Eira slept fretfully in fits and starts, both dreamless and foggy, and having no idea where she was for a moment every time she awoke. It rained hard the whole night through. When she woke with daybreak, the only familiarity was the sickness she felt on most recent mornings. She rolled onto her back with her eyes still shut, her stomach doing flips; she rested her hand on her belly and breathed steadily through her nose and mouth.

Nausea came and went in waves, but then with sudden urgency, she threw back the coverlet and ran directly to the bathroom where she vomited into the toilet. Her skin still felt hot and prickly, indicating her fever had not eased overnight; in fact, she felt perfectly wretched. As she finished heaving up her empty stomach, she was startled by a small squeaky voice behind her.

"Miss Eira…" Dobby was standing at the doorway, peering at her sheepishly.

Eira, with her arms resting around the toilet bowl, pulled the chain and turned her head to look at him. She took a deep breath and sat up a little, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, and looked at the small elf.

"Miss… Master requests that miss Eira come downstairs…" he said, fidgeting with the hem of the dirty pillowcase he was wearing. "But Dobby can see that miss is not well…"

"Are you Dobby?" Eira asked, now slumping down beside the basin.

"Yes, miss!" the elf replied rather proudly. He stepped into the room properly, walking over to her. "But is miss not feeling well?"

Eira shook her head, blinking back hot tears as she glanced around the room and remembered what had happened last night. She knew she was vulnerable from the beginning but carrying a child in her womb meant she had two vulnerabilities. Eira again rested her hands on her belly, observing the small, barely distinguishable bump between her palms. Dobby's ears drooped and he placed his thin hand on top of Eira's hands.

"Do not cry, miss," Dobby said, his own large eyes now also filling with tears.

Eira looked at him, wiping at her eyes. "Have I no way out of here?"

"Dobby wouldn't know, miss…"

"I'm having a baby," she gasped now through freely running tears, "I cannot stay here. I need to go home."

"Where is home, miss?" Dobby hesitantly knelt beside her.

"Girl!" Narcissa Malfoy's angry voice and footsteps disrupted the pair. Dobby jumped back in fear, wiping at his eyes and blowing his nose with the hem of his pillowcase. "If I am forced to walk up here again—" she broke off as her eyes fell upon Eira on the bathroom floor.

Eira stared up at her and didn't move except to cover her chest with her arms, as the slip she was wearing was quite thin. Narcissa's eyes narrowed on her and without another word, she stormed forward and pulled her up roughly by the arm. "Why aren't you dressed?" she demanded. "Some gentlemen from the Ministry are here to interview you again."

"I won't see them," Eira answered at once, trying to free her arm.

"Mistress," Dobby interjected, his eyes still glassy, "Miss Eira is not at all well, mistress. Dobby thinks that miss should rest…"

Narcissa looked at Dobby with visible surprise, appalled that her house elf felt the need to offer his irrelevant opinion. Deciding to ignore him, however, she pulled Eira into the bedroom and threw one of the awful dresses at her.

"Get dressed. Now."

"Are you going to stand there and watch?" Eira said as she straightened up a little.

"Do you want another slap across the face?" Narcissa stepped forward, raising her hand threateningly. She glanced distractedly at the elf standing near Eira nervously, "Dobby, get out."

Dobby cowered and rushed from the room before he too could become a target for his mistress's harsh hand. Eira stared defiantly at Narcissa, then picked up the hem of her thin slip, and pulled it off over her head. She threw it aside and stood there, completely naked, glaring angrily at the older woman. Narcissa swallowed, staring at her for a moment; the morning sunlight cast a warm, honey-like hue across Eira's skin, making her appear almost goddess-like. Her breasts were round and firm, her waist small, hips wide, and her legs as slender as a cat. Narcissa averted her eyes and pretended to be examining some dust on the table while Eira dressed hastily.

Once dressed, Eira determinedly made her way towards the door, keeping her head up and eyes in front of her. Narcissa snatched hold of her wrist.

"This is your final warning, girl. Do not defy me or my husband. Your conceit will bring nothing but your own downfall more quickly."

"Get your hand off of me," Eira returned coolly. Her head was spinning, and her cheeks felt warm, but she didn't take her eyes away from Narcissa's face.

Narcissa only tightened her grip. "Get down those stairs or I'll throw you down them."

Eira was then forced to walk ahead of Mrs Malfoy down the precarious winding stairs. Yesterday evening, Eira had hardly noticed how high up her room was, but these stairs presently seemed to have no end. It was dark the entire way down, only illuminated by the light of Narcissa's wand. The rest of the house didn't seem much lighter when she finally reached the bottom of the stairs. It was gloomy even with the sun shining outside.

Narcissa then marched Eira down a much bigger, grander staircase in the centre of the enormous, forlorn mansion. Eira felt breathless by the time she reached the bottom, but Narcissa was growing more impatient and again forcefully dragged her across the room, releasing her only when they reached the door of Mr Malfoy's study. Several male voices could be heard behind the door. For a split moment, Eira's heart jumped with the hope Sirius might be with them, but then sank when she was drawn in and of course did not see him.

Lucius was stood behind a large oak desk, amongst which three men were gathered. Lucius smiled sneeringly when he laid his sharp, cold eyes on Eira.

"Ah, here she is at last," Lucius said.

Eira noticed straight away that these men were different from yesterday. They all looked at Eira with interest, as though they had never seen a Muggle before.

"Dear girl," Lucius addressed Eira, "Sit down," he motioned an empty spot where there was no chair, until a soft armchair came suddenly sliding out of nowhere and stopped in front of the desk. Eira warily sat down, facing Lucius and the men. Narcissa stood by the fireplace to the right of her.

"These men have come from the Ministry to speak with you," Lucius informed her. He sounded vaguely cheerful, as though he were telling her about some exciting party plans. "This is Cornelius Fudge," he motioned to a grey-haired man, "who would've interviewed you yesterday but had some unfortunate business to attend to elsewhere."

"I have nothing more to say, unless you are going to believe me when I say my husband is innocent," Eira replied at once.

"Your husband has been found guilty," the man named Cornelius Fudge declared without ceremony.

Eira stared at him. "At what trial?" she demanded at once, "He was only arrested yesterday afternoon."

"There was no trial. He was deemed unfit for trial and sent to Azkaban early this morning."

"What do you mean unfit for trial?!" Eira got to her feet, panic now ebbing at her voice.

"Barty Crouch, the head of department, declared him insane," Fudge replied simply.

Eira felt a million different words swimming through her head, but she couldn't seem to form one of them into a coherent sentence. She stared blankly, trembling, and stumbled a little as she tried to hold onto the chair arms behind her.

"Oh, no, quickly… someone get her some water," one of the men said.

Eira stepped closer to the desk though, resting her hands on the smooth, cool wood. She looked at Fudge imploringly and said, as steadily as she could manage, "My husband is sane. How…How dare you? You have imprisoned an innocent man!" her hands were shaking, her chest tightening.

Lucius snorted with derision. "Hardly inno—"

Eira snatched the glass of water that was offered to her by an unknown man and threw it across the room, where it smashed against a cabinet, and then in a shrill, deafening scream, she cried, "My husband is innocent, you evil bastards! He is innocent and he is sane!"

Narcissa stepped behind Eira to pull her away from the desk, which ensued in a struggle as Eira sobbed and screamed. "No!"

"Narcissa, leave her," Lucius said, his eyes flashing on Eira. His wife reluctantly stood back, watching closely.

"He didn't do anything!" Eira sobbed, frantic. "He didn't… He couldn't…"

"Mrs Black…" Fudge started a little more gently now. "I know this must be a great shock to you. If I was the one overseeing the inquisition, I would have allowed Sirius to stand trial."

"I'm his wife, can't I appeal the decision?" she asked desperately.

"It is not possible," Fudge shook his head solemnly. "I am sorry."

Eira sank back into the chair with her head in her hands, tearing at her long hair. She placed one hand over her mouth to stifle the sob she could not stop, the scream she could not hold back, and wept as her body was overcome with tremors. The room was silent apart from her sobbing. Narcissa remained aside, biting her lip, her eyes down.

"Dear, dear girl…" Fudge tried to be sympathetic, coming around the desk to put his arm around Eira's small frame. "Come now, dry your eyes and let's have a cup of tea."

Eira stood up, pushing him aside. She hurriedly walked the length of the room, opened the door and walked out, slamming it behind her. Nobody tried to stop her. Narcissa looked at her husband, rather pale and shaken herself, as this had been unexpected news to her too. She knew Sirius would likely end up in Azkaban, but the swiftness of it shocked her. She wanted to know what had deemed him so unfit to stand trial.

"Are you sure, sir, that you wish to keep the girl here in your home?" Fudge asked Lucius after a moment. "This is a very delicate situation…"

"Yes, of course," Lucius replied at once. "Poor little thing. She has nowhere else to go."

"You should see about taking her to Gringotts," Fudge said as he put his hat on in preparation to depart. "I don't think she realises, but now that she's married to Sirius, she has access to his vault. He has quite a bit in there, I've heard. She could set herself up quite nicely… could buy herself a nice dress."

"Yes, of course," Lucius replied, having no intention whatsoever of taking Eira anywhere or even informing her that she was a very rich young woman.

"What do you mean that Sirius is not sane?" Narcissa spoke up now, addressing Fudge.

Fudge looked at her, smiling grimly, "I did not see him myself. Apparently, he became hysterical and uncooperative, just deteriorated overnight."

"How peculiar…" Narcissa frowned.

Eira found a measure of solitude outside the front steps of Malfoy Manor. She sat and breathed in the sweet country air, watching the clouds above her head, thinking hard. She had stopped crying some time ago, now feeling subdued and numb, still flushed and warm with the fever that had only slightly gone down; her head was throbbing, and her stomach was stabbing with hunger, as she had not eaten since her wedding party yesterday. She had no appetite though.

It was true that Eira had little to no idea about what to do; she was not aware of her rights, nor of the money she now had access to. Sirius had never told her much, as he didn't like to talk about serious things like money and wizarding laws with her, having simply promised to take care of her and not to worry. Eira was sorely resenting him for it now. She knew so little of this world. Granted, she had only known Sirius two years, and one and a half of them had been spent in her world, not his. She had been vaguely aware of his world a while before he finally showed her, which had not given her much time to integrate into his life and way of things.

Eira was only twenty-three, and Sirius was almost ten years her senior. She sorely felt how lost she really was without him. He had always sorted things out, always made things right, protected her – in truth, there had been little to trouble either of them until now, barring Walburga. Neither of them could have anticipated this awful turn of events, but she wished regretfully that Sirius had made sure she was more informed. Eira remembered how reluctant Sirius was to even talk to her about Voldemort, as if fearing she was too delicate to hear about such things. But she knew the Malfoy's were firm supporters of Voldemort. With vague horror, she wondered if she was in worse danger than she originally thought.

Eira was resourceful though, and she knew that within this huge house there must be a library with all the answers she needed. With this singular inspired thought, Eira rose to her feet, dusted off her dress, and turned back to the house.

The men from the Ministry were only just starting to leave, bidding Lucius and Narcissa goodbye and shaking hands warmly. Fudge glanced at Eira sympathetically as she stepped through the front door, but Eira did not meet his gaze. She kept her eyes down and stood aside to let them pass. As soon as they had departed, Lucius narrowed his attention on Eira.

"Well then, Mrs Black," he said mockingly, "Have you composed yourself?"

Eira lifted her eyes to look at him, anger burning in her chest. "Composed myself?"

"Sir. You will address me as sir."

"I will not."

Lucius walked towards Eira with a swiftness that startled her at once. She backed up against a sideboard, knocking several candlesticks over. Lucius grabbed her by the hair while his wife watched wordlessly.

"I don't think you and I understand one another very well," he spat.

Eira gasped out at the pain but held her stance, staring back up at him defiantly. "I think I understand you just fine, Mr Malfoy."

He gripped harder, twisting her hair around his hand. Eira squeezed her eyes shut and instinctively reached to claw at his hands with her nails.

"Would a whipping help you understand better?"

"Let me go, you sick bastard!" she screamed.

Without warning, Lucius released her and threw her to the floor roughly where Eira landed at Narcissa's feet.

"Narcissa, where is the whip?"

Narcissa truthfully looked a little wary. She stared at Eira's trembling frame and then at her husband's cruel, hard eyes. Lucius only ever used the whip on Dobby, and even Dobby had to do more than answer back.

"Lucius, surely it's not necessary to—"

"Bring the whip. You and Draco will watch," Lucius answered firmly.

"Draco doesn't need to see this!" Narcissa retorted at once.

"Draco is too soft because of you, Cissy."

"I will not teach our son to be cruel! Whip her if you must, but not in front of Draco."

Lucius glared back at his wife. "Where is it?" he demanded again.

"In your study, where it always is."

Lucius pulled Eira up by the arm and hauled her across the foyer. Narcissa knew she had no choice but to follow her husband's lead; her thin hands were trembling slightly, and as she glanced upwards, she saw the small, pointed face of Draco peering through the bannister of the stairs. He looked frightened. Narcissa at once wanted to run up and comfort him, to tell him everything was alright, but Lucius shouted for her some way down the hallway as he conveyed Eira into his study. Narcissa quickly ran at his bidding.

When she entered the room, it was as Lucius threw Eira over his desk. Eira cried out, catching herself in time before her abdomen could strike the edge of the table. She quickly scrambled to pull herself up, ashen and panicked now as she realised Lucius was not bluffing.

"Please, please… please, don't!" Eira begged. "I'm sorry! Please!"

"You're an insolent, filthy little slut," Lucius snarled as he procured a heavy horse whip from a drawer. "I am sure Walburga would've liked the honour of beating you, but as she is not here, I will do it on her behalf."

"Lucius, please!" Narcissa tried to reason. "Draco is listening upstairs."

"Good, let him. Now open the back of her dress and hold her still."

"Mrs Malfoy, please! Please…please let me go…" Eira sobbed, turning her terrified eyes upon her as Narcissa hesitantly approached her side.

Lucius stood back and waited expectantly. Narcissa avoided looking at Eira's tearful face and pushed her back down on the desk; she quickly unfastened the back of Eira's dress and brassiere, so her bare, slender back was exposed. Narcissa then walked to the other side of the desk and pinned Eira's hands down by the wrists, holding her firmly.

There was a short silence before the whip came down on Eira's skin, cutting it at once with an angry red lash across her shoulder. Eira screamed, digging her nails into the wood; a second and third lashing came down without any warning, and Eira felt like she would die. Her hands, which were partially free, snatched at Narcissa's dress.

Lucius graciously gave Eira approximately six lashings, though to Eira it felt like a hundred. And yet even despite its briefness, Lucius appeared red and breathless. He straightened up, glaring darkly at the weeping girl, while Narcissa released her wrists and stood back slightly. Eira remained quite still, unable to move for the sharp pain; it was a pain she had never felt in her life. She sobbed horribly like a child, her nose running, and hands still grasping Narcissa's dress tightly.

"I hope we understand one another plainly now, girl," Lucius sneered as he returned the whip to its drawer. "Speak out against me—or my wife—again, and you'll get twice as many and as hard a flogging. Do you understand me?"

When Eira didn't answer, Lucius strode around the desk. He grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. "Do you understand me?!"

"Y-Yes…"

"Yes what?"

"Sir…" she said tearfully.

"Say 'Yes, sir.'"

"Yes…Yes, sir…"

Lucius, now satisfied, released his hold on her chin and withdrew from the room without another word. Eira was now left with Narcissa, who was wringing her hands and plainly didn't know what to do first.

"Come now, stop that," Narcissa tried to put on an air of indifference, although she was shaken. "Stand up and fix your dress."

When Eira made no attempt to move, Narcissa came around to help Eira straighten up. Eira was shaking terribly and clung to Narcissa as she guided her away from the desk. Eira was not much smaller than Narcissa, who was also slight in frame, but she was shorter; her head rested on the older woman's shoulder, blindly seeking comfort, and Narcissa allowed it without entirely knowing why. She seated Eira on a chair and knelt in front of her.

"Pull yourself together," she said a little more sternly. "He only gave you half a dozen."

"I want my husband," Eira wept.

"Your husband is in Azkaban."

"I'd rather be there with him."

"Don't say something so stupid," Narcissa snapped back. "Have you any idea what that place is like? As long as you remember your place here, you have nothing to fear."

"I have no place here."

"Your place is with me," Narcissa replied before she could consider what she was saying. "You will serve me personally. That way you may be able to avoid my husband."

Eira said nothing. She stared at her hands in her lap, sniffling and wincing every time she breathed a little too sharply. Narcissa suddenly grabbed Eira's face, cupping her wet cheeks in the palms of her hands.

"And since you serve me, you will look at me when I am speaking to you," she frowned. "I am doing you a kindness far greater than you deserve."

At any other time, Eira would have argued as she had done only fifteen minutes earlier. Only she now understood exactly how cruel the Malfoys could be and didn't dare raise any objection. She looked at Narcissa and nodded obediently.

"I'll get something to heal your back," Narcissa stood up. "Go to your room and stay there."

Eira stood up on shaky legs, holding onto the chair for support, and slowly limped across the room. Her bloody, slashed back remained exposed as she left. Narcissa could scarcely bear to look upon it. As soon as Eira was well on her way upstairs, Narcissa marched off to find her husband, determined to inform him of her decided duty to the defenceless Muggle girl. She couldn't understand where her sympathy was drawn from, knowing she ought to despise Eira, and yet somehow could not. Perhaps it was the kindredness of her spirit that she sensed; perhaps they were alike in ways she dared not admit.

On the other hand, Narcissa considered rather shamefully, keeping Eira close meant she had the advantage of keeping her away from Lucius. The threat of Eira's beauty had not lessened. So long as she kept Eira close, she could remain watchful of any odious intent. That, she decided finally, was her reason. It was not sympathy or soft feeling; Eira was a Muggle, she reminded herself, who had tainted an ancient bloodline just like Narcissa's traitorous sister did so long ago. Eira deserved everything she got. She was their scapegoat to take revenge upon, and thus Narcissa found herself feeling quite pleased that her husband had flogged Eira. It confirmed that her fears were unfounded, that Lucius would never sink so low. And yet… and yet… Narcissa's mind was racing.