WHO: Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy WHAT: Lucius hasn't been telling his wife what he's been doing lately, and she's getting fed up with everything WHERE: Malfoy Manor, specifically their bedroom WHEN: Very, very late at night RATING: TBD, but mostly they'll just be arguing about secrets
Everyone reached their breaking point sometime. Narcissa wasn't sure what exactly had sent her over the edge, whether it was Lucius being put in prison or Draco being Marked. Whatever it was, she'd reached it long ago. All she had left was her home, and now it had been reduced to nothing more than a luxury hotel for Death Eaters. Her name had been degraded, and while Lucius was out trying to build their reputation back up to what it once was, Narcissa was left alone with only her thoughts to keep her company. The company she kept with herself was not that of a happy sort. She felt isolated and alone, with no one to confide in. The holidays had been pleasant enough, but it was more like a bandaid covering a wound. They weren't going to heal until they cleansed the wound thoroughly, and there was no way to do that if they weren't together. Draco was not going to be home for a long time, but Lucius ought to be home now. However, he'd be coming home far later than what Narcissa would consider a reasonable time. It wasn't just him losing track of the time. Something was keeping him out, and he wasn't telling her about it. That did not set well with her.
Narcissa was trying to give Lucius the benefit of the doubt. He knew by now after so many years of marriage that she did not sleep until he came home (if he was expected, that is). Therefore he had to have some inkling that she knew how late he was coming home. She never said anything, but would lay in bed until she felt his presence beside her. Perhaps he thought she'd given up her habit of waiting up for him after all that had happened. She was hoping that he would tell her himself what he'd been doing and what was going on, but he hadn't. That meant she was going to have to demand it from him, and that was not a discussion she wanted to have with her husband. Quarrels were not her choice of activity to engage in with him when they had time together, but she had no choice. For the sake of her sanity she had to know what he was doing. It angered her that he was keeping something from her, after everything they'd been through.
Though she had long since dressed for bed, Narcissa was not intending to sleep or even lie down. She was not going to give Lucius a way to avoid talking to her tonight. Instead of waiting in bed for him, she remained sitting at her vanity, combing her long blonde hair. She wore no readable expression on her face, but only because she could not decide which emotion she felt the strongest. Anger, yes. Sadness, certainly. But because she'd already been pushed far past the breaking point of what she could react to, it was hard to know which emotion was the right emotion to convey. Why is he doing this, to me? she thought, staring at the reflection she hardly recognized.