Two years passed.

Life for Narcissa had threatened to turn her into a snobby good for nothing pure-blood, but she refused to let herself sink that low. Diamonds glistened at her ears, neck, wrists and fingers; they made her feel somewhat more important. Of course - she only wore them when Lucius requested her to, which was usually when they were at posh parties of Bellatrix's, or meeting up with Voldemort. Whenever she attended one of these parties or meetings, her dresses would be far too complimentary of her figure, causing the males to talk to her chest instead of her face. Pervs, she thought.
On another note, she had constantly written to Sirius for two consecutive years, but he had never replied. Not once. It broke her heart to think he didn't care anymore; and had broken his promise of keeping in touch. She still wrote to him though. Long letters, short letters, general notes. As she was re-drafting her current prose for him, an owl appeared at her door. She did not recongize it, but it's features were somewhat striking; a short, squashed face with furious amber eyes that were staring curiously at her, it's beak, perfectly shaped, open only to carry the letter, it's brown feathers healthy looking. Cautiously, she dropped her quill and edged closer to the owl, as if wondering whether or not it was an illusion. It wasn't - it was a letter addressed to her in handwriting she hadn't seen in so long, and her heart skipped a beat. Carefully, but with trembling fingers, she undid the envelope, and a white letter fell into her hands.

Narcissa, the first difference she noted was the use of her full name, not his renewed nickname for her that was often used to mock Lucius,
Thanks for your last letter. Infact, thank you for all of them. I'm sorry I didn't reply, but I just couldn't. Too much is going on right now and I can't cope. It's been like this ever since Voldemort threatened us. Moony is having trouble getting a job, Prongs is kinda stressed out too - Lily wants a child but he does not. Not yet, anyway. I haven't seen Wormy in ages either, he's just dissapeared from our lives as if he was never there. Quite odd, really. And me? I'm on my own. I work, I sleep, I eat. But nothing seems real, it's like something that keeps skipping backwards and is broken. You know what I mean. How are things with Lucius and you? Mainly you, though. I don't care about him.
Write back,
Love Padfoot.

And that was it. Two long years had passed - and that was it? She was tempted to throw his letter in the flames, but stopped herself just in time. He had replied - he'd actually replied! And he hinted that he still loved her. The day was glorious already. Grabbing some parchment and ink, she almost stabbed her wrist with her quill in her haste to reply to dear, dear Padfoot.

Padfoot, you raving ... er, person!
Oh my god - you ..

No. That was too silly. She tossed that to the flames, which burnt it to cinders, and relished it's appriceation by burping loudly.

Padfoot,
It's brilliant to hear from you at long last. I was beginning to give up hope of you ever responding, if I'm honest. I'm sorry about the way things have turned out for you all, and although you tell me not to I still feel responsible. Can't Moony get a job at the Ministry, or something? Please send my regards to him, Prongs and Lily. I'd say Wormy, but you haven't seen him, so what's the point? In answer to your question ... I'm alright. I think I might be ... pregnant. I'm a bit fatter. And that's saying something as I never used to put on weight. Or maybe it's these new Butter-roll things - they're lovely, you'd like them. Lucius has been alright with me. A bit distant, but who's suprised, eh. Can we meet sometime? I need to see you. I love you, and Moony, Prongs, Lily etc. Always.
Love, Narcissa.

She dropped her quill in a flourish, and folded the letter carefully into a white envelope, before passing it to the brown owl. It hooted loudly and after recieving her response, flew off and out of her life. For good? She didn't know. She'd just have to keep wishing, wouldn't she? And with that, she grabbed a bottle of Firewhisky and began to drown in her sorrows.

--

Voldemort was sitting quite calmly in his office, scanning the latest information on the Ministry. Did they honestly think they could take him down? He supressed a dark bout of laughter, and pushed the notes aside. Standing up, he walked over to the mirror that hung between two single ebony bookcases. He looked into the mirror but did not see a reflection; he merely saw two scarlet eyes burning back at him. The Horcruxes ... he needed to check on them. One was quite safe, at Hogwarts; the others hidden completely. Apart from the little Badger ... he stepped over to the fireplace, and spoke into the emerald flames. "Bellatrix?"
She appeared in a flourish. "Yes, Lord?" He smiled with amusement, she was so eager to please. It was good though, she'd do whatever he wanted her to without complaint - or questions. As long as he gave her a kiss or two, she'd be like a puppy who'd got it's biscuit. He stroked her face and complimented her, in which she giggled like a school girl. The sound of her gleeful laugh cut through him like a blade through fresh skin.
Get to the point, Tom, said a voice in his head. Yes, he would get to the point. "Bella, I have a request for you." Ah, she was going to do it already. Her eyes were shining and she looked overcome with emotion. "Anything, my lord, anything..."
"I would like you to hide this Badger in your vault in Gringotts."
She looked slightly abashed, confused, even. Her perfect eyebrows raised and her expression became questioning. "A Badger ..." she glanced at the one he was holding carefully in his hands. "Hufflepuffs, I am thinking?"
Clever girl, Bella, he thought. "Yes," he chuckled, stroking her face, hoping his eyes were showing admiration. They clearly were, as she shivered with excitement as he stroked her face. "Can you do this for me . . . Bella?"
"Of course, my lord," she gushed. But her expression fell for a moment. "Out of curiousity, my lord, why have me stash a monument of Hufflepuff?"
His face darkened. "Is that really any of your business, Bellatrix?"
"No," she replied in anguish, her eyes watering. "My lord, I crave your pardon . . ."
The merest image of a smile flickered onto Voldemort's face. "My dear Bella," he purred, "So smart and inquisitive ... my dear girl, are you thinking of becoming an auror?"
She laughed coldly. "My lord," scoffed she, flicking her dark hair off her pale face, "You know my allegiance has always lain with you - and not with the ministry."
"Let us hope it will remain that way, my girl," he replied, pressing a kiss on her forehead and placing the badger in her hands, "Go." She nodded, and with that, disapparated. He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair as he made his way back to the desk. That girl was so needy. He liked her, yes, more than he should, perhaps. His Death Eaters were loyal - but she always seemed to creep back into his mind somehow. Smirking, he settled himself back in the Emerald chair, and glanced briefly at a documentation. There was just one more thing to do ...