It was a state all members of the Order of the Phoenix knew well: waiting for Dumbledore. He had met with Moody, Lily, and the lads at Bathilda's cottage that morning and returned to Hogwarts to see Slughorn in the afternoon. Moody had stayed behind for security. He kept Sirius calm and as patient as possible with drills in fighting skills in the garden while Peter watched in awe.

Bathilda hadn't let them bully James into joining them. "It's like I keep telling you, Alastor. The boy is grieving. Let him spend a quiet afternoon alone with his Missus, if you catch my meaning," she'd said.

Midway through their alone time, James and Lily lay on the bed in Bathilda's guest room, his arms around her waist and his head on her stomach. With one hand, she paged through the shade magic book, and with the other, she combed her fingers through his hair, a light scratch against his scalp. He was satisfied, sleepy, his eyes closed, but awake, as if drifting off would be too lonely.

"How can it keep getting worse, Lily?" he said. "We got married and everything was perfect. And then as soon as we went back into the world - Sectumsempra, then Mum and Dad, your house getting attacked. And now Remus is locked up with Riddle."

"I'm lucky you haven't decided I'm a jinx," she teased.

He lifted his head to look at her, his chin perched gently on her stomach. "No, of course you're not. That's not what I meant."

She dropped the book to see the glassiness of his eyes, as if he wasn't far from tears. She smoothed his cheek with her knuckles. "I'm sorry, James. I was trying to lighten your mood. I don't doubt you."

He took her hand and pressed it to his mouth. "What if the next disaster is something happening to you? Hurting you, or taking you away from me?"

She brushed her thumb along his lower lip. "We won't split up again. I'll never go where you can't see me. And as long as we're together, our lovely golden magic is unstoppable."

At this he smiled, still rueful, but touched. "It's powerful magic," he allowed, "but no one's said it's unstoppable."

She shrugged. "All it has to be is better than any of those brute Death Eaters' magic. And we already know that it is."

He sighed, lowering his head again. "That Remus - going and making everything so complicated. But I can't be mad at him for chasing after Narcissa. I get it. I would have done the same myself if it was us."

She hummed, agreeing. "And it's not like he didn't warn us. We didn't take Remus as seriously as we should have when he stood in the kitchen and told us he'd die for love."

James scoffed. "Well, he'd better not do it today."

He was getting upset again. She brushed her fingertips over his eyelids. "Hush now, James. It's too sunny and bright to go to him yet. And it's so warm and comfy here. Get some rest with me while we wait for Dumbledore."

"I don't want rest," he sighed. "I want us to make ourselves feel better."

She laughed gently, tousling his hair. "Again? Already?"

"Always," he laughed in return, kissing her stomach. "But first, tell me something wonderful. Something hopeful about our future. Tell me more about our Harry."

"I've told you all I know," she said, resting her hand beside James's face, on her stomach, as if they had already conceived their baby and he was there with them.

"Then make up something new," James said. "Start talking and it will come to you. That's how it happened last time. I'll start you off. Tell me if he plays quidditch."

His head rose with her abdomen as she took a deep breath. "Does Harry James Potter play quidditch? Yes, constantly. We hardly need to be seers to know that."

"Harry James Potter?" James said. Lily couldn't see his face but she could hear the smile in it. "So you've gone and decided by yourself that his middle name is James?"

"What else would it be?" she said. "James is better than Euphemius or Fleamont."

"What about Mitch?" James said.

Lily laughed, James's head bouncing with her movement as she did. "Dad doesn't talk about it, but his full, legal name is actually Michelangelo. He says it's embarrassing. His parents weren't even Italian. They just honeymooned in Rome and my Gran liked to paint."

"Wow, that's - interesting," James said.

"Yes, let's just leave it," she said.

"How about Evans?"

"Petty called dibs on it for her future son's middle name ages ago," Lily said, growing serious. "After taking her home and her parents away from her, I have to leave Petunia something."

James nestled his cheek against her skin. "Harry James Potter it is then," he said. "Now tell me more about how he gets on in quidditch."

Lily went on, the words coming quickly, so lovely they felt more like wishes than prophecies. "He learns to fly from you, and from Sirius, his godfather."

"Of course."

"But when he plays at school, he isn't a chaser - "

"What?" James bawled.

She laughed at him. "What did you expect, James? Marrying someone so much smaller than yourself. He's my son too, so he's not as big as you. You should have made a better choice - "

James interrupted her with a scoff. He sat up crawling up the bed to bring his face to hers. "Nonsense," he smirked. "I'll stand by my little wife, even if she does grow into a doting mum who forbids her son from playing chaser."

"Forbid? No, it's not like that," Lily said, her arms around James's neck, looking off over his shoulder, to the sunlight filtered through Bathilda's lace curtains. "Harry starts on the school team too young for any position but seeker. He's the Gryffindor seeker in his first year. Red robes streaming out behind him, just a tiny flash of scarlet, high over the rest of the players. He's brilliant."

James hummed, following her gaze to the window, as if he could see everything she did. "He's got to have keen eyesight then. Must have your eyes. No specs, not like me. That more than makes up for him losing a bit of size."

Lily hummed to herself, dubious. "Picture him, James. His eyes look like mine, but he's in glasses all the same."

"A seeker with glasses? That's ridiculous."

"Yes, but - see him?"

James pressed his cheek against hers. "Are we there, Lily? At the school, in the stands around the quidditch pitch? Are we sitting together, hand in hand, old and nasty and cheering and waving, even in the worst weather?"

Without his glasses, her face would be blurry to him. Lily knew that as she turned to look him in the eye. What did he see in her expression at that moment? Was it sadness, the temptation to tell him what he wanted to hear instead of what she saw?

She held his face in her hands, leaning in to kiss his mouth. "I can't see the faces in the crowd," she said finally, truthfully. "But I know Harry is not alone there. Everyone knows his name. There are people who love him all around, protecting him. And even if we can't see him then," she said, her own vision blurry with tears she was fighting not to shed, "we're seeing him now."

James kissed her, hard and desperate, pushing her back into the pillows, covering her with himself, still not close enough. He backed off only slightly to speak. "We are coming back alive from Malfoy Manor tonight," he said. "We are coming back and living on for our Harry."

Amycus Carrow had warned himself not to wring his hands as he went into Malfoy Manor's drawing room to speak to Tom Riddle. He was doing it all the same. The evening was dark, the fire in the hearth burning high and greenish, and with every day, the air in the room took on a stronger and stronger reptilian stench. The Dark Lord had grown powerful enough, fearsome enough that whatever room he was in felt like murder, tense with the power to dole out judgment, punishment, and death.

He was becoming more dangerous, yet that wouldn't stop Amycus from offering the Dark Lord his sister as the mother of the chosen one in place of that wild and foolish Narcissa Black.

"Surely after her disgraceful behaviour this weekend my Lord will dismiss young Miss Black as Malfoy's consort. She is clearly unfit, if I may say so," Amycus said over his clasped, twisting hands.

"You may not say so," Malfoy said, tossing his hair as he sat at the Dark Lord's side.

Riddle raised a hand to silence Malfoy even as he scoffed at Carrow himself. "Don't be coy, Carrow. Your motives are transparent. You've come to offer Alecto as an alternate consort, in an attempt to elevate your family and yourself above the Malfoys, the Blacks, the Lestranges - families with which yours has never compared."

"Alternate? An utterly unsuitable alternate," Malfoy fumed. "Really, Carrow. That tree stump of a sister of yours as Madam Malfoy? Are you quite serious?"

Carrow snapped, stepping into the flickering green firelight. "Honestly, Malfoy, you would let your selfishness, your vanity, your lust for a pretty but vapid girl get in the way of our Lord's designs. Alecto is no beauty. She has never taken any interest in something so frivolous. Instead, she is a skilled witch, mature, stalwart and true to our cause. You certainly won't find her on the gossip pages canoodling with a fancy man."

He stood panting, waiting for some sign of pain in Malfoy, but finding only a roll of the eyes and a smirk.

Riddle tutted. "Gentlemen, there is no need to insult or take offense. Yes, Amycus, Alecto would do as a mother, all things being equal, but they are not. I will tell you something, because you are a competent, if lacklustre servant, who will serve me better if you understand why I reject your offer. And I will tell you, Lucius, so you do not overestimate your own worth in all of this. You may be substituted out of the role of the chosen sire. Narcissa Black may not be."

Lucius almost let his smirk falter. His pride forced him to hold it, asking no questions, waiting, masking his state of alarm.

"Yes," the Dark Lord continued, sitting forward in his chair, the firelight illuminating his face. "Any virile wizard would do for the father. I chose Malfoy because the bloodline is ancient and pure. The family fortune is sound. And this house - the enchantments built into the stones and timbers of this old house make it a formidable fortress in time of need. It is a fit home for our chosen child. What's more, Lucius's physical appearance matches Miss Black's well, assuring the child will be not only pure, but strong and comely. Yes, it was Lucius that I matched to her, not the other way around."

Carrow sniffed, not daring to object. The Dark Lord turned his back to him, rising and walking to the window, peering out at the darkness. His breath barely fogged the window pane.

"Bella will be arriving soon. Matron of honour for tomorrow's wedding," he snickered to himself. "You know, Bellatrix was my first choice for the mother of the chosen one. I had her paired with Lestrange, another excellent stud like yourself, Malfoy. Both of the Lestranges are skilled, handsome, loyal, lush darkness to their cores."

He smoothed the chintz of the drawing room drapery between his fingers. "But a woman doesn't simply find a mate and lie back to conceive a charmed child. She must be prepared, magically altered over the course of years as she develops. When I approached Bella to begin the preparations, she was fifteen years old, already eager for revolution and glory. At first, she came along brilliantly. Do you remember, Lucius? You were in school together at the time, and she rose to be the best in class for a short while. All thanks to our preparations. A potion she took with her meals, like a health draught."

He let the drapery fall back into place. "But it went wrong. By the second year, she was as you know her now - mad and feral. She was barely able to finish her schooling. When she came of age, I let Rodolphus have her as promised, hoping he could mind her. He does a poor job of it. She'll have them both in Azkaban in the end. It's only a matter of time."

The Dark Lord circled Amycus as he returned to his chair. "It tore Bella apart to fail me. She compensated me by offering her younger sister as a replacement. Bella administered the potions to her, sent them to Hogwarts in sweets disguised as their mother's baking. They came in the post every Friday, a weekend treat. And Narcissa grew strong, hard, and clever with them."

Riddle slid back into the largest, most sumptuous armchair in the room. Something about the way he arranged himself and his robes was like the coiling of a snake. "We watched over Narcissa, waited. No madness overcame her. There is something about Narcissa Black - something different from other witches that allows her to not only bear my potions, but to thrive under them. She hasn't taken any since the engagement ceremony, when Malfoy gave her my ring to wear. It's not as powerful a magical connection and its frailties may explain her recent - lapse. I lose sight of her at times, in spite of the ring, vanishing for hours in a gold cloud. It is why I did not see the interference of our most interesting guest in the cellar."

Malfoy continued to shift in his seat. If Riddle could monitor her, did he already know Lucius had breached the engagement pledge? He deflected. "What will we do with the boy? Has my Lord decided."

Riddle frowned. "In time," he said. "I understand your pride is wounded, Malfoy. He is already buried beneath this house, never to leave us. What does it matter how long he continues to draw breath there?"

Distracted by his own plotting, Carrow was hardly listening, hoping that whatever it was Narcissa Black had to make her able to withstand the preparatory potions, Alecto might have it as well. "Sir, if you please," he squeaked, "what made Miss Black equal to your preparations?"

The Dark Lord scowled into the fire. "She is not equal to anything of mine. She is adequate for it. That is all." He soothed himself by twirling his wand between his fingers. "For the first two years, we didn't know how she did it. Then she began to speak of some arcane family history. She unearthed the Veela heritage on the Rosier side. Pursued it almost to the point of obsession."

"That girl is a Veela?" Carrow said. "Well, that explains her filthy desires."

"She is not a Veela," Malfoy roared. "She has tried to force transformations in herself and fails every time. I have seen it. I have searched it myself. No, she is not a Veela. She is descended from them, carries gifts of theirs that were not passed on to her sisters. She is strengthened by her heritage, but she is purely human."

The Dark Lord laughed, waving at Malfoy without looking at him. "These are the things Malfoy tells himself to keep it all in. Come, Lucius. There is no shame in some carefully cultivated magical creature involvement. If it's the right kind, creature magic rejuvenates our blood. But for a few loathsome creatures - giants, inferii, ghouls, werewolves, a Boggart in disguise - there is much to be gained in consorting with creatures. It is always superior to muddying the blood with nonmagical humans." The Dark Lord finished with a laugh, hollow, as if he didn't quite believe it, but needed it to be true in order to prove every lie he'd ever taught. Narcissa and her Veela must stay. There was no more time to prepare another mother.

He turned back to Carrow. "So you see, Amycus, we cannot dismiss Miss Black. She is far from perfect, but she is capable, and flexible. She is beautiful, strong, magically gifted, and she will obey us or that lanky, scruffy boy in the cellar, the one with whom she is in love - he will answer for it."

By the shrieking, everyone in Malfoy Manor knew that Bellatrix Lestrange had arrived. Loud and manic, she stormed through the front doors and up the manor's grand staircase.

"Cissie!" she called, bursting into the bedroom where Druella Black stood arranging Narcissa's hair under the crown of pearls she would wear for tomorrow afternoon's ceremony. Bellatrix shrieked again at the sight of her little sister heaped in the traditional Rosier family wedding gown. "Cissie as a bridal princess, beautiful as the moon, pure as diamonds, perfectly prepared to conceive the master's chosen one."

Both Narcissa and Druella flinched. "Bella, please," Druella chided. "Don't be crass. All of that will be a private matter between Cissa and her husband."

Bella ignored her, shrieking again, falling on Narcissa and clawing through the folds of her white silk dress for her hand. "Your ring," Bella said. "The opal. Where has it gone? Put it back on at once."

Narcissa snatched her hand away. "Honestly, Bella. I slipped it off before Mother did my nails. I'm sure Malfoy would understand not wanting it smeared with nail varnish."

Bella swore. "Malfoy? Hang Malfoy. He got that ring from the master. That's who it belongs to. That's who we all belong to. There's magic to that ring. Vital magic. And you've gone and lost it?"

Druella had taken Narcissa's hand herself now, turning it over, searching it for the missing ring as if there was somewhere it could be hidden. "No, no, no," she said. "If it's gone we'll be punished. Punished!"

Narcissa huffed, hiding her hand again before they noticed Lupin's mark. "Calm down, both of you. Honestly, this rushed ceremony is stressful enough without you crying over every little thing, Mother. I'll fetch the bloody ring."

She stepped inside the closet, standing with her back to them as if taking something from the dressing table there. Instead, she was muttering the incantation to transforming Andromeda's pendant into an undetectable replacement ring. Thank the stars the pendant was magic enough to not require a wand. "And how dare the both of you know I was wearing jewelry enchanted by the Dark Lord and never say anything to me about it?" she went on.

Bella began to wail a reply but her mother hushed her. "Sit here, Bella darling. Allow Mother to handle this. Now, Cissa. We can be calm, but you must take this seriously and mind the Dark Lord. And mind Lucius too, for that matter. After your flirtation with the boy in the newspaper, all of us are lucky the wedding is still going ahead. In fact, we're lucky we weren't turned out of this house on sight. Lucius is being eminently gracious in all of this. And I won't strain his patience any further."

Narcissa rolled her eyes and waved the counterfeit ring under their noses. "There, are you satisfied?"

Druella slumped to sitting on the sofa beside Bellatrix, her hand on her heart. "It's found. Thank the stars. You girls will be the death of me. Bella with her violence, Cissa with her affairs."

Bellatrix sprung to her feet. "Speaking of the tasty boy from the papers," she purred, "he's still here, isn't he? I like 'em skinny too, you know. Long and snaky. Not that the Dark Lord had anything like that in mind when he gave me my Dolphus-puss-puss. He won't be here until tomorrow. So in the meantime, I'm just like your pet in the cellar, Cissie. Cold and alone in this over-large house." She stood close to Narcissa now, her chin digging into her shoulder. "The boy might be grateful for my company tonight. He's certainly piqued my interest - the person alluring enough to inspire you to risk life and limb and the entire future of our cause."

By the end, there was anger in her taunt, and Narcissa reflected it back at her. "Do as you like with him. It's nothing to me," she said, her tone cool though her cheeks flamed.

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, her mouth open in a wide, mad grin. "You aren't fooling anyone, Cissie. The boy is no flirtation. Why, at this moment, you believe he's your heart and soul, don't you? How far have you let him go? All the way? Is there anything left for our Lucius?"

"Plenty," Narcissa snapped. "My wedding is tomorrow and it's obscene that he's still here. Go on and have at him, Bella."

"Perhaps I shall."

"You shall not," Druella thundered. "You will keep to your husband even when he is not here to guard you. We'll have no more scandal attached to this wedding. Through the ages, the Houses of Black and Rosier has been paragons of decorum and purity. As their heirs, the pair of you will rein in your ridiculous appetites and maintain that legacy."

Bella threw an arm around Narcissa. "You mean like your randy ancestors did, consorting with Veelas? Or like Andromeda?"

Narcissa bowed her head to hide her smirk. Bella was a terrible enemy but a fine ally.

Druella's eyes narrowed. "You will not speak that name in my presence." She dismissed the subject, reaching for Narcissa to inspect her ring. She had just lifted her spectacles to better see it when the door creaked open without a knock and Lucius stepped into the bedroom.

Bellatrix snarled and hurled a perfume bottle at the wall beside his head. "You! At least until tomorrow, you will knock before entering this room."

Lucius smirked but said nothing as he Reparo-ed the smashed bottle and dried the perfume. It's scent stayed, strong and sickening in the room. "Bella, pleasure," he said, greeting her. "Mother Black, would you excuse Cissa and myself? I need to speak with my bride alone."

Fear shot through Druella's face before she could mask it. But she and Bella left the couple alone, Druella hoping against disaster, Bella rooting for it. Narcissa's position in the Dark Lord's plan was sure, but if Bella was lucky, Lucius might still be shaken off and replaced with someone more clearly inferior to her Rodolphus.

Narcissa was at the window, letting in a rush of cold, early spring air to dissipate the perfume smell. "What is it, Lucius?"

He was directly behind her when she turned from the window, much too close, looming. He took her left hand, cradling it in both of his, gently, like a husband. She stiffened as he raised the transformed ring high enough to inspect it. He tilted it one way, then another, red and green flashing through the milky face of the phony opal, undetectable indeed.

"I knew you couldn't have thrown it away," he said, smiling at her. "I knew you were still ours: the Dark Lord's and mine."

She cocked her head, tugging at her hand. "There's no one here to pretend for, Lucius. Speak to me frankly or go."

He held her hand against his cheek, his smile growing more unnerving. "Have you been down to the cellar? Down to him? The servants told me they had an extra scullery maid, appearing out of nowhere, as if by magic this evening."

She dropped her eyes. "You're asking me about him directly now, are you? Or maybe you've been practicing your Legilimency. Ready to have another go?"

"Legilimency will not be necessary," he said, still icy in his coolness. "Not with someone who will not stop acting as recklessly as you do. That boy in the cellar. I know for myself who he is. Or should I say, I know WHAT he is."

He let Narcissa pluck her hand free and spin away, facing the blast of the open window again.

"Mind the weather coming in the window," he said. "If there's rain and you get soaked, I reckon we'll have the stench of wet dog rising from you. Down in my cellar, mauled by that creature - "

Without raising his wand, Lucius slammed the window shut. The room was suddenly still and his hand was on Narcissa's shoulder, turning her to face him.

"Yes," Lucius went on. "The reporter from the Daily Prophet has been most helpful. She's new and very keen. Not only did her photo alert me to your whereabouts this morning, but her investigation connected Potter and your cousin Sirius to a schoolmate matching the description of your paramour. Tall and thin with a distinctively scarred face. His name is Lupin. An odd name, to be sure, and a most fitting one. His father is Lyall Lupin, famous for a bitterly ironic tragedy. After a speech of his in the Ministry about the perils of werewolves, his own son was attacked. The reporter confirmed it in the registry. This Lupin, the creature trapped in my house at this moment, is a werewolf."

"Severus Snape could have told you that," she said with feigned nonchalance. "And like I keep telling you, Lucius, whatever he is, it has nothing more to do with you. No matter what anyone here believes, you will never be my husband."

He scoffed a laugh.

She widened her stance, folding her arms over her middle. "No, Lucius. Our most devastating problem is between you and me alone. Lupin needn't come into it at all. You breached our pledge, and now you must let me go."

His composure was cracked. He spoke now through gritted teeth. "The Dark Lord will not accept a rift between us."

"He has no choice," she said. "With the engagement pledge ruined, whatever spell they try to layer over it to bind us tomorrow - it won't work, Lucius. They're going to find out we can't be together when it literally blows up in our faces."

"You don't understand," he said, his haughty, scoffing manner crumbled into angry desperation. "Ours was not an ordinary engagement."

She stamped one foot. "Then why did you betray it so lightly?"

"Why did you resist me so forcefully? I pushed no harder than you made me."

"You crushed me with your body and violated me with your magic!"

"That is not what happened," he roared. "Don't you see? I am trying to protect you, to preserve your life." He was trying to gather her up in an embrace as she pushed against his chest, the antique wedding dress bunching between them. He overcame her resistance, forcing her close and bowing his head against the top of hers as he pleaded with her. "There are issues at play in this mess which you know nothing of. Please, trust me. Be obedient and sweet. March out onto the terrace and marry me tomorrow, just as you pledged."

She squirmed in his arms. "You're preserving yourself, Lucius. You're preserving the Dark Lord's breeding program. Yes, I know all about it."

"You don't - "

"Find someone else," she called over his voice. "You don't need it to be me. You despise me."

Lucius was shaking his head, his eyes clenched shut. "No, it's too late. It's too difficult. Cissa, couldn't you tell? They've been administering potions to you for years, magically preparing you to bear this child. It's impossible to go back."

For a moment, Narcissa lost her breath. She lost the strength to keep struggling in Lucius's arms. Between the perfume, the cold air, the violence latent in Lucius's hold, and the shock of learning she'd been secretly potioned for years, she could hardly speak. Her heart beat fast and hard, and she wondered for just an instant if Lupin could hear it from the cellar.

She choked past the lump in her throat. "They what? How?"

Lucius groaned, not quite an apology. "I only just learned of it, I swear. It was in sweets sent from home, prepared by Bella. You ate them every weekend and they darkened and hardened your soul's core in preparation for our lord's chosen one. Couldn't you tell when your Veela rose to the surface in response to it?"

"Oh, so now you believe in my Veela?"

He hushed her. "The Veela's appearance was unforeseen, even by the Dark Lord. I'm baffled that he didn't reject you at once when you showed yourself to be anything less than a pure human witch - "

Narcissa scoffed. "Even Tom Riddle isn't as prejudiced as you."

"But his preference for purity seems mollified by the Veela's fortifying effect," Lucius went on. "If it weren't for that creature nature, you wouldn't have been able to withstand the potion's effects and remained..."

His voice faltered. He opened his eyes to look down at her, a softness coming over his face, one she hadn't seen in months, since before their engagement, when she still thought they might have been able to come to love each other someday. "The Veela helped you to stay your beautiful, brilliant self in spite of the potions. Your creature strength was what made you able to bear it."

Narcissa glared back at him, unwilling, unable to return his tenderness. "I suppose that is a clever theory. Ironically poetic. But let me ask you something, Lucius. What girl forced to keep herself mannequin thin for her vain fiancé and his newspaper photo spreads would be able to gobble an entire box of sweets every week?"

She waited, watching as hot terror displaced the momentary tenderness in Lucius's expression. He shook his head. "No."

"Yes," she said. "Oh, I'd sample the sweets when they arrived. Take a bite of one or two, enough to spark a recessive Veela, apparently. But then I'd give the rest to members of my house who didn't get such nice gifts from home. No, if you're choosing a consort based on who ate the most of those potioned sweets, I recommend you woo Severus Snape. Or if you want pure blood, my cousin Regulus. My Aunt Walberga has never baked him a sweet in her life."

Lucius's hold became rough, his hands closing on Narcissa's wrists, slamming her against himself. "No, it can't be so."

"It is," she said, defiant. "Shame on all of you. Look what they've done to those boys. Think of the dark turn both of them have taken, Severus nearly murdering Potter in the school potions lab. I had blamed myself completely for that, but it wasn't all me. Not after he'd been poisoned all these years on cursed sweets meant for your future wife. Well, at least Severus needn't worry about you chasing him down to impregnate him."

"Silence," he hissed. "If this is true, you can never reveal it to anyone."

She tugged back as he jerked her arms, fighting to restore some distance between them. "What do the potions matter if the engagement bond is already broken? In every way, I am not the dark chosen one's mother. It's over. Let me go."

"It is not over. We can fix it, you foolish girl. We must," he said, holding tighter as she strained. "That's why I've come here. I studied it out all afternoon. We can repair the breached engagement vows without an outside party's help. All we need is a spell."

"Fine. Then give me my wand and I'll cast it," she said, her voice dispassionate.

He laughed down at her, low and cruel, his grip now raising bruises on her arms beneath her lacy white sleeves. "Oh no, you won't. No wand for you. All I need to cast it is my wand in one hand, your hand in the other, and an incantation spoken by both of us."

She closed her hands into fists. "You can't fix it. I won't say it."

"You have to," he shouted in a whisper into her face. "Don't you see? Even if you're not properly prepared to mother the chosen one, we need to hide that until we find a way out of this. For now, what we need to do is survive this infernal wedding tomorrow. Stop fighting and give me your hand. We'll sort the rest later. Bonded or not, we'll vanish, separately, and never come back here until he's dead."

"Lucius, listen to me!" she said. "You're wrong. You can never be bound to me in any way ever again. No one can." She paused, gathering strength and breath, her eyes shining. He knew it shouldn't be, but her skin seemed shot through with light, as if she was faintly glowing. "No one can share a bond with me but the person I'm already bound to."

Lucius's face blanched whiter than she had ever seen it. "No," he said. "The werewolf?"

Her head bobbed in a sharp nod, her arm twisting in his grip. "Yes. Look, there's a mark on my wrist."

He bent to look, the crescent flashing silver in her luminous skin.

"It's stronger than an engagement bond. It came on as creature magic between Lupin's werewolf form and my Veela the night you chased me from the school."

"No."

"Yes. We have you to thank for it, Lucius. Nicely done. This bond is real and as solemn as a wizard marriage."

Lucius was shocked but still not hopeless, his hold on her wrists not slackening even as he examined the mark. "If you made a bond as creatures, then it won't be permanent unless you accept it untransformed. I've been studying bonds all day. You can't fool me so easily."

"I am not trying to fool you," she said. "This is what I'm telling you. We did accept each other untransformed. The bond is properly, irreversibly made."

At that he unhanded her, letting go with such force it was nearly a shove. She stumbled against the bed, barely able to right herself, slippery in the wedding dress.

"So your virtue is sullied," Lucius spat.

She squared her shoulders. "It is not. My bond with Lupin is chaste. You broke our pledge before I went to him. He gave me love and comfort when you abused and forced me. As creatures and then as our human selves we did everything properly, honourably. You don't know Lupin at all or you wouldn't doubt it. No, Lucius, my virtue is above reproach. Though my virginity - yes, that is well and truly and joyfully ended."

He ground the heels of his hands against his ears. "I touched you after you'd been with him. That filthy monster…"

"Oh, give over, Lucius," she said. "And accept that we won't be able to fake it through a wedding tomorrow. Not with powerful magic like the bond between Lupin and me already at work. You have to let me go. You know that. Listen to me. All you need do is go to bed and leave my door and the manor's entrance unlocked. After that, you'll never see me again. Tell everyone I slipped away and there was nothing you could do to stop me. Tell them I broke into the cellar and - "

"Cellar? No," he said. "No, I might have let you escape on your own, Narcissa. But I'm not letting the werewolf go free. Not to live as your mate in some den somewhere. Not ever. If the Dark Lord had no interest in him, I'd go downstairs and kill him myself right now."

Narcissa knew it wasn't true. Lucius was scared enough of dueling mere wizards, let alone challenging one who's also a werewolf. She bit back the taunt that rose to her mouth, taking a deep breath and speaking calmly instead. "To save yourself, you have to let me go. And I won't leave without Lupin. You have to let him go with me, or all three of us die at our wedding, in a fit of the Dark Lord's rage."

Lucius said nothing, frantically shaking his head, pulling at the hair at his temples.

"You know it's true, Lucius."

"Stop saying my name with the same mouth you use to speak his," he snapped. "And it's not true. There's some other way out. I'll think of it. I'll think of it myself."

"You can't - "

He didn't hear the rest, shutting out any more of her protests with the slamming of her door, leaving her standing on the rug in the rumpled wedding dress, locked inside.

Narcissa scowled at the closed door for only a moment before rushing to the window. She heaved up on the sash, grunting, near tears. It wouldn't yield. Lucius had magically closed off all the room's exits when he went away.

Went away - yes, that was what he had done. She paced the floor, muttering to herself, cursing like a Muggle, with just her helpless voice. After years of courting and betrothal, Narcissa knew Lucius well enough to know his only concern would be to preserve himself.

No, Lucius hadn't left her alone so he could clear his head to formulate a brilliant plan to save them all. He was plotting a solitary, cowardly escape. He was leaving his parents, the manor, Wiltshire, Britain itself to lay low until the Dark Lord's rage was quelled. He was leaving Narcissa to answer for everything - her and Lupin.

Lupin - the heroic young man who had followed her here, now desperate enough to put his hopes for escape in the same monster that had attacked him in his childhood and made him a werewolf. Ingratiating himself to Greyback was a desperate gamble. Narcissa didn't find Greyback as terrifying as other people might, but when he had come for her earlier to bring her for a brief meeting with Lupin, his presence had been loathsome. Whatever satisfaction he took in watching Lupin being raised and educated with so much wizard privilege, Greyback himself was too stained by murder and violence to be trusted. His soul was in tatters, unpredictable and rash.

But now that Lucius had deserted her, what other choice for an ally did they have?