Author's Note: I'm so glad so many of you are excited about Iain's continuing part in this story! It's a special thing to have fanfiction readers attach to an original character, so I'm very happy!

Hope you continue to enjoy…

Winter was fully settled on Hogwarts, and the Christmas holidays were approaching. However, I hadn't heard from either of my sisters or my father in quite a while. This worried me, but I hardly had the time to think on it.

Exams were coming up, classwork was growing more intense, and most importantly, I had Iain to talk with. So even though my family was curiously silent, I was surpisingly content.

Unfortunately, reality has a way of encroaching on happiness.

And so it happened to us, Iain and myself.

It was all coming together. Oh, yes. Narcissa's brilliant master plan was nearly complete. All she needed was one last bit of help…

"Iain!" crowed Narcissa as soon as she found him in their space, where a nest of blankets stayed almost permanently in the abandoned classroom. Iain was in the middle of prodding the fire into life ("Are you a wizard or not?" asked Narcissa, rolling her eyes) and he looked up as she entered.

As soon as he spotted her innocent smile, he looked back at the fireplace with a smirk. "Don't even try whatever you're thinking about," he told her. "I can tell you're up to something."

"When am I ever?" Narcissa asked, putting a delicate hand over her chest. "I'm just excited to see you is all!"

"Mmhm," said Iain, setting down on the blankets that protected their spot from the cold stone floor. "So? What is it, then?"

Narcissa cast off any pretense of innocence and plopped down rather ungracefully next to him, which made Iain snort. "I have," said Narcissa, "the most brilliant plan for getting Lucius Malfoy to fall madly in love with me."

Iain put his hands behind his head and leaned against a crate. "Oh?" he said, amused. "Do tell."

Narcissa wiggled forward like an eager cat. "The Winter Ball," she told Iain emphatically, and Iain blinked, looking unimpressed.

"What about it?"

Narcissa shifted and tucked her ankles underneath herself. "It's the perfect opportunity for me to catch Lucius' attention! There will be dancing and music, and I'll be in my absolutely stunning – " she flourished her hands " – new dress robes, looking beautiful and regal. I'll have to go with some idiot, someone I can ditch – "

"Charming."

" – and then I'll catch Lucius' attention, get him to dance with me and then – voila! He will fall madly in love with me."

Iain raised a brow. "You must be one hell of a dancer."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "For your information, I am an amazing dancer. It's more than that, though. There's an artistry to seduction, and believe me, I've been practicing it for years. I know exactly what to do."

Iain chuckled. "I… believe you," he said lightly. They both paused, and Iain seemed as though he might say something else, something that would earn him a slap on the arm, but instead he simply asked, "So where will Corinne Lestrange be during all this? I'm assuming you know she's not going to jus' let you dance with her beloved boyfriend, right?"

"Of course," said Narcissa, drumming her fingers on her knees. "Which is … where you come in."

"Oh, god."

"Just listen, please," said Narcissa, jumping forward and gripping his arm. "It's going to work perfectly."

"What is?" asked Iain skeptically.

At this, Narcissa grinned wickedly and reached in her bag, where she pulled out a small vial. "This," she said, "is just a little something that you – my favorite friend – will slip into Corinne's pumpkin juice during the ball – "

"What?" exclaimed Iain.

" – and it will make her sick enough that she'll have to leave the ball, and Lucius will have to remain because he's Head Boy – "

"I am not poisoning Corinne Lestrange," said Iain firmly.

Narcissa made a face. "Oh, it won't hurt her! Just – make her a little sick, is all." She paused. "Besides, this is Corinne we're talking about. She probably puts deadly nightshade in her breakfast cereal!"

"No way, Narcissa," said Iain, folding his arms. "I would do a lot for you – "

"Come on, Iain!"

"But poisoning someone? No! And why can't you do it?"

"Because Corinne watches me all the time," pointed out Narcissa desperately. "She already hates me because of Bellatrix! But you – you, she won't even notice!"

"Narcissa," said Iain with an aggrieved sigh. "There's no way – "

The young witch frowned deeply. Her best pleading didn't seem to be working, which was a great disappointment. "Please, Iain," she said one more time, this time soft and earnest. "If I can make Lucius pay attention to me, even a little…"

"He should be paying attention to you anyway," Iain told her gently, touching her hand. "He's a fool not to."

"He can't do anything with Corinne hanging around," Narcissa said, features crumbling. "She's got him all tied up. But if she's out of the way, just for a little while…" Narcissa squeezed Iain's hand. "Iain, this could be my whole future."

At this, Iain's eyes flickered. After a long moment, he sighed and accepted the vial, though he looked at it carefully before saying anything.

"You're sure this won't really hurt her?"

"Nausea, maybe some stomach pains," confirmed Narcissa, brows furrowed as she edged closer again. "Nothing more, I swear to you."

Iain looked over Narcissa's face. "I hope that's true. Because I'm going to take some myself before I go putting it in someone else's drink."

Narcissa grimaced. "You'll probably vomit." It was true, but Narcissa meant what she said. She didn't intend to kill Corinne. There was no way that crazy woman wouldn't come back as a terrifying ghost, and Narcissa didn't have time to deal with that.

"I'll deal with it. Give me a reason to miss class tomorrow," he said, and then tucked away the vial. "Okay, fine. I'll do it."

"Oh – " Narcissa threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him into a tight hug. "You are the best," she told him, kissing his cheek. She pulled back to see him a little rosy-faced from that, and she hid a little smile. "If there's something you want me to do for you in return, you should just tell me! Really, I owe you." Relaxed now, Narcissa leaned against the crate next to him as she thought. "Oh! I have an idea!" She beamed. "You're going to the ball too, right? With Abigail?"

"I s'pose," he said, not seeming excited. Narcissa knew him well enough to know that probably had more to do with the ball than Abigail. Iain didn't really like dressing up.

"Well," said Narcissa in what she thought was a very kind manner, "what if I did her hair and makeup that night? Really, I know some glamour charms that will look fabulous on her."

Iain smiled at this, as if he knew this was exactly Narcissa's brand of generosity. "I appreciate it," he said, "but Abigail doesn't really like to wear makeup."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Oh, please," she said, "that's what girls always say when they're – " she hesitated, before going on haltingly, " … book - … ish."

Iain narrowed his eyes at her. "Narcissa," he said warningly, and she tossed up her hands.

"What!" she exclaimed.

"I know exactly what you meant by that," he informed her. "Apologize."

"She isn't even in here!" argued Narcissa. "Why should I apologize?"

Iain leaned forward and said pointedly, "Because I think you could use the practice."

Narcissa pursed her lips, but Iain was unrelenting, so she muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Good, now try it again, and this time don't make a face."

Narcissa sighed. "I'm sorry." That your girlfriend is ugly, she added mentally.

"Thank you," said Iain, reclining again. After a moment of studying her, his lips quirked at a devious smirk and he leaned forward. "You know what? I've figured out what you can do to pay me back for all this ball business." Narcissa eyed him suspiciously. "You," said Iain, "must promise me that you will say something nice – out loud – to one person every day for the rest of the month."

Narcissa's jaw dropped.

"A real compliment," Iain told her. "And not just to other Slytherins, either. Every single day."

Pouting, Narcissa, pulled up her legs and crossed her arms. "I don't like giving compliments," she said. "It's awkward."

"It's awkward for you because you're not used to it," he told her. "Just try to be as genuine as possible. Even if you just … I don't know, like someone's scarf or something. Say it to them. And then write down every compliment you give and read it to me later, so I know you've really done it."

Narcissa twisted her lips and glared to the side.

"Well?" said Iain. "Do we have a deal?"

"Very well," said Narcissa, sounding like the most aggrieved sixteen-year-old alive. "But people are going to look at me strangely."

"You'll live," he informed her.

The following day, Narcissa spent all day trying to think of nice things to say to people. It wasn't that she never thought good things about others, but saying them to that person never even occurred to her. In fact, the idea of having to speak up and say something complimentary out of the blue was outrageously terrifying to her.

Still, she had promised Iain, so she would do it. She decided to try something easy for the first one, ease herself into it.

"Your hair looks pretty today," she told Elizabeth in Charms. Elizabeth glanced up and waited, and when Narcissa did not follow up the compliment with a backhanded remark, the other girl balked.

"Oh," Elizabeth said after a lengthy silence. "Thank you."

Smirking, Narcissa pulled out a little bound leather journal and wrote:

December 6th, 1972: Told Elizabeth that her hair looked nice.

The following day, Narcissa noticed a Ravenclaw girl with very fashionable shoes. Narcissa paused and told her she liked them, and the girl simply stared in response before giving a shaky smile. Narcissa pulled out her journal.

December 7th, 1972: Told a Ravenclaw girl I liked her black suede shoes.

Note to self: Find out where I can buy those shoes.

The day after that, while Narcissa was in Herbology, a Gryffindor boy was the first to bring his plant to bloom, and he looked very proud of himself. It had been a difficult assignment, so Narcissa looked at him across the table and said, "You are very good with your plants."

The boy looked up, and after blinking a few times, he smiled and shrugged almost shyly. "Thanks," he said. "You look like you're out of seeds. Do you want my extra?"

Surprised, because very few people were willing to offer Narcissa anything, she accepted the seeds. "Thank you," she said, adding them to her pile. She and the boy didn't speak for the rest of the class, but she could not forget that he had given her something without being prompted, which was nice.

December 8th, 1972: Told a Gryffindor boy he was good with plants.

Note to self: Herbology is stupid and dirty.

At the end of the second week of December, Narcissa brought Iain her leather journal and read to him all the compliments she had given so far. Each new line seemed to make her prouder and prouder.

"And then," she told him heartily, reading from her latest entry, "I told a Hufflepuff girl who was singing in the hallway that her voice was very good, and it really was." Narcissa lowered the book. "And do you know," she said, perplexed, "I saw her again the next day, and she gave me a music book, for no reason! She said it had the song she was singing in it, and she thought I might like it. Isn't that odd?"

"Very strange," said Iain, smiling gently and never taking his eyes off Narcissa.

The night of the winter dance grew nearer, as did the holidays, but until then, Narcissa and all the other students had mounds of schoolwork to do. Narcissa didn't mind, as she was simply excited about the prospect of winning Lucius Malfoy's heart. Unfortunately, Narcissa's elation was short-lived, as it so often seemed to be.

"Do Muggle celebrate Christmas?" she asked one day in late December, just one week before the Winter Ball. Iain looked up at her and nodded.

"Aye, they do. Well, most. I imagine there's some who don't."

"What sort of things do they do?" asked Narcissa. The pair was standing at their Potions table working on the conclusion of their assignment. Honestly, she should have been more cautious about talking to Iain so comfortably in Potions, where anyone could see them and guess they were chatting in a friendly manner instead of working, but sometimes Narcissa genuinely forgot.

Iain often made her feel that way.

"They do the same things witches and wizards do," Iain told her, patient as always with Narcissa's questions. In fact, he seemed happy at her inquiries. "Trees, food, gifts. That sort of thing."

Narcissa measured out some roots. "And what's your favorite gift you've ever gotten?" She wasn't sure why she wanted to know. She just liked it, hearing about things that made Iain happy.

He thought about it carefully, as she knew he would. At last, he said, "A fishing rod." Narcissa made a face.

"Ew," she said. "Fishing? That's a gift, really?"

Iain laughed. "I love fishing. Besides, it was a nice rod. Best gift my parents ever gave me." He pointed at her. "And just because you made that face, I'm going to teach you how to fish one day. Promise."

"Good luck with that," said Narcissa with her usual prissiness, falling silent as the two Slytherin girls, Sybil and Elizabeth, moved behind the pair again to gather some ingredients from a bin. When they did, Sybil paused and leaned over to Narcissa, grinning devilishly as she did so. It was the look she always had when she was about to give some particularly juicy gossip.

"Narcissa!" she whispered, and Narcissa looked up. "Did you hear about Rosemary Nott?"

"No," replied Narcissa, curious. She lived for gossip just as much as her friends, and Rosemary Nott was a well-to-do former Slytherin who had graduated just two years ago. "What did you hear?"

"You won't believe it," said Sybil with malicious glee. "Her family found her in bed… with a Mudblood!"

Narcissa's eyes widened, and her first thought was disgust. Really? she thought, scandalized. Then that feeling was gradually replaced by reluctant understanding, the sort that started with – oh, wait. Her insides twisted, and she staunchly refused to look in Iain's direction, although he was no more than a few inches from her and could surely hear everything. "I can't believe that!" Narcissa managed at last, her features contorting a bit in her effort to stay calm. She needed that revulsion to come back, because that was what her friends were expecting, but it was shockingly hard to conjure.

"I know," said Sybil, gasping dramatically. Elizabeth tutted and shook her head, even folding her arms and smirking at Iain's back, even as he continued to work in silence. "It's true, though. Her own brother discovered her and the Mudblood wrapped up in one another's arms! Goodness, can you imagine?"

"What did her brother do?" asked Narcissa, glancing again nervously at Slughorn, who still hadn't noticed them.

"Oh," said Sybil, laughing, "that's the best part! He snatched her right out of bed and threw her out onto the street, stark naked!" Narcissa put a hand over her heart, unable to bear the thought of such humiliation. She did not laugh with the other two, though she forced herself to relax some and quirk her lips so they wouldn't look at her oddly.

"She's disowned, of course," said Sybil, smirking. "And the Mudblood she was with is lucky to be alive. If that had been my family, there would have been a body to hide."

"Surely," said Narcissa uncertainly, "they'll forgive her?"

At this, Sybil and Elizabeth both looked squarely at Narcissa, their eyes narrowed. "Would you?" asked Elizabeth icily.

Narcissa swallowed tightly. After a long moment of silence, she shifted back in the direction of her table. "No," she murmured quietly, and the other girls looked satisfied.

After a few minutes of silence, Slughorn called an end to the class and everyone gathered their things. Iain stepped out first, but Sybil brushed by him hard, knocking his book out of his hand. "Watch where you're going, Mudblood," she told him with a venomous smile.

Narcissa was shocked by the ire she felt at Sybil's jab, but she barely had time to think on that before Iain snatched up his book, looking down at Sybil with a flat glare and said, "Sorry, I just didn't expect you to be in my way. What? Did Gringotts let you off work early today?"

Sybil's jaw dropped, and Narcissa barely covered up her snort of laughter as Iain brushed by Sybil and left without a word to anyone else.

That night, Narcissa made her way to the abandoned classroom where she and Iain met nearly every night. She was surprised to find he was already there, as he normally got caught up talking to friends or eating. On this night, however, he was already in place next to the old dusty fireplace they had cleared out and started using to make proper fires in the otherwise cold room. Narcissa paused just inside the locked door and looked at him.

Iain was sitting on a crate near the fireplace, looking at the crackling flames and strumming on what Narcissa recognized as a guitar. She had rarely seen one, given that they weren't as common amongst witches and wizards, but she knew what it was. Moving closer, she hopped up on the crate next to him and offered a small smile. He looked so uncharacteristically far away.

"Is that yours?" she asked, pointing at the guitar.

Iain nodded, strumming a few times. Narcissa liked the sound. "Brought it with me from home," he said quietly. "But I don't get to play it like I'd like."

Narcissa leaned her back against another crate piled high behind them. "Play something," she said.

So Iain began to play, and although he didn't sing along, Narcissa recognized the tune as a Beatles song. She couldn't think of the name, but it wasn't a happy tune. Instead, the song was rather mournful, and she suspected that Iain was playing it slower than its original pace. The pair remained quiet for a long time, simply listening to the sound of Iain's guitar. At last, Iain spoke up, still playing as he did so.

"So what those girls were talking about in Potions," he said, still looking at the fire. "Do you think that was true?"

Narcissa twisted her fingers in her lap. "Probably," she murmured.

A few more strums of the guitar. "Is that what your family would do to you?"

Narcissa dropped her eyes to her hands, which were growing red from her anxious habit. After a long time, she looked back up at the fire again and admitted very softly, " ... Worse."

Iain stopped playing, though he didn't move the guitar from his lap. Instead, he leaned back against the same crate and sighed. Then he turned his head and smiled, but it wasn't his usual smile. It was sad, like his song.

"I guess you're pretty brave then, for being friends with me." He stumbled somewhat over the word 'friends,' and they both ignored it. The word wasn't right, but there wasn't a better one they could think of.

Narcissa looked over at him, and the image of his hands jerking away from the football after Bellatrix had cursed it flashed to the front of her mind. "No," she disagreed softly. "You're brave. I'm selfish." Biting her lip, Narcissa shifted a little and said with convinction, "My father – deep down, he loves me. I know he does." She paused, before going on in a very small whisper, "He must." She blinked away a tear. "So I don't think he would – "

Hurt me, was what she planned on saying, but she could not say that, because her father had hurt her before.

" – permanently… harm me," she finished at last. Iain set his guitar aside, his attention unwaveringly focused on her. Something in his eyes looked a little angry at her hesitation, which was an expression she had never seen on him before. Narcissa cleared her throat. "But you – you, he would hurt. No matter if we were just … friends." Again, that same stumble, this time on Narcissa's part. They both looked away.

Iain brought up one knee and placed his arm on it, toying with the hem of his robes as he did so. "Do you think – you might want to … do you think we should – stop?"

"Is that what you want?" asked Narcissa, unable to keep the fear out of her voice.

"No," he responded emphatically, and Narcissa's heart lifted. "No, Narcissa. I don't. I just – I don't want to cause you any grief, thas' all." He inched closer. "You seem like you have enough to deal with."

Narcissa frowned at her lap, wringing her hands again. It was a nervous habit of hers from when she was a child, something she would do when things were loud at home and then suddenly silent for hours or even days. The years when Andromeda and Bellatrix had gone to school without her were the worst.

The truth was, she did have a lot to deal with, but she wasn't sure she could handle it if Iain were to leave her now. When Narcissa didn't say anything, and instead only continued twisting her swollen red digits, Iain reached over and placed his larger hand over hers. Narcissa froze, and Iain tugged her fingers apart. When she looked up at him, her eyes wide, Iain took the hand closest to him and laced his fingers there, so she couldn't twist them anymore.

Their joined hands settled comfortably between them. Narcissa looked down, examining their differences. His hands had been the very first thing she'd commented on when they'd first met. She'd been positively horrified by the sight of them.

Now Iain's warm hand in hers was the greatest source of comfort she had.

"I know this might be hard to talk about," said Iain after a few moments, "but what really goes on at your home, Narcissa?"

Narcissa felt her eyes grow glassy, and her gaze flickered up to Iain's face before looking at the fire again. Her hand in his tightened considerably. She did not speak immediately, but Iain waited with his trademark patience.

At last, she said quietly, "Nothing so severe since my mother's death." Blinking rapidly against the tears that threatened, Narcissa whispered, "She took her own life."

Iain's eyes widened with shock, and briefly, guilt. She knew he must be remembering the comment he'd made to her months ago, when she'd snapped at him that her mother was dead.

"She was in the room with us," Narcissa continued, unable to process her own words as she spoke them. "Sitting in a rocking chair next to my bed. When I went to sleep, she was fine. And when I awoke, she was gone." Bellatrix's enraged screams echoed through Narcissa's head, and she recalled so vividly her own childish confusion, quickly replaced by terror.

"I have spent so many years," said Narcissa, trembling, "wondering why we weren't enough. Why couldn't she have stayed alive for us? Weren't we enough to make her happy, despite what Father did? Weren't we the best part of her life?" Tears fell down her cheeks. "Surely, if she would have held on, we could have all – worked together, we could have done something about it all. But she didn't even try." Narcissa sniffled. "She just left us."

"Father abused her severely," she went on, voice low, "he cheated on her and embarrassed her in public. He yelled at her, and he even hit her sometimes."

Iain's hand jerked a little in hers, but he kept it there and listened without interrupting.

Narcissa reached up with her free hand and pressed some of the years away. "After she died, he seemed to hardly even notice her absence. Mother's side of the family stopped contacting us, because they blamed my father for her death. And so we only had Father, and the other Blacks, and even they were quick to dismiss him when he became unpopular." Narcissa sniffed and glared at the ceiling. "No one cared that he abused his wife or neglected his children. They only cared that he let it get so out of control that it caused something as scandalous as suicide."

Narcissa dropped her head again, crying quietly. "Father grew even more distant. Even when I was the only child left at home, he was rarely there, and he never spoke to me. I don't know when he began embezzling gold from the Ministry, but he eventually got caught for that, too. Our reputation as a family began to crumble then, and it only grows worse each year. If we weren't pureblood, we would have no allies left at all."

Covering her mouth with her free hand, Narcissa stifled a sob. "Our home has fallen into disrepair, and my father is too drunk or too heartless to fix it. Bellatrix hates our father so severely, I'm afraid she might kill him, and Andromeda is so often left alone, like I am." Breathing in shakily, Narcissa finally, finally looked up at Iain's face. "And the older we get, the more Father treats us like he treated Mother." She swallowed tightly.

"The only time he even looks at our faces is when we do something to displease him, and that seems to happen more and more often every time we go home," she said, her voice cracking at the last word.

A warm palm appeared at Narcissa's cheek, and she instinctively leaned into it, before the hand holding hers tugged her forward and Iain's arms wrapped fully around her. Narcissa did not resist, instead sinking into the comfort of Iain's chest, trying her best to lose herself in the folds of his robes and the strength of his hard torso.

She was surprised to hear how gruff Iain's voice was when he spoke, as if he were having a hard time speaking himself. "Have you told anyone?" he asked gently. "Someone who might be able to help?"

"There is no one to tell," murmured Narcissa against his robes. "If anyone knew the truth, they would only use it to destroy us once and for all. Send our father to Azkaban, place the three of us at the mercy of the world, with no marriages, no dowry, no inheritances… " Narcissa trailed off, squeezing her eyes shut. "We would have nothing."

"So, what?" asked Iain, an edge to his voice. "You're just going to keep your father in the public's good graces, even after everything he's done? Just so you can keep up the illusion?" He shifted, lifting Narcissa's chin with his fingertips. "Narcissa, that isn't good for you, none of this is – "

"He's already done too much damage to recover himself," said Narcissa, features crumbling. "But if my sisters and I can marry and move out before things get worse, then he won't get to ruin our lives forever. We can get away from him." She sucked in a shaky breath. "We have to."

"And what if you end up just like – " Iain stopped him, his eyes wide, but Narcissa knew what he was about to say. She didn't hold it against him, though her sensitive heart reeled at the thought of meeting the same miserable end as her mother.

Reaching for Iain's hand again, Narcissa curled his digits in hers and held it close to her stomach. She couldn't recall ever seeing him so upset.

"That is why this ball is so important. If I can convince Lucius Malfoy to love me," whispered Narcissa, "I will have everything I need to get away from my father and help my sisters."

Iain's gaze flickered. "But what if he doesn't treat you well?"

Narcissa's lips quirked a little. "He treats Corinne like a queen," she pointed out softly.

Iain lowered his eyes before he nodded reluctantly. "That's true," he admitted. The two lapsed into silence, and Narcissa leaned against Iain's chest again, her temple situated just below his shoulder. Iain secured his arms around her once more, and she could not remember him ever holding her like this, so protectively. It was nice.

"You deserve better, Narcissa," Iain told her in a low whisper, his hand reaching up and pressing her hair behind her ear. The motion continued down the length of Narcissa's fair locks and brushed against her neck. After a few minutes, he spoke up again.

"Stay for Christmas," he told her. "If you do, I will, too."

Narcissa shifted her head to look up at him. "Don't you want to go home and see you family?"

Iain shrugged, and when he looked down at her, his face was very near hers. He had very light freckles, Narcissa noticed for the first time. "I'll see them for Easter. They can do one Christmas without me."

Narcissa considered this. Christmas holidays for most rich purebloods were full of lavish parties and events, concerts and balls. However, Narcissa's father had stopped getting invited to those things two years ago, after one spectacularly embarrassing drunken tirade, and so that meant Narcissa and her sisters were no longer invited, either.

Perhaps a few well-connected families would still try to seek them out, hoping to earn some gossip from doing so, but Narcissa did not want to be with those people. She did want to see Andromeda and Bellatrix, but they were both being so mysteriously absent, she wasn't sure if they would be at home at all.

"Alright," agreed Narcissa. "I'll stay here, if you will."

"Good," said Iain, satisfied. Keeping his arms around her, Iain looked to the fire and fell silent.