Hello fellow Potter fans! This is just a small addition to the previous chapter that I hadn't ever finished. I know it's been forever since I updated, but I'm hoping to get back into this story and finish it up within the next few months. Let me know what you think so far.

Narcissa found herself roaming the halls of Malfoy Manor once again that night, but for once it had not been anxiety or discontent that had kept her from sleep. No. This time, Narcissa Malfoy was feeling invigorated and a little restless. She had been satisfied with how effective her concealment charm had seemed to work on Bellatrix and was starting to feel real confidence in their plan to conceal the child.

She had also felt encouraged by the subtle change she had noticed in her sister. Bellatrix was still brash and manic almost all of the time, prone to random outbursts of temper and mirth, but there had been that moment. Narcissa could still picture the warmth that she had seen in Bella's face when she'd quietly placed her hands on her own rounded abdomen. Although Narcissa had previously questioned how Bellatrix would react to her pregnancy and child, she was now sure that, deep down, her sister was starting to feel like a mother.

Narcissa smiled at this thought as she quietly passed through the dining room and into the manor's large kitchen. She had half a mind to make herself a quick cup of something warm before returning to bed, when she suddenly heard a muffled sound coming from the door that led down to the cellar. Ollivander, she thought with a sharp pang of sadness.

She regretted that the old wandmaker was being held at Malfoy Manor, but had mainly tried to put the thought from her mind, especially in the months since she had discovered Bellatrix's condition. There wasn't anything she could do for the poor man, she told herself, casting a guilty look at the wand in her hand. Her family's own burdens were heavy enough to be getting on with at the moment.

She wasn't sure what the Dark Lord wanted with Ollivander, but she had pieced enough together to know that he was an important piece of the puzzle the Dark Lord was trying to solve. Any attempt to help or free him would surely be met with a cruel punishment not only for her, but for Draco and Lucius as well. Still, she could not completely ignore the cold feeling that had crept over her, or the unbidden memories of her first meeting with the old man.

"Ah, yes, Miss Black," he had said, rummaging around in his dusty back room. "I'm fairly certain about this one. Rowan and dragon heartstring, eleven and a half inches." He had finally emerged holding a long, black box out to Narcissa, but did not immediately loosen his grip when she tried to take it from him. Instead, he met her wide-eyed gaze with a twinkle in his piercing grey eyes and said, as they each held one end of the wand box, "I think you'll find it... unwavering."

That was the moment when Narcissa's mother had dropped a handful of galleons on the counter, declared that they were in a rush and she was sure the wand would do just fine, and pulled her from the little shop. Narcissa had finally found an opportunity to open the long box in the privacy of her bedroom that evening, and found the most beautiful wand she had ever seen inside. The long, slender piece of wood had ornate silver worked into the handle and was stained and polished to a brilliant shine. Holding her breath, she had carefully lifted it out of the velvet-lined box with her index fingers and immediately felt a sense of warmth emanating from it.

"Well, go on," a quiet voice said from the doorway. Andromeda quietly closed the door behind her and quickly joined Narcissa on her large four-poster bed. "Let's see what you've got," she said, smiling warmly.

Narcissa shook herself out of her reverie. She hadn't thought of her older sister in months and certainly didn't have time to start reminiscing now.

She poured some milk from the icebox into a heavy mug and was just about to warm it with her wand when she heard another, unexpected sound coming up from the cellar. Straining to listen in spite of herself, she realized that it was a second voice, softer and higher pitched than the old wandmaker's. Forgetting her mug, Narcissa stepped silently toward the stairway that led down to the solid wooden door. She could clearly distinguish the two voices now, but couldn't quite hear what they were saying.

With a quick glance over her shoulder toward both the corridor and the back door, Narcissa quietly made her way down the stone steps and pressed her ear to the door.

"... I wish I knew how to help you feel better, Mr. Ollivander," the new voice said. "I'm really alright and you shouldn't worry yourself on my account."

"I know, my dear," Ollivander replied. "I only wish that neither of us had ever seen the inside of this horrid place."

"Well, I would have preferred to spend Christmas at home, but at least I have you to talk to. Anyway, I'm not sure how much seeing you're able to do, but I feel as blind as a caetle cusbern in here."

"A what?"

"Oh, they're very interesting creatures. They can only survive in complete darkness, so they're quite difficult to study. My father says there is a large population in Britain, but no one believes him because they can't see—"

Narcissa had heard enough. She retreated back up the steps and to her own room, feeling numb. It was the Lovegood girl. A child, probably no older than her own son, was being held prisoner in her home. She felt sick.

Even with her small victory this evening, Narcissa knew that she'd do well to remember exactly how little control she held over her household.

Thanks for reading! The next chapter is when the real action will begin, so be sure to follow the story if you'd like to keep reading.