After nearly eighteen years in Azkaban, his longest stint yet, it was taking some getting used to being back on the outside once again. He didn’t know what bloody fool had let his release go through, and he still didn’t know whom among them had put in the effort to get him and his brother released, and that was something of the utmost importance to deal with immediately. Rodolphus didn’t like owing people anything, even a fellow Death Eater, and he needed to figure out who had gotten them out and what they expected in return. No one did anything for free these days. He had been out for over a week now, and he was being subtle in trying to figure out which one of their own in the Ministry had gotten them out, as it would do him no good to get out and start asking too many questions.

People were well aware of their return, though—of course they were. Amongst Death Eaters, it was him, Rabastan and Bella alone that had been the most loyal… the most devoted. They were the most powerful, too, and in his mind, there was no contesting that. Now that he was back out with his ‘freedom,’ for lack of a better way to put it while still working in that miserable work camp, he was going to take advantage of it. He had heard whispers of a rebellion, and whispers of the person trying to plan it—Ares Wentzell. Not exactly who he would have expected, but he supposed they could do worse. He still had plans to talk to him today, but he had many plans… He had just gotten out of the work camp for the day, and now was taking a much needed trip into Diagon Alley. He had a visit to make, to a certain Black sister that he’d heard was working in some ridiculous shop around here.

It was amusing to him that Lucius couldn’t even support his own family anymore. That was yet another stop to make this evening, but first, he wanted to see his pretty little wife first. After all of these years, he was certainly curious to see if she was still worth looking at. She’d been quite the lay, way back when, and he wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, if it suited him. It didn’t much matter if it suited her, but he supposed now wasn’t the time to broach that particular idea. There were plenty of willing whores to spread their legs for him right now. He just wanted to see how she reacted to him being back… it was sure to give him at least a small bit of amusement before he continued with his day.

And so he pulled open the door to the ridiculous shop she was working in, scowling slightly at the sight. He never much cared for shops like this… even when he had all the wealth in the world with some to spare. Rodolphus took a disinterested glance around the shop, not yet seeing the woman he was seeking out, and so he began to walk slowly through the aisles, occasionally mindlessly flipping through some robes and not caring when they fell to the floor. She would be around here somewhere, he knew… and he would never cease to be amused by the fact that his brother-in-law could no longer support his wife. Even though he was a damn blood traitor now, he was glad his life was still up in flames with the rest of them. It was well deserved, he thought, with an amused chuckle, as he waited for the reason that he'd come in here to present herself.

@torib

Narcissa didn’t really know how she felt. Everything that she had come to know as stable and secure in her life over the past twenty years wasn’t anymore. Her mask was gone. The icy, cold, unfeeling look that had remained in place for so long was no more. She was shaken to say the least. Twenty years of secrets and lies and she had let them all go. She had told her husband, and her best friend the truth. Hell, the other day she had almost broken down and told her sister. That would be harder though. Telling Lucius, that had been more for her sake than anything. She had known that it was going to be hard on him, but he had gotten through it. They had gotten through it, together. Telling Andi, well, telling Andi would be harder. If only because she would understand. Lucius had been hurt, she had seen the hurt in his eyes, Andi would understand without question. There were some things that simply never changed, no matter the circumstances, and protecting someone else. Someone you loved. Her sister would get that. 

Cissa was going through some of the new lines that they were getting ready to put out on display. She had loved her job here over the past few months, it had given her something to keep her thoughts from wandering down any of the dark and twisty paths in her head. And there sure were a lot of them. So many of them had been warded off, boarded over and closed out, but there were still plenty that had remained. One of which she had thought was closed for good, but only last week had been blown wide open again. When the news that there had been a release from Azkaban broke she hadn’t much cared, Lucius had promised to stay out of things, and for now she believed him. At least, until she had seen whom it was that had been released. The Lestrange brothers. Her bastard of a brother-in-law and his terrible little brother were coming back. And not just back to London, they were coming back to this blasted Alley. 

She had tried to remain calm and collected, but there was something about knowing that they were free. Knowing that they could show up anywhere, around any turn, that she wasn’t handling very well. It had been eighteen years since she had had to be around them, eighteen years since she had felt hungry, ravaging eyes follow her as she moved. She had been relatively safe for far too long now to want to go back to the state of fear that had ruled her life for many years. There was no escape from it though. No escape from the scenarios that her mind kept conjuring for her. One of them, or both of them, sometimes with others, sometimes alone, they found her, and everything that had happened before happened again. 

Grabbing the stack of dresses that she needed to hang on the rack in the show room Cissa turned just as she heard the bell for the front door ring through the shop. Glancing down at her watch she was surprised. Usually by this time on a Sunday there was never anyone here. She was alone to sort out the store as she pleased. She had rearranged things to make more sense after seeking permission a few months back, and since then she had done her best to keep things just so. With her hands full she used her hip to push open the door to the back room and she slipped out into the front of the shop. Looking around she caught sight of the back of a man’s head across the shop. 

The fact that it was a man, alone on a Sunday evening would have been enough to strike her as odd, but the moment that she had come out front every instinct in her body had screamed at her to run. As the man turned she sucked in a breath, and she froze. Rooted to the spot there was no way that she was going anywhere in that second. Fear coursed through her and she stared, she didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. With her mask having fallen away last week there was no denying that fear evident in her eyes. Her worst nightmares were coming true. Rodolphus Lestrange was standing on the other side of the shop...

Outfit

Rodolphus supposed that some people would say that he had been born a ‘monster.’ That he hadn’t stood a chance with the way he was raised… that any father who told their eleven year old that they had to ‘earn their wand’ by keeping a useless and despicable Muggle didn’t have a chance in this world. That, of course he ended up the way that he did… how could he not with what he had been taught and who he’d had as a father? But those people were fucking idiots. He was this way because it was exactly who he was meant to be. He hadn’t been taught to enjoy torture and murder… he simply did. He reveled in it. Being the source of someone else’s misfortunate and pain was something that he would never tire of. From the first time that he had picked up his wand and cast a severing curse that sliced open a large cut on an atrocious Muggle’s chest all of those years ago, he’d been hooked. Causing pain… he enjoyed it more than much anything else. It was why he became a spell inventor, after all—so he could formulate his own kind of torture. Sometimes, something just didn’t exist that was as painful or as… unique as his imagination, and so he had to make it exist. Hearing the screams of pain when he got to try out a new curse on someone deserving of the pain… yes, very little could top that.

Of course, physical torture wasn’t the only vice he enjoyed… sometimes, psychological torture was just that much more fun. And that was his focus for today—his reason for coming into this particular shop. It had been quite some time since he had seen his sister-in-law… Not since her and her cowardly husband had turned tail and ran at the battle. He hadn’t been surprised when Lucius didn’t join them in Azkaban—he couldn’t handle prison, and he was unsurprised that they had somehow weaseled their way out. At the end, they had turned out to be blood traitors through and fucking through, and now that he was out of Azkaban, he was certainly prepared to make them pay that. After all, the Dark Lord had some… particularly interesting ways of trying to break Lucius, and he wouldn’t mind hearing her screams again—though he always enjoyed it more when she admitted that she liked it. That psychological torture was nearly better, and even though he had a lot of shit to deal with that was more important than her, he knew that this was something that would certainly prove to amuse her. He had broken her all of those years ago, they all had, and he was determined to make sure that, if she had happened to pick up the pieces, she would be broken once more. And Lucius… he would be sure that his brother-in-law knew everything this time around.

After all, she had been the one… the one that had lied to the Dark Lord. She was the reason that the battle had continued, and the reason that Bellatrix was dead. The Weasley bitch might have been the one that cast the spell that killed her, but in his mind, Narcissa was just as responsible for her death. He certainly owed it to his wife to kill all the scum responsible for her death, and that was certainly what he was looking forward to doing. But it would be a slower torture, this time. And be even more effective. Yes, he was looking forward to this, and his next stop might prove to be even more entertaining. Rodolphus wanted to know if the bitch had really been able to keep this secret for all of these years.

When he first entered the shop, he didn’t see her. But he was in no hurry at all. Instead, he just carelessly moved about the shop, knocking off robes and waiting for her to make her appearance. He was sure her reaction would make all of this worth it—it would certainly prove that he still had an affect on her, and he knew that he would be able to torment her as much as he wanted until he finally took that torture to the next level. Finally, he heard a sound coming out from the backroom, and he turned to face that direction. A smirk formed on his lips when she finally came into sight, chuckling darkly at the fear in her eyes. It was as clear as day. “Cissy,” he commented, derisively, before taking a couple of steps toward her. “It’s been a long time.” Rodolphus added, as he approached her further.

Nineteen years was a long time to keep secrets, especially when those secrets had the ability to eat you alive. But she had kept them. She had not said a word for nearly nineteen years. Keeping secrets had been Narcissa’s entire life. From the day that Andromeda had left Cissa had kept a secret. One that only her sister knew. Well she figured Lucius may have known about that, but she had never blatantly told him. No, as far as she was concerned only Andi knew that secret, and that was why she hadn’t told her sister this particular secret. How did she tell her and not feel ashamed? There were somethings that could be escaped, some things that she could shield out and not feel, but the look in her sister’s eyes would be even worse than the look in her husband’s. 

Lucius knew now. What they had done to her. Why they had done it. It didn’t take away what had happened, but sharing that burden with him had helped her somehow. At least until she had seen that her nightmares were all coming true. When the monsters had been locked away in that prison there was no way of them hurting her. No way for them to try and hurt Lucius, or Draco. That was her fear, and they knew it. Narcissa would do, and say, anything to protect those that she loved. Those details she had spared her husband. She hadn’t told him the specifics, she hadn’t told him when, and where. He didn’t need to know that almost every time she had been left in the manor alone with one of them they had done whatever they wished. 

She wasn’t safe. She was never safe, and the nineteen years of relative safety since then would never take all the fear away. Cissa wasn’t safe, and the proof of that was moving across the room towards her. She hadn’t seen him since the trials. She had walked away without a scratch, Draco and Lucius had walked away as well, and Rodolphus and Rabastan, like so many others, had disappeared off to Azkaban. Cissa was glad to see them go, she wanted all of them dead, just like Bella. Her eldest sister was dead, and Narcissa knew that there were those that blamed her for that. Their mother had blamed her until the day she died, but Cissa could never bring herself to care. She should have. She had signed her sister’s death warrant, but she didn’t. Bella knew what had happened to her. She had known what the monsters were doing to her, and she hadn’t said a word. Narcissa would never forgive her for that. She was dead, and Cissa was glad. 

The reminder of the cruelty she had faced in her life was alive however. Rodolphus Lestrange was a living, breathing reminder of every cruelty she had ever faced. He was a reminder of Bella, and their childhood and the torture that she had faced in that place. He was a reminder of the war and everything that her husband and son had been through. And most of all he was the one that had broken her. He wasn’t the first of her tormentors, but he was the one that had broken her. His was the face that had haunted her nightmares for nineteen years. His were the hands that she felt on her in the dark. It was his eyes that she felt on the back of her neck when there was no one watching her. 

She sucked in a breath when he called her the name that Bella had always called her. She hated that name. She hated being Cissy, but of course he knew that. Everyone knew that. That’s why they had always done it. It had tortured her, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He moved towards her and as he spoke she instinctively took a step backwards, knocking into the dress rack behind her. If he got too much closer she was going to be trapped. The fingers of panic started to ease their way towards her as he kept moving towards her. "Rodolphus." His name was no more than a whisper, but still her voice shook. "Not long enough."

He’d had a lot of time to think while he was in Azkaban. A lot of time to plan. Yes, the place had taken bits of his sanity away from him, but by his final trip into the place, he hadn’t had much left to lose. It had made him… a bit more lucid this time around, albeit barely. Besides, he had never been one to live his life thinking of happy memories and shit that the dementors could even take away from him. No, he had too much hatred for that… too much rage, and too much to plan. He didn’t have happiness for them to suck away from him, and so he’d had nearly eighteen years to plan for this exact moment. And he knew that it was going to be every bit as satisfying as he’d pictured it to be.

After all, Narcissa Malfoy was the reason that his wife was dead. Now, he had never… loved Bellatrix, really, but that was only because emotions such as that eluded him entirely. What was the point in such frivolities? He’d never seen much of a reason for petty attachments to other people, but loyalty… now that was different. He was loyal to his family name—to his long dead father, and Rabastan. He had been loyal to Bellatrix, and he knew that they’d made a good match and worked well together under the Dark Lord’s command. And, obviously, he had been loyal to him as well… through and through. He had never given up on him coming back, and when he finally had, it had all been… disappointing. Disgraceful.

It had landed him back in Azkaban yet again, and this time, he wanted to keep his freedom. He wanted to keep it, while watching everyone undeserving of the wizarding world and what they had to be cowering and scraping the ground beneath him, where they belonged. It would take time, which he had, and it would take patience, which he fucking barely had, but it would happen this time around. He was sure of it. Rodolphus just had to talk to Wentzell and determine if he was worth his time, but that was for later. He had a lot to amuse himself with before then.

For years, he’d wondered if he should just kill Narcissa… just snuff out her useless little life without her having a clue what was about to hit her until he was in front of her. Then he could see the fear in her eyes before he ended her miserable life, and that would be that. She would be finished, and he wouldn’t have to bother himself about it anymore. But there was no real fun in that… and this… well, this was going to be fun. From the moment that he stepped foot into the shop, he was anticipating her reaction. It hadn’t yet disappointed him, but he wasn’t finished yet. They had so much… catching up to do, after all. He smirked as she knocked into the rack behind her in her haste to move further away from him, but he only continued to approach… slowly. Predatorily. It was just his normal walk, really, but he knew how it must feel to her.

Finally, about half a foot away from her, he stopped, chuckling at her words. He shook his head, tutting at her words. “After all the… time we’ve spent together, that’s how you treat me?” Rodolphus asked, his voice emotionless as ever. He knew he could scare her without even trying, and so hard, it had been quite successful. The look in her eyes was enough to make him want to push her back against the wall and give her another reminder of how much she had liked it in the past. “I would have thought you… missed me, Cissy… didn’t you?” He added, the taunting in his tone clear.

Becoming an Occlumens had long ago been Narcissa’s saving grace. If she hadn’t been able to block things out then she was sure that she would have lost herself in the dark and twisty recesses of her mind years ago. Everyone knew that Black’s went crazy. That was their thing wasn’t it? To lose their minds? If only people knew. There was no way they ever would, pride wouldn’t allow for that after all, but if only people knew. Cissa knew that she had to be careful, she knew how dangerous the path that she walked really was, how close to the edge of that brink she really was. She knew, because she could feel it, the tendrils of the self-destruction that would gladly take over if she let them. The demons that plagued her conscious and her unconscious. They were all waiting. Waiting for her to fall.

For the last two decades she had pretended that she was safe. She had pretended that she was fine and that nothing was going to break her. Narcissa Malfoy had lied for two decades. Not just to everyone else, but to herself. She had known just what she was doing, she knew that she was shutting things out and blocking them. That she was slowly going to lose herself if she continued to hide little bits of herself away. Cissa knew all of that, and yet she didn’t stop. She wore her mask as only one who had long since perfected it could. She was ice, and she was glass, and she knew it was only a matter of time until someone noticed how easily she could shatter.

The man standing in front of her was one that had haunted her for longer than she cared to remember. Narcissa was terrified of her brother-in-law. He was the reason that she was so fragile. It had been him that had elicited the words that he wanted to hear from her, it was him that had taken so much from her. Rodolphus was the one that had made her scream, and beg and plead, but he was also the one that had demanded her silence. He had broken her, not by the acts that he had committed, but by the ones he had forced her to commit. The words he had drawn from her, and the things that he had made her do.

She was fragile, and she knew it, and he knew it, and somehow that made it worse. He knew the effect that he had on her, and there was no way that Narcissa could escape him. He was stalking towards her across the shop and she had no where to go. She hardly dared to breathe as he closed the distance between them. His low, dark chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. Laughter from Rodolphus could only end badly for her. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice popped up asking the one question that had always come to mind when this situation entered her nightmares. ‘Why aren’t you dead yet?’ But then a second little voice answered, and it was quieter than the first, and shakier, and about a thousand times more terrifying. ‘Because he’s planning something worse than death.’

Narcissa wanted to look away from him, but she couldn’t, she knew that looking away from him would only piss him off, he liked watching her suffer, he always had. “I didn’t do anything.” She breathed quietly, and she hadn’t, since she had seen him in the shop she hadn’t done anything. Shrinking away from him again as he taunted her she threw all of her strength into her shields, trying like hell to block the emotions from her eyes. “Never.” She met his eyes square, and waited to see what he would do next. Narcissa was terrified, and she was trapped, but she wasn’t giving in that easily...

He’d had eighteen years. Eighteen years to think about the fact that his wife was dead. He might not have loved her in the way that… filthy and inferior humans tended to weaken themselves with the emotion, but he had cared about her. And he was loyal to her. He owed it to her to make her sister’s life miserable, because it was because of this bitch that Bellatrix was dead. Yes, Molly Weasley was to blame, technically, but that woman wasn’t worth a spare though… she was useless. It had been Narcissa Malfoy that had lied to the Dark Lord… that had told him that Potter was dead, and that had led to everything that ensued after that.

She was the reason that her sister was dead, and it was clear that she didn’t give a damn about that. Didn’t feel a bit of remorse—and so Rodolphus planned to make her feel it… make her feel all of it. She’d regret the decisions she’d made all of those years ago, if he had to rip her apart piece by piece to make sure of it. He would enjoy every moment of that—revel in it. Hearing her scream, and beg, and cry… those were the sounds he had been imagining in Azkaban for all of these years. He would hear them again. Memories would never suffice when he knew that he could have the real thing. But it wasn’t time for that yet.

No, while he was partial to the physical aspect of brutalization, torture, and everything in between, it was far more enjoyable if they truly experienced fear first. Real fear—the kind that froze you and kept you from being able to think of anything else. Crippling, all-encompassing fear. He had made her feel it once before… though he hadn’t been the only one. He liked to think that their time together had been more meaningful. His goals… his motives, they had always been different. He wanted to break her, even then. Wanted to make her do and say things that she wouldn’t be able to get off of her mind when she was with her husband. Doing that… had been more than pleasing for him at the time, because he also knew how long that would affect her. For the rest of her miserable life.

He hadn’t known how long it would last, but now that he was here, he could continue to use what had happened against her. He could continue to torment her with her own words thrown back in her face. Because he hadn’t just gotten her to say what he wanted… not in some miserably meek and unbelievable voice—he’d gotten her to act like she’d meant it. That was what he would be reminding her of today… that was what he would use to see just how broken she continued to be.

Even after all of these years, even though he hadn’t so much as seen her face in front of him since all of those years ago, he felt it was obvious that he still got to her. It was written all over her face… clear in every action she took to create as much space between them as possible. It was why he sought to immediately close that space. He was well aware of the shiver that moved through her at his laugh, and he knew that her every reaction to him was going to please him more than she could possibly understand.

A smirk formed on his lips as he closed the space between them, “Didn’t even say hello,” he mused, more to himself to her. He wasn’t meant to hurt her today, but it might be nice to teach her a lesson of sorts—the way to properly greet him. She needed to know what she was good for, after all. His eyes darkened at her next words, and he brought his hand up to trail down her arm, wishing she was wearing far less layers than he had to deal with now. He then wrapped his hand around her wrist, able to grip it soundly with little trouble, before pulling her against him. “Don’t… lie, Cissy. Let’s try this again… you missed me… didn’t you?” Rodolphus asked her, the intention behind his words clear.

Narcissa had known fear. She had known it at the hands of her parents, and she had known it through the war at the hands of those that she was forced to let live in her home. Fear was something that she had learned to live with, and it was something that, like everything else she had done her best to pack it away in tiny boxes and lock it in one of the recesses of her mind. She didn’t need the fear, she didn’t want it, and that had worked. For the better part of the last twenty years repressing everything worked. Narcissa hadn’t let herself worry, she hadn’t let herself fear what could happen because as long as her brother-in-law was locked up in that godforsaken hell hole of a prison then she was safe. No one else would bother with her anymore. The Malfoy’s had fallen far enough, that even the rest of the inner circle, the rest of those that had somehow managed to escape Azkaban left her alone. She wasn’t worth it, because Lucius had already fallen from grace.

Convincing herself when she was alone was easy, convincing herself in public was harder, and convincing herself when there was someone that she was terrified of prowling his way towards her across the shop was nearly impossible. She had killed his wife, her own sister, or at least that’s the way that so many people saw it, and she was sure that should he decide to punish her for that as well she would be in trouble. Destroying her to get to Lucius was one thing, destroying her as revenge, well that would be something new entirely. The fact that he could so easily get under her skin was something that she regretted and despised with all of her being but there was nothing that she could do about it. There was no way to make it better, there was no way to make it go away.

She had given in to him too many times to count. Narcissa knew that she would give in to him now if he said certain things, or played on certain aspects of her fear. There was no doubt that at one mention of her son she would do whatever she could to get him to leave Draco alone. She knew that her son was a man now, and that he could take care of himself, but that wouldn’t stop her from trying to protect him. She loved him for than she valued her own life, and she would do anything she could to try and keep him safe. No matter what the man in front of her asked of her.

When he closed the space between them Narcissa had to fight the urge not to pull away from him, to not move or flinch at all. She didn’t want to give him cause to speak against her. She knew that her words would have already gotten her in enough trouble with him. She had spoken out against him, and that wasn’t allowed. She had disrespected him and that was a cardinal sin in his world. Narcissa was scared. When his fingers made contact with her arm she threw her shields up into her eyes with as much focus as she could muster. She wanted to cry, Merlin knew that his touch made her want to cry, but she wouldn’t. That was entirely too weak.

Narcissa felt his fingers tighten around her wrist and her own clenched into a fist. As he pulled her against him she jerked her chin to the side and away from him. Pressed up against him like that she felt completely vulnerable, and she hated it. She hated knowing that he could take anything from her that he liked, that she was almost helpless in this position, and that there was no one that could save her from that. When he spoke again she turned her chin back to face him. She was looking at his chest, not his eyes, because he was that much bigger than she was, but his meaning was clear. “Yes, Sir.” Narcissa hated that the pattern of speech fell so easily from her lips, “I have indeed missed you.” It was a whisper, barely there at all, but he was close enough to her that she was sure he would hear her anyway.

He’d had years… years to think about this, years to work out the best ways of tormenting the woman in front of him. In his mind, it was her that had killed Bellatrix. She might not have lifted the wand to her, might not have said the spell to end her life—but it had been her lies that had kept the battle going. Her lies that led that blood traitor Weasley to kill her, and that made her just as guilty in Rodolphus’s mind. Molly Weasley would pay too… that pathetic woman didn’t deserve to live after what she had done, but that would be exactly what the Ministry idiots that commonly tailed him would think he’d do. Go after that bitch… but he could be patient. In his opinion, the irrelevant lard wasn’t going anywhere at all, and Narcissa Malfoy was far more fun to play with. He had broken her once before, but she’d had years to built herself back up again. He wanted to see how well she had done—wanted to see just how easy it would be to revert her right back into the simpering little coward she had been then.

Rodolphus couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be easy. That wasn’t as interesting; breaking her the first time had been entertaining enough, but having to start over would be… a challenge. A challenge that he would gladly take on, as he’d had years to figure it all out. But at the same time, there was something just… all too amusing to him if she had never been able to put herself back together again. If she could go right back to that place where she was terrified of him, and willing to do anything and everything that he said. There were benefits to both… after all of these years, he couldn’t imagine that one would be better than the other. Both would amuse him, and both would work for him in the long run. He had his plans… he knew how much torture and torment the woman deserved before he finally ended her pathetic life, and it didn’t matter if she was a challenge or as easy as she’d always been. It would work.

The fear in her eyes made him smirk—it did something to him, really, gave him a gratifying amount of power that he felt the need to exert over her. He had only come in here today to scare her… to gauge how easy it was to get a reaction out of her, and that was about it. But being alone in this shop brought other ideas to mind, ones that he was having a hard time not acting on the closer he got to her. With the years spent in Azkaban, it had been a while since he’d had something warm to play with. He’d been holding back since his release… not because he was waiting for her. Her time wasn’t up yet, but mostly because he knew that he had to err on the side of… slight caution, to avoid being put back in Azkaban. He was enjoying his freedom far too much for that. And he had far too much to do.

Even just today, he had shit that he needed to get done. He planned on making a stop to this pretty thing’s husband after this. Had she told old Lucius what had happened to her all of those years ago? They had all been surprised when she had kept her mouth shut, but it had been nearly eighteen years now. Had she kept those dark secrets locked up all this time? He would be entirely entertained to find that out. He’d wager she might have… after all, how did she explain to her husband how much she liked it? Rodolphus decided that he might make it easier on her and tell him himself. But he wasn’t done playing with her just yet, and his next stop would have to wait until he had thoroughly amused himself.

Apart from moving her head to the side, the woman didn’t react to him pulling her against him. While his hand still gripped her wrist, he let his other grab her waist to keep her flush against him. Would the little thing break? He wanted to see it. He wanted to see how far she had built herself up and wanted to see it all crashing down. A smirk grew across his lips as she spoke, and he found that answered his question rather soundly. Showing proper respect already. This had been nearly more than he had expected. “Much better,” he told her, rewarding her but releasing the tight grip on her wrist. Instead, he brought his hand up to her hair, tucking it behind her ear and then forcing her gaze up to meet his. Toying with her… there was very little that he enjoyed as much as this. Well… that wasn’t necessarily true. There was plenty he would enjoy more—but now wasn’t the time to be granted her screams. Not yet. “How much did you miss me?” He needed to see how broken she was—needed to see how much she would give him. That was all he needed out of this trip, or so he kept telling himself… the temptation to push her farther was strong, though, and he wasn’t always good at denying himself what he wanted.

The last thing that Narcissa wanted to feel was the fear that was coursing through her body in that moment. The flight instinct that had gripped her the moment she had stepped out of the back of the shop had been trying to tell her something and the fool that she was, she hadn’t listened. There wasn’t supposed to be anything that could hurt her here. She had lulled herself into a false sense of security and she was sure that there was no reason to be worried, it was a dress shop. A public place, in the middle of Diagon Alley. No one was going to come in here with the intent to do anything to her. And then she had seen who it was that had come into the store and she had froze. Rodolphus was unexpected. She knew that was foolish, she should have been ready for him anywhere, should have been prepared to face her nightmares, but she wasn’t.

She had spent twenty years pretending. Twenty years telling herself and everyone else that she was fine. Hiding behind a fake smile, and an icy wall that kept everyone else, even Lucius and Andromeda, out. Cissa didn’t want anyone to see what had become of her. She didn’t want anyone to see that behind the perfectly made up exterior she was in ruins. Ruins that the man standing in front of her now was responsible for. Not only had he been the one that had been at the forefront of those torturing her, he was technically family, and that hit closer to home than any of them had ever realized. Rape at the hands of a family member had almost been too much, but it had also been the reason that she had never given in.

Narcissa had kept secrets for years. Secrets that even Lucius wasn’t one hundred percent certain of. Over the years she was sure that he might have pieced things together and figured out what had happened to her and her sisters, but she had never blatantly told him. Her husband had saved her life when he had taken her away from them, but she was sure that he didn’t know that. She thought that there was a chance that Rodolphus knew though. Bella had never had any of the reservations that she and Andi did and so she figured that he might know just how much him being her “brother” made it worse.

The fact that he had a hold of her made the whole thing worse. Before he had grabbed her there was the possibility that it would just be words, and that he would get bored with her and move on, but then he had touched her, and he had illicited words from her that she hadn’t uttered in years. She didn’t call Lucius Sir, that would never happen, he didn’t treat her like that. She was more equal to her husband than to call him Sir, and she knew that he would never expect her to. Rodolphus though, he had always expected respect from her, and she hated herself for giving in that easily. The pattern of speech had come back with all too much ease.

When he pulled her flush against him Narcissa did her best not to react. The whimper that was forming inside of her died in her throat, and then she called him Sir and her resolve cracked a little. She was terrified of this man, and he had a hold of her. But then he let go. He let her wrist free, and his hand touched her hair, her ear, her cheek, he was touching her face, and it made her sick. Cissa wanted away from him, far away from him, and when he forced her to meet his gaze she did everything she could to keep the tears out of her eyes. His question hit her and she recoiled. She hadn’t missed him at all, she wanted nothing to do with him. Her hands were free and without thinking Narcissa did two things simultaneously. The first, she pushed against his chest with the palms of her hands, trying to free his grip from her waist, and the second instead of answering him she spit in his face. Half a second later she realized what she had done...