A / N : Yes! Login problems are over and I can post this!

Anyway – Bella's back, and bitchier than ever . .. . but do we really love her any other way?

Sorry for the update delay, (feels like I say that a lot these days) but to make amends, this is officially the longest chapter I have ever written, so I hope you all enjoy it!

Molly's line in Charms I owe to Daring D . . . . because I just couldn't resist. It was so appropriate. :)

Chapter title is from the song by Fall Out Boy, reviews are treasured . . . and I think that's about all I have to say! :D

Bang The Doldrums

She was bleeding.

Bellatrix watched a bright blob of scarlet bead upon her fingertip and swell slowly into a single shining droplet, which wobbled precariously for a moment before it fell, splashing onto the sharp silver contours of the name T.M Riddle.

It was stupid, really.

The name held no particular meaning, after all. It wasn't even a pureblood name. But there was something strangely familiar about it. She felt, somehow, as if she ought to know what its meaning was, ought to know why the name danced just beyond her comprehension and frustrated her with its echoing familiarity. There was something forbidden about it, and for a moment Bella felt like a child again, bewildered by the results of her own unscrupulous eavesdropping into conversations about sex and violence and family feuds. But Riddle was no-one. Riddle was nothing. And Bella simply couldn't account for the jolt seeing his name had given her.

She was tired, she decided at last. Her detention with Filch was coming to an end, and she was hungry. Really, it was more likely that she had cut her finger – the sting awakening her from a sleep-walking stupor of boredom – and then noticed the name.

She wiped the blood away hastily with her sleeve and shoved the award roughly back onto the shelf, trying to ignore the nagging voice in her head that told her that wasn't right, that told her she had seen the name first, and cut herself at the shock of it. She touched a fingertip to the strange initials again, lost in thought, and then she pulled herself together.

"There you go," she called aloud, a bite of irritation in her voice. "Squeaky clean! Can I go now?"

She had picked up her satchel and was halfway to the Great Hall before Filch had time to reply.

These detentions were proving to be more exhausting than even she had anticipated, Bella realized, falling into a chair opposite Narcissa at the table. Honestly. She was cracking up. She was silent for a moment, considering this, and then she narrowed her eyes at Narcissa, tapping her fork impatiently against the side of her plate. Her sister took the hint at once and began to eat more quickly, avoiding her eye.

"I hate this place," Bella declared. "Who do they think they are? Detention, I can understand. But detention with a Squib? Do they even know how disgusting that is?"

Silence.

Bella scowled. "Cissy," she snapped. "I'm talking to you. Don't ignore me."

Narcissa jumped. "Wh – what?" she stammered.

"I was talking to you," Bella repeated, frowning.

As she had suspected, Narcissa wasn't foolish enough to disobey a direct order from her sister. So when Bellatrix told her to eat, she ate. The problem was how strange she became while doing it. Bella had told Lucius, once, that it didn't bother her to see Narcissa cry. That wasn't strictly true. Cissy seemed permanently on the brink of tears these days, and it made her feel unjustly guilty, though it wasn't as if she had anything to feel guilty about. She was only making her sister eat, and Cissy might not like it now, but one day she'd realize it was all for her own good. Bella pulled a nearby steak-and-kidney pie towards her, deciding it was best to pretend she couldn't see Narcissa's pathetic attempts not to cry at the dinner table, and to ignore the unsettled feeling this gave her.

So Bella focused her attention on a pepperpot to Narcissa's left, and pretended she couldn't see Cissy sniffling into her soup.

By the time Wednesday arrived, Bella was starting to think she might keel over with exhaustion, or genuinely crack and do something insane, like burn the school to the ground in her sleep. Her every waking hour, after all, was filled with class or some form of detention, and her nights were spent awake in the common room, frantically filling rolls of parchment with essays on giant wars and rare potions, or reading books about curses. She was starting to feel as if her head would explode soon, all the complex curses and asinine facts spurting from her ears like a water from the burst pipe of a fountain. She had never felt so overwhelmed by anything in her life, and it wasn't a feeling she liked. The trouble was, there was nothing she felt she could compromise on. As a result, she found herself scribbling essays at the breakfast table, keeping one eye on Cissy and mistakenly inserting words like "kippers" and "porridge" and "tea" into essays about Protean Charms and Manticores. She had briefly considered ordering Lucius to help her, but then he would know just how much she was struggling, and the thought of his "I told you so" smirk was maddening. That, she decided, was too high a price to pay for whatever help he could give her. Besides, she relied upon Lucius for too much already, and the sooner it stopped, the happier she'd be. The last thing she wanted was for Malfoy to persist with this mistaken belief of his, that she somehow needed him. Bella needed no-one, or so she liked to think.

By Wednesday evening, Bella was beginning to think she might have been a little hasty in this assumption. A trained squad of hit-wizards would come in handy right about now, she thought miserably, to take out half the staff.

"I hateMcGonagall," she declared, seizing a first-year by the ear and turfing him out of an armchair in the common room so that she could collapse into it, utterly drained.

Lucius looked up. "I agree," he said stiffly, waving his wand and clearing a space on the table so that Bella could begin her homework. She rewarded his efforts with a scowl.

"I hate her," she repeated venemously, then she hesitated. "Why are you agreeing with me?" she asked suspiciously.

Lucius shrugged. "I once overheard her telling Flitwick she had no idea why Albus-" - his lip curled - "made me a prefect. I've been rather vehemently opposed to the woman ever since."

"Oh, I see." Bella pulled out her Transfiguration textbook, glowered at it, and then frowned at Lucius. "Why did Dumbledore make you a prefect?"

"I'm not sure," Lucius admitted. "It involved a rather strange speech about choices and directions in life . . . . . To be honest, I'm not sure I understood a word of it."

Bella stared at him. "Let me guess," she said at last. "You smiled and nodded and pretended you did anyway."

Lucius frowned, genuinely baffled. "Of course. I wasn't going to tell him I had no idea what he was on about. I'm not an idiot, you know."

Bella smothered a laugh. "Of course not. Where's Cissy?" she asked suddenly. "Did you see her at supper?"

Lucius stared. "No," he said slowly, mystified. "Why would I be looking for your sister at supper?"

"I asked if you saw her, idiot, not if you were looking for her. I'm not an imbecile, I know you wouldn't be looking for her. That would make absolutely no sense."

Lucius rolled his eyes. "I believe that's her over there," he said lightly. He pointed at Bella's usual seat in the far corner of the room, and at the fair-haired little girl curled up in it, nervously chewing her fingernails. She seemed to be talking to someone. A boy with lank hair and hunched shoulders.

Bella caught her eye and glared at her until Cissy got the message and made her way slowly over to the fireplace.

"Hi, Bella," she said nervously.

Bellatrix did not bother to return the greeting. "I didn't tell you to bring the half-blood," she said irritably. "Did I?"

Snape turned to go, his neutral expression curdling faster than sour milk. To both their shock, however, Narcissa grabbed him by the wrist.

"We were talking," she said determinedly. To her credit, only her lower lip was wobbling. "He was helping me with my homework," she continued. "I can't do it without him."

Even Bellatrix's glare seemed unable to deter her, so Bella gave in with bad grace. "Fine," she snapped. "Let him stay, if you want him to so badly." She watched Cissy sit down on the sofa and tug Snape down beside her.

Lucius smirked as he dipped his quill into the inkpot on the table and continued with his essay. He seemed to find Narcissa's insubordination faintly amusing, something that horrified Bella. Lucius had no sense of humour, after all, and this wasn't even funny. Cissy did not appear to notice. She was chewing her lip, busy trying to decipher an essay so long the parchment fell off her lap and trailed onto the floor. Every few minutes she stopped and asked Snape to explain something to her. Bella watched them for a moment, seething, and then she realized there was a better way to get rid of her anger.

"I hate McGonagall," she said loudly, leaning back comfortably in her chair and focusing her attention on Cissy. "I can't believe she made me late for supper."

Cissy tensed, and Snape's eyes flickered briefly towards her.

Bella narrowed her eyes at her sister. "I'm surprised you haven't mentioned it," she said quietly. "After all, I thought we agreed that you'd wait for me after my detentions. You must have been waiting an awfully long time. You were probably starving."

"I wasn't," Cissy muttered, a faint flush of pink creeping up past her collarbone. "It's fine."

"Mm." Bella gave a contemptuous snort, unconvinced. "Well, I was. So I went to the kitchens to get us some food. One of us has to have some common sense, surely. Here you go." She put a hand into her schoolbag and pulled out a wrapped parcel of sandwiches. "Don't say I'm not good to you."

"I'm not hungry."

Bella sat up a little straighter, irritated. "Of course you're hungry. Did you see her eat anything?" she snapped at Snape. He jumped, caught off guard by the question.

"What?"

"It's a simple question. Did you see her eat? Yes . . . . or no." Bellatrix glared at him, hoping to communicate the consequences of lying to the little brat. He was skating on thin ice as it was. Sooner or later, it would break . . . and if you lie to me, it'll break a lot faster.

Snape seemed to comprehend the consequences of lying very well. He touched a hand unconsciously to his throat, and then he swallowed . . . and shook his head.

Bella smiled. "Good. That wasn't so hard, was it? I do hate liars," she mused. "Eat, Cissy," she ordered, tossing the sandwiches into her sister's lap with a dangerous smile.

Cissy closed her eyes as though praying for mercy, or hoping to wake up from a nightmare. When she opened them again, and saw that the food was still there and they were all still staring expectantly at her, she looked ready to cry.

"I can't help but feel I'm missing something here," Lucius interrupted, making everyone jump.

"You're not missing anything. Mind your own business," Bella ordered. "There isn't a problem, is there Cissy?"

Narcissa stared at her. She couldn't have looked more tortured if Bellatrix had filled her shoes with hot coals. Her gaze flickered from Bella to Snape and landed briefly on Lucius. She shook her head mutely, and then she picked up the sandwich and took a bite, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Good," Bella muttered, ignoring the resentful look Snape was now sending her, and the strange one Lucius was wearing. "Pass the ink, Lucius. I need to finish this essay or that toad McGonagall will have me doing detentions in my sleep."

"You said you would help me," Bella hissed furiously.

Lucius arched an eyebrow. "So I recall," he said dryly.

Bella kicked him under the table, ignoring the reproving look Professor Flitwick sent her. "It's been days," she continued. "I don't believe you haven't heard anything by now."

"I haven't," Lucius said irritably, narrowing his eyes at Weasley and Prewett, who were occupying the desk in front of the two Slytherins and gazing lovingly into each other's eyes. Unsurprisingly, Flitwick couldn't be bothered to rebuke them. Bella scowled. All the anti-Slytherin bias in this school was sickening. Perhaps Lucius was rubbing off on her, but for once she found herself agreeing with him - Hogwarts really was going to the dogs. It didn't help that every teacher with an ounce of talent was in thrall to that muggle-loving moron Dumbledore and believed the whole of Slytherin house were a bunch of good-for-nothing troublemakers. (Bella's own anti-Dumbledore bias had increased tenfold in recent days.)

"Oh Arthur," Prewett whispered, interrupting this satisfyingly embittered train of thought, "you know you've always held my heart!"

Lucius choked. Weasley payed him no attention. He turned radish red instead and squeezed Prewett's hand in an amorous, affectionate manner.

Bella glowered at the pair of them, hoping to convey silent disgust at their behaviour. It backfired on her, however, when they failed to notice her at all. Lucius was still staring at them himself, in a sort of revolted horror, when Bella kicked him again.

"Stop paying attention to them," she snapped, "and pay attention to me, why don't you? Give me an answer! Will he see me or not?"

Lucius pulled his guinea pig towards him and raised his wand, transforming it into a miniature croquet set. He admired his handiwork for a moment, until Bella pointed her wand at it, smiled sweetly, and blew the croquet set to bits.

He sighed. "I can't give you an answer I don't have," he said. "You'll just have to be patient."

Bella glared at him. "Do I look patient to you?" she snapped. "Some of us actually have blood in our veins, Malfoy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lucius snapped back.

Bella got to her feet, jamming her books back into her bag in an bad mood. "It means," she retaliated, "that some of us move at a less glacial pace than the Black Lake, Lucius. I want an answer, and I want one soon."

She stormed out of the room just as the bell clanged to signal the end of class. Flitwick, crushed by the stampede of students hurrying to the door, scarcely had time to utter a squeak of protest at her early departure, and Lucius was much too slow to follow her. He simply cast her an irritated look and then seemed to dismiss the matter, entertaining himself instead by elbowing Weasley in the ribs.

"I want an answer," Bella muttered to herself as she climbed the stairs to today's detention, as if repeating this refrain would summon the desired reality somehow."And I want one now."

Dumbledore smiled at her. "Good evening, Miss Black."

Bellatrix crossed her arms and did her best to tame her foul temper a little, for appearance's sake. "Professor," she said curtly.

The Headmaster's indulgent smile widened a little. "Good evening, Miss Black," he repeated, in the tone of strained geniality her other detention-givers had long ago abandoned.

Bella scowled. "Good evening, Professor," she recited, annoyed. She sat down without waiting for him to offer her a seat, and stared stonily at him, daring him to reprimand her for her rudeness. The old man simply laughed, as though he found her insolence childish but amusing, and said nothing about it, which annoyed Bella all the more.

"And how are you this evening?" he asked.

Bellatrix scowled, in no mood to play games. "I'm annoyed," she snapped, calling his bluff.

Only to have him call hers in return. "Really?" the old man asked benignly, as if he honestly cared for the answer. "Why?"

"Because," Bella snapped, "I'm sick of the bias against Slytherin in this school. It sickens me." There, she thought triumphantly, let's see what you say to that.

Dumbledore frowned. For a moment he seemed genuinely disconcerted. "What bias?" he asked quietly. "That's quite a serious allegation, Miss Black."

"Well, it's true."

"How so?"

"Every teacher in this school thinks Slytherins are a waste of space," Bella retorted. "Even Slughorn keeps interfering with us these days, lecturing us on morality and taking points from his own House! As if every other teacher doesn't take enough already . . . . we have to work twice as hard to get points from a teacher in the first place, and five times as hard to keep them. Which is a novel exercise in motivation, I'm sure, but isn't really very fair, is it Professor? Not when some dunderheaded Hufflepuff can pass Professor Sprout a watering can and earn ten points, and any moronic Gryffindor who happens to be on the Quidditch team can walk into class the day after a game and get a miraculous amount of points for the most mundane answer. How is that fair? Giving people points because they're good, or better yet, stupid . . ...How is that fair? They haven't done anything to earn the privilege. Yet when a Slytherin dares to suggest that five hundred years of untainted ancestry might possibly warrant recognition . . . well. That goes down like a lead balloon, because oh no, that's discrimination! I've never heard such rubbish in my life," she snapped, breathing hard. "No-one respects Slytherin any more. Apparently we're not worthyof respect."

Dumbledore stared at her. Apparently, her answer had been more than he had bargained for.

"Have you considered," he said at last, "that perhaps respect is something that needs to be earned, Miss Black?"

"That's rubbish," Bella replied. "What more do we need to do to earn respect? Get down on our knees and beg? I don't think so. We're clever," she continued. "We're hard-working, for the most part, and motivated, and the things we want we tend to get. We're loyal to our own, and we're proud. This school shouldn't have a House system if those aren't qualities it values in its students. You see, it seems to me that whatever we do, it won't be good enough. If the fight isn't fair," she said passionately, "then why should we fight fairly?"

Dumbledore watched her intently for a minute. He no longer seemed to be very amused. "I don't believe," he said slowly, "that anyone mentioned a fight, Miss Black."

"Life is a fight," Bella retorted. "A fight to survive, a fight to make something of yourself, a fight to be remembered when you're gone."

Silence.

"I don't believe you're being particularly fair to me, Miss Black," Dumbledore said gravely. "Or to my school. Your Head of House, Professor Slughorn, was a Slytherin and is to this day a close friend and esteemed colleague of mine. And what of your friend, Mr Malfoy? It certainly seems to me that he commands more than enough respect. He is, after all, Head Boy."

Bella gave a contemptuous snort. "Only because he licked the shoes of every member of staff to get there," she said waspishly.

Dumbledore stared at her, until she squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. On the one hand, she knew she ought to be avoiding eye contact with the old man . .. . on the other, her pride forbade her to look away and back down. The silence spiralled uncomfortably, and then a knock sounded suddenly on the door, and Bella jumped. (Annoyingly, Dumbledore did not. Did nothing faze the man? His constant, eerie calm reminded her of Lucius.)

"Come in," he called, still watching her with a troubled frown. Then his gaze left her face. Surprisingly, his frown remained. "Miss Black," he said curiously. "Well, this is a surprise."

Bella stared at him, mystified. "I'm over here. Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled, and another voice sounded.

"Hi Bella."

Bellatrix jumped again, twisting in her seat so quickly her neck ached. She rubbed the sore spot and glared at her sister.

"Cissy, you idiot, what are you doing here? I told you to wait for me when I'm finished. Do I look finished to you?"

Narcissa blushed and glanced at the Headmaster, as though awaiting permission to speak. He nodded kindly at her, and Bella realized the little twit really had been waiting for permission. Ugh. Sometimes Cissy was so unBlack-like it was embarrassing.

"Well? What do you want?" Bella snapped, deciding she definitely wasn't going to seek Dumbledore's permission to speak. If Cissy wanted to be obsequious, that was her business.

Narcissa shifted the weight of the satchel on her shoulder uncomfortably. "Um, well . .." She took a deep breath, and then, to Bella's shock, looked away from her sister and stared imploringly instead at the Headmaster. "I was fighting too," she said in a rush. "That day in the common room, with Bella. I was fighting too, and I did start it, and I don't think it's fair that Bella should be punished and not me, because it's mostly my fault and I should be punished too." She had turned a fierce pink, but to Bella's surprise, did not break eye contact. "So I want to do detention too," she finished. "With Bella."

Bellatrix glared at her, stunned into silence and unable to decide if she appreciated this ridiculous gesture or was incensed by it.

Dumbledore regarded Narcissa for a long moment, his blue-eyed gaze unusually sharp, and then he smiled.

"Take a seat, Miss Black."

Narcissa scuttled into the chair beside Bella at once, and shot her sister an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as Dumbledore crossed the room and began to rifle through the contents of a nearby cabinet.

Bella narrowed her eyes at the Headmaster's suspicious behaviour, and then she turned back to Narcissa.

"I told you not to do this," she spat. "I specifically warned you against it. Why would you disobey me? And if you value your life, do not give me some Gryffindor spiel about how it was the right thing to do."

Narcissa twisted her fingers in her lap. "I just wanted things to go back to normal," she muttered. "Like they were before. I don't want you to hate me, Bella."

"I don't hate you, idiot."

Narcissa stared at her shoes. "You do," she murmered. "I'm ruining the rest of the year for you. You think I'm a freak. You were going to-" She shut up very suddenly.

"Going to what?" Bella probed.

"Nothing," Cissy muttered. "You wouldn't understand."

And that was all Bella could get out of her, during an entire hour of shifting through Dumbledore's collection of Daily Prophet articles from the rise of Grindelwald. Cissy even rose to Dumbledore's bait and came out with a few trite lines about the Dark Arts, when he attempted to begin a conversation about them. Bella - not fooled for a minute by these transparent attempts to get her own opinions on the current political climate - remained silent, ensuring these discussions ultimately fell flat, and covered her tracks by needling Cissy incessantly, in a futile attempt to find out what was going on in her sister's head.

It irritated her that she couldn't come up with an answer.

"I can't believe it."

Lucius sat down very suddenly and very stiffly. Bellatrix, struggling with an immensely tedious essay about plant propagation for Herbology, looked up. Lucius looked more irritated and certainly more bewildered than he had for days. He was staring sightlessly at the wall, frowning as though trying to figure out how exactly he had been duped. Bella put down her quill, intruiged. This looked as though it might be interesting.

"What?" she inquired. "What can't you believe?"

Lucius tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair, lost in thought. "Slughorn called me into his office," he muttered.

Bella raised an eyebrow. "And? What did he tell you? That you were Dumbledore's secret love child?" She laughed at her own joke.

Lucius became, if it were possible, even more tense. "No," he snapped. "Don't be ridiculous." He took a deep breath, as though steeling himself to admit something even more unpleasant. "He seems to believe," he continued at last, "that as Head Boy it is my duty to assist struggling younger students. He wants me to 'look after' your sister."

Bella sat up straight, paying attention now. "What? Cissy? What would he do that for?"

Lucius shrugged. "How should I know? He must believe her to be struggling. That is not what matters. What matters is what he expects me to do about it. I don't even know the girl."

"Cissy doesn't need anyone to look after her," Bella said venemously. "She's got me."

Lucius did not comment. Bella scowled and threw her heaviest textbook at him, satisfied when he groaned in pain.

"Well Slughorn appears to think you incapable of looking after her," he snapped. "Although I, apparently, have a much better chance of doing whatever it is he expects me to do, because I am such a restraining influence on her sister."

"Oh, I see. Oops." Bella laughed cruelly, momentarily forgetting her own offence as she realized that she had in fact already got one over on Lucius – after all, baby sitting Cissy was no-one's idea of fun. Certainly not hers. "Well, have fun," she said blithely. "You must be thrilled to have the, er, additional responsibility." She gave a contemptuous snort. "Being Cissy's minder. You're going to hate it," she added with relish.

Lucius groaned. "I don't doubt it." He frowned. "I can't do this. I don't know how to deal with your sister. Look," he said desperately, staring at something just out of Bella's range of vision. "She's crying again! What in the name of Merlin am I supposed to do about that?"

Bella shrugged. "Cissy cries all the time," she yawned. "Do nothing. She'll stop eventually. Well, she usually does."

"That sounds a little cruel," Lucius observed.

Bella scowled. "It'll toughen her up."

"I see." Lucius opened a book and stuck his nose in it, effectively ending the conversation. Bella rolled her eyes. Lucius' main method of dealing with things he didn't understand seemed to be to stick his head in the sand.

"You're going to lose your mind dealing with Cissy," she said delightedly.

"I don't doubt it," Lucius repeated tightly. He sighed heavily. "I really don't."

Bella was practicing her Transfiguration skills on a parakeet and mentally listing her favourite curses, when someone touched her shoulder.

"Ow." Lucius straightened up, looking mildly annoyed, and examined the scorch mark on the wall behind him. "Was that really necessary?" he inquired.

Bellatrix shrugged. "Was it really necessary for you to touch me?"

Lucius scowled. "You are quite possibly the most obnoxious girl of my acquaintence, and certainly the most violent."

Bella rolled her eyes. "If I'm obnoxious, what are you?"

"I am not obnoxious."

"Of course you are. Cissy, tell him he's obnoxious," Bella ordered, her gaze falling upon her sister, who had been sitting opposite her doing her homework.

Narcissa looked up, startled. "But – but he's not," she stammered.

Lucius blinked. "Thank you," he said, surprised. He turned back to Bella. "You see?"

Bellatrix glared at her sister, pleased when Narcissa turned scarlet and stared at the floor. "Cissy's opinion doesn't count," she said tartly. "Cissy is a twit who thinks a halfblood's company is worth keeping." She turned to Lucius. "What did you want anyway?"

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I have something for you," he said slowly, pulling a piece of parchment out of his pocket. "But perhaps now isn't the best time. You seem to be in a bad mood. I'll give it to you later."

Bella kicked him, annoyed when he merely clicked his tongue and stood up. "Manners, Bellatrix," he chided her, tucking the letter carefully back into his shirt pocket. "Later," he decided, smirking at her horrified expression.

"Lucius, you foppish albino idiot, give it to me!"

The bell interrupted her, drowning out the rest of Bella's stream of insults. She scowled, swallowing her scream of frustration, and stood up.

"Come on," she snapped at Cissy. "Supper. And you'd better eat it quickly if you know what's good for you."

She was halfway to the door before she realized that Narcissa had not followed her. Her little sister was still sitting frozen in her seat by the fireplace, and her face had turned a shade of white abnormal even for Cissy. Bella frowned, walking backwards as the rest of the common room surged past her on their way to supper.

"What's wrong with you?" she said harshly.

Cissy swallowed, shaking her head. "I can't do it Bella," she murmered. "Please .. . . please don't make me. I can't do it anymore."

"What?"

Cissy began to shiver. "I can't do it," she repeated. "Please don't make me, Bella. I can't. I really can't. I thought I could but . . . I can't do it." She was really shaking now.

"Are you sick?" Bella asked apprehensively. If Cissy was coming down with something contagious, she wanted to step well back.

Cissy shook her head. Bella narrowed her eyes.

"I don't believe it," she said, outraged. "Well I have to hand it to you Cissy, you're getting craftier. But it's not going to work. I meant what I said. I don't care if I have to force it down your throat – you are going to eat."

She seized her sister by the arm and tried to pull her out of her chair. But Cissy struggled against her.

"I can't," she gasped. "Bella . . . I can't . . I can't . . .I . . ."

Her eyes widened and her chest began to rise and fall rapidly. It didn't look as if she could breathe. Bella gaped at her, horrorstruck.

"Cissy, snap out of it!" she commanded.

"C – can't-" Cissy stuttered. She made a fist of one hand and used the other to press it to her chest, dead in the centre just under her ribs, as though trying to stop her heart bursting out of her ribs. It didn't seem to help. If anything, the problem seemed to be getting worse, and Bella realized that if this didn't stop soon, Cissy was going to turn blue. It had been almost five minutes since the bell had sounded, and the common room was now empty save for Malfoy and Snape.

"Lucius!" she screamed. "Help me! Now!"

Cissy clutched at her arm.

"I don't like it either," Bella hissed, "but I. . ugh, I can't believe I'm saying this – I need help."

"What on earth-"

"Shut up, Lucius!" Bella interrupted. "You can help without talking."

"Not if I don't know what's wrong," Lucius snapped.

"It's obvious what's wrong," Bella retorted. "She can't breathe."

To Lucius' credit, he did not waste any more time inquiring as to why. He simply raised his wand and pointed it at Cissy.

"Anapneo!"

"It won't work."

The unexpected additional voice belonged to Snape. "It won't work," he repeated, ignoring Bella's furious expression. "There's nothing blocking her airway."

Lucius frowned, indicating surprise that Snape even knew the meaning of the incantation. "Then what is wrong with her?" he demanded.

Snape swallowed nervously. "It's a panic attack," he said urgently. "My mother gets them, I know what they look like. You need to make her breathe into a paper bag or something."

Bella laughed. "A paper bag?" she said derisively. "What do you take me for?"

Snape scowled. "Can't you ever think about anyone except yourself? She can't breathe!"

"You little-"

Bella fell silent a moment later, however, as Lucius interrupted her with the last word she ever would have expected.

"Imperio!" he cried.

Bella and Snape stared at him in open-mouthed silence. Bella didn't know which was more shocking, the fact that Lucius had just cast an Unforgivable Curse upon her sister . . . or the fact that it had worked.

Cissy's eyes glazed over in an instant, and her breathing calmed. They all stared at her in silence, watching her breathe.

"That's – that's illegal," Snape said unsteadily, breaking the silence.

Lucius shot him a sharp glance. "Are you going to report me?" he asked icily.

Snape shook his head so quickly Bella could have sworn she heard a crack.

"Good."

"Wow," Bella murmered, waving a hand in front of her sister's face. "That's . . . amazing." Cissy gave no indication she could hear them. "Does she have any idea what's happening?" Bella asked curiously.

Lucius shook his head. "No," he said tautly. "She pays us no attention because I have not ordered her to notice us. I only gave her one order. To forget everything and simply breathe." He was silent, his gaze fixed upon Narcissa's still, corpse-calm features. "She doesn't even know who she is," he said softly.

Bella frowned. "Why the forgetting?" she inquired.

Lucius shrugged.

"So technically we could order her to do anything," Bella said slowly, "and she couldn't disobey." She laughed. "We could make her jump off the Astronomy Tower and there would be absolutely nothing she could do to prevent it . . . ."

"Stop it," Snape snapped. "She's your sister. You shouldn't be trying that out on her, it's creepy."

Bella felt the laugh die in her throat, her momentary good humour evaporating faster than summer rain. She reached out, enraged, and grabbed Snape by the collar, lifting the boy half off his feet. (It wasn't hard to do, given how scrawny he was.)

"I thought we had this conversation. Cissy is my sister," she hissed. "I'll do what I like with her. Do you understand?"

There was a moment of tense silence, during which Snape glared at her but stubbornly refused to answer. Bella shook him, annoyed, and opened her mouth again, reaching for her wand.

"Bellatrix," Lucius warned, "I'm lifting the curse now."

Another awkward silence, and then Bella dropped the boy, laughing as he hit the floor. "Scram!" she ordered, her eyes sparkling with delight as he glared mutinously at her. He glanced once, briefly, at Cissy, and then he fled.

Cissy awoke with a gasp.

She blinked, swaying on the spot. "I . . . what . . what happened?" she said blearily.

Bella stayed silent, so Lucius answered for her. "You couldn't breathe."

"I know .. . I remember . .. I think." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I thought I was going to die," she whispered. She shivered, and failed to notice Lucius' expression flicker. "I don't understand . . what did you do?" she murmered.

"I made you breathe," Lucius said shortly.

"How?"

"Does it matter?"

Narcissa shook her head slowly. "No . . . I suppose it doesn't." She didn't look as if she had quite come back to earth yet – she was staring at Lucius with a wide-eyed, distant expression, as though she were still floating somewhere out of reach. "I'm cold," she whispered. And then she fainted, with scarcely a second's warning. Lucius caught her just before she hit the floor.

"Here," he muttered, reaching into his pocket and pushing the letter into Bella's hand. "Take it." He picked Narcissa up, frowning at how light she was, and put her down in Bellatrix's empty armchair. Bella watched him push her hair gently out of her eyes and point his wand at her, muttering under his breath.

Satisfied Cissy was not about to die, Bellatrix turned her back on them and opened the letter, bursting with curiosity.

There was one sentence scrawled upon the parchment, in handwriting she recognized as Rosier's, and Bella smiled when she saw it.

He says he'll see her.