As she emerged from the fireplace, bringing a cloud of soot out with her, the first thing that hit her was the darkness; it was so intense that it was almost smothering, and if she had held a hand in front of her eyes, she wouldn't have been able to see it. The air was thick with an unpleasant, musty odor that hit her nostrils immediately, and she fought to suppress the coughing fit that rose instantly in her throat.
Her right hand was clutching her wand, and she raised it now, absently rubbing her pale, slender thumb against the comfortingly familiar wood. But before she'd had a chance to murmur an incantation, a loud cough came from the other side of the room.
She started and quickly lowered her wand, pulling the Invisibility Cloak further over her head, her heart pounding. The thought of the punishments she would face if she were caught filled her with fear, and not only those that would be dealt by the enemy. She must not fail her master…
“Who's there?" spoke the unknown entity on the other side of the room.
She vaguely recognized the voice, but this was neither a surprise - for she knew most of the members of the Order, or at least those she was aware of - nor a reassurance. She stood perfectly still, breathing as shallowly as possible. She mustn't be caught, she mustn't be caught…
“I may be confined to hanging on a wall for the rest of my existence, but that doesn't make me any less threatening, I assure you," came the voice again, the sarcastic tones ringing more bells in the corners of her mind, though she couldn't quite put a finger on why. And what was that about hanging on walls? She frowned…
And then it came to her. She smirked, no longer afraid, and lifted her wand again, letting the Invisibility Cloak drop to the floor. "Lumos," she muttered, and the room was suddenly bathed in a dim yellow light, which she directed towards the far side of the room where the voice had come from. Sure enough, there on the wall hung a small, gold-framed portrait.
“A pleasure to see you again, cousin," she said softly, the derision in her voice delicate yet distinct.
“Can't really say I feel the same, Narcissa," spoke Sirius.
He brushed his unkempt black hair out of his eyes, a disdainful expression on his face. "Though I'll admit I'm relieved to finally see somebody. Unfortunately, there seems to be a charm on this room that restricts me to my own portrait. Kreacher's the only one who ever comes in here, and he's not exactly the greatest conversationalist to ever grace the - "
“Where is it?" Narcissa cut in.
“What, you mean Kreacher?" Sirius frowned. "How should I know? Besides, he hasn't been in here for - "
“Of course I don't mean Kreacher," Narcissa spat. "Although he was supposed to meet me here…" That thought made her slightly uneasy; where was the house-elf?
“No," she said, pushing the thought out of her mind. "I meant the locket. Where is the locket?" In actuality, she had no idea whether or not Sirius knew about the locket at all, never mind its location, but if he did it would certainly make her task a lot easier…
Sirius looked at her, contempt the only readable emotion on his face. Finally, he said, "You answer a few of my questions first. Then I'll tell you."
Narcissa narrowed her eyes. Did he really know where it was or was he tricking her? Were portraits even capable of retaining such knowledge?
“Listen Black, I'm not here to play games," she hissed, glancing at her wand. "I know some very effective severing charms. Tell me where the locket is, or the next time anyone does come in here, all they'll find left of you is a pile of shredded paper. Is that what you want?"
“I'd welcome it," snarled Sirius. "You think I enjoy this? Sitting around in a dark room twiddling my thumbs, with only a demented house-elf for company, knowing that the chances of anyone else ever coming in here are slim to none? It's a pitiful existence, even for a portrait. So go on, do your worst…"
They stared at each other in silence for a few seconds, each wearing an expression of pure loathing.
Suddenly, Narcissa became aware of the sound of pounding footsteps outside the room. She reacted instantly, extinguishing the light from her wand, grabbing the Cloak from around her feet and pulling it over her, reaching into her pocket for the small tin of Floo powder, stumbling towards the fireplace…
“In here!" the portrait of Sirius was yelling, and suddenly the room was filled with light again, though Narcissa was turned away from its source, her trembling fingers scrabbling frantically at the lid of the Floo powder.
“Kreacher is sorry, Mistress Malfoy!" she heard a familiar voice wail in distress, the words interspersed with loud, racking sobs, and then -
“Expelliarmus!" two other voices cried, and she grabbed frenziedly at the air as both the Floo powder and her wand soared out of her hands. Barely a second later, she felt all her limbs snap together and go rigid, and she toppled to the floor.
Now, out of the corner of her eye, she could see Kreacher crouching in the corner of the room, his face in his hands, crying hysterically. Remus Lupin was towering above her, his wand poised threateningly toward her throat, and Tonks was standing at the doorway, alongside another familiar figure…
"Sirius?" Harry exclaimed, his voice mixed with disbelief and joy.
Tonks and Lupin both looked round sharply, and then followed Harry's gaze, their eyes finally reaching the portrait, in which Sirius was sitting composedly, a broad grin on his face. "So, you finally found me?" he said, the grin widening. "Took you long enough…"