"How in Merlin's name does a house being on fire mean that two people are getting along well?" Narcissa had almost immediately asked for clarification about my prior laughter. I hold back more laughter, trying to catch my breath enough to respond. "If a person set my home on fire, I doubt I would be friends with them." Don't laugh. Don't laugh. Is she doing this on purpose? The genuine confusion on her face tells me that, no, she's quite serious. But we are also in public, and Narcissa has always been good at putting on a mask for the public.

"I think it's more about the two prospective friends being like the fire. They get along so well, so quickly - like a house on fire goes up quickly." I gesture with my free hand as I speak, still unwilling to remove my hand from the crook of Narcissa's elbow. From the touch that is keeping my head on my shoulders - at least while I'm still frazzled.

Before long, we find ourselves immersed entirely in muggle London - a place that Narcissa has clearly never been, as she constantly scans the scenery and crowds around us. A car honks, and she tenses her entire body to a halt, nearly pulling me to the ground with the suddenness. I suppress the instinct to laugh, thinking back to when I helped Ginny get acclimated to the muggle world. So soon after the war, car horns and roaring engines put us both on edge. The anxiety was only worsened by the unfamiliar environment, inciting several incidents of Ginny nearly breaking the Statute of Secrecy in her panic. Narcissa isn't likely to lose her cool like that in public, but there's no need to stress her out if I can avoid it. I want my magical friends to be able to spend time in the muggle world without feeling how I did for so long in their world: like an outsider.

Remembering how I helped Ginny adjust, I gently steer us in the direction of a small park. "This way, it'll be a little quieter." Narcissa nods, looking thankful, then allows me to guide us away from the bustle of the sidewalk and onto a footpath. It's cold out, so we're nearly alone in the small stretch of grass. I take the opportunity to cast a charm to help deaden the noise. "Sorry about that. I forget it can be overwhelming your first few times in the muggle world."

At length, Narcissa manages to compose herself and respond. "I am sure it must have been quite the same, your first time in Diagon Alley."

"But of course. Just the sheer number of animals in one place - outside of a zoo? The idea was baffling, but seeing it around was another thing entirely." We continue meandering at a slower pace, now separated a bit as we walk. "I think it inspired me to get Crookshanks. That, and he was so lonely - the clerk said nobody wanted him. Can you believe that?"

"He has been quite the companion to you, I'm sure. I do recall Draco mentioning him in several letters home."

"Did Draco write home often?" The idea is somehow alien to me - that the Draco Malfoy of my school years could have shown courtesy to anyone.

"You sound surprised. Draco and I have always been close. He wrote home at least monthly - sometimes more."

"I meant nothing by it. I think it's the same situation as… your sister. I only have one perspective of Draco from that time, so hearing a different one is odd." We walk along in comfortable silence for some time, pondering our own thoughts. In the near-silence of my spell, the park is serene. Even the few people we pass don't feel like they intrude on the bubble around us. Eventually, though, I find the courage to ask, "Would you tell me more about her? I think it will help, if I try to think of her as the sister you knew."

"Or hearing about her could make things worse."

I nod in acknowledgement. "That's a chance I'm willing to take. I want to see this project through, eventually. If this slows me down, I'll take a longer break and we'll continue at whatever pace we need to." More than likely, Bellatrix isn't getting further away from us as we wait. I have the uncomfortable feeling that, if she is still around, she's trying to claw her way back to the land of the living with as much ferocity as she can muster.

After several moments, Narcissa speaks in a far-away voice, clearly recalling some memory or another. "Most of my fondest memories of childhood are before Andie left. That was around the time B- she started to get worse. I am still not sure if something else happened around then, or if Andie leaving was simply the last feather from the phoenix." She pauses to collect her thoughts before speaking again. "I was around fourteen, and I'd just been introduced to my first betrothed: one of the Parkinson men, who I am still contracted not to name. He was positively dreadful - lecherous and violent, the exact kind of man that pureblood daughters grow up hearing horror stories about.

"Obviously I did not end up marrying him, but why? Well, I came home from our introduction and promptly locked myself in my room. It was easily the most disrespectful I'd ever been to my parents, but I ended up facing no repercussions for it. Andie took the brunt of it." She laughs, a little sardonic. "Looking back at some of the things she said, I can see the seeds of wanting to leave even then. Though, ultimately, I wasn't rescued by her.

"Instead, my other sister fought for me. She was also at the meeting, you see, and - instead of being scared, as I had been - was furious. So she turned that anger against him and his family. She would terrorize him in relatively harmless ways. An easily-countered jinx here, a temporary hex there. She made that boy's life an endless trip to the medical ward once we were back in Hogwarts."

"That can't have gone over well with your family."

"It did not. Nor did it go over well with his. By winter break of that year, he had requested an end to our betrothal. He cited fear for his safety. Utterly laughable, considering the things actually done to him, but he must have been horribly emasculated by the constant torment. Our families opposed his withdrawal, but ultimately it went through. Shortly after, I was served a privacy contract.

"She was punished thoroughly for that. She had not made her involvement a secret. In fact, she flaunted it as a way to protect me. It warded off dozens of others, until one met her standards. I stayed unpaired until I was sixteen, for her influence."

"It seems she saved you much torment. Was she always so protective?" I almost hate that we have to speak around her name. It would tie these stories to her more strongly, I think.

"Only of Andie and I. She never seemed to grow close to anyone else, until… well, I suppose another person made the list eventually. Though by then, even I can admit it was more fanatical obsession than loyalty."

I nod and let us walk along in silence, giving Narcissa time to decide where to take the conversation. Nearly a full lap around the park - several minutes, with our slow pace - later, she speaks again. "I often wonder what life would have been like if Andie had stayed. Not for any animosity towards my sister - at least, not anymore - but because I wonder if that truly was the event to send… her… over the edge.

"Would she have stayed sane? Would Andie have brought her back from the edge - pulled her away from the Dark Lord?" She shrugs, weary in a way I have not seen before. Perhaps being in the muggle world is bringing down her walls some? It must be disarming, at least somewhat. "It does no good to dwell on the past, I know. Still, one does wonder."

I nod. I've wondered the same thing many a time. If I had been more careful, more strict with Harry and Ron, would we have been found by the Snatchers? If I had prepared them more thoroughly, would we have escaped faster?

If I had been stronger, would Bellatrix have gotten to me?

I start to lead us away - further into muggle London. Forcing my voice lighter, "It's getting rather late. Would you like to try some muggle food? I think a change of scenery is in order." A change of topic, too, but I know Narcissa will understand that.

She looks at me critically for several seconds. I imagine she's determining if I'm trying to play some kind of trick on her, but it's hard to be sure. "I'm not easy to impress, Hermione."

I can't help but laugh at that understatement. "No, not in the slightest. But honestly, neither of us are dressed for fine dining. Remember, we're in the muggle world right now - no quick changes." At least not in public, but I'd rather not hide in a restroom or alley if possible - they can be disgusting.

"I suppose you are correct in that regard." She reaches out and places her hand at my elbow. "If you would lead the way?"

"But of course."

Once we're back on the sidewalk, I let my privacy spell fall - just in case. Instantly, I sense Narcissa tensing back up against the noise and bustle of the muggle world. That alone settles plans for food. We'll be going somewhere out of the way and relatively quiet, whatever that means.

I lead us to a more pedestrian area, away from all the cars, and that seems to help. Wanting to distract her a bit, I decide to ask about the French from Bellatrix's journal. "So I did some reading of one of her journals before you came. Well, I tried to. I don't actually speak French. Have they all been like that?"

"Yes. The Black family originated from France, and it is still the first language we are taught as children. Even Draco was taught French before English."

I hum in surprise. "I never knew that."

"Did you have any reason to?" I shake my head, and Narcissa nods. "Exactly. Information, no matter how simple, can be a powerful tool. You likely already understand this, but it is drilled into the head of every pureblooded child intended for Hogwarts. Keep your secrets to yourself. Everyone is listening, always. Even those who call you friend may only be waiting to strike. Trust is a weapon, not a gift."

"That seems… profoundly lonely." I don't have much to say beyond that. I can't imagine living that life, so distant from everyone else around you. Then, something clicks. That must be why her sisters mean so much to her, why she would be willing to fight against death itself for a chance to see her sister again. Why even Bellatrix Lestrange is worth missing, for her. I feel something shift in my perception of Narcissa Black. I think I understand her a little better.

"Are you quite sure this is safe?" Even in her muggle clothing, Narcissa looks entirely overdressed for the small restaurant we've slipped into.

"One of my neighbors eats here regularly. I've been meaning to take up his recommendation for some time now." Looking around, the place is actually a bit nicer than I would've expected. Though, based on his directions, it sounded a lot closer to the main roads. I look down at the menu as I talk, "Now that I think about it, bringing you somewhere French may have been the wrong choice."

"I grew up eating French cuisine. Whatever could be the problem?"

"Precisely that you grew up eating French cuisine. It's unlikely that the food will compare." It certainly won't compare to the culinary skill of your average house elf.

"Do you know what we will be eating? Perhaps we can decide in advance if we need to vacate to a more… suitable location." Narcissa looks more like the Lady Malfoy I knew growing up than I've ever seen her since we started working together. Her lips are curled into a slight sneer, and she's looking down her nose at the surroundings. Somehow, it's more amusing than anything.

"Do I know what we'll be eating? No?" I hope my confusion explains what I'm asking - why does Narcissa think I know what we'll be eating?

It must, because she says, "You did not check what the chef will be preparing before selecting the restaurant?"

Oh, right. Incredibly rich. "Apologies, Madame Black, but you're dining with a lowly peon," I say with a laugh. "We decide our own meals, and a person will bring it to us after it has been prepared." I point to the menu in front of her, "You can decide what you would like from there, and someone will come to take our orders in a moment."

Narcissa looks positively affronted, and it is incredibly hard not to laugh. "I am… not sure I was correct in agreeing to this."

I sober from my previous playful tone. "If we need to leave for any reason, please tell me." I want her to enjoy this outing, not feel overwhelmed and annoyed.

"I-... no, I was trying to make a joke. I think I am just… tense." She nods and steels herself, reaching down for her menu. "Now. Tell me again how this is supposed to work."

"It's simple, I promise. First, we just look at the menu to see what they have available." I lean forward to point at what's on the page, thankful I have the experience of teaching Ginny to fall back on. "If they don't have it listed, they don't know how to make it or they don't have the ingredients for it, even if it's the same cuisine."

After scanning the menu for several seconds, Narcissa looks back up at me perplexed. "This is hardly a thorough exploration of French cuisine. How in Merlin's name is this establishment considered French?"

After glancing around at the nearby tables to see how many people are nearby, I answer. "We should probably be careful how loudly we talk about magical things. On the street, nobody is listening, but inside people have a tendency to eavesdrop. Wouldn't want to get in trouble about the Statute. But to answer your question, muggle restaurants have to be a lot more focused than wizarding ones. The storage and preservation techniques available to them are much less effective than what we can do."

"I see…" She glances through the menu again and nods. "It seems like they've done well, in that case."

"How much study of the muggle world have you done?" I know a few books exist that detail technology, but most of them are horribly out of date. The last one I glanced through didn't even mention cellular phones.

"Admittedly, not much. It simply wasn't a factor before our friendship. Even if I'm no longer a blood purist, blood purism is something I'm unfortunately associated with. As such, most muggleborn wizarding people actively avoid me."

"I certainly can't fault your ignorance of the matter. I mean, I haven't done much reading on pureblood culture either. It just… wasn't that relevant to me. Draco and I don't really speak all that often, the Weasleys have never been big on tradition, and Harry obviously doesn't have much to do with it." I shrug. "In fact, one of the few wizarding traditions I am familiar with is the celebration of Yule, which is something the muggle world has an analog to."

"Then it seems we have much to teach each other," Narcissa says with a smile.

"It does seem so."

Just then, the waiter approaches our table. "Hullo ladies…"

"That wasn't so bad, was it?"

"The experience was… acceptable. The food, however," Narcissa scrunches her nose up in disgust, shaking her head slightly, "was horrendous."

I can't help but laugh. "I think I agree. The magical world must have spoiled me for food quality. My standards are too high now."

"I'm not quite sure that is a bad thing," Narcissa says with a laugh of her own.

As we walk back to my flat, happily laughing and chatting, it occurs to me that this is the second time that she has managed to pull me back to myself. The thought is enough to bring a bubble of contentment up through me.

"You have my thanks for giving me… a novel experience, Hermione. Perhaps I can return the favor some time?"

"Of course, if you're willing to put up with a flock of people. It can be difficult to go out within two months of my name being in the papers. Between reporters, everyone I've upset over my career, and the people who still treat the ground I walk on like it's gold, I can barely move - much less eat."

"Our circumstances may be different, but the result is the same. I, too, am often hassled by crowds. As such, several discreet restaurants keep a table reserved for the Black family." Narcissa follows me through the door, already drawing her wand to Disapparate. "Unfortunately, I fear I will not be available for much of anything until after the ball."

"Just owl me when you get the details sorted, and we can coordinate our schedules from there." We are both rather busy, after all. "I suppose I'll see you at the ball. Have a good evening, Narcissa."

"And you, Hermione." Then, with a crack, I am alone in my flat again.

"Hermione Jean Granger!" I flinch. Or not.

I slowly turn towards the source of the voice. "Uh, hi Ginny. How are you?"

"How am I? Well, I came over to check on my best friend Hermione Granger - who I haven't seen in a bloody month - only to find she's not home." I start to speak, but Ginny talks over me. "Oh, I'll just wait around, she won't be gone long, I think. Five hours later, she comes walking through the door and I see she's been replaced by a damned madwoman!"

Knowing Ginny is in her 'overreacting to news she wasn't prepared for' phase, I brush off the words. "How did you even hide from us?"

"That is the least important part of this!"

"I really don't think it is." I glance around the apartment, only to see that the briefcase isn't on the table anymore. "Did you move the briefcase?"

"What- the briefcase?! You're worried about the briefcase?!" I move around her and see it sitting on my bed. She must have moved it. "Oi! Don't ignore me!"

"I'm not ignoring you, I'm letting you vent. Did you borrow the invisibility cloak from James?" I pick it up by the handle, let my magic curl into it. The same icy sharpness is inside, but dulled by the medium I'm feeling it through. It's a good sign - she probably hasn't messed with anything inside it.

"No! I was just in your room, thinking I was going to surprise you and we'd have a good laugh! Then I hear Black talking to you and I think I've gone insane, but no! Since when are you two friends?!" I shoot her a look - she's taking it too far now. She must notice, as she slowly takes a breath in, then slowly lets it out. "I could deal with the working together, but social calls? Bit much, considering, don't you think?"

"I think we've been friends for a good… month or so now? Something around there." I shrug. "Besides, I don't recall having to ask permission to make friends."

Ginny winces, clearly aware she hit a nerve. Another breath in, another breath out. "Right. Sorry, really." Another breath. "Bollocks, I really sounded like Ron when we were kids, then, didn't I?" I nod, and she walks back to the couch to slump onto it. "I definitely let my own opinions of her get to my head then. If she's your friend, she's your friend. Not my business."

"Thank you." I'm still a bit stung, honestly, but our friendship has been through worse.

Ginny looks up at me imploringly, "I really am sorry, 'Mione. I honestly thought I saw things going this way, and I tried to prepare myself, but… Merlin, every time I look at her or either of the Malfoys… sometimes it just takes me right back to the Chamber of Secrets." Her next breath is shuddery and shallow. "Less so now with Draco, but sometimes he looks so damn much like his dad…"

I sit next to Ginny and slip my arm around her shoulder, pull her into a half-hug. It isn't enough, but it's all I can really offer. "I know, Gin. It's okay, really."

"I'm sorry. I know from the trial that she didn't do it, didn't even know. I mean, hell, Harry testified for her, 'Mione. He wouldn't do that if she'd been part of that."

I hug Ginny a little tighter and nod. When my partnership with Narcissa began, there wasn't much of a need to consider how my friends feel about her. I never expected friendship - the thought of Narcissa and Ginny interacting simply wasn't a factor. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't even consider how this might impact you."

She sucks in a deep breath and holds it for several seconds before breathing out slowly. "Look, I- I get it. I mean, I probably saw it coming before you did." Another deep breath, this one more confident. "I just didn't think about- about this. Running into her at your place, you two going out to do things together, possibly seeing her at events you host."

"I mean, I can-"

"Do you enjoy her company, 'Mione? Actually, genuinely like talking to her?" Ginny looks deadly serious, like she's scrutinizing every microexpression on my face.

I'm a little surprised by this line of questioning - if anything, I expected Ginny to dig her heels in. "Yes, Ginny. She's intelligent and witty, and talking with her is just… easy. I didn't even realize we'd been gone for that long." Thinking back to the walk home, I add, "She's one of the people who can help ground me when I start to panic. Honestly, the only reason we went out today is because she forbade me from working on the project until January. I was starting to dissociate, and she noticed. Not only that, but she immediately took action about it."

"…oh. I didn't- well I guess it makes sense. She is a mum, she must be at least decent at caring about people. And, as much as I hate to admit it, now that his father isn't around Draco is surprisingly well-adjusted. Someone has to be responsible for that." Ginny lets out a long sigh. "Okay. When can I meet her?"

"Ginny, I don't know if that's the best idea-"

"No, if she's going to be your friend, then I'm going to meet her and we're going to at least tolerate each other." After a moment, she nods and says, "Now, when can I meet her?"

I can recognize Weasley stubbornness easily after all these years. I probably won't be able to talk Ginny out of this. "Well, as you probably heard, Narcissa isn't going to be available until after her Yule Ball. Maybe some time after that?"

"Oh, I got an invite to that, too. Well, it was addressed to Harry and I. Didn't even think of that, honestly. Good idea!"

"Ginny, that wasn't what I meant-" But she's already hopping to her feet and drawing her wand, mind made up.

"See you at the ball!" And with another crack, I'm actually alone.

"Right. Well, I guess I should warn Narcissa…"

Narcissa,

Ginny was hiding at my flat to surprise me, overheard us, and now wants to meet you properly. Apparently, she has decided the best place to do this is your ball.

I imagine you'll have received their RSVP by the time this letter arrives, but I wanted to warn you that Ginny has a habit of cornering people when she wants to talk to them. I'm terribly sorry, but I don't think I can overpower the Weasley stubbornness in this instance.

Best of luck,

Hermione