And here is chapter eleven! Features more Lucissa, and some Bellatrix-related drama (more to come in later chapters). Hopefully you're all enjoying the ride! Chapter title comes from the song by Muse, of course.

The owl's talon knocked against her window, twice, then twice again, and Cissy remained motionless just a minute longer, until she could not delay it anymore.

Numbly, she crossed the room and let the bird in, slowly unbinding the silvery cord that tied a parchment to its leg. The animal fluffed its feathers, eyed her haughtily and flew off. Even their owls had such attitude. Narcissa shut the window after a quick peer towards the clouds, but the dark shape was already gone. She smoothed over her dress, checked her loose hair in the mirror and quickly averted her eyes. Any distraction would be welcome, yet none could do. Her fingers shook as she broke his seal and unrolled the parchment. She took a seat.

Dear Narcissa,

I hope you are well and you had a good night's rest.

After such a pleasant evening as yesterday's, I have to confess a strong desire to see you again, and I certainly hope that the feeling is mutual. If the idea pleases you, perhaps we could agree on meeting in Diagon Alley some afternoon, before the ball which is to take place at the Selwyns' in two weeks. Do let me know whether you would appreciate my company on such an occasion – and if so, when you will find yourself available.

With my warmest regards,

Lucius.

Narcissa's fingers were shaking as she held on tighter to the letter, anxiously deciphering the familiar penmanship. She did not know what to make of her emotions at the moment; there was relief, certainly, and yet the anxiety that had plagued her ever since she had woken was not truly soothed. It couldn't be denied that Lucius enjoyed her company, enough to write so early after they had parted; whether he was truly so eager to see her as soon as possible, or whether he had guessed that she would fall prey to uncertainty and anguish in the morning, she couldn't tell. But he wished to carry on with what they had started the day before, that much was certain.

Cissy leapt to her feet and paced the room, her heart hammering. None of this felt real – for years she had known Lucius Malfoy, for months they had been corresponding, and now… She could not put her mind to rest; some fierce disbelief held her and kept rational thought at bay. She forced herself to stop, breathe deeply, put down the parchment her tense fingers were abusing.

If she closed her eyes, she could feel his kisses again, his arms around her waist. It had been real, and it had been her. He'd wanted her. And she, Narcissa Black, was more than worthy of Lucius Malfoy – doubting it would have been ludicrous. What then? She sat at her desk, and seized a quill and a piece of parchment.

Dear Lucius,

I would be delighted to see you again. I can certainly find a spare afternoon for this purpose. How about we meet in three days in Diagon Alley? Would that suit you?

Looking forward to seeing you soon,

With all my affection,

Narcissa

Cissy leaned back, rereading her response. She would have to make sure her family agreed, of course – but that could be arranged. A three-day delay was excellent – not too distant, not too rushed. It would not do to appear frantic. Swiftly, she rolled up the letter, sealed it and left her bedroom to fetch an owl.

The corridors were silent except for her quiet footsteps. Narcissa headed straight to the room on the second floor where the family's owls were kept in a large, comfortable cage. None of their hooting could disturb anyone while they were up there, and the facilities were, obviously, kept perfectly clean. Cissy shuddered a little at the thought of keeping an owl in her own bedroom. Carefully, she tied her letter to the leg of one of the birds, and sent it off. She leaned briefly against the wall, sighing. This much was done.

It would be midday soon; although it was tacitly accepted that everybody might rest and not come down for breakfast after a ball or some other late-night social event, lunch was something else entirely and Cissy knew she would have no excuses not to attend. Besides, perhaps it would be best to tell her parents right away about Lucius and her plans. Her mother would probably be delighted; after all, the Malfoys were so influential. As for her father… she didn't know. Surely he would be happy for her, and he had no reason to be opposed to the match.

She realized she was hungry. She did not clearly recall when she had eaten last; preparing for the ball had turned everything into a blur. Now there was a distant tugging at the pit of her stomach. She checked the time and walked slowly down the stairs.

Narcissa knocked swiftly on the dining room's door before she let herself in. Her mother was sitting there in her usual chair, but she was alone and had the Daily Prophet in her hands. It felt odd to see her like this. There was a small frown between her eyebrows, and she did not look up at once.

"Ah, Narcissa!" she eventually called. "Come, come, my dear, lunch will be served soon."

"Where is Father?" Cissy asked as she took a seat.

Druella's frown slightly deepened. "He had to go to London, it seems that there are matters he had to discuss with Arcturus and the other elders of the family. He will be back later today, to be sure."

"Oh." Narcissa nodded, looking down at her empty plate. "Just the two of us, then," she commented pointlessly.

"Indeed, darling." Druella set down the paper and snapped her fingers once. Shortly, food materialized on their dishes, sent from the kitchen by their house-elf. Narcissa picked up her fork slowly.

"It seems to me that you had a good time last night?" her mother inquired after a few minutes spent eating in silence. "Regardless, I think it went quite well. Nobody seemed to take offense, or indeed any unnecessary interest, in our being the only remaining Blacks at the end, and you always do make such a wonderful impression on the ladies, my dear."

Narcissa looked up, and fixed a smile on her lips. "I am glad, Mother." She went back to dutifully cutting and rearranging her helping of chicken and mushrooms, taking small bites and chewing carefully.

"The ball was quite lovely," she went on in a measured tone. "And the hosts as well."

Druella had a short little laugh. "Of course they were."

"In fact," Narcissa pushed, not glancing up, "I had the occasion of bonding a little further with Lucius Malfoy."

There was a beat of silence. "How interesting," her mother said slowly. "When you say bonding… What do you mean, precisely, by that?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. She swallowed hard. "I believe he might be interested in me, Mother," she uttered. "He owled me today."

"Really! How wonderful!" Druella cried. She set down her cutlery with a clink, and Cissy felt her eyes upon her face. She met her mother's gaze, alight with excitement. "This is marvellous, dear. Lucius Malfoy seems to be a very fine young man, and what a name for your first suitor!"

Suitor. The word sounded so odd somehow. Cissy forced a smile. "He wishes to see me again soon," she started again, knowing she had to finish her account. "In three days, probably, in Diagon Alley. I thought you would not mind."

"Not at all," Druella assured her. "Certainly not. I am very proud of you, darling."

Cissy smiled. "It is settled then," she murmured. Following her mother's example, she set down her knife and fork and took a sip of water.

Druella appeared very animated for the rest of the meal, talking quickly with a satisfied glow in her eyes. Narcissa absently listened, slightly soothed by her mother's openly manifested pleasure and apparent lack of any worry regarding the future of such a promising acquaintance. She still felt quite uncertain, but her restlessness was easing somehow, replaced by weariness. Toying idly with her dessert, she thought briefly of her father, and of Bella, but dismissed the concerns to be addressed more thoroughly later.

Cygnus did not reappear until late in the afternoon. After spending a little while with her mother, Cissy had retreated to her bedroom, where she had first attempted to read, then, acknowledging her inability to focus, taken a few hours' rest to compensate for the shortness of her night. She thus did not see him again before dinnertime, where he appeared silent and grave-looking. The meal was a quiet affair; Druella did not even mention Lucius, nor inquire about her husband's day, and Narcissa opted to follow her example, sitting there without a word as her worries all came back to the surface.

She sought her father out later, and found him in the library, by the fireplace. A stack of newspapers was lying before him, but he was not reading; he stared into the flames instead, seemingly lost in thought, faraway and quite out of reach. All the same, Cissy cleared her throat quietly, clinging to her determination.

"I brought you coffee, Father."

He blinked up at her. "Oh. Thank you, my dear."

He rubbed his eyelids as she sat by his side, setting a cup in front of him and cradling her own into the palms of her hands. "Short night?" she said softly, sidetracked by concern.

"Mmm." He took a sip of warm liquid and sighed. Then he threw her a glance. "I see that you could not put your mind to rest, either."

"Despite your request," she added, guessing his meaning. She straightened up a little, her stomach clenching as she sensed, from his words and his tired, resigned gaze, that she was being offered a chance to discuss what had been kept from her before – a chance that would surely not come twice. Her initial intentions of telling him about Lucius were promptly forgotten. "You are quite right," she murmured. "I have too many questions."

"Which ones?"

She hesitated, thrown off balance by the suddenness of this shift, yet knowing that she could afford no postponement.

"Perhaps… perhaps, in fact, they are not questions. Just vague concerns, feelings I wouldn't be able to put into words." She forced a laugh. "Now you must think me to be a silly little girl."

"Not at all," he whispered. "You notice much more than I gave you credit for." Another sip, another sigh. "But you see, Narcissa, there are many things you are helpless against. What is the point, then, of a knowledge that disturbs and hurts?"

"Perhaps not much," she said, "but I am fairly certain, at the moment, that secrecy does not protect me either."

He turned, and fully faced her. "Do you wish to know where I went today?"

"Yes, please."

"I had to talk to the family. About the company your sister keeps – and the activities she gets involved in. I think I have let things go for far too long, with lack of knowledge as my excuse, and something must be done before it is too late."

Narcissa sucked in a breath. "What is wrong with her, Father?"

He did not reply at once. "I think your sister has been looking for a purpose," he eventually spoke. "But purposes are dangerous things to seek when one is desperate. Cling to the wrong one, and you shall be lost."

"I… don't think I understand."

She watched him squeeze his eyes shut, and slowly reopen them. "There has been trouble lately. Attacks, actions led by small groups fighting against the… increasing importance and rights of Mudbloods – defending the supremacy of the pureblooded. Excellent ideas, but the wrong methods… In the past year, they have been more and more active, more and more ambitious. Everything is linked, it is now certain. And I believe that Bellatrix has joined this organization somehow."

Cissy was quiet for a while. Her first reaction was disbelief. Her eyes fell upon the newspapers on the coffee table, then drifted towards the flames. Her throat dry, she watched them dance. Surely Cygnus was mistaken. This was just too huge, too foreign a concept; the idea of Bellatrix involved in such business was simply ludicrous. Rash groups, her mother had said. Extremists. Bella would never run with such crowds – yet what could keep her? Propriety? Caution? Her sex?

"How?" she whispered.

"She isn't alone," Cygnus said darkly. "Among young people, there is quite a trend these days. The Lestrange family, particularly, seems to approve of this… group – or Duncan Lestrange does, at the very least. Nott, too, I believe… They must have a leader, whose identity I could not find out… It is all strangely organized for such a movement… A powerful hand is behind all this, I wouldn't doubt. Anyway, her husband or his friends only needed to introduce her… Knowing her, I am afraid it would be all that was required."

"You talked to her," Narcissa suddenly recalled. She leaned towards her father, speaking faster, more urgently; she nearly spilled her coffee in her lap. "Did she admit it? Did she tell you anything?"

"She fiercely denied," Cygnus replied soberly. "Neither her eyes, nor her fury could lie, however."

Cissy swallowed hard. "Then you are sure?"

"Quite sure, as much as I wish the contrary."

Narcissa closed her eyes briefly, and wrapped her arms around herself, setting aside her cup. She knew now, she told herself. Her father knew, he would be able to do something. Bella would be brought back to reason.

"Narcissa." She felt his hand on her knee before she opened her eyelids again. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," she breathed. She met his gaze for a second, and then glanced away.

"I… think I'll leave you now. I am a little tired," she spoke too quickly and a bit too high.

He did not object, and she rose, eager to be alone. "Narcissa," she heard, again, as her hand found the doorknob.

She paused. "Yes?"

"Perhaps you are more like me than I ever suspected," he told the dimness and the flames in the hearth.

Her heart hammering, she slipped out hastily, unsure she understood and not trusting her voice regardless.

"Merlin help me, be careful!"

Narcissa stumbled backwards, her slim fingers closing tightly around the banister. Her father shook his head at her, bewildered. "I did not know I was inconspicuous enough for young maidens to walk right into me without the slightest alarm. Or maybe it is you who are rather too preoccupied to be allowed outside without great risk."

"Oh, Father, you would not be so cruel. You know I must be off," Cissy protested, and he nodded, though a slight wrinkling of his nose told her that he had half a mind to keep her anyway. She offered him, with a little effort, her sweetest smile. "I promise I shall be careful."

"Very well." He kissed her forehead, and let her go. She blamed his reluctance on his weariness, and a prejudice against the Malfoy family, easily transposed from father to son; but it was promptly forgotten as she dashed down the stairs. A brief pang of guilt occupied her next, for perhaps she would be missing news from Bella, by leaving the house all afternoon – then again, if the news had not come thus far, they might do later, or not at all. They had heard, in the course of three days, of nothing but a most graceless delaying of Arcturus' summon, that had been requesting Bellatrix's presence to Grimmauld Place so they might discuss her recent activities. This concern, in turn, faded to the background of Cissy's mind once a fire was lit in the drawing room's hearth and she managed to shorten her mother's recommendations, under the claim of avoiding lateness. Punctual she should be, indeed.

Narcissa was swift to cross the Leaky Cauldron and find, at the back of the pub, the entrance to the familiar wizarding street. Diagon Alley was not crowded at this point of the season; she found it quiet and sunny, the weather quite warm. She hurried off towards Gringotts, before which Lucius and herself had agreed to meet.

He was already there when she arrived, and stepped forward to greet her. There was a split second of uncertainty; then Lucius, taking her hand, gallantly brushed his lips to its back. These respects once done with, he leaned in and their mouths met briefly, in a kiss she much preferred.

"How have you been since the ball, then?" he asked as they began strolling around, their fingers entangled.

Narcissa hesitated, the past few days flashing through her mind. "Quite well, thank you," she lied as smoothly as she could, "and yourself?"

He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, but did not comment. "Likewise."

They chatted quietly, on and off, as they wandered the streets; silence felt comfortable, in an odd manner, with the sun on their backs and him by her side. She found herself breathing slowly, deeply, and holding on more tightly to his hand. His eyes moved lazily to and fro and often flicked back to her. She met them almost each time, at the cost of many a blush.

They ended up in a small café, more discreet and more select than Florian Fortescue's. Despite the increasing heat, Cissy expressed the desire to settle down indoors, and Lucius agreed with good grace. Walking the streets with him might have felt strange and yet natural, as though her belonging to his side were a simple reality that could rouse no questioning; but to sit sipping a drink for every passer-by to see, this she did not feel quite comfortable with.

"You should try their pastries," he suggested as they chose drinks from a tasteful-looking menu, "they are marvellous."

"Oh, it is really too hot to be very hungry," she dismissed him with a laugh.

"You will taste mine, then. I cannot possibly take you here, and not make you try these, that would be a crime," he added teasingly. "They are positively sinful."

She swallowed and worked hard to keep her smile in place. "And where indeed did you hear that ladies may be sinful, Mr Malfoy?"

"It can be our secret." He smiled at her, eyes gleaming, but did not push the subject.

A pretty, pleasant waitress took their orders, and within moments Cissy was sipping a fruity cocktail, while Lucius raised his glass of rosé wine to her. There was a cake between them on a porcelain plate, with a knife and a white napkin. It distracted her, made her want to look away. She could not escape the rich sweetness of the scent, chocolate and coffee subtly mixed.

"Do you like the place?" Lucius inquired softly.

"Very much," she responded immediately. "I had never come here before, but I certainly shall now. This is lovely."

He smiled. "I thought you would appreciate," he murmured. Clearing his throat, he added: "I have wanted to take you here for a little while. It suits you."

"Really?"

"Really. Quiet, and refined."

She looked down with a little smile. "Thank you."

"Quite welcome." He reached out and she had a tiny jolt, suddenly conscious that her two hands were wrapped around her tall glass; but he had simply picked up the knife. Narcissa's eyes traced the inclination of his wrist and the elegant curve of the silver blade as it bit into the brown surface, and he carefully cut the pastry into thin slices. None of them spoke a word until he was done.

"Are you still reluctant?" he asked lightly then. "Gallantly demands the lady should come first."

"No, go ahead," she replied in equally breezy tones. "I will have a taste later."

He took a small bite. Narcissa usually preferred averting her gaze from eating individuals; yet her eyes flickered to Lucius' lips, before studying the whole of his face. His collected enjoyment held nothing of hunger's raw, primal brutality; he savoured his treat calmly, and she suddenly envied the sense of confidence that oozed from his every attitude. Her fingers tightened around her drink. The lighting was dim, shutters shielding them from the sun, and they seemed quite alone at their secluded table. Cissy set down her glass.

"May I have some?" she dared. The words sounded considerably more shocking, out there, than they had within her mind – bolder –, but there was no going back, which was exactly what she'd wanted. Lucius smiled at her.

"Naturally," he said, and lightly pushed the plate her way. She bit her cheek. The next few words would be hardest.

"Shall you give me a piece?" she uttered, too fast to sound quite natural. His lips stretched further upwards. She saw him pick a tiny slice of the pastry, and blinked rapidly, leaning forward. She wanted to try this – sharing this with Lucius, a small moment of pleasure, of abandon, and knowing it wasn't wrong. It's not wrong, she thought, why should it be wrong? Only one tiny bit, just one, think – why would just one be wrong?

His fingers reached her mouth before she could form any kind of reasoning. He gave her the fragment of cake, barely brushing her lips as he withdrew, leaned forwards as well and gazing intently at her. She felt the sponge, soft under her teeth, and the rich chocolate flavour of the ganache; it washed, compelling, over her taste buds. Narcissa chewed slowly, looking down again. She could feel Lucius' eyes upon her face, then he pointedly glanced away and had a sip of wine.

"It's delicious," she murmured, fearing her voice would sound off or hoarse. Lucius' next smile was short-lived. They locked gazes for a few seconds.

He reached out and took her hand.

All the while as they sat there talking – the cake lying untouched between them –, Cissy was very aware of his fingers wrapped around her own, holding lightly, but firmly on to her. He claimed her hand again later as they rushed out, having lost track of time, and had to hurry back to the Leaky Cauldron where they might Floo home. In the deserted back, he kept her for a moment, his free hand cupping her neck as he kissed her goodbye. Cissy felt like she was being claimed, in the most imperious though respectful kind of way. It was dizzying, and not quite unpleasant.

"I will see you soon," he said with that certainty that kept striking her. "I'll owl you before the next ball." She agreed in a whisper. He had a small laugh as his lips brushed against her temple.

"What?" she murmured.

"You may want to know… for future reference… that Hedone's café, the place I took you today, offers access to the Floo network."

She blinked, craning her neck to look at him. "Then why… why did we have to rush all the way back here?"

He smirked, his eyes glinting. "Because – and I hope you will find it in you to forgive my selfishness – I was not going to hand you over quite so soon."

Cissy courageously attempted to glare, but soon her mouth was trembling with suppressed laughter, and he pulled her against him one more time, his fingers pressed to her burning cheeks, his lips soft and fierce upon hers.