Disclaimery..thing: I no own. No sue. This chapter is longer than the last one. I don't know if I'm 100 percent happy with it - but meh. It'll do. No beta-tester for this one, so it might have few msitakes - I apologise in advance, Now get readin'!!

CHAPTER 2

As we lived in London, Bella and I were expected to go out and do things for ourselves within the city, such as shopping trips for school. Going to catch the Hogwarts Express was to be no different. We took little luggage, a small trunk each. My hair was immaculate. Bella had combed a sweet smelling potion through is, making my ringlets gleam even more than usual, before sweeping them back off my face into a neat pair of ponytails. We scrubbed furiously at our faces and pinched each others cheeks to make them glow. I looked at myself in our mirror, standing next to my tall, voluptuous 14 year old sister. I was scrawny and underfed. I had not blossomed such perfect curves as Bella, and my lips did not fall into such a glorious pout. The breasts which swelled underneath her robes were delicious to my eyes, and I was green eyed with envy at the rounded hips, which swayed hypnotically as she walked.

I licked my lips and watched as wizarding families tried to mingle in with muggles. They were failing horribly. Bellatrix and I looked like charming little muggle girls, with our perfectly ironed, starch white blouses, knee length denim skirts and shiny black mary janes. Our worn leather trunks gave no hint to the contents, which could give us the power to render any of the muggles in the station utterly useless. Bellatrix had already begun to show me nasty little dark arts spells. We had sat up late together at home, pouring over the extra books we bought from a stinking little bookshop in Knockturn Alley - learning how to make venomous ant colonies spring from the tips of our wands, or how to restrict someone from breathing with a masterful flick of the wrist. Our houselves became much unhappier on the nights we wished to practice our horrific little incantations.

The train was crowded, but my sister whisked me down to the very back of the train, where there was a compartment with a squeaky door which was completely empty. I thumped out a rhythm on the wood of the seat with my heels and began to devour the pages of my "Standard Book Of Spells, Grade 1". The only books I had been reading at home were Bellas "special" ones, because their musty pages promised a a dark, powerful secret to share with my beloved sister. Compared to them the school books pages seemed so clean and bright.

"Cissa"

My sisters rich, velvety voice snapped my head from the crispy white pages of my spells.

"You need to put your uniform on, Cissa dear. We'll be arriving soon"

"Okay...Bella?"

"Hmmm?"

"What if I don't get put into Slythrin?"

"Cissa. Are you or are you not a Black?"

"I am" "What are we, Cissa? Us Blacks?"

"Toujours Pur"

"That's right. And that means, that along with all the Dark Arts practice we've been doing, you are guarenteed to be siting next to me in the great hall tonight, at the Sylthrin table. Understood?"

"Yes Bella..."

I had voiced my greatest fear to my sister. If I got put into any other house I would be scorned even worse by my Mother and I would most likely loose Bella. It was a silent fear I held bottled inside my ribcage - I couldn't loose Bella. She was the only person who had spoken to my properly for a year. She was my beautiful big sister, and I craved her approval even more than my Mothers.

I stood naked, apart from my pants, in small toilet at the back of the train. I pulled grey and black garments from my trunk - which was holding the lockless door closed - and began to arrange them correctly over my body. I was all bones, and the clothing didn't cling to me properly. I felt ugly in them, and tears began to well underneath my papery thin eyelids. I ripped them off again one by one, and stood exposed in the toilet cubicle, silent tears streaking down my cheeks. I hadn't cried since my Fathers funeral - not even as I watched my Mother beat Bella black and blue. Not even as she hissed bitter abuse in my ear. I was crying because while I had felt so special in the station, in my best clothes - matching Bella exactly, my hair sleek and perfect. But this uniform didn't fit me, and I looked like I was wearing old hand-me-downs. I felt poor and disgusting. I slumped myself down into the corner of the cubicle, where my shoulders shook and more, large salty teardrops splattered my bare feet. I didn't notice when a boy shoved the door open violently, even past the weight of my trunk. A jolt ran through m body as he placed a firm hand on my bare shoulder blade, and spoke, with a liquid silk voice - posher even than my own, into my ear.

"Hunched naked, blubbing on the floor of a bathroom Isn't the best place for a young gentleman with my reputation to find a pretty young thing such as yourself, you know. I think it would be a good idea to get dressed...before my male instinct takes over my morality".

I was only 11, of course, and I had no idea what the youth (who must have been only 13, and hardly in the position to have a reputation for anything but being good at gobstones) was talking about, but I still blushed a furious shade of red, and snatched at my cloak to cover my naked, bony body. The boy smirked, and I stared at him, open mouthed. His eyes were a harsh, steely grey and his hair was a soft, transparent sheet of opalescent silver. His cheekbones were high, and his face was that of a corrupt angel - white and pure, but with no trace of innocence. His eyes were too cruel, the curl of his lip too mocking, for him to be anything but devilish. Yet I was infatuated, by his lean catlike body. The arrogance of his posture. The tilt of his head and the fold of his arms.

"Well - I was getting changed. You oughtn't barge in on one, ought you?"

My tone was huffy, and I disguised the crack of tears in my voice with a mock rage.

"Who are you anyway? To be talking to a Black like that?"

Using my name as a shield, like my family had always taught me, I sniffed haughtily and awaited a reply.

"Lucius Malfoy - you've probably heard of my Father. We've heard of yours"

This was said without malice, as the Malfoys would recognise the death of a Black as a loss of one of their own kin. Purebloods alike.

"I'll excuse you for the blubbing"

"And I'll excuse you for the intrusion - if you leave. Now"

I stood, waiting for my name to be called for the sorting. "Abercrombie, Gerald" had already been, and made into a Hufflepuff, and next up was "Bartholemew, Denise" who after about 10 minutes became a Ravenclaw. The second that the words "Black, Narcissa" slipped from the womans mouth, my heart began to pound rapidly in my ears. The tattered hat settled around my curls and I jumped as I heard it's voice inside my ear.

"Another Black, eh? Hmm - theres the usual intelligence, of course. I always think your family would do so well in Ravenclaw. And the classic stubbornness - no change there. Nothing suprising."

I gulped. It had to be Slythrin. It had to.

"Ha ha ha. Thought so. Okay then - there you will go!"

I breathed a sigh of relief as the hat roared from it's ripped brim "SLYTHRIN!" I heard the applause from the green and silver table as I rushed to sit next to my sister, and her glowering friends. "Took it's time, didn't it" She said, cocking her eyebrow at me.

"Said I was clever - it was considering Ravenclaw"

I stuttered, nervously.

"Hat's getting stupid. A Black in any house other than Slythrin - I ask you!"

She laughed in her bizarre, croaking fashion - and I was too busy staring at the white haired boy at the end of the table to notice that another Black was being sorted, and not into our house. "Black, Sirius"

The other children in my year where friendly enough. I liked them, and sat with them in classes without getting shunted away. There were unpopular children, who I had no desire to be. They respected me, for being a Black - and because of Bellatrix. But it was with my sister I spent my free time, learning secret dark spells wth her and her small, select group. Often it would just be me and her, pouring over the books from Knockturn alley - and the letters Mother was sending us. They were full of spite and hate, and contempt. She wrote about the ghosts that were haunting her, and how she suspected our Father's spirit of stranguling the houselves in the night. He wrote that she feared for "precious Andromedas saftey", and her own. "I have felt the fingers of death snaking around my throat. You should be here to potect me. Abandoning me - just like you Father! You are spoilt little bitches. You'll come home as soon as you can, you pathetic blood traitors". The words in the letters stung, but both of us still revered our Mothers word - and her being. We both suspected she was loosing her grip on reality, and were somewhat consernered that she would do damage to herself, or, with her scapegoats gone, she would turn her destructivness to our little sister. Although we did not like Andromeda, we had no desire for her to die. She was, after all, blood.

Lessons at Hogwarts were simple. I exelled in most classes. Transfiguration, Potions and Charms were my best subjects. I also took to Defence Against The Dark arts, because of my sisters teachings of various hexes and curses. But I was never the very top of my class. That was a position taken by a lank, greasy haired boy that no-one liked, or bothered to talk to. I never paid any heed to him. In fact, no-one saw him vey often. According to my sister he came from a good family, though.

"Make an effort to talk to him, Cissa. Our family has connections to the Snapes - even though they are somewhat loose. Poorer than us, you'll understand. But pureblood to the core."

"But no-one likes him, Bella. He's so quiet...and his hair's a mess"

"Well not everyone can be blessed with a big mouth and a head of perfect curls, can they? You little dunderhead. We have to make proper ties with all the old Dark Arts families. For when the time of the purebloods comes again. You know that!"

"Yes Bella. I know."

END OF CHAPTER 2