She'd been reading by the open window: the french doors opened onto a narrow balcony, and one of them stood a few inches open, letting in the morning breeze. Narcissa stood, smoothing down her robes before Draco entered.
This had been Abraxas' room, once - a fearsome place Narcissa had never dared enter, and a place she'd made off-colour jokes about, though never in Lucius' presence. Who knew what the taciturn widower had got up to in here? But she'd never dared be that disrespectful: Abraxas Malfoy had been one of the few people to truly frighten Narcissa, and that was because she'd held absolutely no power over him. No influence. There had only ever been a few people like that - the Dark Lord had been another.
Then it had been her chamber, and Lucius', and the site of passionate arguments and even more passionate making-up, welcoming and comfortable and home. Narcissa let her hair down in this room - there was never any need for a polite smile and a cool handshake. She and her husband only lied to each other out of necessity or amusement.
Now it seemed empty. Oh, it was beautiful still, and there was no way a room so oft-used could become a dusty tomb for its former occupant, but Narcissa was a widow, and one who had not chosen to move on to greener pastures.
One day it would be Draco's. Narcissa didn't know what he'd make of it, not anymore.
It wasn't Lucius' room now. He had his own apartments, and while Narcissa had worked that out with him she hadn't discussed it with Draco. If he felt she needed to be lied to, shielded, protected - well, it was good that he cared about his mother, but she wasn't that fragile. Not by a long shot. One thing about the deceit was odd, though: the way she and Lucius had tacitly understood that Draco didn't need to have his eyes opened. This Lucius had never known his son, and yet he knew it instinctively. It was unsettling and reassuring at the same time.
"What is it?" she asked, smiling and crossing the room to kiss Draco's cheek. She hardly saw him these days, which was a pity and a shame.