As soon as she saw him enter their bedroom she held her breath. In the not too distant past, it would not have been out of the ordinary for her to flock right to him when he returned home and shower him with attention and affection, expressing her happiness at his return. To her, it felt as though and entire lifetime had passed since those days. Narcissa made no move to stand at first, opting to watch him through the mirror as he began to go through the nightly rituals of undressing. Talk to me, she thought, silently trying to will her husband into just telling her the truth.
What got to her the most was that he knew she always wanted to know what was going on. He knew that she had to know something was going on, and yet he still said nothing to her. It hurt, and he had to know that, too. Perhaps Azkaban had really changed him; she could not bear to allow herself that thought and it was immediately erased as soon as it emerged.
"Surely you ought to be as well," she said quietly, resuming the combing of her hair.