Two days later, Narcissa lay in her bedroom. Sprawled on her deep mahogany bed scattered with satin cushions of gold and silver, she absent-mindedly flicked through a magazine detailing the latest and greatest in Witches' fashion. Despite the fact that, inheriting her family's vanity and love for luxury, she usually devoured the magazine within minutes, she had thus far not moved for an hour.

She threw the magazine down and rolled on to her back feeling hot and fractious . She stared at the ceiling, restlessness causing her mind to wander, and then her hand. She began to stroke her inner thigh, gradually moving her hand further up her legs. Slipping inside her knickers, she began making little circles, her other hand sliding beneath her top and touching her breasts. She writhed on the bed, a flash of guilty pleasure as she thought what her parents would think if they walked in. As her fingers began to work faster she thrust her head into the pillows, closing her eyes to see... Oh my goodness! Why am I thinking of him? But true enough, with each stroke of her fingers there he was, Lucius Malfoy, staring at her. Suddenly, without any warning, lifting her head off the pillow and gasping, she came.

As she lay, regaining her breath and pulling her skirts back over her legs, she felt something tugging on the hem of her skirt. She sat up abruptly.

"Tibs, for goodness sake, why don't you knock or something!"

The little house elf cowered before her. "Begging your pardons, Mistress," he said dropping his nose almost to the floor with a bow, "It's just that your parents is wanting to see you." The house elf disappeared as hastily as he had arrived, and Narcissa hauled herself off her bed.

Walking to the mirror she took her long, slightly bedraggled hair up in one hand and, with her wand, cast a setting spell, holding her hair in a coil on top of her head. Her mother would notice a single hair out of place, so the idea of going downstairs with bed-hair was thus inconceivable.

As she entered the vast room in which her parents sat she felt a familiar sense of foreboding. Suddenly Sirius' unconscionable stunt: running away from her Aunt and Uncle, didn't seem quite so unreasonable. She sat down and as she did so her father gave a flick of his wand which had been lying idly on the mantelpiece. Beside her chair a goblet of wine appeared. She took it and drank, not taking her eyes off her parents, who in turn had yet to look at her with their own.

At last her father put down some pieces of parchment he had been fiddling with and looked at his daughter seriously.

"It appears, my darling, that, despite your sisters' respective conducts, you seem to have escaped unscathed. I did fear that all my daughters would disappoint me, but you appear to have acquired favour of a very respectable order. Your mother and I have agreed on a husband for you… Well, we could hardly say no, such a match is incontrovertibly advantageous to both parties."

Narcissa felt as if she had been glued to the seat, unable as she was to move any part of her body. It suddenly crossed her mind that perhaps her father had put a potion in her wine, or bewitched her seat, a measure against any future ideas she may have had to run away. However, she quickly discovered this was not the case. Standing up, she walked to the window, feeling a sudden need for fresh air.

"Sit down, child," her mother said, an affectedly benign smile appearing in striking juxtaposition to her grandiose and severe countenance. "You are a very lucky girl, and I will not hear otherwise. This match is something your father and I have worked very hard for, so that your future happiness will be ensured."

Narcissa could not speak, or she would have countered this statement fiercely.

"It is all arranged, Narcissa, we are to hear no more about it. Your mother will deal with the arrangements." Her father walked over to her, smiling kindly. "You have not disappointed me, my daughter." He touched her shoulder. "Whatever you have done to deserve this man... Well, I am proud of you." And with that he apparated out of the room.

"Darling, say something," Mrs Black asked, getting up from her seat and walking to the window. "I always dreamed my daughter would marry someone of standing, but who is the appropriate age." Her eyes were suddenly unashamedly sad as she thought back to her wedding. Mr Black was seventeen years her senior, and at the time she had been a horrified eighteen year old. Though she had grown to love him, in her own way, it was more a relationship of mutual respect and companionship.

"When you have responsibilities, Narcissa, you... Obedience and respect is the most important thing. If you are to continue in the lifestyle to which you are accustomed, this is for the best."

Gradually, Narcissa felt the blood return to her face and she looked at her mother.

"Who?" she asked, not really caring what the answer would be.

"He has asked for us not to disclose his identity as of yet, you shall meet him in a few days," she replied with a peremptory nod, then she too left the room.

Narcissa slumped into the chair. For a few minutes she just sat, staring into space.

I have no choice in the matter, unless I want to be the third Black to alienate my family.

She had been brought up expecting this, but now it had actually been confirmed she felt as if a hundred broomsticks were flying around her stomach. She calmly walked upstairs, passing Tibs as she did.

"Tibs, bring some wine... no, Fire Whiskey, to my room."

Tibs looked disgruntled and began wrinkling his nose.

"Please, Tibs, will you do that?"

The little elf flushed a purplish colour, unused to anyone saying 'please' and immediately disappeared.

A few hours later a much more relaxed and resigned Narcissa had fallen asleep. The empty bottle of Whiskey had been spirited away by the house elf.

She was lying on her bed when a knock came at her door. Turning to see who it was she sat up. "Cornelius?" she said, thinking her voice sounded funny. Without a word Fudge threw himself on top of her. He grabbed the bottom of her skirt and began crawling his hands up her thighs. Knocking the cushions on to the floor, he pushed her down into the mattress. Narcissa tried to wriggle free but felt as if she had been bound by some invisible thread. She began shouting loudly, or so she thought, but it appeared that flowers were coming out of her mouth.

Turning back to her would-be attacker she screamed even harder, seeing that he no longer had a face. Suddenly her limbs were free and she thrust her body upwards and fell off the side of the bed.

Sitting in a pile on her floor, she looked around her empty room. That's the last time I fall asleep after drinking Fire Whiskey she thought as she crawled back onto her bed. Climbing under her covers, she laid her head on one of the satin pillows, hoping this time for an uninterrupted night's sleep.