Lucius wasn't beside Narcissa when she woke up the following day. She heard him come to bed late last night, but she had pretended to be asleep, stifling her tears, unmoving. She felt wretched when she woke; her head was still spinning from the wine, only it had now combined with a dull headache. She groaned softly and lay back down, shutting her eyes.

She didn't remember at first and could not work out what was nagging at her conscience. But it was not long before she remembered; her gut wrenched as Eira's face drifted into her mind; she saw her mouth in the dim light of the room, her soft red lips, the ones she had kissed. Warm tears welled in her eyes at the hazed memory, and she felt hot with silent panic. She'd kissed her. And if she remembered correctly, Eira had kissed her back. Confusion, repulsion, and shame swept over her at once.

Lucius walked in. The door shut loudly and firmly behind him, and he looked down at his distressed wife as she twisted the bed covers with her hands and tried to hide her face.

"Narcissa," he said in an abrupt manner, "It is nearly one o'clock."

"I don't feel well," she replied, "Leave me alone."

"You have had too much to drink, that's all," he strode over to her, glaring down at her. He pulled back the bedclothes and snatched hold of her arm, "And embarrassed me in front of our guests, in front of Walburga again. What is the matter with you lately? Have you lost your mind?"

"Leave me be, Lucius," she turned away from him.

"Get dressed and eat something," he released her arm.

"Where is Eira?" she asked meekly.

A curious expression crossed Lucius's face at this question; his grey eyes shined oddly, and he suddenly laughed, but not because he was amused; it was a cold laugh that made Narcissa shiver.

"Eira. It's always Eira. Where's Eira? What's Eira doing?" he taunted.

"She is my handmai—"

"No, darling," he snapped, interrupting her, "You talk more about her than you do our son. Draco starts at Hogwarts tomorrow, had you forgotten?"

"No…" Narcissa frowned, "Of course not."

"What is this fixation with that girl?"

"Maybe I ought to ask you that," she spat back.

His lip curled at this, "My fixation?"

"She told me what you did…what you wanted to do to her…"

"Did it ever occur to you that she is a liar?"

"I saw her, Lucius. I don't think she was lying."

He grabbed Narcissa by her shoulders, pressing his fingers firmly into her skin, "Do you really think I would stoop so low? She's little better than vermin."

The sincerity in her husband's eyes and the conviction of his voice made Narcissa think back to what she had witnessed – had Eira lied? Eira had said herself her career was in the theatre; maybe it had been an elaborate act to win sympathy.

"Cissy," Lucius sat down beside her and embraced her, "I am not angry with you. I am worried. That girl is playing with you."

"But why would she—"

"To make you feel sorry for her, to manipulate you. Muggles are very good at that sort of thing. And to tell the truth, I am worried it is working. You have not been yourself in days."

Narcissa looked at the pattern on the bedding, idly tracing her finger along the swirls and lines. Lucius stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.

"Come downstairs and have some lunch. I will make you a potion for your headache, which I've no doubt you have."

Narcissa nodded, her eyes still fixed on the bedclothes blankly. When Lucius left, she put on her bed robe and slippers, feeling too tired to dress properly. She fixed her hair and face with a quick charm to look more presentable, and then proceeded to make her way downstairs.

Eira, wearing her old shapeless dress again, was polishing candlesticks at the other end of the table. Narcissa did not look at her. She stiffly drank the potion Lucius made for her and began to eat a light meal, pretending not to see or hear Eira. But everything had changed. They both knew it; they both felt it. Eira polished furiously, mutually avoiding Narcissa's eye. Her cheeks were pink, and their colour only increased the longer Narcissa sat at the table.

Lucius sat beside his wife and began to eat, reporting any interesting pieces of news he had read in the Daily Prophet that morning. Eira listened, hoping for news about Sirius, but nothing was mentioned.

The following day the Malfoys were up early in an anxious fluster, hurrying around to ensure Draco had packed everything, that he had all his books, all his quills, ink, and parchment; Narcissa couldn't seem to give him enough food and treats to take on the train, worried he would get hungry during the long journey, and in the end gave him a bag of coins to buy whatever he wanted from the trolley.

Eira was not needed. Narcissa dressed herself and did not invite Eira to assist, thus Eira stayed out of the way and read her books quietly in her room. She was glad of it. She had been feeling nauseous all morning and did not much feel like running around after others. By the time the Malfoys left the manor, Eira had dropped off to sleep with her book in her lap, in which she enjoyed several hours of uninterrupted solitude.

She dreamt vividly of Sirius. She saw him in his human form, and then in his shaggy grey dog form, several times in turn. She heard his voice, his laugh, and Eira cried for him because she could not quite reach him. He was there, beckoning to her, calling to her. But then suddenly the intense terror of a nightmare overcame her; a pack of black dogs emerged from somewhere, howling, and rushed about Sirius in a body. They snarled and snapped; Eira heard Sirius's anguished cries over their noise, and she screamed out, trying harder to run to him. The dogs howled louder and Eira awoke with a start, the sound of the dogs still momentarily assaulting her ears; she found she was gripping her pillow and had knocked her books to the floor.

Spatters of rain was starting to come down from the sky. She realised it was late in the afternoon and the Malfoys were still not back from Kings Cross. She shivered and sat up, rubbing her face; a second later she was hit by a late wave of nausea and ran to the toilet to vomit.

Narcissa and Lucius returned exactly an hour later. Narcissa, damp from the rain, came straight upstairs to change. As she approached, she banged on Eira's door and ordered her to prepare her tea, then swiftly disappeared into her bedroom.

Eira did as she was told and went downstairs to the kitchen. She did not see Lucius while she was down there, and as Narcissa didn't come back down, Eira assumed she was taking her tea in her bedroom. She carried the tray up carefully, her nerves mounting at the prospect of finally facing Narcissa since that strange night.

Narcissa had her back to Eira when she knocked and stepped into the room. She was at her dressing table, now dressed in a green velvet robe, pretending to look through her jewellery box.

"Where would you like me to set down your tea, Mrs Malfoy?" Eira asked.

"By the fire," she said without looking at her.

Eira carried the tray to the small round table situated in front of the fireplace; a cosy fire was now burning in the grate.

"Did Draco get the train alright?" Eira asked after a long silence.

"Yes."

Narcissa now turned and drifted over to the tea table; she kept her gaze down and a firm distance between them. Eira noticed her eyes looked a little red, as though she had been crying.

"It must've been hard to see him go," Eira continued to make conversation as Narcissa poured her tea.

Narcissa didn't answer, but her eyes watered up and she quickly wiped them with her sleeve.

"You can go," Narcissa said finally.

Eira hesitated, staring at her. She stood by the post of the bed and rocked back on her heels slightly, hands fixed behind her back, "Mrs Malfoy…"

"I said go!" she snapped abruptly. Her hand was trembling and a moment later she burst into a fit of tears, hiding her face in her hand.

Eira stood still for a few seconds, watching her, and then backed away; as she turned, however, Narcissa called her back. She was sitting upright, gripping her handkerchief in her white hand.

"Come back," she implored. Her dark eyes were large and shiny; she didn't remove her gaze from Eira, who was now nervously making her way back over. She stopped a few feet in front of her.

"How do you do it?" Narcissa asked in a quiet, weak voice.

"Do what, Mrs Malfoy?"

"Continue living when you have no one on earth."

"What do you mean?" Eira frowned, "You have a husband who loves and protects you, and a son you dote on day and night."

"I suppose you think I am being silly again," Narcissa replied bitterly, glaring.

"No, I don't. But I don't understand."

"Draco is my only child and now I shall not see him."

"You'll see him at Christmas. And you still have your loving husband," she replied with a dark, unveiled hint of venom in her voice.

Narcissa rose from her seat; she took several measured steps towards Eira, stared down darkly at her, and struck her across the cheek. She then caught hold of Eira's arm and pulled her across the room, threw the door open, and pushed her out into the corridor. Without a word, she then slammed the door shut in her face.

Eira stomped off to the garden, unable to stand a moment longer in that miserable house. It was still raining, but she didn't care; the weather was still mild enough to be comfortable. She ran along the hedges towards the back of the house; there was an enclosed herb garden she liked to sit in when she needed solitude, which was frequent. She sat down breathlessly on a stone bench and stifled the urge to scream. She couldn't work out how many days it had been since she arrived at Malfoy Manor, but it felt like an eternity – in reality, it was just short of three weeks, and yet in that short space of time her entire life had been turned upside down.

She stood up again and kicked the gravel, then picked it up and threw it, cursing and crying under her breath. If Sirius was here, everything would be alright. He had promised to protect her. The truth of the matter, of course, was that he wasn't there, and he could not protect her; Eira needed to think for herself, knowing there had to be a way out of her predicament, even if it meant running.

The damp air cooled her stinging cheek and her breathing steadied. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a tawny owl circling the tall, neat hedges; it held something in its beak, and just as Eira was wondering over it, the owl flew overhead and dropped a rolled piece of parchment in her lap.

Stunned, Eira stared at the paper, too afraid to move. She looked back up for the owl, but it had gone. She nervously unfurled the parchment and then jumped to her feet as she read, in what was unmistakably her husband's messy writing,

Darling, do not be afraid. I will come for you. -S

Heart pounding, Eira read the note several times over, wondering how it was possible. It simply couldn't be possible. Nothing and nobody left Azkaban. It was his writing though, there was no doubt about that; it had to be him. The heavy rain, which had momentarily eased while she was outside, now resumed. Great drops splashed on the ground and upon the paper, which she quickly stuffed into her brassiere. She ran back to the house, her heart a great deal lighter, and hurried back upstairs to her room.

"Eira," Narcissa's voice halted her in her tracks. She was still pale and tearful, standing in the doorway of her bedroom. "Eira, I'm sorry," she held her hand out to her.

Eira had forgotten completely about her confrontation with Narcissa. She stared at her outstretched hand.

"Please," Narcissa kept her hand out, imploring her to come forward. Eira, feeling she had no choice, stepped towards her and took her jewelled hand. Narcissa breathed a soft sigh of relief and conducted her into her bedroom, whereupon she embraced and held Eira's face in her hands.

"If I don't have you, I have no one."

Narcissa gently rubbed the cheek she had struck so cruelly and Eira felt herself relax against Narcissa's soft, cool hands.

"Will you stay with me?" Narcissa then asked, "I have such a headache."

Eira nodded, looking at her, and proceeded to follow Narcissa over to her huge, four-poster bed. She climbed onto the bed and lay down beside her, face-to-face with the woman who had hit her barely half an hour ago. Narcissa swallowed and sighed, moving a little closer to Eira.

"I meant what I said… the other night…" she murmured.

"Which part?" Eira replied.

"All of it," she then, very shyly, smiled a little and touched Eira's hair, her gaze transfixed passionately on her face.

"Mrs Malfoy, this isn't right…" Eira whispered, though secretly melting at the sensation of her fingers in her hair. She desperately wanted to kiss her again, and yet at the back of her mind, there was Sirius and the promise he was coming for her.

"I know," Narcissa again murmured, "If you were less pretty, I don't think I would feel so drawn to you."

"If you knew me better, I don't think you would like me much at all."

"I shouldn't like you. You are a Muggle and I cannot forget that fact."

"Then we shouldn't discuss this," Eira made a movement to turn around, but Narcissa caught hold of her waist. Eira looked at her.

"But it torments me," Narcissa whispered.

"We are both married women, Mrs Malfoy," Eira shook her head, "And I'm..." she trailed off, biting her lip.

"Were you out in the rain just now?"

"Yes."

Narcissa pulled the covers over Eira, "Here... don't catch a chill."

"You should rest," Eira said, "You look exhausted. After a rest, I'll draw your bath."

Narcissa nodded and sank back on the pillow. Her hand still rested on Eira's waist, and she shut her eyes, sighing softly. A few minutes later, Eira did the same, overcome by the warm comfort of the bed and the beautiful woman sleeping peacefully beside her.