When Narcissa came around, she was in a setting she did not recongize. Somebody had propped her up on a scarlet sofa, and she was uncannily reminded of Voldemort's eyes when they flashed with fury. Edging herself up, she saw pale blue eyes looking at her with staged concern. "You," she hissed, and backed away. He smiled steadily, his clouded eyes unblinking.
"Yes ... do you like my house? We're getting married next week instead of the summer ... why wait?" he smiled, smoothing down his blonde hair with an arrogant, patronising motion. She didn't answer him. What had happened to the others? She tried to sit up but he pushed her down. "No, dearest," he continued, in the same flat tone of voice, "you hurt yourself quite badly when apparating ... hurt your arm. Do you want a drink?"
"No," she replied sharply. "I mean, yes ..."
He smiled. "Good girl. I've recently got another house elf - his name is Dobby. Bit of a fool, really, but there you go ... Dobby, come here."
There was a loud crack, and the house elf called Dobby appeared, quivering. "Yes, Master?"
"We want drinks - now." Dobby hesitated for a nano second. Lucius saw, and raised his wand to hurt the elf but Narcissa shielded him, her eyes blazing.
"How dare you try and hurt a house elf-"
"Get out of the way, girl, it deserves punishment-"
"No-"
"Get out of the way!" he flung her onto the carpet and she landed awkwardly, her arm clicking back into place. He raised his wand and pointed it at Dobby; who shrieked in horror and cowered as he was inflicted with pain. Narcissa was standing up now, her own wand pointed at Lucius, her chest heaving. "Dobby - go to the kitchen, please. I'll deal with Lucius." Dobby whimpered, before vanishing into thin air. Lucius was smirking at Narcissa.
"So - what are you going to do to me, Narcissa?"
"You hurt Dobby for no reason-"
"Get a grip, woman!" he shouted, his cool, silk voice dissapearing into thin air. She smiled.
"I'm not your darling, then?"
His face fell in a strange sort of way as he sunk to the sofa, his face emotionless. "I - why don't you like me, Narcissa? I've got everything, money, I'm nice, I'll look after you and treat you well and get you anything you want."
"I do like you," she lied, sitting next to him. "It's just difficult right now. You can't even begin to comphrend what I'm going through. Forced marriage, my friendships ended so abruptly. I never even got the chance to say goodbye. Oh, Lucius - can't you do anything to let Voldemort give in?" Lucius smiled upon her plea, and a stroke of sympathy crossed his face.
"The Dark Lord and the term 'giving in' never goes well together." Lucius's smile was somewhat strained. "But ... did he permit any visiting?"

Narcissa thought, her breathing steadying. "He threatened James about repaying a debt, told Remus never to see me again ... Sirius. No. He didn't say anything about not seeing him." Lucius raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak, so Narcissa continued. "I - Sirius is my, cousin ..."
"He's a blood traitor," said Lucius softly. Narcissa ignored this.
"I want to see him."
"No - it's dangerous." he told her firmly.
"Please, Lucius, you said I could have anything."

He sighed heavily. Narcissa was so persistant. He strode about the room, twirling his wand in his hands. He posed momentarily to glance out of the window, attempting to pursue a look of deep contemplation. He turned, his eyes glittering. "Don't you understand, silly girl? If The Dark Lord finds out ..." he supressed a shudder, "Oh, I don't know what would happen ... but if you really want to, Owl him. And that's all, for the time being."
"Thanks, Lucius," she grinned. "I would of done it anyway." And with that, she stood up and left the room. Sitting at a desk in his vast-study, she selected a pot of ink and a twirly quill, before writing her letter on a roll of parchment, with the Malfoy Crest printed on it.

Padfoot,
I've been taken to Lucius Malfoy's residence. He's being okay at the moment, but ... I don't like this. I don't want any of it - but deep down I know wishing it to leave and wanting it to are two different things. I hope you're all okay. I'm so sorry, Padfoot. We should never of left Hogwarts, it's all my fault. I'm so sorry. I'm not allowed to correspond with Moony or Prongs in any way, shape or form - but I'm being slightly daring and am asking you to pass on my apologies and love. Don't blame any of this on yourself, though, because it was entirely my fault. I hope we can figure out a way to fix all of this. Not through charms or magic, but by general relization of matters. Oh god, I miss you all. So much. You'll never understand how much.

Love, Narcissa.

A tear splashed onto the letter she was composing, smudging the word "love" slightly. Sniffing, she rolled up the parchment and put it in a crisp white envelope, before tying it to a fluffy owl, which pecked her affectionatley before flying off. Sitting back down at the desk, she flicked her wand absent mindedly at the sleek looking radio, which burst into life. The end of a song she vaguely recongized was finishing as she tuned in, and a cool woman's voice took over. "... And that was Perma Frost with their Number One hit, I've Got A Chill And I Think It's You. I'm Olive Colens, and it's eight o'clock. The weather for tonight looks rather chilly, so I'd bundle up warm personally. Now, after that astounding weather report, I think I'll get to the news quickly - then to the competitions for this evening!" Narcissa rolled her eyes, but listened intently whilst gazing at the fire.
"Several more attacks on Muggles in mid-London earlier on this evening, culprit unknown, fire at the old bridges just one hour ago ... and what's this? Excuse me for a moment ..." there was a pause, and then the presenter gasped in horror. Narcissa looked expectantly at the radio. "Another murder - Hydra Snow - employee at the Ministry of Magic, was found to be under the Imperius curse. As we all know, that is one of the unforgiveable curses, cast by ... well, you know. Upon having the curse broken, Hydra was trapped in insanity, and eventually hung herself. All these murders are rather odd, aren't they? My apologies about the news mainly consisting of death tolls ... my apologies indeed! Now, to the competition, could YOU win a Nimbus-"
Narcissa zoned out after this upsetting and rather blunt news, and was only vaguely aware of someone entering the room a few moments later. Lucius sat rather gingerely next to her, looking a bit concerned. "Are you okay? I saw Fluffy - that's the owl, silly name I know - fly off with a letter. Uh," he cleared his throat, clearly not used to having to direct the whole conversation, "Do you want some dinner?"
"Yeah, OK," said Narcissa quietly, standing up and heading to the door. Lucius followed, muttering, "I think we'll get a proper meal, not just slop or junk - how about..." she wasn't really paying any attention to him, but nodded whenever there was a pause. They entered the dining room, and he pulled a chair out for her out of manners. She stubbornly delibrated over sitting down, before taking her place. She drummed her fingers on the table in a rhythm, as if hoping to wind him up. Lucius sat opposite her, reading a copy of the Daily Prophet, ignoring her completely. After dinner had arrived fifteen minutes later, she was so tempted to eat. But something in her throat restrained her; choking her from the inside. She pushed the food around on her plate, taking forkfuls in her silver fork, but letting it clatter back down to the plate with a soft thud. She did, however, drain her glass of Firewhisky, but Lucius refused to give her a top up, claiming she would be wallowing in further self pity. He was trying to be nice, she knew that, but she just couldn't deal with it. "Where am I sleeping?" she asked abruptly, shattering the silence. He glanced at her, an eyebrow raised.
"Well, it clearly won't be with me. Ah ... you can have the guest room. It's rather large - kingsize bed, fridge ... yes. Of you go then, if you're tired. Goodnight." And with that, he went back to his newspaper. She blinked.
"Thanks, Lucius. Goodnight."
After she'd got ready for bed, she wandered out onto the balcony and gazed at the moon. It was a full one. She imagined Remus transforming, along with Sirius and James as ritual. Would they miss her from were they were? She looked at the stars. "I miss you."

An hour or so away, Sirius had transformed back into himself, and glanced up at the twinkling stars. One appeared to wink at him. Stretching a little, he turned his head further towards the sky, and spoke. "I miss you." The heavens opened and rain fell down, big dark clouds hiding the moon. He hoped she missed them as much as they missed her.