Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter in any way, shape or form.

To SapphireSmoke: Thanks for your input and your thoughts. I must say that initially this fic was something I started writing as an idle sort of entertainment for myself and I wasn't sure if I wanted to continue. But I'm having fun, and you helped me to plan where I'm going with this! Hope that you enjoy as it goes on.


The low grunt of complaint issued from Narcissa's chest and went wholly ignored by the woman currently occupied with her apparent attempts to break her sister's ribs. Tugging at the corset laces with a fervor Narcissa had not expected, Bellatrix worked to pull the device tight. On an average day, the blonde witch would have been happy to use her magic to tug the corset to the proper level of constrictiveness and would have been clothed for the day in under twenty minutes.

On an average day.

Her wand had been brandished and prepared to enact the minor enchantment necessary to pull the laces at her back tight and tie them securely. Wand ripped from her hand in an instant, Narcissa had released a squeak of surprise and instantly moved to lash out at the wand thief when her sister came into view. The punch landed solidly, Bellatrix's expression of devious sneakery shifted into one of sour displeasure. Dropping Narcissa's wand to the side and advancing on the blonde, Bella shoved her with a firm, "Is that any way to greet your sister?"

"It is when she sneaks up on me like some sort of prowler!" Narcissa retorted as Bella manhandled her into facing the bed. Her hands shot out to grip the bedpost to keep her balance as the mad witch gave a hard tug to the still loose corset laces.

"I'm here on a very special invitation", responded Bella haughtily, pulling on a lace. Rolling her eyes safely out of her sister's view, Narcissa put a hand over her stomach as her Bella gave another hearty tug.

"If you don't mind, I'm not quite as small as I used to be." Narcissa complained in a tone that might have been teasing if not for the scowl clearly present in her voice. The air was pushed from her lungs as Bella pulled at the end of her sentence.

"I think you should save your breath for what is to come, dearest." Speaking sweetly, Bella looped the laces around one another in a significantly gentler manner, harkening back to the days when Narcissa would beg her eldest sister to do the chore at every available opportunity.

The Black family matriarch had encouraged her daughters to be self-sufficient from a young age, this encouragement extending naturally into how they presented themselves at all times. It was due to this teaching that all three sisters were quite proficient in the lacing of a corset, the fastening of dozens of dress buttons at a remarkable pace, and other such small tasks that were generally delegated to servants. While the Black children were allowed to request aid when they were very small, it became increasingly more unacceptable to ask for help, resulting in a simple but strong bond between siblings. Rather than risk the ill temper of their mother at the sight of a missed button, they took to checking each other for the small details, and assisting when the woman was not present.

Merely the flashback of such days was enough to distract Narcissa for a blissful second before reality pulled her back like an animal on a leash. How very ironic when she considered the figurative and magical leash she now wore in connection to her sister. She could only wonder who held possession of the controlling end.

Tucking the laces out of sight with a satisfied sigh, the calmness of which contrasted sharply with the woman's following flounce to Narcissa's vanity, Bellatrix said, "We have quite a day ahead of us, Cissy, a bright and shining day." Inspecting herself in Narcissa's medium sized, silver edged mirror, Bella then locked eyes with her sister in the reflection, her even expression giving way to the less-than-mad grin. "Were you not just complaining of losing a sister or some such nonsense?"

The reminder of her own words stung in a fashion, though it was slight; the blonde witch strode with even steps to her wardrobe to pluck a set of deep plum-coloured robes from the magically enlarged depths. Several silent heartbeats passed before she answered, "You have yet to explain yourself, Bella."

Snorting lightly and returning to looking at her own face in the mirror, Bellatrix frowned lightly at a discoloration just under her chin before prodding at her cheekbones with a vague narcissistic pride. "Straight to the point, hm?" Stroking her fingers over the curve of her own jaw and twisting her lips in a mockery of a frightening expression. "You'll just have to be patient, won't you, sister dear?"

Pausing in her work at the buttons of her dress robes, hands dropped to sit on the blonde's hips as her expression did the same. "Do you truly understand the consequences of being seen in public, Bella? Do you comprehend the magnitude of my crimes?" Narcissa scoffed at that thought alone, she was not the sister who should be worrying of crimes. "I refuse to leave my home and assist in whatever plans you are hatching until you inform me of what exactly it is you intend to accomplish!"

Bella's features stilled, a dangerous hint in her tone as she lifted a brow in the mirror, "Oh?" Her lack of a longer answer caused Narcissa to falter shortly, a weakness which Bella had awaited and pounced upon readily. "Narcissa, have I not made myself clear?" She spoke low as she rose from the vanity's small chair to approach her sister. "Is little Cissy a little scared?" As if she was speaking to a child, Bella's voice raised in a high pitched whine.

Bellatrix was halfway to her sister, expression devious and clearly full of intent to do…whatever she pleased really, but Narcissa had grown tired. She did not back away, did not make as if to fight back, she merely stood and awaited the repercussions that so often, if randomly, followed questioning her sister or showing any sort of backbone at all. The dark woman was a mystery, though Narcissa had grown up with her, because this was barely half the woman she once knew. Where the Bella of her childhood might have been comforted by her soft words, or proud of her ability to stand up for herself despite the irritation it might cause, this woman was disconnected.

For a moment Narcissa entertained the chilling thought that she had not brought her sister back in her entirety. Just a moment.

A tired sort of surrender set in, weeks in the making, made real by her estranged husband's hearing being yet again pushed back, by the fact that her sister had devolved into a woman who had little control or care to use it, and by the knowledge that even if she had brought back the woman's body and soul, somehow her heart had been left behind.


Deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, further in than most could boast knowledge of, lay the department with no name. The Department of Mysteries, while indeed mysterious and unrivaled in its methods of secrecy and ability to keep hidden some of the most powerful secrets in the wizarding world, was an absolute open book when compared the unnamed department that lay at the lowest level in the Ministry building. Where the DoM dealt with its very namesake, mystery, and everything which must be kept away from the magical public, the department with no name handled that which the DoM could not. Darkness beyond measure and the sort of magic that must not be given to anyone, for there could be no good use for it. Even that which occurred within the department itself could be called into question if the right ears were to hear.

Much like the Unspeakables, those employed within wore hooded robes at all times, and did not speak. However, the nature of their work required a level of secrecy far more than the capacity of any average individual. The workers within, labeled the Unnamed Ones, were those with nothing and no one, often the presumed dead, called only by a number.

"3977 reporting unusual activity." The words slipped from under and grey hood pulled low, even as the Unnamed One reported as was his job description. Never had he to report any sort of activity outside of what was expected until recently, and said activity was only growing far more bizarre, quite a feat in such a place.

"Your report has been recorded, 3977." Answering succinctly from behind frosted black glass, the voice was not distinctly masculine or feminine, yet another unknown. The man reporting turned to return to his post once more. His job was never done.


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