Eira did not go back downstairs. She instead laid on the floor of her new room, listening to the sounds below, vaguely wishing she was dead. She didn't truly want to die, of course, not really; she wanted to be free, living happily with Sirius in their little cottage. When she thought about it, it seemed like all they used to do was laugh and dance and make love all day; they never argued, rarely sulked with one another. Though Sirius was quite a bit older than her, his jovial nature made him seem younger; in fact, his carefree, blasé attitude was often the only area of contention for Eira, who still couldn't help feeling she wouldn't be in her current predicament if only Sirius had just informed her a little better.
His friend, Remus Lupin, had frequently reminded Sirius of the importance of informing Eira of the current dangers facing the wizarding world, and the direct dangers Eira would face in marrying Sirius in the midst of this dark mood. Walburga had made her stance very clear the moment she heard Sirius was courting a Muggle, having in fact threatened Sirius with vague, dark consequences. Partly for this reason, Remus was somewhat unsupportive of the relationship; he liked Eira but was consistently irked by Sirius's lack of maturity or concern. Ironically, he also felt Sirius was too old for Eira.
Eira just thought Remus was grumpy and often teased him for it, but now she wished she had listened to him more often. As she lay there on the cold floor, she wanted nothing more than to feel Sirius's strong arms encircled around her small body, kissing her eyelids, holding her close, their bodies imprisoned together. Malfoy Manor was dark and cold, even when the sun was shining outside. At present, clouds were gathering in the sky; Eira watched them through the window from the floor, observing the occasional crow fly by. There seemed to be a lot of crows.
Eira rested her hands on her belly and closed her eyes, visualising the tiny baby sleeping in her womb. "We're going to be okay…" she whispered.
She imagined her baby, when grown, would have a head of thick curly hair like its father, and perfectly round cheeks and pink rosebud lips. She imagined its tiny hands and fingers, the delicate little toes and feet that would fit in the palm of her hand. She thought of Sirius holding their child, dancing with it to his favourite music (which was mostly Muggle music like Led Zeppelin and Queen) while she cooked dinner in the kitchen, blissfully watching the two of them.
"I hope we have a girl," she remembered Sirius saying one evening, kissing her forehead. "So that she will be like you."
"What, non-magic?"
"No," he had laughed softly. "I mean beautiful and kind. God knows my family needs more of that. And we need more girls."
Eira wondered what Sirius was feeling and thinking at this moment, locked in Azkaban; she wondered if he missed her as much as she missed him, whether he also thought about their baby. She hoped he would be freed before their child was born; she wanted him with her, holding her hand, and she wanted to see his face when their child came into the world. This cold, hostile house was no place to give birth and raise a child. Eira knew she would have to run away if Sirius was still imprisoned in the coming months.
Below the floorboards, Eira could hear Draco whining about something to his father, who sounded wholly uninterested and rather irritated with his son.
"But why can't I?" Draco persisted sulkily.
"Because you are eleven, Draco."
"It's not fair!" he declared.
"Draco," Narcissa's soft voice interjected. The rest of what she said was too muffled for Eira to make out. She didn't particularly care to hear what was going on anyway. Lucius's order to go downstairs drifted through her mind idly, but she still couldn't bring herself to move from the dusty floor. She stared around the room, scanning it with her eyes. It occurred to her then that this room didn't lock— or at least, it did only if her master or mistress locked it, for they clearly had the key. Eira could see the light coming through the vacant keyhole in the door; the door wasn't even shut properly.
Eira only moved when she heard abrupt footsteps coming up the stairs. She could tell immediately that they were Narcissa's, as they were light and small. She sat up against the bed, cursing softly under her breath as her wounds fired up in stinging pain; a moment later, Narcissa swung the door open, frowning down at the girl.
"What are you doing on the floor?" she demanded. "You were told to come downstairs."
Eira didn't have an answer and thus didn't make any effort to respond. She wordlessly stood up, muttered "sorry" and looked at Narcissa expectantly, waiting for her first formal instruction.
"Come with me," Narcissa said flatly, leading her directly across the hallway and into her bedroom. "If you are to be my personal maid, you need to learn and understand what I expect of you."
"Yes, Mrs Malfoy…" Eira answered monotonously. She glanced about the large room as she kept close to Narcissa's heel.
Narcissa conveyed Eira to a set of double doors at the other end of the room, which she swung open to reveal a wardrobe bigger than Eira's bedroom across the hallway. This room held all Narcissa's beautiful dresses, robes, shoes, and accessories. She sauntered in rather proudly, lightly touching some of the dresses hanging on the railing, and spun around to address Eira sternly.
"This is my wardrobe, as I'm sure you can tell. Every piece in here is extremely valuable and needs careful maintenance," she proceeded to show Eira each corner of the wardrobe, "On this rail, I keep everyday dresses; and here I keep evening dresses and dress robes… skirts are hung here, and jackets and coats here… in this drawer I keep gloves, and in these boxes are hats… jewelry in these drawers…"
Narcissa went on for some time, detailing exactly where she kept everything, right down to her stockings and undergarments. Eira was already lost with the overload of information, staring around the room as she followed her mistress.
"I normally take my clothes to a shop for repairs, or I fix them myself, but I understand you made your own wedding dress, is that true?"
Eira nodded, anger quietly resurfacing as she was reminded that Lucius had taken her dress away. "Yes…"
"So, you are an accomplished seamstress?"
"I would say so…" Eira kept her eyes down.
"Good. So, you can fix my clothes when required."
Eira nodded, mumbled her usual acknowledgment to Mrs Malfoy, who still hadn't finished, and went on with, "You will also lay out my clothes for me in the morning and evening."
"How will I know what you want to wear?" Eira frowned.
Narcissa eyed her, looking a little impatient. "You will choose for me. I trust you have an eye for such things?"
Eira now looked directly at Mrs Malfoy, unable to conceal her bewilderment. "I… yes, but… me?"
"Why not you?"
"I just didn't think you would want…" Eira trailed off, unsure of how to answer. Given the fact Narcissa despised her, she could not comprehend why she would want Eira to choose her outfits each day.
"You will lay out my clothes each morning and tidy my room," she continued, now leading Eira back into the bedroom. "Do not touch anything belonging to my husband. You will organise and clean my possessions only, is that understood?"
"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," Eira assented, privately thinking she wouldn't want to touch anything of Lucius's anyway.
"You will also do my hair," Narcissa added as she wafted in front of her elaborate dressing table by the window. Eira looked at all the cosmetics and perfumes sitting on the table. "And I like a bath every evening at six. You will therefore draw a bath for me at that time."
"Where is your—" Eira started, but Narcissa interrupted.
"Just in here," she walked to the left of the room and opened another set of doors, which revealed a marbled room with a large claw-foot bath situated in the centre.
Eira shut her mouth and simply nodded.
"When I don't require you, I don't want to see you. You may amuse yourself by walking in the gardens, if you wish, or reading in your room."
Eira's eyes lit up at this. "Can I use the library?"
"Of course not," she snapped back at once, scowling. "I will bring you some material to read. There is too much of value in our library and I do not want your dirty hands touching anything in there. In any case, Lucius spends a lot of his time in the library."
Eira had never been skilled at hiding her feelings, and thus the glaring look in her eyes instantly displeased Narcissa. She grabbed the younger girl's forearm and shook her slightly, "Have you forgotten about your whipping already?"
"No, Mrs Malfoy."
"Then you had better adjust your unpleasant attitude."
"I'm sorry, Mrs Malfoy," Eira answered coolly, "I didn't mean to offend you."
Narcissa could tell plainly that Eira was not sorry at all, but she did not pursue an argument. Frankly, Narcissa was too tired with her.
"For now, I want you to organise this drawer," Narcissa led Eira over to a large chest of drawers and opened the lowest compartment. Inside was an assortment of trinkets and linens. "Separate anything that needs repairing and put the rest away tidily."
Eira did as instructed without any questions and was shortly left alone to her work, which she did carefully and slowly. She discovered many unusual items in the drawer; a handful of forgotten photographs were shoved to the back, some of baby Draco and some of Narcissa as a young girl— probably no older than twelve— standing with her older sisters, all in their Slytherin house robes. Eira looked upon these with some interest and placed them in a box neatly.
She worked away for perhaps an hour, possibly longer, and was feeling as content as she could possibly be in Malfoy Manor. That was, at least, until Lucius entered the room. Eira did not hear him at first and was stood up with her back to him, assessing the damaged linens that she needed to repair. Her blood ran cold when she heard the floorboards creak, instinctively knowing it was Lucius somehow. She spun around, frozen.
"Well, well," Lucius smirked, moving close to her. He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and slid his finger down her neck. "Are you learning to behave?"
Eira tried to move away but was caught by the arm. He held her firmly.
"I rather enjoyed beating you this morning," he said in a low voice, "Watching you squirm and cry. So pathetic. It will take very little to convince me to do it again."
Eira felt her breath grow short, stricken with fear. His eyes were shining oddly, almost lustfully upon her. He pulled her slightly closer.
"It is a shame you are a filthy Muggle," he sneered, still speaking quietly. "Otherwise, I might say Sirius was lucky. But still, you are very, very pretty."
"Sir, please…" Eira turned her head away, trembling.
"I will have my fun with you," he murmured, "at some point. I'll strip you naked and beat you."
His other hand slide down her waist and gripped her hip. Eira pulled back forcefully, frightened, and stumbled over the edge of the rug. Lucius suddenly looked over her shoulder, smiling warmly as he greeted Narcissa, who had just appeared at the doorway. She stared at Eira darkly and swiftly sent her away with a needle, thread, and the handful of linens that needed repairing. Eira was grateful to run off and hide in her room, where she stayed and worked tirelessly until early dinner time when Dobby brought her some bread and soup.
She was summoned to draw a bath for Narcissa at exactly six o'clock and informed that Walburga Black was visiting for dinner that evening. Eira's stomach sank at this information, but she did her best to hide her true feelings; she was still very much shaken from her encounter with Lucius, her mind repeating the things he had said to her, over and over again.
Eira, troubled and lost deep in her thoughts, was pouring scented oils into the bathwater when Narcissa came in wearing a silver, embroidered bathrobe. She had removed her makeup and fastened her hair up high on her head. She walked up to the bathtub and tested the water with her hand, and without speaking or looking at Eira, untied and slipped out of her bathrobe.
Eira turned off the tap, which was still running, and glanced up at Narcissa in her entire nudity. She was shapely, womanly, her hips prominent; her soft stomach bore faint stretch marks, her breasts were ample and round, and her thighs were creamy and dimpled. Eira felt her cheeks grow pink, not so much out of embarrassment but rather for wanting to look upon her; she tossed her gaze aside quickly as Narcissa got into the hot water and stood up in a fluster, turning to leave. But Narcissa abruptly called her back.
"Where are you going?" she sounded annoyed.
"I… I thought you would want some privacy," Eira replied softly.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "We are both women. Sit back down."
Eira did as she was told and sat back down on the stool she had occupied a moment before.
"I want to talk to you," Narcissa said after she was comfortable in the water. Her tone was not conversational though.
"What about, Mrs Malfoy?"
"About my husband."
Eira didn't say anything. She looked at Narcissa warily and waited.
"My husband is devoted to me, and I to him."
"I'm glad to hear that, Mrs Malfoy."
"Shut up," Narcissa snapped, "I don't want to hear any of your back-talk."
"I wasn't—"
"You know you are a very pretty girl," Narcissa said as if it physically pained her to say it, "Muggle or not, that is one thing to be said of you."
Eira blinked, growing flushed and alarmed. "Thank you, but I don't understand what—"
Narcissa again interrupted her. "Do not try anything with my husband."
"What?" Eira now frowned deeply.
"I am sure you heard me perfectly well, Eira," Narcissa looked at her fixedly.
"Your husband is a brute who beat me with a horsewhip this morning!" Eira retorted indignantly.
"Don't you dare speak about my husband like that!"
"Are you saying he didn't?" Eira snapped back furiously, unable to control herself. "Were you there, or was that your double?"
Narcissa looked ready to strike her, but she instead grabbed Eira's wrist. The two of them locked eyes, staring angrily at each other. A silence permeated the room, disturbed only by the sound of their frustrated breaths as both were unable to find the words to speak, their faces close to one another. Narcissa glanced at Eira's lips, which were slightly parted; she felt her soft breath on her hand. Eira finally dropped her gaze from Narcissa's eyes and scowled down at the bathwater. Narcissa did not release her hold on Eira's wrist. She could feel her hot pulse moving as fast as Narcissa's heart was going.
When Eira defiantly raised her eyes again to look upon Narcissa, she bit her lip in irritation, glaring now at her arrested hand.
"You're hurting my wrist," Eira said flatly.
Narcissa released her and settled back in the water, now staring straight ahead. Eira began to pour more perfumes and oils into the bath water at random, looking for something to distract herself with. Narcissa's heart was fluttering wildly in her chest and her insides felt as though they were doing flips as she was overcome with a confusion of thoughts and feelings— she wanted to kiss her, embrace her, but then she wanted to hit her and scream at her. Eira herself seemed troubled with her own thoughts; she didn't say a word but continued to disperse perfume and petals around the bath with her hand carelessly lapping the water, her fingers briefly skimming the top of Narcissa's leg.
In the end, it was only hostility between them. Eira was angry and Narcissa was deeply troubled. Her mind wandered back to the morning, which now felt like years ago when Eira had pulled off her slip and stood there naked, glaring, defiant as ever.
Eira suddenly spoke after a long five minutes of silence. "I didn't try anything with your husband. I know you saw him with me today. It was him who tried it with me."
Narcissa knew and feared this. She continued to stare stoically ahead at the marbled wall. "You're a liar."
"I am not."
Narcissa looked at her disdainfully. "My husband would never degrade himself to your level."
"It wouldn't be degrading to him though, Mrs Malfoy," Eira raised her eyes to hers again. "It would make him feel powerful."
Eira reached for the sponge in the water and Narcissa snatched it from her hands. "Go and lay out my clothes for this evening," she ordered, unwilling to hear a word more.
Eira obeyed silently and got up, leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar as she walked into the bedroom to pick out Narcissa's clothes. Narcissa remained in the bath for another fifteen minutes before she called Eira back into the room, who resumed her post as lady's maid as though nothing had happened; she held up a large towel for Narcissa as she climbed out of the bath and wrapped it around her. She then helped Narcissa dress, rolling her stockings up her legs, buttoning her elegant dress, and handing her jewelry to her. Neither of them spoke the entire time.
"Wish I could've seen it," Walburga expressed regretfully as Lucius told her about the whipping Eira had received. The adult members of the family were seated in the drawing room, drinking wine and sherry after their meal. Walburga cast her eyes upon Eira gleefully, "Show me your whipping marks, girl."
Eira was stood in the corner of the room, ready at any moment for instructions. She looked at Narcissa, as if seeking her help, and remained rigidly still. Narcissa avoided her eyes and did not say anything.
"Are you deaf or defiant?" Walburga barked at her. "Get over here and show me your whipping marks."
Eira nervously took a few steps forward, stopping several feet in front of the old woman. Walburga looked like an old Victorian woman in widow's weeds. She was draped in a wispy black shawl and wore a long black dress, and a black lace cap. To Eira, she seemed like a dark, evil apparition.
"Cissy," Lucius turned to his wife, who was idly swilling her wine around the glass. "Unfasten her dress."
Narcissa, having expected this request, stood up wordlessly and approached Eira. She turned Eira around sharply and proceeded to undo the buttons down the back of her dress, exposing the red lashes on Eira's milky skin.
Walburga laughed cruelly, evidently delighted, and praised Lucius at once— her only criticism was that he should have given her more. When Narcissa lifted her hand to re-fasten Eira's dress, the old woman cried out in objection, "No! Leave her like that. Stand her in the corner so we may look upon her."
Eira's eyes were burning with tears by this point, feeling her humiliation most acutely. Narcissa led the younger girl to the corner of the room. Their eyes met and Narcissa gently squeezed Eira's arm before she turned away to re-join her husband.
"Oh, I almost forgot," Lucius stood up, putting his drink aside. He went to the other end of the room and procured Eira's wedding dress. "Eira is going to burn this, aren't you?"
Eira stiffened and looked over her shoulder. She shook her head vehemently.
"Come here," he ordered, standing now by the fireplace. A huge fire was blazing away in the grate. He handed Eira the dress as she walked over. "Throw it in."
Eira clutched her dress tightly, stepping back. "No."
"Do as I say," Lucius narrowed his eyes on her.
Eira again shook her head, walking back a few more steps. She walked straight into Narcissa, who was standing deliberating on whether to say anything. She looked red and flushed.
"Defiant, vile girl!" Walburga exclaimed. "How dare you disobey?"
"I will not burn my wedding dress," Eira said.
"Lucius," Walburga looked over at him, "Whip her. Whip her right now."
Narcissa suddenly stepped in front of Eira protectively. "You will not whip her, and you will not burn her wedding dress," she said firmly to her husband. She then glanced behind her, "Eira, go to bed."
Eira did not need telling twice. She ran from the room with her dress clutched to her chest and did not look back. Narcissa remained straight and undeterred; Lucius looked confounded, staring at his wife, while Walburga looked like she would implode with anger.
"What was the meaning of that, Narcissa?" Walburga demanded shortly.
"I would like you to leave please, Walburga. I have an awful headache."
Walburga scoffed scornfully, slamming her glass down on the table loudly. "Very well then."
Lucius at once implored her to stay, apologising for his wife's "uncharacteristic behaviour," but Walburga felt the insult most deeply and would not stay. She bustled from the room resentfully, flanked by Lucius, who looked embarrassed beyond measure. Narcissa did not move from the room, hardly hearing a word around her, and instead stared blankly at the crackling fire.