Act I: I Can't Believe I'm Doing This

Part 1

On any given day, I can expect a number of significant visitors to my office. The Minister for Magic, for example, stops by nearly monthly. Usually because I've done something to upset someone, admittedly. I'd be hard pressed to go a week without Harry Weasley (née Potter) himself stumbling into my office to share (redacted) stories of his recent adventures as an Auror. I've more than once looked up to find the heads of various departments waiting patiently for me to finish some inane piece of paperwork or other.

My point is, I am not unused to significant people as company. Though, if you had asked me this morning if I expected Narcissa Malfoy to be sitting across from me an hour before I get off of work, I'd have laughed in your face. I may have come to terms with a lot of things in my life, but even my friendship with Draco is unsteady at best. The last time I remember looking Narcissa Malfoy in the eyes, she was standing behind Bellatrix Lestrange, looking disturbingly unbothered by the act of torturing a teenager. Now, though, she looks calm. Poised - hands folded in her lap politely.

We've been sitting across from one another in silence for nearly five minutes. I'm utterly baffled by this turn of events. Narcissa Malfoy, in the office of the Head of the Department for Magical Creatures. Sitting and waiting expectantly. As though I'm supposed to know precisely what she's here to speak about.

Looking into her eyes, I find myself drifting back to old memories. My scar itches. I force my mind back to the present, finally managing a sentence. "How can I help you, Mrs. Malfoy?"

If I had not grown so used to her resting face, I may not have noticed how her eyebrows knit ever so slightly together. Perhaps in confusion? The movement could've been a twitch, for all I know. Several seconds after the silence has once again become uncomfortable, she speaks. "I have come to request your assistance on a personal matter, Mrs. Weasley."

My eyes close slowly. I take a deep breath. "Granger." She inclines her head slightly in acknowledgement. I do not explain further. She does not need to know how many tears were shed over that particular change. "May I ask for further information?"

"As you may be aware, Miss Granger, a good many people have distanced themselves from my family and I. With the exception of Draco, we are effectively outcasts." I withhold a grimace of satisfaction. "I have come to the conclusion that I have very, very few people who may view me favorably." Mrs. Malfoy's face finally breaks its calm mask, briefly, in sorrow. "Up to and including my husband."

"I am sorry to hear that, Mrs. Malfoy, but I'm afraid that still doesn't explain why you're here. With me. In my office." She gives me a pointed look as though I'm rushing her. I suppose I am - this conversation isn't exactly pleasant for me.

"Black."

"I'm sorry?"

"Ms. Black. Please." The last word comes out slightly strangled like she'd had to force it out. Due to reluctance or emotion, it is hard to tell. It's my turn to nod in acknowledgement. "I admit, this is something of a last resort, Miss Granger. My sister, Bellatrix." I can't help but wince at the name. My scar, previously itching, now burns . I do nothing to soothe it. I do not want to show how it still affects me. "She's alive." It feels like the air has been robbed from my lungs. Internally, I'm transported back to the all-consuming pain of Crucio . I realize she's still speaking, so I force myself back into my mind. "Or, she might be. I need to find her. I need to see if I can bring her back."

"Absolutely not." I can't help how quiet, scathing, furious I sound. I can't believe the audacity of her to come to me for this. "I knew you were a selfish, vile excuse for a woman, but this? Asking me to help you save the woman that's haunted my nightmares for the past ten fucking years ?"