Narcissa knew Lucius had gone up to their bedroom for the airiness neither his library nor study permitted. Their room was large, perhaps one of the largest in the entire house, and boasted a number of windows to allow a considerable amount of sunlight that the manor rarely saw. Indeed, when Narcissa entered their bedroom, Lucius had thrown open several windows and was reposed in an armchair positioned to the advantage of the late summer breeze. His eyes were shut, and he did not open them even as Narcissa loudly shut the door and strode across the room, her heels tapping lightly upon the floor.

"Lucius," she started, unsure of how to proceed. She could not quite make her mind up as to how she felt about what she had witnessed.

Lucius opened his eyes and looked at her. A small smile played on his thin lips and he reached his hand out to take hers. "Cissy."

Lucius twirled Narcissa's wedding ring around her finger as he waited for her to speak. When she failed to say anything, however, he swiftly pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheek.

"Cissy, do not be upset with me."

"I'm not upset."

"I can tell when you're upset, darling. You breathe through your mouth when you're troubled."

"You should not have done that with Draco around," she said finally, fixing her gaze outside across the fields. She couldn't look at her husband. Narcissa had briefly been to see Draco before she came to find Lucius; he was presently hiding in his room, idly playing with his toy Quidditch set, and would not speak to his mother. Thus, Narcissa left him be.

"Draco has seen me beat Dobby many times," Lucius replied indifferently.

"That's different. Eira isn't a house-elf."

Lucius snorted. "No, she's worse."

"Draco was scared, Lucius."

"He wasn't scared," Lucius rolled his eyes. "And if he was, it's you who has to answer for that. I let you have your way by sending him to Hogwarts instead of Durmstrang, and even that hardly seems good enough for you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" she frowned.

"I mean that you coddle him, Narcissa," Lucius said disdainfully. "The way you carry on, fretting and fawning over him. It's clear you do not want him to leave your side."

"I want our son to have the best of everything," she retorted. "But he is a child, Lucius."

"He is old enough to know what is expected of him."

Narcissa withdrew herself from her husband's arms and stood up, arms folded, scowling out the window. Lucius laughed slightly. "Cissy, you look like a sulky little girl when you pout like that."

Narcissa glared. "I have decided I am taking the girl as my personal maid."

"Personal maid?" Lucius looked even more amused.

"Plenty of our friend's wives have lady's maids."

"Yes, but you never wanted one. I offered to hire one for you years ago and you said no, remember?"

"I remember perfectly. But I have changed my mind."

"Then let me hire you a proper girl, one who—"

"No," Narcissa interrupted at once. "I want her."

Lucius stared at her incredulously for a moment. He did not look particularly pleased but could find no objection to raise with her.

"Do as you wish then, Cissy. But as master of the house, I will still beat her as and when I see fit."

"I'm going to move her to the room opposite ours," Narcissa added. "The small room."

"That room is cluttered with junk," Lucius frowned.

"I'll get Dobby to clear it out."

"What is wrong with the room she has upstairs?"

"It is too far away. A lady's maid has to be on hand at all times."

"If that will make you happier, fine then," Lucius rolled his eyes. He had partially guessed at his wife's sudden need to keep the girl close, though he did not raise it, as he thought it absurd. He despised Eira. He had to admit she was beautiful but could never sink so low as to form relations with her.

Narcissa moved away from the window and across the room to open a large chest in which she kept useful potions and antidotes on hand – typically for Draco, should he be ill or injured. She began to rummage through this wordlessly.

"Now what are you doing?" Lucius watched her.

"I'm looking for that healing potion."

"What for?"

"For Eira's back."

"For God's sake, Narcissa," he stood up now. This was more than he could bear. "Leave her be."

"It could become infected if it's not treated," Narcissa snapped back. "The Ministry are expecting us to take care of her. How would it look if she turned up at St. Mungo's with nasty, infected wounds on her back? You should never have done it, Lucius."

"I will do as I see fit, Narcissa," he said testily, "In fact, I will go up there and give her another six lashings if you continue to undermine me."

"I am not undermining you," she glared at him. Narcissa found the potion—a bottle of Murtlap Essence— and without a second glance or word at her husband, strode out of the room.

Eira was lying face-down on her bed, her head hidden in her arm when Narcissa entered the room. The lacerations on her back were red and angry, but fortunately not deep enough to draw much blood. As Narcissa approached and sat down on the bed beside her, Eira lifted her head slightly; her face was pale, almost sickly looking.

Narcissa was unsure of what to say to her, but she assumed her usual tone of authority. "I've brought some Murtlap Essence to put on your back. It will help the cuts heal and soothe the pain."

Without waiting for Eira to speak, as she did not expect a reply, Narcissa pulled out a handful of clean cotton rags and a small bowl, into which she poured the Murtlap, and then proceeded to soak the pieces of cotton in. When each piece had sufficiently soaked up the remedy, Narcissa gently placed them on Eira's wounds. Eira took in a sharp breath at the first, shutting her eyes and whimpering quietly; however, with great relief, the solution quickly did its work and Eira sank into a blissful feeling of numbness. Sirius, Eira remembered, had once used Murtlap for a nasty cut he'd sustained while tending to an alarmingly thorny plant that seemed to have a mind of its own.

A few minutes passed in silence while Narcissa tended to Eira's wounds, which did not take too long. Eira was so quiet that Narcissa wondered whether she had fallen asleep. When Narcissa placed the bowl aside, Eira turned her head and looked at her; colour was slowly creeping back into her cheeks.

"Does that feel better?" Narcissa asked. She gently adjusted one of the cotton pieces and lightly swept her fingers down Eira's spine as she withdrew her hand again. Eira shivered a little.

"Yes," she murmured. Eira felt as though she had been given morphine and was mistily content at the sensation of relief.

"It will heal soon," Narcissa assured her. "Have you eaten today?"

"No."

Narcissa glanced at the tray of cold porridge and tea hat Dobby had sent up that morning for Eira's breakfast. She rose from the bed and used a quick spell to reheat the food, then brought it over and laid it down on the bedside table.

"Sit up on your side a little," Narcissa urged her, easing her up by the shoulders gently.

Eira winced a little but was soon propped up on her elbow, laying sidelong on the bed. Narcissa then placed the tray in front of her so Eira did not have to reach for it. Eira still didn't feel much like eating, but she was worried for her unborn baby and so picked up the spoon and slowly began to eat. The porridge was thick and lumpy, and the tea was bitter, but it incited her appetite slowly as she ate more.

"I'm going to move you a room downstairs later, opposite my bedroom, so you will be on hand if I require you."

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy…" Eira mumbled, keeping her eyes down. She would have rather stayed in her present room for the sake of privacy it allowed, but she said nothing.

"You will still answer to my husband, but you are foremost answerable to me. Your presence should be little noticed, but you will be ready to attend to me at any moment."

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," Eira answered again in the same, quiet voice. She stirred her porridge around idly before taking another small mouthful.

Narcissa fell silent again, watching Eira. When news of Sirius's engagement to the Muggle girl had first reached the Malfoy family, there was much talk about it—how shameful it was, how dreadful to yet again be let down by blood-traitors—but nobody had mentioned how incredibly beautiful she was. Eira's eyes were green, bright, big, and clear, almond-shaped and framed with long dark lashes. Her skin was fair, lightly sun-kissed from the summer months, and she had a pretty nose with a spatter of girlish freckles. Her lips were round, full, and pink; her neck was long and elegant, and her arms and shoulders held the natural elegance of a ballerina. Her beauty disturbed Narcissa. Though she had treated Eira with indifference upon their first meeting, the truth was she had been afraid to look at her.

But Narcissa could not work out what it was that she feared. She feared her own beauty fading when she stood beside Eira, and she feared her husband would feel the stirrings of desire or impulse for the younger girl; but then, Narcissa wondered, what desire had Lucius felt when he beat the poor girl? Did he feel at all? His eyes had shone with cruel pleasure when he beat her, but if it signified anything, Narcissa could not work it out. Lucius was loving and gentle to his wife; he was all she had ever experienced of love. The desire to hurt and humiliate had never crossed into the boundaries of their lovemaking, and thus it seemed impossible to Narcissa that he could both wish to beat the girl and take her to bed. Narcissa knew, of course, that some men were like that. But not Lucius, not her husband. Thus, Narcissa wondered whether it was only herself who noticed and felt the effects of Eira's striking beauty, and in turn, feared it had a meaning she could not bring herself to acknowledge.

Eira finished eating and pushed the tray aside. Neither of them seemed to know where to look or what to say, but it was Eira who spoke first, asking timidly, "Why did they say Sirius is insane?"

"I don't know," Narcissa answered truthfully.

"He isn't."

"I haven't seen him in years."

"He… he is your cousin, isn't he?" Eira looked at her now.

"Yes," Narcissa frowned, as if annoyed to be reminded of such an unpleasant fact.

Another silence ensued. Eira began to fidget with the spoon, twirling it around the empty bowl.

"They'll let him out… won't they?" Eira spoke up quietly again. "They'll realise he's innocent?"

"I very much doubt it," Narcissa answered stiffly, suddenly appearing to remember herself. "In any case, he is a blood-traitor. Innocent or not of the crime he's accused, he's guilty in my eyes."

"Because he married me?"

Narcissa narrowed her dark eyes on the younger girl. "Precisely. And don't mistake my generosity towards you for tolerance of your kind. I will tolerate your presence, but I do not and will not tolerate you."

"Believe me, Mrs Malfoy," Eira looked at her steadily, "I have no desire to be here."

"Unfortunately for both of us, you have nowhere else to go," Narcissa sniffed scornfully.

"If I had the means, I would leave today."

Narcissa thought momentarily of the money Eira had access to, but she did not raise it. Eira was almost as wealthy as the Malfoys, if not equally, and Narcissa had earlier perceived the danger of this. Walburga Black was already taking measures to prevent Eira getting her hands on this money, as Eira was sure to figure out her husband hadn't left her destitute. Indeed, Eira already knew Sirius was wealthy. Though he had never boasted, it was a known fact that he had wealth to rival the Malfoys. Unfortunately, Sirius's arrest had been so quick after their marriage, he had not had a chance to arrange Eira's access to his Gringott's vault.

"Yes, well, you have nothing," Narcissa lied coolly. "You're as good as homeless in our world."

Eira wasn't sure she entirely believed her, but she was in no position to argue. She still had a mind to consult the library if she got the chance or arrange a meeting with Cornelius Fudge to discuss her rights.

"You can rest for an hour," Narcissa now stood up. "Tonight, you will sleep in your new room downstairs."

Eira said nothing. She watched Narcissa with baffled interest as she got up to leave. Narcissa briefly glanced in the broken mirror on the wall to fix her hair, which was arranged neatly and prettily, and compulsively straightened the stiff skirt of her dress. In many ways, Narcissa was the sort of sophisticated woman Eira hoped to be one day, and so she couldn't help but admire her a little.

Narcissa left the room quietly and went downstairs to find Dobby. Much to her surprise, however, she found he was already clearing out the room; Lucius was stood in the doorway, barking orders and warnings at the elf as he carefully cleared out priceless ornaments and an array of silver plates and old portraits.

"Lucius?" Narcissa said, puzzled.

Lucius smiled and took hold of his wife's small hands. "You said you wanted her moved to this room, did you not?"

"Yes, but why are you—"

"Darling Cissy," he brushed her cheek with his thumb. "I hate to see you cross with me. If you want the Muggle girl to serve you, I have no objections. However, I do have some requests of my own."

Narcissa looked at him a little warily, waiting for him to continue.

"I want you to buy her some nicer clothes. Make her look pretty. You know we frequently have guests and friends visiting, and so I think she ought to look pleasant."

"There's nothing wrong with what she's wearing," Narcissa frowned.

"I thought it was you who worried what the Ministry would say. We can't have her looking like a servant, even if she is one."

"What sort of nice clothes?"

"Some pretty dresses, I don't know," he said a little impatiently. "Just make her look nice."

"She's pretty enough," Narcissa muttered bitterly.

"If she is to be yours, Cissy," Lucius said silkily, sliding his hands around her waist, "Wouldn't you like to dress her up?"

The idea stirred a strange feeling in the pit of Narcissa's stomach as he said this; the thought of dressing and undressing Eira like a doll had a sudden appeal, but she shook the thought away as quickly as it came. She said nothing in response to Lucius and wordlessly watched Dobby convey everything out of the little bedroom.

The room was swiftly emptied and furnished with a cast-iron bed, a small wardrobe, and a bedside table. Like Eira's room upstairs, there was a small bathroom for her use. It had originally been a guest room many years ago.

Eira came downstairs within the hour she was permitted to rest. She walked awkwardly and slowly, wincing whenever the rough fabric of her dress rubbed her wounded skin. In her arms she was carrying her wedding dress and wedding shoes to put away in her new room. Narcissa and Lucius were overseeing the final touches to the room when Eira nervously approached, keeping a significant distance between herself and Lucius in particular. Young Draco had also come out of his room, curious to see what was going on; he eyed Eira with disdain and kept close to his mother.

"Here you are, girl," Lucius sneered, "Your new room is ready, at my dear wife's request."

Narcissa cast Lucius a look but didn't say anything. Eira didn't move. She felt scared, fearing some sinister plan; Lucius impatiently strode forward and grabbed her arm, causing her to cry out, and dragged her to the doorway of the room.

"There now, look. What do you think?" he demanded.

"It… it is nice…" Eira answered nervously, then quickly added, "Sir."

Lucius smirked. "Good, you have not forgotten your manners. However," he reached for her wedding gown, "I don't think you need this."

Eira paled and clutched her dress tightly. "It's my wedding dress, sir."

"I can see it is a wedding dress. Hand it over to me."

"Lucius—" Narcissa started in alarm.

"Cissy, go downstairs with Draco," Lucius interrupted before she could say a word further. His look was dark, indicating it was an order and not a polite suggestion; Narcissa, anxious to shield her son from violence, held onto Draco and after a moment's deliberation, quietly obeyed her husband and walked away.

Lucius now squared up on Eira and shut the door. Eira briefly considered running into the bathroom and locking herself in, but then she knew the idea was probably suicidal.

"Give me the dress," Lucius repeated sternly.

Eira stared up at him and shook her head. "Mrs Malfoy said I could keep it, sir."

"You dare argue with me?" Lucius snarled.

"Please," she begged, "Please, it's all I have left. You can take the shoes but please don't take my dress."

Lucius's lip twitched and his eyes shone menacingly. He then lurched forward and snatched the wedding gown from her arms, ripping it in the process as Eira held so tightly. He then struck her across the face, knocking her to the floor.

"Tonight, you will come downstairs and throw this in the fire. You will watch it burn. Then perhaps, if I feel like it, you will receive another lashing for disobedience."

Eira's lip began to bleed as she stared up at him, crouched by the bed. Anger was rising in her chest, simmering to a boil, and all she could think about was striking him back.

"You're a monster," she said finally.

"Fix your face and go downstairs to my wife. I'm sure she has many tasks for you to complete."

With this, Lucius opened the door and strode out of the room, leaving Eira huddled on the floor trembling.