*~mystikalolo~*

Disclaimer: The purpose of a disclaimer is to tell a reader who is the owner of what. However, there are some things that you know, without being told. This should be one of them. You know what J.K. Rowling owns. What she doesn't own, and what WB does not own… I do own.

"I can talk, but no one can hear me."

Chapter Two (2)

"Pop"

She was back.

"Damn, you Lucius!" she cried out. Her emotions had gotten the better of her. Not good. He had made all her apartments unapparatable.

"You horrible scum, you! You piece of goddamn, nasty, filthy—"

"Tock Tuck" A knock. At the door. She wearily tried to compose herself and regain some of her cold attitude. When succeeding, she answered, "Who is it?"

"Adrolowus, Madame. Would you permit me to come in? I have your hot water." Oh. Only a servant.

"If you must." He came in, tray levitating next to him, then slowly lowered down to be set on a table. A short man, bald but for a fringe of grey. In black robes of course. With the Malfoy crest at left under neck. An M in red with gold chain twisting round it. The rest was all black.

There was too much black in the house. 'I must get away from it all.' Narcissa asked Adrolowus, "Could you tell me something, Adrolowus?"

"Permit me to say, ma'am, that I will say anything you so desire." Idiot. What an idiot. Cozening up to the male Malfoys might work, but this female Malfoy (Being one made her all the more unhappy) did not stand any such thing.

"Just answer with a simple yes or no. No one's asking you to do any more. Understood?"

"Yes ma'am" Good. 'He's dropped that stupid sickeningly kind attitude.'

"When did Mister Malfoy make my rooms unapparatable?"

Adrolowus was taken aback at such a straightforward question. "Well, Well—I mean—What I mean to say is—"

"What do you mean to say?"

"Well…"

"Spit it out Adrolowus!"

"Mister Malfoy just did it last night, ma'am."

Be still. Show no anger. Be calm. "Oh? Last night? I see. Now Adrolowus, you must tell me one more thing.

"Yes… yes Madame?"

"Just where exactly in this… thing… is there a room from which you can apparate from?"

"I cannot—I cannot answer that Madame Malfoy."

"And why not, pray tell, Adrolowus."

"It is—forbidden—by Mister Malfoy."

Narcissa smiled. No, not the smile of happiness. Not the smile of understanding. The smile of mirth. Unsatisfying, frightening, cruel mirth. A smile reserved for those she hated. And anyone under her husband's brutal confidence, was an enemy, hated and despised by Narcissa.

"I see."

Adrolowus was surprised. The mistress of the house? Giving up without a fight? T'was truly unlike her. But he gave it up. She could see. He was ready to go back, when Narcissa stopped him.

"One more thing, Adrolowus. I want you to stand just two feet away from me, in that corner over there."

Surprised again. "Here, Madame?" He stood there and then, in a flash and nothing more, he was dropped to her knees, his face contorted with pain.

"Tell me, Adrolowus."

With his face, warped with throbbing misery, he gasped out an answer, "In Mister Malfoy's own apartments, Madame. Please—please—stop—"

Narcissa turned a cold face towards Adrolowus. She quickly muttered, "Finite Incantem." Then she said calmly, "Thank you, Adrolowus. That will be all."

Adrolowus picked up his things, his face still twisted, at the memory of the horrifying experience. As he was about to step out, Narcissa spoke again. "Adrolowus?"

He turned around fearfully, expecting the worst to befall him. "Y—yes, Madame?"

Narcissa looked at him, her stare piercing into his eyes. Then, in an almost inaudible whisper, "I am sorry."

And then he was dismissed. Had it been real? Or just a wishful figment of his imagination?

Narcissa closed the door, and wandered back and forth. Now she knew how to get out. Now she had a way to escape. Now she had just shown herself that she could take matters into her own hands. Something, that had been necessary just months ago; something that had been absolutely impossible to do.

*Flashback*

Whispers were filling the halls. All the servants were sharing their stories, trying to learn as much as possible. Narcissa was used to it. This was a normal occurrence whenever Voldemort held a meeting at the Malfoy abode. Narcissa's face paled in disgust and fear, if it was possible to be any paler when you were already living in a world of terror.

'I wonder what cruel torture they plan to bring out next,' was the thought that came most frequently in her head. Just as she was to pass the door leading to the heavily guarded meeting room, the door opened. A tall man with dark drearily-coloured hair and a cruel thin-lipped smile, came out. He looked at Narcissa and beckoned with a bony hand.

"Narcissa."

It was but one word, yet it chilled her to the bone. "Yes Macnair?" Not Macnair, the executioner of the Ministry, but his cousin, Capicore Macnair. A man more powerfully scary than even the executioner.

"Come."

His one-word commands were more than enough to make Narcissa extra cautious. Of course, she knew not to resist. It would do no good. They would just kill her. And Narcissa was a selfish person. No surprise there. She'd discovered this years ago. No matter whose' side you are on in this war between evil and good, it did not affect your traits and manners. Narcissa did not want to die. She wanted to be safe. She did not care what she had to do to be safe. The only thing that got you anywhere in this world was selfishness. And she didn't have that before. So look where it got her. Now she was getting it. Slowly. Slowly. And just look. Just look where it would get her.

She walked inside slowly. And then stopped.

What she saw was something she'd never been supposed to see. Ever again.

*~~**~~*

A/N: The flashback will be continued in Chapter Three (3).