DISCLAIMER: The author does not own the rights to the characters, places, and events belonging to the Harry Potter books, c. J.K. Rowling. However, all plotlines are author's own.

This chapter is dedicated to my sister, who got me started at Please read/review.

Sixteen-year-old Narcissa Black opened her school trunk and began sorting through her things. Another school year had come. Was it really only two more years until graduation? She could hardly believe it. Where had the summer gone?

"Exactly where it always goes," she thought ironically, "Wasted away in my gilded tower at the Malfoy's, like some sort of faerie tale princess."

She took a gray sweater, a gray pleated skirt, a green and silver tie, and a pair of knee socks and laid them across her plush padded chair, so she wouldn't have to search for them, sleepy-eyed, on the first day of classes. If she was nothing else, Narcissa was neat and organized. She'd had a lot of time to be. At the end of every school year, she went back into her quarters at the Malfoy's, and saw nobody else until the school year began. Then she was trotted out again, for the fall semester. Narcissa was getting rather tired of the go-around from both of her families.

She drew a fat wad of letters out of her trunk. Her father hardly ever wrote – he thought that the attachment was unwise and that Narcissa should get to know her new family rather than cling to her old. But her mother wrote faithfully ever single week – or had until she had passed away, suddenly, the spring that Narcissa had turned 12. Narcissa traced her fingertip over her mother's familiar writing, the yellowing sheets of parchment. How could it still hurt? Did that sort of pain ever fade away?

Her eldest sister, Bellatrix, had been married last summer. Narcissa had attended the wedding, with Lucius Malfoy, her fiancé. He was Trixie's age, exactly, and had been good friends with her own fiancé, Rodolphus Lestrange. The two of them had stood silently as the older sister Narcissa had never gotten to know walked down the aisle and became Mrs. Lestrange. During the vows, Lucius had squeezed Narcissa's hand and whispered, "In another two years, that will be us."

That will be us…

Narcissa pushed the thought out of her head and began thumbing through the letters again. Her other sister, Andromeda, also wrote, not as faithfully as their mother had, but enough. Her letters had improved in quantity after she had seen Narcissa at Trixie's wedding. She had run up to her and Lucius, a tall girl with mousy brown hair and eyes that were far too wide, the plainest of the three sisters, and embraced Narcissa as one would a long-lost relative.

"You're so beautiful!" Andromeda kept saying, tears in her eyes, "You've grown so pretty over the years, Narcissa!"

Although Lucius hadn't approved, Narcissa and Andromeda had stuck together like burrs the entire day, talking and trying to catch up. They had seen very little of each other ever since their mother's death. Narcissa felt a quick stab of sadness. What would her life have been like, if Andromeda and she had always been close?

They had barely even seen each other in school. Andromeda was two years older than she was, and as long as Lucius had been in school, nobody was allowed to speak to "his" Narcissa unless they had his permission. He escorted her to classes and he sat with her at dinner. Narcissa had been a child then – only eleven, then twelve, and so on. Finally, when she was thirteen, Lucius graduated, and she thought she would finally be able to really get to know people at school, make some friends.

Apparently not. Lucius had obviously planned for a time when he would not be there to watch her every step, and had employed several of his friends to keep an eye on Narcissa. The next two years were even lonelier than the first three – only now, instead of Lucius, she had nobody to talk to. Nobody was willing to cross Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa's lips formed a hesitant smile. All that was past, now, of course. All of Lucius' friends had graduated, except for Severus Snape, who was her age and her year in school and who was too shy and quiet to even think of coming near her, much less follow her around school looking for a reason to report her to Lucius – not that there had ever been one. And Lucius was on a tour of Europe with his mother and father for a year. He would not even be in England, and it would be difficult to get an owl to him, even if anyone tried. For one whole year, Narcissa would be free.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Narcissa. Not your best work."

Professor McGonagall dropped a sheet of parchment onto Narcissa's desk and moved forward along the rows of students. Narcissa glumly lifted the sheet and turned it over. D. She crumpled it up into a ball and dropped her head into her hands.

What did it matter? What did grades matter at all? She had never felt lonelier in her life. There was nobody here who cared about her, and nobody outside of school who cared if she was happy – except for Lucius, whom she felt only cared about her so far as he cared about anything he owned, and for Andromeda, who hadn't written in several weeks. Narcissa was miserable. What did school matter anyway? Lucius' parents had told her many times that, as the wife of a Malfoy, she was not expected to have a job or occupation. She was going to be a housewife, take charge of Lucius' manor, raise his children. The thought was dismal. Narcissa felt like crying.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. She threw her books and quill into her book bag and raced for the door. She had to get out, to take a walk on the grounds, to go anywhere, do anything, except for sit here and think about how dismal her future was going to be.

It was a beautifully clear autumn day, the type where the sky is a perfectly bright blue, no clouds at all in the sky, and the leaves are brilliant in red and yellows and oranges. Narcissa kicked at some of the fallen leaves, dropped her book bag on the ground, lay down, spreading her corn silk hair around her like a beautiful halo. Her eyes reflected the sky, she felt herself spiraling into sleep. Let everything go away, she begged. Let me wake up an entirely different person. Why must all the good things be reserved for everyone else? Why can't I have what they have?

"Narcissa? Narcissa?"

Someone was nudging her shoulder. Narcissa's blue eyes fluttered open, saw a black shoe inches from her face. She rolled over, leaves in her hair, and looked up.

Her cousin, Sirius, was standing over her, looking down, smirking. His best friend, James Potter, was standing next to him. Both of them were wearing the school uniform, but James' sleeves were rolled up and Sirius had loosened his tie. Sirius had something crumpled in his fist.

"Kind of late for you to be sleeping out on the grass," he drawled, "especially so close to the Forbidden Forest. And are those leaves in your hair?" He reached down and plucked a gold maple leaf from Narcissa's gold hair.

James guffawed, "Almost looks like she was out here with someone. What would Lucius say if he knew what his trophy bride was doing out near the forest this afternoon?"

Sirius laughed unkindly.

Narcissa's face was on fire.

"Don't call me that!" she snapped. She stood up and gathered her things in her arms, flustered. "What are you doing out here, anyway? Spying on me for Lucius?"

Sirius sneered, "Do you really think I'd speak to him? I got this letter for you by accident. Your sister really needs to learn that you're a Malfoy now, not a Black, and stop sending the owls to the wrong last name."

"I am not a Malfoy," Narcissa snarled. Not yet, she thought unhappily. She held her hand out, "Give me the letter."

"Someone's a little testy," James snickered, "Is the honeymoon over, sweetie pie? Or is it just that it never began?"

"Give me the letter!" And Narcissa reached out and ripped it from her cousin's hand. Before he could grab for it, she fled for the castle as fast as her legs would carry her.

When she reached the safety of the walls, she hid herself in one of the crooks, and tore the letter open. Why had it been so long since Andromeda had written? Hungrily, her eyes searched the letter, eating the words, swallowing them whole:

"Narcissa –

I know it has been a long time since I wrote to you, and I realize that the burden of this falls on me. I know you have been writing to me – you always were faithful in your correspondence. But I have not been receiving your letters; Father has been burning them upon their arrival, for the past few months. I will explain why in a minute, but first I need to make something perfectly clear to you.

Narcissa, you are my sister – sometimes, I feel, my only sister, and the only person I can trust. And I love you more than you'll probably ever know. I am sorry that I didn't get to know you when you were little. If Mother and Father hadn't sold you in marriage to the Malfoys, I think things would have been much different between us. I think maybe you would have had a chance at happiness.

When I saw you at Trixie's wedding this summer, I told you that you were so beautiful, and this is true. But I see nothing but sadness in your eyes. You're like a caged bird, Narcissa, someone who has never tasted love or happiness. You need to break free; you need to feel something besides captivity and obedience. You have a spark of fire in you, and it's struggling to get out. You must free it.

It's time to tell you why I am writing to you now. I have broken my wedding engagement to Evan Rosier. Yes, Father knows, and yes, this is why he was burning your letters. He locked me in my room and refused to let me out unless I recanted my decision (not surprising at all, is it? What is it with him and his cure-all decision to lock his daughters in gilded cages?). I finally managed to escape, and I have eloped with a man named Theodore Tonks. I can almost see your surprised expression as you read this letter. Yes, Tonks is a non-magical name. He is a Muggle, Narcissa. I gave up my family name and my father's love (if I ever really had it in the first place) to marry a Muggle-born. And I do not, for one minute, regret that decision.

Despite what our father and the Malfoys may have taught you, dear, you have a choice in what happens in your life. You can marry Lucius Malfoy, and live out your days in that gilded cage, seeing and feeling nothing but what you are told to. Or you can escape, give up the riches and the trapping, and live the life of your choosing. I urge you, Narcissa, from the bottom of my heart – if you have a chance at happiness, seize it with all your strength, and never let it go. Do not wait, or hesitate for a moment. Take it, run with it, and hold on to it.

I will still write to you, faithfully as I can. You are the darling of my heart, Narcissa, and I will never abandon you.

Love always,

Andromeda"

Long before the letter was completed, Narcissa had spotted the page with her tears. When she finished, she folded it gently and slipped it into her book bag. Then, quietly, she began to cry.