A / N : An update! (I know, I know . . .)

I won't go into the myriad reasons I haven't updated in so long, but I will apologize. I know how annoying it is to get hooked on a story, only to watch the updates dry up, and I never intended to be that kind of author. But I have a lot on my plate, and unfortunately, I can't always put my stories first, or even give them a reasonable position on my priorities list. But I haven't given up on them. I'm doing my best to write more of my stories, and it's not lack of ideas or enthusiasm that's getting in the way, just . . . life, unfortunately. I'm doing the best I can to remedy the situation.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with this, and to all the people who have left me such lovely reviews for this, both anonymously and otherwise – even when it hadn't been updated in a while. I appreciate it more than you know.

Chapter title is a song by Feist – it's very pretty, and well worth a listen.

Cissy blinked, forcing her eyes open with an effort. She felt heavy and stiff, as though tiredness had sunk into her bones somehow. It took her a moment to realize that she was lying on top of the covers in her four-poster bed, in full school uniform. She sat up with another gargantuan effort, feet dragging heavily across the blankets, and realized she was even wearing her shoes.

Something had happened. She'd been sick, maybe. Or she'd decided to sit down and had fallen asleep – that had been happening more and more lately . . .

She sat bolt upright, and the world whirled oddly. Bella. Bella had tried to make her eat. And – and – something had happened . . . Cissy shivered.

Something had happened. She had fainted, and the world had been wiped clean, had been turned temporarily to a warm pink haze of forgetfulness. When had she forgotten? Before she fainted? Afterwards? Bella had been there, and . . . Lucius Malfoy, she realized with horror. He'd been there too.

She bit back a groan. Her head ached.

From the other side of the curtain came a badly-stifled giggle, and an unmistakeable snigger, like an overexcited piglet – a sound that could only come from Priscilla Parkinson. Priscilla had spent all of Cissy's first year, and most of her second, ensuring it was impossible for anyone to forget that Cissy's sister had run away with a Mudblood – and Narcissa despised her for it.

"I told you she's not right. Everyone knows she fainted, and her sister wouldn't even take her to the hospital wing."

"Shh! She'll hear you!"

Priscilla sniffed. "So what if she does?" She paused, and there came the sound of chewing. "Did you hear the way he talked to us?" she huffed after a moment. "'Put her to bed," like we were his house-elves or something. What does he care anyway? Just because he's got a thing for her sister . . ."

A rush of heat ran to her face, and Cissy wrenched open the curtains. The effect of her sudden appearance was almost comical – the three girls gave a collective shriek, and Priscilla toppled off her bed and onto the floor. She glared up at Cissy, furious, but Narcissa simply glared back. She was tired, and hungry, and didn't care if they planned to gossip about her all day after this – she just wanted them to leave her alone.

The other two hauled Priscilla to her feet. Cissy could have sworn the girl's hair was frizzing in indignation. She opened her mouth to speak, red-faced and furious, but Cissy took a step towards her, scowling as if her life depended on it, and she seemed to reconsider. The other girls gasped.

"Oh Cilla, be careful! You don't know what she might do to you!"

"Maybe there's an age limit, and then they all go mad!"

"Didn't you say her sister broke Camilla's wrist that time?"

"Dislocated," Cilla sniffed.

Cissy glowered. When this only made them flinch, she made a wild grab for Priscilla's wrist. Priscilla screamed and ran for the door, hugging her arms to her chest.

Cissy sighed. Not too long ago, the fact that every girl her own age thought she was likely to turn violent and mad at any moment, or to run away with a Muggle, had been so awful she could hardly stand it, and the fact that Bella didn't care enough to help had simply made her feel more like giving up. But now she didn't have the strength to be bothered by it.

There was a bowl of porridge, stone-cold, on her bedside table. Cissy prodded the skin with her spoon and pulled a face. Thirteen years. Surely that was long enough for Bella to notice that she hated porridge with a passion?

Apparently not.

Cissy smiled and scraped the stodgy mess into the plant pot on the next table. It contained Priscilla's prized honking daffodils, which she maintained had been a Valentine's Day gift, and used every morning instead of an alarm clock. Narcissa had long been attempting to kill them off, but they seemed to be thriving on a diet of cold tea, old porridge, and ink spills. She tried to beam negative thoughts in their direction as she washed and changed. A contented slurping sound, emanating from the depths of the pot, indicated that the daffodils were thoroughly enjoying their breakfast, and remained blissfully oblivious to Cissy's thoughts of shears and flesh-eating slugs.

(Pathetic, Bella would say . ..)

Cissy turned them to face the wall and trailed disconsolately to the common room, where Bellatrix would no doubt be waiting. Whatever had happened yesterday, it was unlikely she'd get away with it.

The common room was empty.

Cissy scanned the room twice in careful silence, hardly able to believe it. No Bella. She frowned. It was shaping up to be the first truly hot day of summer, and everyone else seemed to have gone to Hogsmeade to enjoy it. The younger students were probably sunbathing by the lake or sweating in the library. But the weather had never mattered much to Bellatrix. Knowing her, she'd probably just drag Cissy outside and shout at her in the sun.

Besides – Bella hadn't left her alone in weeks, much less without warning. She'd hardly run off now. It didn't make any sense.

Cissy raised a cushion cautiously, searching for a note, or evidence of a trick.

"She's not here."

Cissy yelped, and then blushed furiously. The owner of the voice was Lucius Malfoy, who was reclining in her sister's usual chair, with an essay - covered in Bella's untidy, written-in-a-hurry penmanship - dangling loosely from his fingertips. He was staring at it, his expression a curious mixture of contempt and concern. Narcissa tilted her head to the side, trying to read it herself, but she caught no more than the words "he says he'll . . ." trailing across the margin, before Lucius crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the fire. Cissy frowned.

"Where's Bella?" she asked uncertainly.

"I told you. She isn't here." He paused. "She's gone to Hogsmeade."

"But-" It had flown out of her mouth before she could stop it, and when he caught her gaze for the first time, Narcissa almost lost her nerve. "But - you don't understand," she stammered. "She wouldn't leave me alone. She never leaves me alone anymore . . ."

"And yet, she did," Lucius said tonelessly.

Narcissa opened her mouth to protest this and then shut it again, struck by a sudden realization. Bella wasn't here. Oh, she'd be back, later, but for now . .. she wasn't here. She couldn't make her do anything. She didn't have to eat all day if she didn't want to. Relief poured through her, and she smiled. She suddenly felt lighter than air, completely relaxed.

"Thank you!" she cried to Lucius, and turned to leave, before her luck snapped.

She was halfway to the entrance of the common room when she paused and spun round again, remembering that there was something she'd meant to ask.

Lucius, to her surprise, had half-risen from his chair, as though about to try and prevent her leaving. When Cissy stared, he cleared his throat and hastily sat down again.

Narcissa shook herself. "I . . . er. I wanted to ask you something," she said, wincing.

Lucius waved a hand, as if to say "ask away", and she relaxed a little.

"I . . . what happened yesterday?"

"You fainted," Lucius said, in an offhand tone.

"Oh." Narcissa wanted to ask about the warm blank space in her memory, but something in her didn't dare. She settled upon something else that had been bothering her instead. "When I came round," she said hesistantly, "and Bella went to detention . . . did you give me a Sleeping Draught?"

Lucius coloured. "You seemed a little overwrought," he said delicately. "I thought it might be a good idea to let you, ah, sleep it off. You were . . ."

"Crying?"

"Yes."

Embarrassment fought confusion, and confusion won. "So you put me to sleep?" Cissy asked, incredulous.

Malfoy shrugged. "I wasn't sure what else to do with you. Besides, I had work to do."

Cissy stared. Lucius was strange. On the other hand, she supposed he had been trying to help. She just wished she could decide if his method of help was more or less selfish than Bella's preferred response of ignoring her. He'd effectively just switched her off, as if she were a radio programme he felt rather uncomfortable listening to.

"Thank you," Cissy said, unsure of whether or not she actually meant this. She turned to leave, her face flaming.

"I thought you might stay."

Cissy froze, and tried to find a surreptitious way to pinch herself. Lucius tugged awkwardly at his collar, looking more than a little disgruntled, and Cissy felt suspiscion flower in her stomach.

"Did Bella do this?" she probed. "Did she make you agree to – to babysit me?"

Lucius scoffed, offended. "Of course not. I'm not your sister's servant."

"Then who?" A horrible thought struck her. "It wasn't Dumbledore, was it? If it was I'll write to my father and -"

"It was Slughorn," Lucius interrupted.

Narcissa swallowed, humiliated.

"Well," she snapped, "you can tell him that I don't need a babysitter. I'm fine, and it's the weekend. Unless he wants to give me detention you can tell him I'm just fine, thank you very much."

She paused for breath, panting. She hadn't been this angry since her argument with Sirius. It was a new feeling.

Lucius watched her for a moment, narrowing his eyes. "You haven't asked why he thinks you need assistance," he said slowly.

"Because I don't need it!"

"Then why would he think you do?" The question was whip-fast, and stung her into silence. "You haven't asked," Lucius continued. "Which might suggest you already know."

"I don't," Narcissa snapped, and then remembered where she was and who she was talking to. Another hot flame of embarrassment curled into her chest. "I'm sorry," she stuttered. "But I don't. Goodbye."

Narcissa caught her breath midway to the Owlery, and sat down heavily on the steps, winding her fingers around the iron of the railing. A cage, she thought, and then wondered why she'd thought it at all. She tightened her hold.

Her stomach had started to seize again and she felt faintly sick. Life seemed to be spinning out of the realm of sense, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. Bellatrix was starting to seem like a stranger, never quite on the same plane as her . . . while Lucius Malfoy was becoming all too real. His irritable concern left her feeling off-balance, as though a painting had stepped forward to prod her.

Cissy pressed her palms against the cool stone of the step and took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She flinched at the sound of approaching footsteps.

"At last," Lucius snapped. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to find you?"

"No," Cissy mumbled.

"More time than I have to waste. What are you doing up here?"

Nothing, Cissy thought desperately. That's the point.

When she didn't reply, however, Lucius sighed. He leaned against the wall, frowning.

"Strange girl."

"Why are you doing this?" Cissy managed at last.

"I was asked to."

"I know, but . .." Cissy frowned. "You don't have to. You're leaving soon, and you're already Head Boy. Why bother?"

Lucius shrugged. "Slughorn is a powerful man, in his own way. He certainly has connections. And connections can be useful," he mused. "I don't see that it's such a bad idea to keep him onside."

"Do you always think about people like that?"

Lucius frowned down at her. "What do you mean?"

"I . . . well . . . do you like him?"

"Slughorn? Not particularly."

"Do you like Dumbledore?"

"I think he's probably the worst thing that's ever happened to this school."

"Do you like Bella?"

"She galls me."

"Do you like your father?" Narcissa asked curiously.

"I don't believe so."

Narcissa blinked. "Don't you like anyone?"

Lucius appeared to consider it. "There are people I share opinions with."

"But you don't actually like them."

"Not especially. I'm not sure I take your point."

"I . . . um. It doesn't matter."

"Good. Now, stop being difficult."

He extended a hand, and after a moment's contemplation, Narcissa took it. The very fact that she was holding Lucius Malfoy's hand would normally have reduced her to a state of dizzy incoherency, but she couldn't seem to let go of her current train of thought. She had the feeling it was building up to something important, if only she could get her thoughts in order.

"But you like Hogwarts," she blurted out.

Lucius paused. "Yes."

"And you like being a Malfoy."

Lucius looked momentarily affronted. "Of course I do."

"And," - Narcissa bit her lip - "and you agree with – with what's happening. All these . . . incidents and things, in the Prophet."

"Someone has to take a stand."

Narcissa blinked. She had it.

"You like ideas," she murmered, to herself more than anyone. "You like ideas more than real things . . ."

Lucius froze. Then he dropped her hand, and turned away abruptly.

"I have work to do," he snapped. "I'd quite like Os in my NEWTs."

He set off down the stairs without turning round.

Narcissa couldn't see his face, and when she opened her mouth again, she found that the words wouldn't come out.

It's alright, she wanted to tell him. I do too.

Narcissa edged into the common room and took a deep breath, praying her courage wouldn't desert her.

Lucius was sitting in front of the fire with his nose in a book, and his elbow on a pile of them. The rest of the common room appeared deserted – unsurprising, given the weather. There were more books on the coffee table, among the remnants of a lunch tray and an avalanche of parchment which had fallen, unnoticed, to the floor.

Cissy moved forward carefully and began to tidy up. She had straightened the stack of books and gathered together the lunch things before Lucius looked up. She swept up the parchment rolls with a wave of her wand and then sat down beside him, staring at her hands.

"You can tell Professor Slughorn you're keeping an eye on me," she said quietly.

Silence.

"I suppose you want to go for lunch," Lucius said tiredly.

"Oh, no. I already ate." It had been a bread roll, but Cissy hardly felt this was worth mentioning. She hesitated. "I thought I might help you revise," she offered at last.

Lucius gave her a long look.

"Check my answers against the book," he said eventually. "Note anything incorrect, pass it back to me. Don't distract me."

Narcissa nodded, but he'd already disappeared inside another book. She picked up the nearest roll of parchment and hefted A History of Magic, Grade 7, into her left hand. After a little while, she passed it back, and curled up more comfortably.

"Your spelling is lamentable," Lucius noted.

"What?"

"It was Bogric the Better. Not Bogril. Pay attention."

Narcissa frowned, brushing her hair out of her eyes. "I wrote 'Bogric'," she said patiently. "That's a 'c', not an 'l'. Like this."

She dipped her quill in the nearest inkpot and pulled his hand towards her. "See?" she said, pointing with the feathered end of the quill. "'Lucius'. A 'c' and an 'l'."

Lucius stared at her.

Narcissa dropped his hand as she felt the blush surge past her collar. "I . . . I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I'm tired."

Lucius opened his mouth and she reddened again, waiting for the comment, for the snide remark about keeping her hands and her ink to herself – the remark that Bella would have given.

It didn't come.

Lucius closed his mouth, apparently lost for words. Cissy had a funny feeling he'd have been less surprised if she'd slapped him.

"I'm sorry."

Lucius shook his head. "Fine," he muttered. He glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece and gave an irritated sigh.

He was waiting for Bella to get back. Narcissa swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry.

"Do you love her?" she asked quietly.

"What?"

"Bella. Do you love her?"

If she thought he'd been staring before, it was nothing to the look he gave her now. "Why on earth would you think that?" he said. "I don't even like her."

Cissy bit her lip. "I don't like her much, sometimes. I still love her."

Lucius gave a contemptuous snort. "I can assure you I'm not in love with your sister. I don't even believe in it."

"In love?"

"Of course not. It's a childish concept, nothing more."

"I believe in it."

Lucius laughed. "I expect you would."

Cissy felt a hot prickle of embarrassment, and suddenly, she was angry again. "Then what are you doing?" she asked. "With Bella, I mean. You don't love her, you don't like her, but you spend all your time together and you're both lying. I know you never went to France together. She forgets whenever I ask her about it, unless she has time to remember it's a lie. And you came back to the castle in the middle of the night, covered in blood – I saw you."

"My father had an accident," Lucius interjected. "He drinks. I helped him up, that's all. Nothing sinister."

"And France?"

Lucius sighed, evidently annoyed. "I required her help. With my father, you understand . . . I didn't want his condition to become public knowledge, so I convinced her to come up with another story."

Cissy frowned. "Why would Bella care about your father? She doesn't care about anyone. And I don't think she even likes you."

"I never said there wasn't anything in it for her."

"What was in it for her?"

Lucius shrugged.

"I know you know," Cissy said hopelessly. "I know you know, and you won't tell me. And Bella won't tell me anything."

"That's not my concern."

"Is she in trouble?"

Lucius shifted uncomfortably. "Of course not. I just gave her an introduction, that's all."

"Then . . . then . . . is it a man?"

His gaze flickered towards her, and then away. "What?"

Narcissa smoothed her skirt, her heart beating just a shade too quickly. "She's keeping secrets," she said evenly. "She's sneaking off, and she won't tell me anything, and she's lying to our parents . . . it - it's what Andromeda did. He's not a Mudblood. Just promise he's not a Mudblood, please . . ."

"Of course not," Lucius scoffed, and for a moment he looked as though he might actually laugh. "Don't be absurd. Can you really imagine your sister . . ." He trailed off. Apparently some ideas were too outlandish to envision.

Cissy knotted her fingers in her lap. With a supreme effort of will, she looked up and met his gaze.

"That's the point," she said sadly. "I couldn't."