"How is Draco keeping up with his schoolwork?" Narcissa wore dark, unrelieved blue that looked nearly black. It was as if she had begun mourning her husband. Severus knew she would not give up hope for his return, but he also knew how difficult this time was for her. Lucius had never stayed away this long; it must feel a little like death for her already.
"Very well, Lady Malfoy. He has some of the highest marks in Slytherin."
Narcissa waved a hand. "How many times must I ask you, Severus? Please, call me Narcissa. You have been such a good friend to us." She smiled. "But he still has not bested that girl." She snapped her fingers, trying to remember. "The Muggle-born one whom he complains about nearly as much as the Potter boy."
"Hermione Granger. No, she remains the highest in her year."
Her tinkly laugh was shocking in its gaiety. "Hermione. What a ludicrous name. My Draco has not yet learned, it seems, that actions speak louder than words. The only way he will prove his superiority is simply to... what is that phrase?... beat her at her own game."
Severus nodded, and silence settled over the sitting room. Then, "You look pale, My La... Narcissa."
She shook her head, and blonde hair fell across her shoulders. Her elegant bun had come loose. Severus had always thought that she was more beautiful that any veela, especially when her hair was flowing down her graceful neck and shining gold. The picture of loveliness would be complete if her eyes were sparkling, but they were clouded with sorrow.
"The house-elves have been beside themselves since Lucius... left." She wouldn't say that he was taken away. "Their housekeeping has not been up to standards lately, and I'm afraid I never learned to cook. It wasn't thought necessary for a Black."
Severus swallowed. "Perhaps I could help you there, Narcissa. My remaining house-elf is the most abominable cook. Most nights I prepare my own meal, though it is much less fine than the feasts to which you are accustomed."
She bowed her golden head. "That is very kind of you, Severus. I will tell Tweedi immediately that I shall be out for the night."
"That isn't what I had intended..." Severus protested, but Narcissa was gone before he got two words out.
His family mansion was a dark and cold place, rather like its current—and sole—inhabitant. His parents had filled the place with bitterness and fear, and years after their deaths, it retained a vaguely ominous air. The walls were high and grand and black. Lanterns were set near the ceiling, casting a harsh yellow light on the heavy, brocaded furniture. The rugs made one somewhat queasy if one gazed at them for too long; their creator seemed to have woven figures writhing in agony into the dark threads.
He didn't live there anymore, but he was sure Narcissa would be expecting to dine there. She would turn up her aristocratic nose at the comparatively tiny rooms where he lived at Hogwarts. And he couldn't allow her to see the pictures he kept: of her, of another woman as dark as Narcissa was blonde, and a child. She would know, if she saw them.
She reappeared with a white hat and scarf and the warmest smile he had seen on her face since Lucius had... left. Her smile was like the sun. Severus averted his eyes, praying that she wouldn't read the expression in them. "Perhaps we should delay the cooking lessons. My residence isn't fit to receive guests." Before her face could fall, he added, "But I have heard of a new restaurant which has just opened in our section of Paris."
Narcissa's eyes registered surprise, and she looked down at herself. "I'm not sure I'm attired correctly..."
Severus snorted. "I know that I am not. Shall we go?"