A/N: Narcissa and Lucius belong to JK Rowling, and definately not me.
Lost - 1997
She sits at a large window, overlooking the sweeping driveway, waiting for him to return.
He sits in a dark, cold cell, waiting to return to her.
She thinks of the happy times they had together.
He tries to hold onto those memories, but only the heartbreak... tears... violence... pain remains.
She eats alone in the vast dining hall, her son off in his own little world.
He eats in that dirty cell, wishing he could be alone.
She doesn't sleep, fearing she'll miss his return.
He sleeps fitfully, trying to block the voices.
She is lost.
So is he.