Bellatrix managed not to snort indignantly. Wasn't the same? Fourteen years in fucking Azkaban, locked up, all alone with only dementors for company? What had Cissy expected? Rainbows and moonlight to come dripping from her hair? But surely Narcissa was exaggerating.
There was something disappointing about the idea the Draco would harbor some sort of fear of her. Though even if he did, it was pleasant enough that he'd managed to conceal it in her presence. The idea was enough to tempt her lips to curl upward. Maybe there was hope for the boy yet.
Besides, it's not as though she'd waltzed in looking as though she were fresh from a cell. And by the way Cissy spoke it was as if she'd expected Bellatrix to start hexing him on the spot? And had she? No. She'd been perfectly, mostly polite. Surely her own sister should have been able to discern the difference.
"Well, then it's rather lucky I've come back so young and pleasant then," she replied with a raised brow as she turned to full face her sister. "And it's hardly an excuse for being so cold when I arrived."
Bellatrix could hardly understand what Cissy was driving at. It wasn't as though anything could be done about what had happened in the past, a past Bellatrix had no memory of, no less. All in all, she considered it a very strange way for Cissy to begin apologizing for her poor manners.