"Your husband used the Cruciatus on me." Narcissa’s hand covered her mouth and her eyes wavered with tears, and Draco found himself staring coldly down at her, trying not to let her tears make him fucking emotional. Draco found himself thinking of Hermione. Of her warm, firewhiskey brown eyes, and determined jaw, and that know-it-all expression – of the ink stains on her fingers, and the faint furrow between her eyebrows from squinting at nearly illegible ancient texts.