Stunned, Lucius wordlessly summoned a cloak and grabbed the green flames of Croesus Nott's hand and stepped into the fireplace, whereupon a burst of emerald flames engulfed them both. The next thing he knew, Lucius was expelled into an unfamiliar room with high ceilings and richly decorated in cerulean and gold.

'We need to wait for Rosier – he ought to be arriving soon.' Nott glanced at his pocket watch, it was 7:54 pm, and the portkey was due to arrive at 8 pm sharp.

'Where in Merlin's name did you bring me Nott?'

'Dolohov's humble abode. St. Petersburg,' replied the older wizard, dusting off ash from the sleeve of his robes.

'St. Petersburg? In Russia?' Lucius stared at his companion who did not look at all disconcerted by this, and carried on picking small pieces of debris of his robes. 'I hope you realise that travelling across borders using Floo without prior consent is illegal?' Lucius hissed, 'If the Floo Net-'

'Lucius,' the older wizard placed a hand on Lucius's shoulder and raised one eyebrow 'you've killed and tortured, yet breaking Floo transport regulations is where you draw the line? Not to worry, someone had taken care of that, they won't find out.'

'And pray, who is this someone whom you seem to trust with so much?'

'Dolores Umbridge, I believe you knew her at Hogwarts – Slytherin too. Improper Use of Magic Office but she's got a few tricks up her sleeve, anyhow, no one has been monitoring your fireplace for months.'

Dolores Umbridge was someone Lucius tried very hard to forget, she was a bothersome little girl who often sported a pink bow or hairband. As she was in Slytherin as well as Lucius's year, he had the grave misfortune of sharing all of his classes with her, even up to N.E.W.T level, as he – regrettably – took the same subjects as her.

'That Umbridge girl – woman, she's a nasty piece of work Nott, are you certain she can be trusted?'

'She is slimy and vexatious to be sure, but I trust her,' Nott answered with a smirk, as though he was privy to a juicy secret.

'Oh really? How so?'

'She wants to marry me, I'm pretty sure. Ever since Athena died, she's been batting her eyes and pouting her mouth at me. Mr Nott, I absolutely adore children! I do feel for you, all alone in your home with a young child, how tough that much be! It's irritating but she's got her uses.'

'Merlin,' Lucius rolled his eyes and exhaled slowly, 'is she still doing that? One would hope she had enough sense to take the hint.'

'Come now Malfoy, you have deeply offended me – there I was thinking she wanted to marry me for my mysterious charms and rugged masculinity,' Nott uttered, lines forming around his dark eyes as he smirked.

'Your ego always got the better of you Nott. It is your blood, your wealth and your power that woman wants to marry.'

The grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed thrice, as Nott strode towards a window and opened the brocade curtains. Outside in the snow, Lucius could just make out two silhouettes; one tall and slender and the other approximately half the size – a child – making their way towards the house. Some minutes later, the doors of the parlour opened and a woman with a small child entered, both draped in long black woollen cloaks that looked like they had seen better days. Without any warning, Nott strode up to the woman and pointed his wand squarely in the middle of her chest.

'Antonin's birthday. What present did I give him?'

'A dagger – goblin silver – the hilt is inlaid with emeralds, and you told him that it will cut one's throat like butter,' she answered, unperturbed.

Nott lowered his wand as the woman lowered her hood, she was, Lucius approximated, his age or slightly older, with elegant features, ash blonde hair and cool blue eyes like icebergs, although at this moment, it was in a disheveled low bun and her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, either from a lack of sleep or crying. Having ascertained that the pair were otherwise unharmed, Nott seemed to suddenly remember Lucius's presence and turned to introduce them.

'Lucius, this is Nadezdha, Dolohov's wife, and Dimitri, his son.'

She nodded curtly in Lucius's direction before turning back to Nott.

'I'm sorry, Theodore. We were ambushed by Aurors when we left the house – he told me to apparate to the Portkey without him and that he would join us but –' she broke off abruptly, gently shaking her head.

'It is not your fault. He knew the risks but it was the right thing to do, besides, he might still be alive – a few years in Azkaban before the Dark Lord returns –'

'No, Evan is dead.'

Narcissa was not worried about Lucius, after all, during the war –as the newspapers were calling it – he had often been called away by a fellow Death Eater or the Dark Lord himself, besides, Lucius had an uncanny knack of avoiding harm and trouble – an exceptional sense of self-perseverance – in fact, Narcissa could only remember one instance where he was injured on the Dark Lord's missions; Crabbe had been practicing one of Severus's curses when he, when his damn lousy aim hit Lucius instead, who ended up with an awful wound on his arm. Draco has quite recovered from his little fall, and having grown tired of Quaffle catching, has now taken to chasing Dobby around on his toy broomstick. Perusing the Evening Prophet looking for news on the Lestranges, Narcissa came across an article on Sirius's trial, or rather, his whole life.

SIRIUS BLACK: VILLAIN OR VICTIM?

Sirius Black, notorious Death Eater, was sentenced to life in Azkaban earlier today, however, can we really blame him for his actions? The Ancient and Most Noble House of Black has spawned many a dark wizard before, such as Cygnus Black I, father of the first Sirius Black. He was rumoured to have fashioned a necklace using precious opals he found during his travels in Brazil. Keen to protect his treasure, he cursed the necklace so that anyone apart from himself would die after coming in contact with it. His daughter Elladora, who inherited the necklace after he died, was said to have used it to kill unwitting muggle women – the Ministry suspects that it may have been the cause of around twenty muggle deaths last century. Of course, in more contemporary times, we have Bellatrix Lestrange, cousin of Sirius Black, who is wanted for the torture of the Longbottoms, and Sirus's own brother Regulus, who died whilst on a mission for You-Know-Who. I, Rita Skeeter, journalist for the Prophet, have secured interviews with those who personally knew Black, whose family's blood is tainted with Dark Magic. 'Walburga was an arrogant woman prone to violent outbursts, she would often set things on fire when she was angry,' a close friend of Black's uncle Alphard told me, clearly fire and explosions are not the only thing Sirius and his mother…

Narcissa threw the paper into the fireplace, feeling more and more incensed with every breath. Whose family's blood is tainted with Dark Magic, tainted with Dark Magic? How dare this woman write such dishonest and fictitious lies about her family? Walburga was not arrogant, she merely had a healthy dose of self-respect, and quite rightly so, she was pure-blood and the matriarch of House Black, of course she would not condescend herself with mudbloods and blood traitors. Narcissa's aunt Walburga did, however, become enraged often, but that was only when truly disgraceful things happened, for instance, when the mudblood Nobby Leach became Minister for Magic. Narcissa made a mental note to write a strong worded letter to the Barnanbus Cuffe, editor of the Prophet, about this libellous attack on her family - she was aiming for the removal of Rita Skeeter.

'Draco, darling, come. You must be tired. Dobby has a lot of things to do, let's read The Wizard and the Hopping Pot!' Narcissa called.

'No! Mummy I'm not tired and neither is Dobby, right Dobby?' came Draco's reply from the hallway, followed by a melody of gleeful laughter.

Narcissa sighed, Draco certainly does take after his father, both seem to possess the inability to listen to others – suddenly, a gentle yet rapid series of knocking bought Narcissa'a attention to the window, where a handsome great grey owl was perched, tapping its beak on the window pane. She instantly recognised the owl as belonging to her parents, whereupon she opened the window and untied the letter from the owl's leg before sending it on its way. Narcissa recognized the elegant script as that of her mother's, although today it looked somewhat jerky and hasty – she noticed the tiny scuffs on the paper on the dot above the 'i' where her mother had punctuated perhaps a little too forcefully with her quill, and the tiny streaks of dried ink, where her mother did not blot. She quickly torn off the wax seal; it was not often that Druella Black lost her nerve, much unlike her sister-in-law, after all, she had instilled in Narcissa that as a pure-blood witch, propriety was of paramount importance.

Dearest Narcissa,

Come as soon as you can to Grimmauld Place, your uncle Orion has fallen ill – the healers say he does not have long – it is his heart again, you know how he has never fully recovered from the Nundu encounter. I apologise for informing you so late, we were rather caught up in the moment.

Love, your mother.

P.S. The fireplace is blocked, you have to apparate.

Wordlessly, she summoned two cloaks – one for herself and one for Draco before finding her son and gently lifting him off his broomstick. Draco, sensing something serious was happening by the hard set line of his mother's mouth and the slight frown between her eyebrows, obediently followed his mother by putting on his cloak and allowing himself to be carried in her arms. As they made their way along the tall hedgerows, Narcissa kissed her child softly on forehead before they both disappeared with a quiet pop.