Narcissa, who had changed into something loose and flowy, to account for her own pain and injuries, stepped into the closet, closed the door, and curled up on the floor next to Draco. He rested his head on her shoulder, felt her cheek rest on top of his, and closed his eyes. Both of Narcissa's small hands wrapped tightly around his own. He could feel the tremors, from both of them; the lingering effects of concentrated exposure to the Cruciatus.