Lucius did not speak to his wife for the remainder of the evening. After Walburga departed, Narcissa went to bed and Lucius remained downstairs in his study. She never heard him come to bed, but he was there when she awoke in the morning, sleeping deeply with the unmistakable stench of whiskey on his breath. Narcissa observed him for a moment, studying his jawline; he needed to shave, she noted. He was naked, pale, and his long blond hair was unkempt, spread across the pillow. Normally, Narcissa would roll over and kiss him. She liked to hear his sleepy moans as he woke up, and his soft sighs as she stroked his hair. But all Narcissa could do presently was observe him, too afraid to disturb him. She knew she had overstepped last night.

After several minutes, she rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Her mind involuntarily wandered to thoughts of Eira, wishing suddenly that it was Eira lying beside her and not Lucius. She would have liked to draw her to her. But the thought felt strange; she had never been interested in women like that and it troubled her deeply to know she was feeling a certain way about Eira.

Lucius stirred, breathing in deeply, and opened his eyes to look at Narcissa.

"Cissy…" he said a little hoarsely, yawning.

Narcissa glanced at him but did not move. Lucius rolled over and embraced her, peppering her neck with sloppy kisses. It seemed he had forgotten about last night. Narcissa could feel his stiff erection against her leg and his hand sliding up between them. She pushed Eira to the back of her mind. A soft sigh escaped her lips, enjoying the sensation of his hand rubbing her gently, quickly growing wet. She parted her legs a little more for him and began to kiss him deeply, her own hand now wrapped around his hard cock. He moaned as she stroked him.

A moment later and her silk nightie was hitched up over her hips, him inside her, both breathing heavily. Narcissa was laid beneath him with her legs wrapped around his waist, her enjoyment growing as he slid in and against her gently; she used her fingers to continue rubbing herself, her orgasm building.

The bed shuddered and knocked against the wall. Narcissa was holding the top of the bed, her head thrown back, eyes closed. Lucius cried out when he came, and Narcissa wanted to do the same, but found she had been left behind and denied her moment of bliss; Lucius was still for a moment, breathing thickly, then he slid out and rolled onto his back. Narcissa could feel his come sliding down her thighs. She wanted more, but she knew it was over.

Across the hallway, Eira was awake and had passively heard every moan, every creak and shudder coming from that bedroom. She couldn't imagine a cold man like Lucius making love to his wife. Even as much as Eira disliked Narcissa, she felt Narcissa had the capability of feeling, something which her husband obviously did not. She thought then of Sirius and ached for him. It was a carnal aching; she thought of him, thought of his chest, and the way his penis would spring up against his belly amongst the dark hair below. She thought of his mouth on her pink nipples. She ran her hand down her belly and slipped her fingers between her legs, shuddering, melting away, and after the convulsions of her orgasm, sunk back into a deep sleep.

Narcissa's blatant defiance was not brought up at all over the next several days, and Lucius oddly seemed to be avoiding Eira completely. Narcissa and Eira were thus generally left alone, both seeking out the other at times, but speaking little. In many respects Eira thought Narcissa's habits were odd; she woke late, often not until ten o'clock, and ate little; Narcissa sometimes liked to take a walk with Eira in the grounds to watch the white peacock, which was often seen wandering the gravel walks with firm, slow steps, or perched haughtily upon a parapet. Narcissa seemed almost always exhausted though and did not stay outside for longer than an hour, and either returned inside for tea or went to recline in her room languidly.

Eira drew a bath each night for Narcissa and sat alongside her like a dutiful pet; every third day she washed her mistress's hair, a job which Eira secretly enjoyed; Narcissa's hair was beautiful, so magnificently thick and long when it was loose about her shoulders. She loved to brush it each morning too, to fold and twist it into an elegant style, and adorn it with pretty hair ornaments. Narcissa would sit back and shut her eyes while her beautiful companion washed or brushed her hair, fondly enjoying the soft pressure of her small hands and deft fingers. She would sigh softly, a discreet but unmistakable release of a suppressed instinct of ardour for the younger woman. It almost embarrassed Eira who, blushing, would gaze upon Narcissa with equal, clandestine fondness.

Still, Narcissa did not divulge much in way of speaking; all Eira knew about Narcissa was that her family was very ancient and noble, that she doted on Draco, and had very narrow-minded views on blood-purity. Eira never asked pointed questions to Narcissa, fearing the repercussions, and never argued— except once, in defence of her husband, when Narcissa laid a direct attack on Sirius's character, for which Eira was struck across the ear. However, Narcissa never seemed to be offended by her for long.

August was coming to an end and it was now a few days before Draco would be starting at Hogwarts, which meant that a trip to Diagon Alley was planned upon the arrival of Draco's book and supply list. A special dinner was also being organised by Narcissa to host Lucius's closest, oldest friend, Severus Snape, and to meet the teacher who would be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, whom Snape had mentioned with vague praise.

Narcissa was therefore distracted with making sure her son had all his school supplies, had everything packed, while continuously changing her mind about what to serve at the dinner. Eira felt the advantage of this upheaval. She was often left alone in the house, as Narcissa would hurry off to Diagon Alley to buy something she had forgotten, and Lucius was busy meeting with the board of governors at Hogwarts.

"I'm going to Diagon Alley to purchase some more ink and quills for Draco," Narcissa said late one afternoon to Eira.

Eira was sat in her room idly flicking through the books Narcissa had pulled out for her – Minerva's Guide to Etiquette and Manual of Politeness: full directions for correct manners, dress, deportment, and conversation, with hints and directions for the care of the wardrobe. She looked up from her page, which she had been staring at blankly for five minutes and nodded. "Okay, Mrs Malfoy. When should I expect you back?"

"I shouldn't be long," Narcissa replied as she buttoned her coat. Draco's sulky, pale face was partially hidden behind her. "No longer than an hour. I will want tea when I return."

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," she answered obediently.

Narcissa glanced at the books. "I hope you are reading those closely."

"I can barely put them down."

Narcissa gave her a disapproving look but did not bother reprimanding her. She took hold of Draco's hand and strode off quickly, her sharp heels echoing across the floor. Eira tossed the book aside and waited five minutes, listening and waiting until the house fell silent. The clock downstairs chimed and Eira climbed off her bed.

She was going to do it this time, she decided firmly; she was going to look in the library. She had made a point of walking by it several times throughout the week, trying to figure out if it was locked when Lucius wasn't there, or if it was enchanted with magic. She had also asked Dobby about the room and he had assured her there was nothing guarding it inside or out. So this was it. She was going to take the chance while she had it. She hurried downstairs, conscious of her time limit, and ran directly to the library.

As she reached the huge doors, she hesitated, fearing Lucius may very well have jinxed or enchanted the door to prevent anyone but himself from entering. But Dobby seemed certain when he said there was no magic blocking the room, so she nervously reached out and took hold of the ornate gold door handle. Nothing happened. She wasn't thrown back or given any unpleasant shock, she didn't grow boils on her face; she took a breath and bravely turned the handle. The door swung open with ease and she found herself stood in the doorway. It was a beautiful, large library, filled top-to-bottom with leather-bound books and curiosities. A great leather sofa sat in front of the fireplace, which was presently cold and empty and meant that Lucius surely was not expected anytime soon; she shivered a little and took a very cautious step into the room. Again, nothing happened, and thus gaining confidence Eira walked in further.

Now that she was here, Eira realised she didn't know where to start. It was as though she had expected to walk in and find her answers there waiting. But this room was truly huge; the ceiling was at least as tall as a cathedral and this library had several floors winding around the room. She almost wanted to turn around and forget her mission. Her gut was telling her this was indeed a bad idea, and she should run now before she was caught. She had at least half an hour though, she thought; she would just look quickly. Her attention was caught by a table in which a large volume was placed. She wandered over for a closer look and her eyes lit up when she realised it was a directory of all the books in the room and where to find them. She flicked hurriedly to the L section to look up 'Law.' There were several choices: Law, of Magic; Law, Wizarding; Law, of Dark Arts. Eira felt unsure these were of any use to her; had she had the time and freedom to do so, she would study them all. She flipped to the M section where she found Ministry, of Magic and many other variations; at the at the bottom of the page the word Muggles had been blatantly scratched out. Eira tried to think quickly, wondering what other relevant subheading she could look for. The clock behind her was ticking loudly.

She proceeded to flip through the book quickly, her eyes scanning each page for anything of interest. She needed more time. She felt panicked and agitated, desperate for something useful to jump out at her. At the back of her mind, she thought fretfully of having to find these books and didn't dare push her luck any further. She finally stepped back, glancing at the clock; it was quarter past. She needed to prepare for Narcissa's return soon.

She turned, expecting nobody, and froze in abject, paralyzing fear as she found herself facing Lucius Malfoy in his travelling cloak. For a moment, it felt as though her heart had stopped beating. She stared up at him and he stared down at her with a curious expression on his face. He did not look angry; he seemed darkly amused, which frightened Eira more. She remembered what he had said to her earlier that week.

"Well, looking for trouble now, are we?" he sneered.

"I… I walked into the wrong room…" Eira said pathetically.

"Lies won't do you any favours, girl."

"Please don't beat me, sir," she implored at once.

He proceeded to undo his cloak, tossing it aside on the sofa; he then strode over to her, as if he was coming to observe a particularly interesting item, and lifted her chin in his hand. His cold grey eyes studied her face.

"I am rather glad to find you alone for once. Do you enjoy playing lady's maid to my wife?"

"Yes, sir," Eira answered quietly, barely above a whisper.

"She is too soft on you, I think. Did she say you may go gallivanting around the manor like it's your own house?"

She shook her head, feeling like a disgraced child. "No, sir."

"So why have I come home to find you in here?"

Eira couldn't find the words. When she didn't answer, Lucius moved away.

"Eira, since you clearly know your way to my library, I suspect you also know the way to my study. Go in there and fetch the whip. Do you remember where it is?"

Tears now blurred Eira's vision. She stared at him fearfully, trembling all over.

"It is in the top drawer of my desk. Bring it here. If you don't go now, I'll drag you there myself and give you double the lashing."

Eira stood there for a short moment, still too frightened to move, until Lucius made a movement to grab her. At this, she started and quickly assented her obedience, running from the room to fetch the vile instrument. His study was not far from the library, and the whip was exactly where he said it would be, so she was not long gone. When she returned, Lucius was unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling them up his forearms. She briefly noticed a strange tattoo on his left arm.

"Shut the door and come here," he ordered, standing by a stone column in the middle of the room.

Eira shut the door and meekly walked towards him. She felt like she would collapse any minute.

"Please, don't…" she began to cry hard when he snatched the whip from her hands.

"I have done my best to avoid you, girl," he snarled, "because the very sight of you vexes me. How dare you come in here and touch what is not yours? Unbutton your dress and stand over there. My wife is not here to protect you now."

"Mr Malfoy, please!" she cried.

Lucius ignored her pleas and turned her around by the shoulders. He began to unfasten her dress roughly and pulled it down completely, forcing her arms from the sleeves, and then unhooked and pulled down the straps of her brassiere. Eira held her arms over her chest, holding the garment firmly, sobbing.

"Take that off and stand there," he pointed to the stone column.

Eira looked over at him again, her eyes pleading desperately. When she did not move, Lucius struck the middle of her back with the whip. She cried out and moved over to the column, where she stood with her back again exposed to him. Lucius walked over and lightly touched the old scars with his fingers, smirking, and then snatched away the brassiere Eira was clinging tightly to for her modesty. With this last bit of dignity gone, she whimpered, waiting in dread.

He did not move back straight away though. He continued to trace his fingers over her scars and down her back, causing her to shudder, and then moved his hands up to her small, firm breasts. His fingers found and twisted her nipples sharply. Eira felt like her whole body had just shut down. She couldn't move, she couldn't scream. She let him molest her breasts and hoped fervently that it would end soon. His hand then slid down her belly and disappeared beneath the waist of her dress, which was loose about her hips, and he slowly began to stroke her through her underwear.

"I suppose Sirius liked to fuck you like a dog," he murmured in her ear, smirking.

Eira squirmed, twisting her body to block his hand from going further. She squeezed her thighs together, crying silently. "Please don't…"

"Don't what?" He released her and took a step back, "Now, are you ready?"

Eira did not respond. She held her breath and stared up at the ceiling, quivering, bracing herself. The whip came down sharply without warning and she screamed. She moved away at once, falling to the floor, sobbing.

"Get up, you pathetic slut," he stormed over, grabbing her forearm.

"No, no, no, please!" she begged as he pulled her to her feet. She hit his chest. She wanted to scream, and more than anything she wanted to tell him she was pregnant, fearing her body would not be strong enough to protect it; but she knew he would only do her more harm. He would not care. In fact, Eira felt sure he would do everything in his power to ensure she did not have that baby.

He turned her around and pushed her back up against the column. He adjusted his sleeves again, looking at her.

"I will give you ten this time. If you move or sit down, we will start all over again."

Eira gripped the column as much as she could. She waited, but Lucius continued to talk.

"My wife is quite fond of you, you know? I think she finds you a comfort, and I of course, want my wife to be happy. She will not be pleased when she finds out I have had to beat you again, will she?"

When Eira didn't answer, Lucius repeated more firmly, "Will she?"

"No, sir," Eira sniffled.

"It's entirely your own fault though, of course. Should you have been snooping around in here?"

"No, sir…"

Lucius struck her shoulder without warning. Eira cried out loudly but held her stance. She breathed deeply through her nose and out through her mouth, trying to calm herself.

"Weren't you told you are forbidden to enter this room?"

"Ye-yes, sir…"

"So, why have I come and found you in here?"

He did not give Eira a chance to answer, as he struck her a second time, this time down the centre of her back. She gripped the column, moaning in pain.

"Well?"

"I…I just wanted to…"

"To what?" he prompted.

"I wanted to read about the law," she answered in a rush.

Lucius had evidently not expected this answer. He paused for a moment, then laughed shortly. "The law?"

"Yes," Eira breathed out shakily.

"What can possibly interest you about law? Thinking of joining the Ministry of Magic? I'm afraid they don't take Muggles."

Eira couldn't speak again for crying, overcome with a fit of hot tears. Lucius struck her again and she choked on a scream.

"Well? Explain yourself."

Eira wiped her wet face on her arm, stuttering horribly as she attempted to answer him. "I-I was… I want to-to know my rights."

This amused Lucius greatly. He laughed loudly and drew up to her again, touching her wet cheek with the back of his hand; Eira froze and endured it.

"Rights? What rights? You have none."

He held her against the column for a long moment; his hand moved back down to her breasts, which he held and pressed fervently, circling her hard nipples with the tips of his fingers.

"I will give you the right to choose this though," he breathed against her ear. "I will continue whipping you or I will fuck you right here, right now. Which would you prefer?"

Eira felt a flood of guilt as she silently, almost immediately, wished to be fucked instead of whipped. She did not think she could stand another lashing. However, with a momentary stroke of clear thought, she answered weak in voice, but firm in fact, "Your wife will be back soon, Mr Malfoy."

This seemed to give him pause. Lucius had never thought to ask where his wife had gone nor how long she would be, which was something Eira obviously knew.

"Where is Narcissa?"

"Diagon Alley… she will be back any minute…"

"When did she leave?"

"An hour ago."

To Eira's surprise, Lucius withdrew and straightened up. Eira nervously turned her head to look at him, scared he was going to strike her again. He glared darkly but did not make any movement to harm her.

"Get out," he said quietly, "Dress yourself and get out."

Eira stumbled as she reached to retrieve her brassiere, which she hurriedly fastened, and then fumbled desperately with the buttons on the back of her dress. Her fingers felt hot and slippery; she left most of her dress hanging loosely as she fled from the room. She was still struggling to do up her dress when she walked back into the main hall, whereupon Narcissa arrived with Draco, laden with shopping and obviously a lot more than quills and ink.

Narcissa, at first, did not notice the pallor of Eira's face or the glistening tears running down her cheeks. Draco, however, was staring.

"Is my tea ready?" Narcissa asked Eira as she deposited several boxes and parcels on the table. "I have some new clothes for you."

"I'll do it now, Mrs Malfoy, sorry…" Eira replied meekly.

Narcissa instantly looked up; her large, dark eyes were suddenly overcome with an odd look of trepidation. She did not fail to notice that Eira's hair and dress were in complete disarray, and seemingly forgetting the aloof guardedness she held up against Eira, swiftly came to her. She cupped Eira's tearful, scared face between her hands.

"What's happened?" she asked brusquely. "Has he beaten you?"

Eira, wordless and struggling with tears, nodded. Narcissa trembled; she gripped Eira's face and rubbed her tears away with the back of her thumbs, gazing into her frightened eyes.

"He should not have done that…" Narcissa said in a hushed, embittered voice, "You are mine."

Eira did not fully understand her meaning, but before she could say anything, Narcissa had strode away; she stormed straight for the library, knowing somehow that this was where she would find her husband. Eira, now left alone with Draco, sank to the floor and cried helplessly. Draco did not move, did not say anything, but watched silently.

"Lucius," Narcissa threw open the library doors. Her face was flushed, angry. She marched directly over to her husband, who was calmly pouring himself a whiskey.

"Ah, Cissy. There you are."

"I need to talk to you," she said in breathless anger.

"No," Lucius snapped back, "It is I who needs to talk to you."

Narcissa stared at him incredulously and opened her mouth to retort, but Lucius sharply and abruptly interrupted her before she could speak.

"That vile thing was in my library," he said, "Are you really going to try and defend her?"

"I've told you not to beat her!"

"I am master of this house, Narcissa! Whatever this infatuation is with that girl, it needs to stop."

"Infatuation?" she laughed dryly.

"Fascination, pity, whatever it is!"

"She is my maid!"

"She's an untrained, mindless dolt. If you want a lady's maid, I will hire one for you."

Narcissa shook her head, staring furiously at her husband; he towered above her, but she was not deterred. "All I have asked is that you do not harm her," she said coldly, "Leave her be and let me deal with her."

Lucius, exasperated now, sighed angrily. "What has gotten into you, Narcissa? Don't think I have forgotten about that little scene with Walburga, because I haven't. She is still too offended to visit."

"I don't care," Narcissa sniffed.

Lucius surveyed his wife for a short moment, observing the way her small frame was trembling; her chest was heaving tumultuously; her cheeks were redder, flushed like she had been taken by a fever. She stared back at her husband, drawing back when he took a sudden step towards her.

"Cissy," he frowned deeply. "You're not scared of me, surely?"

In truth, Narcissa had not meant to step back. She didn't know why she'd done it. Lucius had never struck her or given her reason to fear his anger.

"No, I'm not scared of you," she said finally. "Leave my maid alone."

With that, Narcissa turned and left the room; she hurried back to the hall to see to Eira, who was still sitting on the floor. Draco had gone, having lost interest, and was now playing outside. Narcissa knelt down and placed her arms around Eira carefully.

"It's alright…" she soothed as Eira began to sob all over again, burying her face against her shoulder. "You should not have been in there though. I told you not to—"

"I know!" Eira cried out in frustration, abruptly pulling away. "Please, just let me leave!"

"Leave?" Narcissa stared at her.

"Why should I stay here? I want to leave."

"You can't leave. You have nobody."

"I will manage," she replied spitefully.

A feeling of nonsensical panic swept over Narcissa. She put her arms back around Eira and gripped her firmly. "No, you cannot leave… look, I've bought you some nicer things to wear…" she said quickly, motioning to the packages and boxes on the table.

Eira glanced at the table, then back at Narcissa. She pushed her away furiously and stood up, swaying slightly. "Your husband was going to beat and rape me! What did I do to deserve that? It's only because you weren't gone long enough that he didn't."

Narcissa, pale and small, got to her feet to match Eira's height. She stared at her; her dark eyes were burning with both anger and anguish.

"How could you dare say such a thing?" Narcissa replied steadily. Her voice was low and strained.

"Because it's true!"

"It is not!"

"Narcissa," she used her name for the first time, staring at her imploringly, "believe me, please."

Narcissa regarded her, conscious of the inner stirrings of a very strange agony, her face colourless and blank. She chose not to acknowledge Eira's small speech, however, and simply answered coolly, "Go upstairs and draw my bath. I will follow you shortly. And do not call me Narcissa again."

Eira did her work silently, self-possessed with fury, and did not lift her eyes to acknowledge Narcissa when she came in. She hated her. As she watched Narcissa get comfortable in the steaming bath water, she felt a terrible urge to push her head under the water and hold her there; she imagined her struggling and thrashing, throwing water across the marbled floor, fighting for her life.

"Wash my hair," Narcissa ordered, unclipping and shaking her hair down. It was half blonde, half dark brown.

"I washed your hair yesterday, Mrs Malfoy," Eira replied resentfully.

"It rained today and got damp. Wash it."

Eira pulled her stool up behind Narcissa's head and gathered up her hair in her hands. It was, as Eira expected, still shiny and clean; she filled the porcelain water jug with warm tap water and poured it over the back of Narcissa's head, submerging her hair at once, and then began to rub her scalp with a lavender-scented shampoo. Eira didn't care whether she pulled or tugged too hard and allowed the soap to run into Narcissa's eyes.

"I have brought your new clothes up. They're on my bed," Narcissa said after the first rinse. She did not seem bothered by the water trickling down her face.

"Thank you."

"I'd like you to wear one of the new dresses tonight at the dinner party."

"Yes, Mrs Malfoy."

Eira began rubbing a floral-scented oil into the ends of Narcissa's hair. As she did so, Narcissa suddenly turned around to look at her; Eira paused, staring back at her, unblinking.

"Let me see your back," she said.

Eira narrowed her eyes and replied, "What for?"

"In fact, fetch the Murtlap Essence. It is in that chest in the bedroom."

Eira rose, found the bottle within a minute, and brought it into the bathroom; she handed it to Narcissa, who now sat up a little and stretched out her arm to Eira.

"Come."

Eira perched on the side of the bath and winced as Narcissa unbuttoned her dress, exposing the fresh, red lashes across her skin. These were deeper than the last ones. The white lining of her dress was stained with lines of blood.

"Take your dress off, Eira," she instructed.

Eira did as she was told and shrugged her way out of the coarse dress, privately glad to be rid of it. She felt Narcissa's hand trembling a little as she unfastened her brassiere; she let it drop to the floor, benumbed, and sat with her back to the older woman. Narcissa then stood up, wrapping herself in a towel, and sat alongside Eira; in the next moment, Narcissa's wand flew into her hand and she swiftly drained the water and refilled it with clean, warm water, into which she added the Murtlap Essence.

Eira frowned, "You've been able to do that this whole time?"

A small smile played on Narcissa's lips, but she did not answer. "Come, get into the water."

Eira, blushing softly, removed the rest of her clothing and climbed into the bathtub. Relief swept over her like wave; the pain diminished at once and Eira forgot all about her anger. She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head, relaxing as Narcissa gently sponged her back. In that moment, Eira thought she remembered what it felt to be loved again; exhausted and worn, she dissolved into tears while Narcissa softly soothed