Narcissa would have liked to have something less distressing to tell him, but she was ever a strong proponent of taking one's medicine in one quick gulp if at all possible. The longer one fretted about it, the more time wasted. And so, she didn't mince words. "You returned to him, pleading your case that if you had seen any evidence that he would return you would have continued to search for him. Whether he believed you or not, I couldn't say. He didn't seem to trust you completely, and assigned you tasks to prove yourself. When you were unable to retrieve the prophecy from the Department of Mysteries, we were cast deeper into his disfavour. He pressured you into making Draco take the mark, which he did when he was sixteen."
At that point she paused. Her memories of that time were very vivid, due to her palpable distress over it. Her husband falling out with the Dark Lord was one thing, but her only child being pressed into service made her blood run cold. "He assigned Draco the task of disposing of Albus Dumbledore. He was scarcely seventeen at the time." She skimmed over the part about going to Severus Snape behind his back, not because she was ashamed of herself, but merely because it seemed superfluous to his inquiry. "We were kept on a very short leash. He occupied our home as his headquarters. By the end it was almost wholly out of our control. And then he was defeated. How the three of us survived intact, I can hardly say, and I have never dared question."