"If there is an injury, then you must give life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, bruise for bruise, wound for wound."
~ Exodus 21:23 - 25

:::

Druella Rosier Black was not the kindest of mothers. "Narcissa," she said down the length of her pointed nose, "tell your sister how frumpy her gown looks with long sleeves. I will be the laughingstock of the entire town should she walk down the aisle in that dress."

"Mother," I said with a sigh, "there are very few things you should confront a bride with on the morning of her wedding. The frumpiness of her gown is not one of them."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes from where she stood at her mirror. "We have been over this before, Mother-dear. I will have long sleeves on my gown. If you cannot abide it, well, you can go to hell for all I care."

Mother pinched her lips together, eyes narrowing dangerously. "At least the hideous color will take notice away from the sleeves," she replied after a moment, effectively closing the subject. "See to your sister, Narcissa. I wash my hands of her." Mother left the room with a sniff.

"She's always had a stick up her arse. I'm through with her as well. After today, I'm never setting foot back in this damned house again." Bellatrix gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Despite her earlier bravado, there was a tinge of worry in her voice when she asked, "How do I look, Cissy?"

For my part I did not mind the length of Bellatrix's sleeves, which tapered to points at her wrists. The dress itself was made of heavy silk in a deep crimson that bordered on black. Atop her head she wore a matching veil. Everything about the regal dress flouted convention. It may have offended Mother's prudish sensibilities—and it wasn't exactly to my tastes either—but it suited Bellatrix perfectly.

Thankfully, the bridesmaids' dresses weren't so outlandish. My own outfit was an elegant pewter taffeta that rendered my blue eyes smoky gray. I charmed my hair to sit on top of my head in an elegant bun and cascade down my back in soft curls. The image in the mirror was that of a sophisticated society miss, not a sheltered schoolgirl I knew I was.

"Yes, you paint a pretty picture, Cissy dear, but aren't you supposed to be admiring me?" Bellatrix comment nudged me from my reverie.

"Of course you know you look ravishing, Bella," I said, coming to stand next to her at the mirror. "Though Mother is right about the sleeves. You'll be sweltering."

"Fie! It's early April, for Salazar's sake! The only one between us who'll be sweltering is you from all those pervy looks Malfoy sends you!"

"Ugh!" I pushed her playfully, and she laughed. "You must be aware that Lucius and I are barely on speaking terms. If it were possible, I'd have cried off by now, but—well, you know."

"Has it been that bad?"

"There was once a time when I thought marrying Lucius would solve all our problems. It was foolish to think that. There's been nothing but misery for me since we've been engaged. Our family may have saved face from the Andro—other—situation, but no one's asked me my part of it. How it's been on me."

"Marriage is like that," Bellatrix said with a shrug. "You write up a contract, you get married, and you're gone. You vanish into the other person like you don't exist. And you don't. Not like you did, anyway."

"Doesn't it matter who you are? How can you stand that? How can it be fine that you just... disappear?"

"All that matters is that you're with him, and you're together. For better or for worse."

Was this it? Was this my chance? "What if he's evil?" I breathed into the silence.

Bellatrix shrugged, twisting her veil this way and that. "When you love him, when you're devoted only to him, there is nothing else in this world. Nothing else comes close. Nothing else matters."

Silently, I help her arrange her hair and veil. Just a second before I had been so tempted to tell her about what I knew of her fiancé—of the darkness within him, what he did to Audrey. I wanted to pour out my fears and doubts, and convince her—beg her—not to go through with the wedding. But then Bellatrix turned her dark eyes to me. Despite the massive hangover she must have been suffering, she beamed. She looked... happy. Radiant.

My arguments died on my tongue. Who was I to steal this joy she had found? Was I selfish in my desire to expose Rodolphus? What good could be wrought from revealing the past? Nothing would change—not for the better, at least.

At last I convinced myself. I kissed Bellatrix and wished her happy. And at that moment, I knew myself to be a coward.

:::

The Lestrange-Black wedding kicked off the start of the summer social season, never mind that it took place on the first of April. The weather was warm for London in the spring, and the best and brightest of England's magical community graced my sister and her new husband with their presence. The event marked the end of the dismal cold, and everyone was ready to shed the heaviness and sobriety of winter and greet the new season.

Forced to endure what was proving to be a long, excruciating evening, I stood for most of the night awkwardly huddled between a marble pillar and a gaggle of twelve-year-old boys who were growing bolder in their attempts to sneak firewhiskey from the nearby bar. Smoke and drunken laughter filled the air; the crush of bodies swayed to the half-drowned out music coming from the live band at the far end of the room. The night was proving to be even more raucous and debauch than the previous night's festivities.

Mercifully, close to midnight, Rabastan found me. Navigating through the crowds, down a servants' corridor, he led us into a mostly-abandoned courtyard. The only other occupants were a preoccupied couple sitting in the shadows at one corner, and a man on his knees vomiting into the bushes at another. Ignoring everyone else, I closed my eyes and breathed in the cool, evening air.

Rabastan leaned against the entrance of the French doors, a grin on his face. "I'm glad I was able to pull you out of there. You looked like you were wilting."

"I felt like it. Was that not the most painful evening imaginable?"

"The worst," he agreed. "Rodolphus and your sister do have the most horrendous taste. In dress, in music, food—"

"More is more, as Bella always says."

"A saying she takes to heart, I see," answered Rabastan with a laugh. "Though I must say, the champagne was superb. Very well done of them."

"Yes, so well done that it's being gulped down by the litre, and the effects are very much apparent." I let my gaze wander over to the others who graced the courtyard. The couple was still in their own little world—one which I hoped would soon include a private room—and the man had finished retching, but was now groaning into the flagstone.

"If you had tasted the champagne, you would not be able to blame these poor souls. One cannot drink it moderately. Shall I fetch you a glass?"

"Ha! After you've already warned me of the effects?"

"It's your duty to try it, Miss Maid of Honor. You know your sister well enough to realize that she'll be unreasonably offended if you hadn't tasted it."

I made a face at him. "Damn it, you're right. I hate it when you do that. Fine, fetch me a glass."

Rabastan's footsteps had barely receded back into the manse before the man, who a moment ago was moaning pitifully on the ground, rocked back onto his heels and slowly pushed himself upright. I recognized him immediately as my new brother-in-law.

"Narcissa," he slurred, stepping toward me unsteadily.

"Rodolphus..." I started toward the doorway, but he darted in front of me with surprising speed—at least for a man who had just been depositing his guts into the bushes not five minutes past.

He braced himself between the door jam, effectively blocking the entrance. A furtive glance around the courtyard revealed that we were alone. The amorous couple had disappeared.

"You know, Narcissa, it was always just Rab and me growing up. You have no idea how much I have always wanted a sister."

I shuddered. The look he had given me was dark and decidedly un-brotherly. "Rodolphus, please," I said again, attempting to keep the panic out of my voice. "Let me pass."

"You haven't wished me happy yet, sister," he replied, ignoring my request. "Come. Give me a congratulatory kiss." Arms wide, he moved toward me then; the sharp, acrid scent of vomit and alcohol poured off of him like smoke.

Backing away, I attempted to dodge him, but my skirts became tangled around my legs. He grabbed my arms and drew me against his chest. A bolt of fear shot through me as his touch triggered painful memories of my recent nightmare.

"Rodolphus!" We both froze, our eyes drawn to Lucius who stood at the doorway, a glass of champagne in hand. Whatever he thought was occurring, his face showed no signs of it. "Your newly acquired wife is looking for you."

Rodolphus' face cleared. "Bellatrix?" He looked at me again, and released my arms quickly, as though I had burned him. Without another word he lumbered back into the house in search of his bride.

"Are you all right?" Lucius handed me the glass.

I took it and swallowed the bubbly liquid quickly, not tasting it. "How can you be friends with that horrible man?"

"He is not himself when he drinks," said Lucius.

"Perhaps he is not himself when he isn't," I spat, storming back inside. I almost made it back into the ballroom before Lucius' arms came around me, halting my progress. "Get your hands off of me! Did you save me from that monster just so you could accost me yourself?" The glass in my hand fell and shattered at our feet.

His hold didn't break, and he pulled me back into the shadows. "Calm down, damn you! I can't let you go until you desist with this foolishness."

I forced myself to calm down. Not because he had ordered me to—he hadn't—but because I felt slightly ridiculous being held like a child trying to cross in front of an oncoming train.

"There, calm. Will you let me go now?"

"You're not going to run off and tattle on Rodolphus, are you?"

"I should. I can see now it was a mistake not to tell her what kind of man he was before the wedding. He doesn't deserve any less than public humiliation and ostracism."

"You would do that to your own sister?" Lucius said, his voice reproving. "Whatever you wish on him will be visited on her, too, now. Are you that heartless, love?"

"Damn it, Lucius, I am so furious! At you, for being a dictatorial bastard. At me for being a damned coward... but mostly at him and Caractacus Burke. May death take them both," I snarled, "and leave my sister a wealthy widow."

"Short of life in Azkaban, a worse sentence you could not inflict upon your sister. The only thing Bella wants in life is a man completely devoted to her. You cannot find anyone better than Lestrange for that."

As if on cue, the crowds parted, and we glimpsed the pair—Rodolphus and Bellatrix—locked in an embrace, swaying to the music. It gave credence to Lucius' words.

The amorous mood must have been infectious because I soon felt Lucius' lips on my temple. "I miss you, Cissa," he said. "I miss your scent... your saucy mouth. I'll admit that at times I even miss your company. Won't you forgive me?"

I moved away from him then, and leaned against the wall of the shadowed corner we occupied. With the cold marble at my back, for a moment, I regretted leaving his warmth. "You know what you've done, Lucius. How can you even ask that?"

He took my hand and held it against his mouth. "Can't you at least see they were all done for your own good, love? Everything I've done was to protect you."

I snatched my hand back. "I don't need your protection, Malfoy."

"Ah, sweet Cissa," he said, his eyes soft. "You don't know half of what this world holds, and I swear that I will try my damnedest to keep it that way."

"No! No more, Lucius! Every time you try to protect me, I end up worse than before."

He took my face in his hands, his voice and eyes grave. "There is a dark time ahead, Narcissa. You will be my wife, and I will shield you from it as best as I can, but you must trust me."

"That's the problem, isn't it? I don't trust you at all."

"Narcissa, there you are!" Rabastan appeared before us. "Sorry I was held up. Did you get to taste the champagne I sent you?"

"Yes, it was delicious, as you said," I lied, smoothly detaching myself from Lucius' grasp. "What kept you?"

"Ah, sorry about that," said Rabastan sheepishly. "My mother wanted me to meet a friend's niece. An heiress from France, or something. Good enough for a second son, in any case. Had to dance with the chit."

"Dance?" I said, deliberately misunderstanding him. "That sounds like an excellent idea!" I grabbed his hand and practically dragged him out to the dance floor, not even sparing Lucius a backward glance.

Rabastan understood the situation immediately, and once on the dance floor, he took the lead and wrapped his arms around me. "Poor Cissy, was it very bad being alone with Lucius?"

"He is everything I remembered him to be, only more-so tonight. The mood has become strange between us. A large part of me, the pragmatic part, says not to trust him—avoid him at all costs, even. Yet, I cannot control my body's reaction toward him. It's magnetic, this power he has over me."

"An enviable trait," he answered with a hint of bitterness. I could not find a reply, so we danced in silence for a bit; my head against Rabastan's chest. His heart beat steadily beneath my ear.

"Still," I continued after a moment, "it not as bad as being alone with your brother." I related to him what transpired after he left the courtyard, and he was appropriately shocked.

"Ah, forgive me, love," Rabastan whispered softly, drawing me closer still. "I returned as quickly as I could." His lips brushed my forehead; his lightly-stubbled cheek gently scored my own.

The Vow hummed—low, but insistent.

Immediately, I stiffened and stepped back from him. "You can't do that, Rab."

"What? Comfort you?"

My face flushed. "Not like that."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded, offended. "I've always been there for you—I've comforted you. Am I not allowed to touch you now?" We had stopped in the middle of the dance floor; Rabastan glared at me, his face a mask of barely-veiled anger. My eyes glanced around the room frantically. Soon the murmuring would begin.

I moved back into the circle of his arms, but kept an appropriate distance between us. "Let's just keep dancing—people are beginning to stare."

He was reluctant, more than a little put out, but at last, he drew his arms around me. We continued to sway together, though our movements were wooden and awkward. There was no way for me to apologize, to tell him that his embrace was being interpreted by the Vow as more than what it was. Or did the Vow sense a less innocent motive?

Months of living with the Unbreakable Vow made me believe that I had encountered every aspect of its hold, yet in the fear and frustration accompanying my vow of total obedience to Lucius, I failed to account for the second stipulation: the vow to remain pure and chaste, denying any man but my husband knowledge of my body.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck midnight. Rabastan jerked forward, gasping, and leaned heavily into me. He clutched his forearm, his face pale.

"Rab! What's wrong?" I held his arm, and he winced in pain.

"It's nothing," he said, voice terse. Straightening, he shook his head and dusted off his robes. "I just—I need to leave now."

Bellatrix's shrieking laugh filled the banquet hall, as she clambered on top of a table. "Thank you all for coming," she hiccupped. "But the party's over!" With a laugh she grabbed Rodolphus' hand, and they both apparated with a loud 'crack!'

Rabastan's face was unreadable. "Shit, this is not how I wanted tonight to end," he said. "Narcissa, I—I'm sorry!" He gave me an apologetic shrug, and then he, too, was gone.

"Party's dead, you best get home," said Lucius' smooth voice in my ear.

I whirled around to face him, aware that several other guests decided that they would be making their escape as well.

"I am also being called away, but I assure you, our conversation is far from over."

Already exhausted by the day's events, I waved him away. "Be gone, Lucius. I am tired of this."

He grabbed my arm and whipped me around. "What is it you want, then? I'd fetch you the moon, if you asked for it."

An answer came to mind. "If you are earnest, there is only one thing I want most in the world. I want revenge."

As though that were some sort of romantic declaration—perhaps for him it was—Lucius swept me up into his arms and covered my mouth with his. "It's yours," he growled, pulling away from me. "I swear it."

:::

Mother entered my room later that night. She dismissed the house elf brushing my hair and took up the comb, positioning herself behind me. I watched her warily from my vanity. My mother hadn't brushed my hair since I was five. There was another reason she was here.

My suspicions were confirmed when she pulled the comb roughly through my hair. My head snapped back with the force of it. I managed to bite back a yelp; I couldn't give her that satisfaction. She continued in that manner for several more strokes.

"Is something the matter, Mother?" I was too tired to keep the irritation out of my voice.

"You and your sister may think I'm a foolish old biddy," said Mother, continuing her forceful ministrations. "And perhaps I may seem that way for my tastes. But at least I'm not a fool—something I cannot say about my daughters."

I whirled to face her, grabbing the brush from her hand. "What are you going on about?"

"Care to explain to me why Lucius Malfoy's fiancée was being fondled on the dance floor by some other man tonight?"

"Don't know what you mean," I answered with a sniff, turning back to the mirror.

"Perhaps you don't understand the gravity of our situation, Narcissa," continued Mother. "Let me inform you at this moment that your position in this household is tenuous, at best. We have already been disgraced, and another mark against our names will destroy us. You, my girl, are flirting dangerously close to ruin. Rabastan may be a sweet boy, but he is an heir. He's not Lucius Malfoy."

"You have nothing to fear, Mother!" I spoke bitterly. "I am prevented from doing anything. You made sure of it."

Her face cleared slightly, reassured. "See, then, that you behave more appropriately from now on. Wagging tongues can still besmirch a good name. You need to be extra solicitous to Malfoy, Vow or no Vow. His good favor matters."

"More than my life?" I grumbled under my breath.

She heard it anyway. "Yes," Mother returned sharply. "It does."

:::

Fifteen minutes before midnight, four days later, the object of our conversation was announced in our parlour. My family was having a quiet evening at home, relishing the calm of our house after the bustle of Bellatrix's wedding. The last of the guests had departed only a few hours earlier, and we finally had the place to ourselves. Then Lucius Malfoy came strolling in.

"Mr. Black, Mrs. Black, I will be escorting your lovely daughter out for the evening." Not so much as a by-your-leave.

"Are you out of mind?" I said, standing. "It is nigh midnight as it is—!"

"Of course you may have her," interrupted Mother. "Keep her as long as you wish." Father bumbled out a few incoherent words, bowing and grinning stupidly as we left the house.

A house elf appeared with a dark, hooded cloak I didn't recognize; Lucius grinned as he slipped it on me, pulling the hood forward, effectively hiding my face from view. Outside, we boarded a finely equipped carriage, and Lucius, after sliding into the seat beside me, rapped on the roof the carriage with his cane. The carriage rolled into motion.

"So where are you taking me so secretively?" I asked at last.

"Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks," he answered, twining his fingers through mine. I was surprised that he even knew when my birthday was. "I thought you'd appreciate getting an early present from me."

A few minutes later, the carriage pulled up to a large townhouse—almost a mansion, really—in a respectable, if not fashionable, part of London. The grounds were tidy, well-manicured, but there was not a single light on in the building that betrayed its inhabitants.

"Where are we?"

"This, Cissy dear, is the home of one Caractacus Burke the Second."

"This? Impossible. The Burkes could never afford something this grand—they are barely scraping by as it is."

"Certainly Audrey's family is poor... but Caractacus Burke is fairly wealthy." He stared at the darkened house, his gaze hardening. "Over the past few days I've discovered that Caractacus Burke has embezzled hundreds of thousands of galleons from his own family. For years he has been buying up half of Knockturn Alley with the stolen profits. Consequently, the family business is tanking while he accumulates his personal fortune."

"That's abominable..."

"He has been hiding behind the shop's supposed poverty. The debt he owed Lestrange was a personal one. A gambling debt. Instead of paying it out of his own pocket, he auctioned off his granddaughter's virtue."

More surprising than Caractacus Burke's perfidy was the vehemence in Lucius' voice. Burke's actions sickened him, but not because of the vile acts committed against Audrey, but because he could not comprehend the utter selfishness of a man like Burke. Lucius Malfoy may not have been a perfect man, but he understood and held sacred his responsibility as the head of his family and business.

"But why are we here?"

Lucius' smile bordered on malicious. "For your birthday present."

:::

Hand in hand we entered the darkened building, which—despite its apparent opulence—looked completely abandoned. Not even a house elf greeted our arrival. Lucius betrayed his familiarity with the house by expertly guiding us through the labyrinth-like first floor. Several minutes passed before we entered a room that sat at the heart of the manse.

A company of three men stood at the center of the room. Their illuminated wands, held aloft, lit the room enough to reveal a fourth man, a black cloth bag over his head, who was bound to a chair between them. I recognized Rabastan as one of the three men, though all three were hooded and masks hid their lower faces. He did not greet me, but nodded solemnly to Lucius.

Lucius left me in the shadows of the room, and strode to meet the men. "Gentlemen," he greeted them. He regarded the bound and blind man before him for a second before ripping the bag from the man's head, revealing the flushed face of Caractacus Burke.

"Malfoy!" Burke had no trouble identifying the only unmasked man in the room. "What is the meaning of this? How dare you and your—your gang of hooligans!—treat me in such a manner—!"

"You have been trialed by a jury of your peers, Burke. You have been found guilty of gross negligence and outright stupidity. Now it's time for sentencing."

"What? Why, you f—!"

"Silencio!" Lucius' spell echoed through the stone room. The man's words caught in his throat, replaced instead by a piteous choking sound.

"You have disgraced your name and that of your family," continued Lucius, his voice hard. "You have condemned them to a life of poverty and shame while you squander what is rightfully owed them. You have bartered your own granddaughter's body against her will in exchange for your vowels. You have neglected and abused your duties as the head of your family. You are a sickening, detestable, waste of human flesh. You ought to hang for your crimes."

Burke began weeping, but whether from genuine remorse or fear, I couldn't tell.

Revulsion suffused Lucius' face. "Because we are merciful, we will give you a choice. You will sell off all your properties, liquidate all your assets. You will meet with my solicitor and draft a new will leaving everything to your granddaughter, Audrey Burke. Then you will fake your own death. A ticket to the Continent has been purchased for you. You will live in comfortable exile funded by Malfoy Group International."

Burke choked on his words for a few moments before Lucius relieved him of the Silencing Charm. "H—How much?" asked the older man, his eyes wide.

"I am not unkind. Fifty galleons a month should be more than sufficient for one man." Burke's face blanched. Obviously, it was much less money than what his current lifestyle was accustomed. "Failure to comply is your second option. Should that be the case, the whole of England will be witness to your very public, very gruesome death... with the same results."

"Damn you, Malfoy! How dare—!"

This time Lucius' own hands at Burke's throat stopped the man's speech. "How dare I, sir? How dare you betray your family's trust in such a manner! You were supposed to provide for them. To protect them—to protect Audrey! Instead, you've done all this!" He gestured to the house around him, as if that would suffice in explanation. And perhaps it did. Burke said not another word.

Lucius released the man, who fell back in his chair, defeated. "Take him to my solicitor," Lucius said to Rabastan. "He's expecting you, Burke. You will be in France by dawn."

One of the men charmed a fire to life in the empty hearth, and all four stepped through to carry out Lucius' decree. When they had gone I left the shadows and stepped toward Lucius, who stood staring at the fire. I expected him to look triumphant, but he didn't. He looked... weary.

"I ended a man's life today," said Lucius, finally. "Though he didn't die, I'm sure in his opinion, he might as well have. It's not something I regret doing—it had to be done. But it is not something that should be done lightly."

I went to him then, stepping in front of him, and wrapped my arms around his waist. He allowed me to rest my head against his chest. "Thank you for doing it. For Audrey's sake."

His arms went around me, and I felt his breath stir my hair. "Do not mistake me, Narcissa. None of this was for Audrey. It was all for you."

A/N: Thank you for your support and reviews (especially to those who PM'd me and helped motivate me to finish up this latest chapter)! You honor me with your words.