

"Because it's the truth. You're grey, Cissy…" She put her hand on Narcissa's cheek, and Narcissa flinched away from her touch.

"Don't touch–"

"For Merlin's sake, you're freezing! You must have a chill…"

"If I had a chill, I'd be feverish. You know that, Andi. I'm just a little bit cold," Narcissa told her, then added, "I'm fine."

You're saying that an awful lot, aren't you, Narcissa?

"No, you're not," Andromeda said firmly. "You can't fool me, Cissy. You are not fine."

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest, but Andromeda slapped her hand over it, shutting her up. "Now listen to me," she said in a low, serious voice. "You don't have to tell me what's the matter, because you're obviously not going to be doing that. But I know something is."

Narcissa didn't say anything, and Andromeda nodded slightly. "Right. All right, I said you didn't have to tell me. But take my advice, all right, Cissy?"

She nodded mutely.

"You don't need to tell anyone else," Andromeda said quietly. "You don't need to tell anyone about what's bothering you – not me, not Bellatrix, not Lucius, not Dumbledore, no one, but…"

"But?" asked Narcissa in a tiny voice.

"But you should at least tell yourself what's wrong," said Andromeda. "All right? You need to at least know what's wrong with yourself. And… I think… I think you're not quite sure, are you?"

"Don't be stupid, Andi," Narcissa said. Her whole body was trembling violently, and it was all she could do to stop herself from breaking into hysterical tears. "I know that nothing's wrong."

"But that isn't true," Andromeda told her simply. "Anyone can see it – there's something very wrong. Don't pretend that there isn't anymore; I don't want to hear it. So listen, Narcissa, I don't need you… don't even want you to tell me what it is, but… think about it, all right? I think you'll feel better once you've worked it out."

Andromeda stood up then, turning away and leaving her sister alone at the table. Narcissa sat for a moment, then she felt her stomach heaving, heaving up into her throat, enough to make her vomit on the spot, and she leapt to her feet, rushing out of the hall, ignoring the stares of the other students. Halfway to the lavatory, she tripped over an uneven patch of stone and fell to her knees, scraping them on the floor. Her stomach was twisting in her throat, and all she could do was heave herself to the side of the hall and vomit.

She hadn't eaten anything for so long – save that bit of soup in the hospital wing – and acid burned her throat and mouth as it came up. It felt good – much better than keeping it down had felt, at any rate – but her cheeks flushed with humiliation.

Narcissa glanced from side to side, then grabbed her wand from her bag, pointing it at the corner where she had heaved up a mouthful of acid.

"Scourgify," she said quietly, and it disappeared, much to her relief. She managed to get to her feet and stumble away, down to the lavatory, and she knelt down in front of the toilet and tried to spit up the rest of her vomit.

No more came.

She stabbed her fingers down her throat, gagging until her mouth filled with acid again. Her stomach tightened and she spat it into the water until her eyes were full of tears and her whole body felt pleasantly clean and empty.

Narcissa stood up, flushing the toilet, then went to the sinks and splashed cold water on her face. She combed her long, pale hair back into place with her fingers, then cupped a bit of water in her hands to rinse her mouth with. When she was done, she smiled sweetly at herself in the mirror, practicing.

"I'm terribly sorry that I'm late, Professor," she said softly, practicing her most angelic smile.

Yes, she thought, when she smiled like that, no one would ever dare to tell her off. She was such a sweet, perfect little Pureblood girl, and she demanded respect.

She demanded respect from everyone.

Yes, she did. She did demand respect from everyone.

Composed, Narcissa turned and strode out of the lavatory, quite sure that she was the perfect example of a girl, and – aside from perhaps a little exhaustion and illness – there was nothing at all wrong with her.

No matter what Andromeda said.