Narcissa awoke with a splitting headache. She edged above the waters of dreaming with a knitted brow, pressing her thumb and middle finger to the bridge of her nose and trying to will herself back to sleep, but it wouldn't come. The sun was too bright, though she could have sworn she'd drawn the curtains before falling into bed the night before. Everything was difficult these days, and she'd done little but slip out of her gown and settle in for the night in the slip she'd worn beneath it, a letter from the Ministry detailing her son's trial date in one hand. She felt around the blankets for the letter now, but couldn't find it.
Carefully, Narcissa opened her eyes, the feeling of missing a step on the stairs sinking into her bones as she recognized the canopy of the bed she was in as one which wasn't hers. With a jolt she sat up, eyes scanning her old dormitory in the Slytherin dungeons with confusion and great curiosity. How had she gotten here? Surely this wasn't some trick, but her heart dropped a story or two at the realization that the night before she'd gone to bed alone in her home for the first time that she could remember. She clutched the blankets, closed her eyes, took a deep breath.
But when she opened them again, she was still there.
A rush of adrenaline kicked in, and she grabbed beneath her pillow for her wand which was - thankfully - still there. She was out of bed, then, and transfiguring a sheet into a robe and pushing out of the dormitory into the common room. Empty. No students, not even a fire in the hearth, but it was difficult to tell from beneath the lake exactly what was going on. Barefoot and still half asleep, Narcissa moved through the room and out into the hallway, dragging one hand lazily across the cool stone of the dungeons as she went. The classrooms were empty, there were no voices, not even a dropped piece of parchment to mark the passing of someone else. It didn't make sense, and her head was pounding.
With great strides she ascended the stairs, hurried down several more corridors, and finally arrived, slowing as she came to the Great Hall. All empty.
It was footsteps behind her that finally caused Narcissa to turn, just in time to see a red-haired man come down the steps in a robe. Was that...?
"Mr. Weasley?" Narcissa said suddenly, then took in his age and general features, "You're...Ronald, is that right? Did you bring me here?" It didn't make any sense to her, even as she said it, but thus far it was the only plausible explanation, "Where is everyone?"