Narcissa looked down from the high window in the sparse holding cell she had been given in the Ministry. She was awaiting a hearing for the Wizenmagot. The Muggles are so simple. They don't know about the Dark Lord, and how he punishes disobedient followers. They know nothing of the Dark Lord.
Narcissa was standing in a large, imposing hall. It was dark and cold, decorated in black and green. The walls and the floor were stone, with a single throne in the front of the room, surrounded by veiled, robed wizards. Narcissa was eighteen, recently married to Lucius, who was twenty-six at that time. It was a good marriage. She was a good girl, pureblood, one of the blessed people. She was lucky. The man on the throne looked at her expectantly.
"Master, this is my wife, the former Narcissa Black, now Narcissa Malfoy." Lucius said smoothly. Narcissa curtsied perfectly, just as she had been taught in endless etiquette lessons. She was perfect, beautiful, and superior to muggles and muggleborns. He could, would do nothing to hurt her.
"She is lovely, Lucius. I knew you would choose well." The Dark Lord hissed in approval, eyeing Narcissa like she was some delectable treat. This made Narcissa decidedly uncomfortable, although she kept up her servile expression.
"Thank you, master." Lucius bowed. It still annoyed Narcissa that others were given credit for her, as if they had made her perfect. Nevertheless, she had gotten used to it. Stay quiet, he will not harm you if you do nothing to anger him. Be silent and obedient and they will not hurt you.
"Still, she must learn who her master is." The Dark Lord leered. Narcissa knew that expression very well. It always meant she was going to be hurt for the pleasure of someone else. Narcissa's innocent sapphire eyes snapped up to meet her husband's cold grey ones. Narcissa was filled with dread. You stupid girl, what did you do this time. You must have done something. Think, think. Repent, atone for whatever you did.
"I am sorry. I did not mean to do it, I wish only to serve you, master-." Narcissa pleaded desperately.
"Silence. If you truly wish serve me than you will endure all my tests. Crucio." Narcissa writhed on the stone floor. She was on fire, her limbs were being pulled slowly from her body, she was thrown the hard, unforgiving floor. She screamed until her throat was raw and dry, then screamed some more. She scratched bloody furrows into her arms and legs, trying to eradicate the source of pain. She could not breathe, the walls were closing in on her. She started screaming words-begging for mercy, for death. Finally, after an unimaginable amount of pain, the torture ceased.
"You think that was bad, sweet Narcissa?" The Dark Lord asked mockingly. "Ever cross me and the pain will be truly unbearable." He beckoned for her to be brought to him. Lucius grabbed her hair and forced her to hobble to the Dark Lord. He caressed her face, while she stood, unmoving, like a rabbit in the view of a cobra.
"So pretty. Yes, you will be a treat, my darling." The Dark Lord then swept out of the hall, motioning for his Death Eaters to follow him. Narcissa collapsed, a sobbing heap, alone in a huge, cold hall. Alone in a huge, cold world.
That was the first time she experienced the Dark Lord's cruelty, but it would not be the last.
Narcissa shook away from her thoughts.
"Mrs. Malfoy, the Wizengamot will hear you now."