Responses:

lucas'mom: Thanks very much. I'm sure that Dramione is one of those pairings that people either love or hate. Same with Narcissa, as a character, though she is more fun to work with when she isn't made to be completely one-dimensional. Yup, Lucius is packing heat again (not that he wasn't before, hehe), though everyone's troubles might not be over yet!

Duco Lacuna: Yeah, you're not the only one who isn't too thrilled with the Lucissa leanings. In fact I'm somewhat sure that this story is receiving a lot less love because of it. sigh But you know I have to maintain my author's integrity and stick with the story as I've designed it, and hope that people will continue to read for the interesting and unique plot, even if they don't agree 100 with the pairings. Is that hoping against hope?

Tears of Ebon-Grey & Cyranothe2nd: And then there are other readers who really seem to like the Lucissa. I'm glad I can please someone, hehe.

caseyjarryn & cytl101: Thanks, here's the next installment!

brooklynsam3: Thank you. I hate that, when you're in the middle of a good story and then have to do ten zillion other things. Glad you found time to get up to speed! Enjoy the rest.

September 26

Harry couldn't sit still. He hated when Ginny was angry at him. He knew he deserved it, but she ought to have forgiven him by now. He sighed and Titania lifted her head to give him a dispassionate blue-eyed stare. He stared back, but couldn't muster any disgruntlement at the dog, not when there were seven squirming puppies wedged against her side nursing. They were honestly the cutest things he'd ever seen. Cute for now, anyway…once they began to get up and run around, he was sure he wouldn't find them quite as endearing.

Ginny strode into the room and he gave her his best wounded puppy look. It worked for the eight canines; why not him?

"I see you've been taking lessons from the dog," Ginny said, hands on hips.

"It seems to work for her," he responded cautiously. This was the first time she'd spoken to him in anything other than a shout or a cold, stiff murmur.

"She just had seven babies. All you've done this week is beat up a defenseless man after you promised me you wouldn't."

Harry winced. "Ginny, I've told you a thousand times already that I'm sorry. I don't know what else I can do."

She sighed. "You can mean it."

"I do!" Harry shot to his feet. "Ginny, I know what I could have done. I could have killed him. And as much as I said I wouldn't regret it, I would have. The guilt would have eaten me alive." He took a deep breath. "It wasn't him that did it. He was just…just another pawn. Like everyone else..." he blew out a long breath, feeling emotion well up inside him. His anger was at Riddle, but he was dead; in his absence, Lucius was the only one he could lash out at. Now that he was rational he could understand the way he had projected, but he had been anything but rational earlier in the week.

"It's just…sometimes it feels like he didn't leave any part of my life untouched. He's laughing at me, even now. He'll always be hanging over me in one way or another…"

Ginny's impassive face had softened. At his words, she crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.

"He's gone, Harry. Gone forever." She squeezed him tightly. Very tightly – it was hard to breathe. Then she loosened her grasp and took a step back so she could look him in the eye. "What matters is that we won. You won. Everything else is just water under the bridge."

"You're right," he said, and forced a smile. A curious numbness always settled over him when he talked about it. It was his mind's way of protecting him. He was fairly certain he should have gotten therapy when the war ended, and lots of it, but there just hadn't been time. Life had been such a whirlwind. So here he was, a bit fragile but in no danger of breaking as long as things stayed relatively calm.

"I forgive you," Ginny said, resting her cheek against his broad chest. "But I do want you to apologize. And I guess we're going to have to bring Titania back eventually…"

"Maybe he'll let us keep one of the puppies."

"Or two…or three…."

Harry smiled and kissed the coppery, strawberry-scented crown of Ginny's head.

Narcissa had all but forgotten her snit when she woke up the next morning. So she had been thwarted; even the greatest people had plans fall through from time to time. She would just regroup and try again. But this time, she would really do her homework. She would know everything there was to know about Scattori and the Mancinis he was pointing the finger at. Narcissa knew better than most the game that people with agendas could play; she wouldn't be manipulated.

"Good morning, darling," Giacomo purred, coming through the door. He carried a tray with him. She felt a pang of regret for being so dismissive to him yesterday. Of course he hadn't cooked the breakfast on the tray; he didn't know his arse from a spatula in the kitchen. Still, it was a romantic gesture and he was a good man. Even if he did sometimes talk to her like she barely had three brain cells in her head.

"Good morning," she replied, favoring him with a smile. "I'm sorry I was in a mood yesterday."

"Do not worry." He set the tray down across her lap and sat next to her. "I know you have been stressed since your son's injury."

Hm. That was one other thing she wished was different. Aside from his tendency to underestimate her intelligence, he also disliked Draco. He disguised it well, but she knew. Draco didn't make it easy for him; he barely spoke two words in Giacomo's presence. Narcissa had told him that he was not a child and he should put more effort into it, but really, she couldn't expect him to like a future stepfather more than his real father. It seldom worked that way.

"Is it not to your liking?" Giacomo asked, interrupting her thoughts. He looked anxious.

"Oh, no, it's wonderful. I was just lost in thought."

"Well, come back to me, beautiful," he grinned, pouring on the charm.

"I'm right here." She ate a slice of pineapple and looked him over thoughtfully. He was stretched out on his side, propping his head up with his hand. It sometimes struck her how young he looked. He could have passed for thirty but she knew for a fact that he was forty-nine, the same age as her. It made her paranoid that she would look old beside him. He assured her that she didn't, and that she was the most beautiful woman in the world, and all the other things that men with any sense said to their women.

She held out a piece of strawberry to him. He leaned forward and took it with his mouth, his lips grazing her fingers. He must believe all those things he said, even if they were just to placate her. The smoldering in his eyes told her that.

As she made to pull back, he took hold of her hand and pressed a soft kiss to her palm. "I love you, Narcissa."

"I love you, too."

And she did. She did, in spite of Lucius's reappearance in her life, the reminders of their odd simmering chemistry, and his ambiguous letters. She, Narcissa Black, loved Giacomo Cannavare, damn it.

She could have her cake and eat it, too. She would live easily and happily with her fiancé and plot her revenge on Scattori at the same time. The second attempt required time and care and caution; she had all three in spades. Giacomo didn't need to know. His belief that she was slightly obtuse would actually work to her benefit. If she said she was out shopping, he'd believe it. If she said she was gallivanting in Malta, he'd believe it. She was smart enough to cover her tracks and operate completely beneath his radar. That was a luxury she'd never had with Lucius.

Smiling, she beckoned to him seductively, and Giacomo was only too happy to slide across the bed and indulge her.

September 19

Hermione gave a slight startled sound when she came fully awake. Draco had talked her into letting him stay at Hogwarts with her after their trip to Philadelphia, the slippery thing, and now she saw, or rather felt, why. His hands were all over her beneath the blanket. Not to mention a rather prominent part of him that was pressed against her backside.

Her muscles twitched beneath a hot hand; whether she cared to admit it or not, she had missed his touch. Right now the palm of his hand and his paradoxical fingers, equal parts rough and smooth, were worrying the skin of her hip, trailing back and forth with obvious desire. Damn him. It wasn't fair how easily he could light her on fire and incinerate her objections. She didn't have any this morning, except…

"Draco, I have to teach a class in 45 minutes."

"Uh huh," he said, actually nuzzling the spot behind her ear. "Your point?"

She was too stunned at having just been nuzzled by a Malfoy to respond. His hand gripped her hip, closing easily around the sturdy bone. It reminded her what it felt like when he held both hips, fixing her in place as he thrust into her. That was her undoing; a surge of arousal hit her, coiling between her thighs and rousing her nipples to taut points beneath her camisole.

"Just…I can't be late…I…" she murmured, even as she turned around in his embrace.

He smirked. "You won't be." He dipped his head to tease her neck, kissing and sucking with her happy compliance until a faint twinge of pain reminded her of something else.

"I also can't look like I've just been…" she trailed off, the vibration of her throat against his lips ending. He nipped at the pale, sweet flesh, egged on by her restrictions.

"I'm serious," she said, her annoyance badly undermined by the near-moan in her voice. Draco lifted his head, staring at her with cloudy, calculating eyes.

"What can I do to get you to shut up?" The question was accompanied by a substantial pinch to her nipple, one that hurt but sent a lightning bolt of pleasure straight to her center. "Perhaps I should put something in your mouth." His voice was a low, lusty growl, and one of his hands wound into her wild morning hair, fisting close to her scalp.

Oh, sweet Merlin, was it wrong of her to want that? She had certainly had a man in her mouth before, but she was almost always the initiator or the one in control. She knew from the tone in Draco's voice that this time would be different. For whatever reason, she wanted him to dominate her this morning.

"Perhaps you should," she said softly, meeting his eyes.

"Don't tempt me."

Hermione snuck a hand between their bodies and found his erection. She freed it from his shorts easily. He inhaled sharply and gave an involuntary thrust into the circle of her hand, his hot, rigid flesh scoring her palm.

"I'm tempting you," she said, taunting as she stroked him firmly. His cock pulsed in her grip, thick and steely, and she registered that he was very, very turned on. Like this, his unyielding length might almost be too much if he took her veiled invitation to heart. She was digging her own grave and that was all right; it was a bit unsettling how much she suddenly wanted him filling her mouth.

"Ah," he sighed. "You know Slytherins like power. If you give it to me, Hermione, you might never get it back."

"Hmph." She snorted in a way that she knew would rile him. "I'll take my chances."

The flash in his eyes assured her that her baiting had worked. He pried her hand away from him and she gave an unconvincing struggle as he pinned her wrist against the bed. His other hand was still in her hair and he took advantage of that now, tugging so that she was forced up onto her side. Startled by the sudden change of position, her free hand reached for purchase and found his side. If she let go, she'd be completely at the mercy of his strong arm – and he knew it.

He shifted purposefully a moment later and her hand slipped. She fell forward, halted by the clamp of his hand in her hair. It hurt slightly, that tug, but it was quickly relieved, for she felt the head of his cock brush over her lips. He pressed forward and she had no choice but to part her lips and admit him.

His length slid into her mouth, not too deeply at first. She knew there was a fine line between domination and degradation; he wouldn't cross it. A gentle pressure of his hand and a controlled rock of his hips began a slow rhythm. She purred around her mouthful and felt him twitch against her tongue. Still, she knew she was at his mercy and that only half of him was in her mouth. She had already demonstrated that she could accommodate more; she fully expected him to take advantage of that.

"Look at me," he said, his voice rough and commanding. She obeyed, raising her eyes to his. God, they were beautiful when they were drowned in lust. There was no denying the effect this was having on him; his cheeks were tinted pink, his lips slack to allow the quick breaths he was taking…

He must have seen it in her eyes, for a moment later he moved his hips and she only had a second to inhale before he was in her throat. Her body wanted to rebel, to gag against him, but she controlled it calmly. She had asked for this, after all. She would think about what was wrong with her later.

He pulled back, allowing her to breathe, and then pushed forward again. He couldn't contain a moan as he hit the back of her throat. Now to really surprise him; she focused, willed herself into serene control, and closed the muscles of her throat around the invasion of his length. It made her want to cough but she managed not to. His reaction was worth the uncomfortable feeling.

"Hermione," he said in a strangled voice, his hips moving of their own accord, "you are a dirty little…oh, fuck, do that again...!"

She obliged as he thrust against her mouth, not hard, but definitely with more force than before. It was becoming more difficult not to choke on him and her jaw was aching, but she did her best. The collection of expletives and dirty talk that came from his mouth was having a profound effect on her nether regions. She longed to have him between her thighs, thrusting there instead of between her lips…

His free hand gave a vicious tweak to one of her nipples and she gasped. Unfortunately, it was just as he surged forward and she wasn't prepared for it. She couldn't control the reflex; he recognized it and pulled back, releasing her hair and letting her cough and catch her breath.

"I'm fine," she said a moment later. She was leaned up against his hip, his saliva-slicked member still very much in evidence in front of her.

"I know," he replied. "But if I keep going, I'll lose my capacity to be a gentleman."

Hermione straightened up and gave him an amused look. "Because that was so gentlemanly, Draco."

"You asked for it," he shrugged, rolling towards her and tugging at her pajamas. She was barely undressed before his hand was between her legs, his fingers lightly pinching her swollen clit. "And liked it, apparently. But I don't want to scare you away…"

It was a valid concern. She had never before felt the desire for a man to dominate her. Well, that was not true. These damned Malfoys; they had it all figured out, didn't they, making it so that you wanted them to be in charge of you?

He made short work of his sparse garments while she was thinking, and before she had a chance to process, he flung her leg over his hip and pushed inside her. His hand dug into her buttocks and he was thrusting, filling her, stroking her in all the right places. The sensations caught up quickly and she moaned in shocked pleasure.

His lips crashed onto hers for the first time. Holy God. He kissed her as if he wanted to consume her. She was nearly short-circuiting with all the sensory input; his hot skin pressed against hers, the delicious rub of his cock inside her, the conquest of his tongue where other things had been not so long before…

He surrendered her lips with a moan, but only for a few seconds. Then he was back to kissing her until she was dizzy and a hot cascading pleasure was tightening her loins. She thought, chaotically, that there was something to that autoerotic asphyxiation business. With him swallowing her breath, an almost unbearable ecstasy was taking form, tense and all-encompassing in a way that she'd never felt before. This wasn't going to take long. At least she would take him with her; there was no way he would be able to withstand the orgasm he was sowing. Lord only knew what it would do to her…

She was going to find out shortly. It was burgeoning, blossoming, drawing everything to the carnal center of her and preparing for an erotic Big Bang. She pulled away from his lips and he fought to reclaim them. Their voices rose in unison as they tousled and an excruciating moment later she lost the battle.

Her consciousness wavered as pleasure assaulted her. She heard him emit a choked cry that contained her name and other words that didn't make sense. The orgasm lasted a long time, clenching and re-clenching, drawing unimpeded moans out of her and mingling with the ones she wrung from him.

Oh, sweet Merlin. Sex like that only existed in romance novels or pornography. She could scarcely believe what had transpired in the last twenty minutes. Draco lay against her, sweaty, panting, beaten into submission by an orgasm that must have been as powerful as hers.

"I am… so glad…we agreed on…still shagging," she breathed. His arm wound around her waist and squeezed. The next thing he did sparked a strange, almost painful sensation in her heart; he rubbed the sole of his foot against the inside of her ankle.

"My ears are ringing," he murmured.

She smiled, overwhelmed with emotion. She had no label for what she was feeling and thinking about it would only ruin the moment. Hermione leaned into his embrace and listened to his clamoring heartbeat. She stayed there until he shifted, propping up on one elbow to look at the clock.

"It's 8:45."

Hermione groaned. She knew as well as he did when classes at Hogwarts began.

"Do I have to?"

Draco chuckled. "You don't have to do anything."

"I can't cancel class so that I can lie in bed with my--" she stopped, aware of what she had just been about to say.

"Your what?" he asked, a benign smirk playing across his lips. This amused him because he had already admitted that she was his girlfriend. She had not said the word so far because it was mildly terrifying. Draco didn't have as much to lose as she did; certainly those still concerned with blood purity would look down on him but it was plain that he didn't give a shit.

Her consequences had nothing to do with stuffy traditions. Ron would never forgive her and after Harry's recent outburst…she doubted he would, either. Was Draco worth losing her best friends? Her mind flickered back to the feeling of his foot stroking absently against her ankle and her heart contorted in her chest. Heaven help her, she was falling for Draco Malfoy.

She rose slightly so that she could look into his eyes. Gathering her courage, Hermione spoke softly. "My boyfriend."

Lucius went about his day, but his mind was never far from the drawer in the hallway. Shacklebolt's visit had taken him utterly by surprise. He had spent much of that morning in a daze and he was sure it had bothered Emma. There was nothing he could do about that; he couldn't explain why he was distracted because that would require explaining that he was a wizard, and one who had been on the wrong side of the law. Nothing chased a woman away faster than a criminal record.

Right now he didn't even know if he could see her again. He didn't know if he wanted to. He didn't know anything. Lucius leaned against the kitchen counter. For so long he had built this day up in his mind – the day he got his wand back, the day he was free – but now he had realized that he was already free.

The last three years had been the most peaceful of his life. And though they had been a bit lonely without any female companionship, it had taught him to accept his own company. It had shown him the value of simplicity, which he'd lost sight of. It had given him time to truly get to know his son. Up until now, Draco had been a curious sort of mystery to him. Now he felt like the old wounds had at last scabbed over and healed. Without this odd incarceration, he wouldn't have had the chance to get to that place with Draco.

He turned and contemplated his flat. Beyond the kitchen doorway was the living room, his office, his rooms, and to the right the hallway to the guestroom. It wasn't as much as he'd been used to, yet it never irked him. Nor did he mind the lack of house elves, moving portraits that were always too forthcoming with their opinions, or the sepulchral silence that hovered above one's head in the high-ceilinged Manor. He was supposed to leave this place now that he was whole again. Merlin help him, he didn't want to.

He was too used to it. Too used to the murmur of the BBC in the morning, too used to the damned mobile, too enamored of the quiet muggle street and the view out the window of his office. And he would miss it – Franz's twelve phone calls a day, Draco's occasional instant message, eating food that he himself had cooked (poorly most of the time), the reruns of the ridiculous muggle television shows, the football games…

He had a home. A mansion, for fuck's sake, complete with every luxury and a ready wait staff. But an empty mansion full of old memories held no appeal; he wanted nothing to do with it. All he wanted was his silly little flat.

Lucius vacated the kitchen and flopped on the couch. Oberon trotted over to join him, placing himself in optimal petting position. Lucius dropped a hand and stroked the dog's soft fur. Maybe he could fill the Manor with dogs. That would give the house elves fits…

He smiled to himself and allowed the remote control to seduce him. The telly would decide it. He would turn it on, and if it was a program he liked, he would stay. If it was a show he didn't like, he would take it as a sign and go back to the Manor. There were equal numbers of programs that he loved and hated, so it was really a fifty-fifty chance. It was a stupid way to decide things but it seemed perversely appropriate.

He clicked the power button. It took a few seconds to come on to the default channel. Lucius did not realize he was holding his breath until a familiar voice washed over him, low and heavily accented with a certain Northeastern American brogue.

"There's an old Italian saying: you fuck up once, you lose two teeth."

Oh, thank Merlin.

October 3

"Gaetano…"

"Hello, Lorenzo."

Lorenzo Scattori was caught off-guard. He knew his brother was back. He and Desi had people everywhere so nothing stayed a secret for long. What he didn't know was why Gaetano was here. He knew very well that he wasn't welcome.

"Where's Rita?" he asked suspiciously.

"Don't worry about Rita," his brother replied.

"Desi might want to know."

Gaetano snorted. "Desiderio Mancini? You're still doing business with that fool?"

"He isn't a fool, Gaetano. He's the kind of man you'd rather have on your side than someone else's."

"Oh yes? Is that why you defer to him, Enzo?"

"I don't defer to him," Lorenzo growled. "And it doesn't matter anyway. The families are joined."

Gaetano walked around his brother's house as if he owned it. He settled in a bar stool, the kind that swiveled, and faced Lorenzo. "You know what?"

"What?" Lorenzo asked warily.

"I realized I missed the family when I was beating the shit out of Malfoy."

"That was a stupid thing to do. They aren't a family you want to mess with."

"No, Enzo, what's stupid is you playing second fiddle to a Mancini."

"What is wrong with you, Gaetano? You're married to one! And a fine match you are," he responded coldly. "Besides, you have no right to waltz back in and suddenly be interested in the family again. You think we'd take you? You were a capo, Gaetano, and you fucked up. Your wife talked you into taking a bribe and it screwed us out of a very lucrative deal with the Bonfiglios. They still laugh at us in Turin. Papi Nino died from the shame, you know."

"Papi Nino was an old man who was way past his time."

"Papi Nino gave you life," Lorenzo growled, "and he taught you better than this."

"He taught you better, too, brother." Gaetano reached into his pockets and Lorenzo tensed. His brother's hands emerged together; one held his wand, and the other a gun. "Pick your poison, Enzo."

"You're not serious."

Gaetano disengaged the safety on the gun. "The Killing Curse is so anticlimactic. No boom, no blood, no slow torturous death…I don't know why more wizards don't use these."

"What are you trying to accomplish?" Lorenzo demanded. He didn't believe for a second that his brother would kill him.

"Milan belongs to the Scattoris. Not the Mancinis, not the Mancinis and the Scattoris…only the Scattoris. You're a traitor to our family by cooperating with them."

Lorenzo laughed out loud. "What family, Gaetano? It's just you and I. No one else is left. You know why? Because they thought like you!"

"The Mancinis always had numbers on us. Reproduce like rabbits, those scumbags. That's the only reason there are more of them and you know it."

"Yes," Lorenzo said callously, "reproduction seems to be a problem for you, doesn't it." He knew as soon as it was out of his mouth that it had been the exact wrong thing to say. Gaetano's finger spasmed on the trigger and Lorenzo dove out of the doorway. The gunshot shattered a window behind the spot Lorenzo had previously occupied. He cursed. The wall afforded him some protection, but not much. His brother was serious. His brother was trying to kill him. There were contingency plans for this, but he never thought he'd have to put them into effect.

Lorenzo ran for the stairs. If Gaetano would kill his own brother, he'd also kill his nieces. He had to get the girls out. As he took the steps two at a time, he shouted at the top of his lungs.

"JOCASTA! GET OUT NOW!"

And he hoped she would hear, hoped she would recognize the tone of emergency in his voice, because he was running for his life. He could hear Gaetano rounding the corner behind him. Lorenzo pulled his wand but knew it wouldn't do much good; Gaetano had always been the better dueler and there was no reason to think that had changed. He would lose a battle of spells almost before it started.

He was up the stairs and out of range for guns or spells by the time his brother got to the foot of them, but he could only do one thing. He could save his wife, or he could save his daughters. He knew without hesitation that Jocasta would tell him to forget about her and save the girls.

Renata and Daniela were already in the doorways of their rooms, sleepy-eyed and confused. Gaetano was at the top of the stairs. Lorenzo lunged for his daughters, taking hold of both of their elbows before he turned and shouted a shielding spell at exactly the right moment. It deflected his brother's stunning spell, but not the bullet that followed it seconds later. Luckily Gaetano's aim with the gun was shit – not like his aim with a wand.

Wrapping his arms around his daughters and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Lorenzo screamed the password to drop the anti-apparition wards and hoped to God that he would not splinch his girls.

Narcissa was in bed, occupying herself with a fashion magazine. Giacomo was out visiting a friend. She glanced at his nightstand; it was adorned with a magazine about economics. No wonder he thinks I'm dim, she thought to herself, I'm looking at Roland Mouret's winter collection while he reads about emerging capitalist superpowers. It annoyed her slightly; just because she didn't read about economics in bed didn't mean that she didn't understand them. She just didn't find it to be relaxing or interesting subject matter in the least.

She turned the page, moving on to Nanette Lepore. At that moment, a deep booming sounded and she jumped. She realized after a panicked moment that someone was pounding on the front door; Giacomo had it charmed so that he could hear it, because the bedroom was so far away from the front door that otherwise he wouldn't.

She pulled on her robe and grabbed her wand just in case. It was fairly late and who knew what could happen in light of recent events. As she emerged into the hallway and hurried toward the front of the house, muffled shouting met her ears.

"Cannavare! Cannavare, open this door! This is not a joke! You owe me!"

She frowned and slowed down. What the hell did that mean? Who was making a scene outside Giacomo's house?

"Giacomo, please!" The man's voice was rough and desperate. Narcissa could see the shadow of his feet and two others beneath the door. She approached the door quietly, so that the person outside wouldn't know she was there.

A strange and frightening sight met her when she looked through the peephole. It was a man and two young girls, one a teenager and the other about ten. The man was leaning on the older girl. He was bleeding profusely from his shoulder. The girl's face was carefully schooled but her eyes were terrified, and the younger one was openly weeping.

Narcissa opened the door for the girls.

"Oh, thank God, Giaco--" the man began and stopped abruptly. "Who are you?"

"I am Giacomo's fiancée," she answered briskly. "Who are you?"

"An old friend of Giacomo's," he replied, playing the same game. "He was my father's healer. Please, I know this seems unsettling…"

"He isn't here," Narcissa said, frowning. Giacomo had never told her that he was a healer. Regardless, he was not here to fix this man. "You need to go to a hospital."

His face and eyes flickered through several emotions. At last he said, "You're right. But will you please…please watch my girls?"

The teenager opened her mouth to protest. "Papa--"

"Quiet, Renata."

The girl obeyed, but her eyes were surly. Narcissa contemplated them. It was obvious that this man was in some kind of trouble. Apparently he thought Giacomo could protect him. Narcissa didn't want his trouble, but there was no reason to allow the man's daughter's to be exposed to the same danger; they were just children. Ten years ago she would have shut the door in their faces. Not anymore.

Narcissa nodded. "Your daughters will be safe with me until you return."

"Thank you. Thank you. Daniela, go." The younger girl stepped forward, still crying. "Renata," he addressed the teenager, who was refusing to let him go. Narcissa didn't blame her; she wasn't sure the man could hold stay upright without her. "Renata, go. I'll be fine."

"What about Mama?" Renata asked.

"Your Mama will be fine, too," he said, but Narcissa heard the note of sadness in his voice. He was not so sure of what he was saying.

"You are losing blood," she prompted him gently.

He nodded. Slowly, his eldest daughter relinquished her hold on him and crossed the threshold of Giacomo's house. He managed to keep his feet without her support, though a pained expression did cross his face.

"I'll be back," he said simply. "Girls, behave for Miss…?"

"Miss Black," she filled in.

"Behave for Miss Black and don't do anything stupid." His gaze fixed on Renata, looking almost through her; the teenager returned the stare, sullen but frightened. Then he met Narcissa's eyes. "Thank you. You will forever have my gratitude."

He took a step back and took out his wand. Narcissa's eyes widened. Did he mean to apparate? He couldn't, not in his condition, he'd splinch himself – but a second later, he disappeared with a quiet pop. She reined in her shock and hoped for the sake of his daughters that he got to the hospital in one piece…whoever he was.