Slumped in the position he places her in, it's the unfamiliar scent and different texture of the sheets that permeate her unconscious state. A quiet whimper makes its way past slightly chapped lips - a condition she'd never normally allow - and Narcissa turns onto her side, curling up slightly.

Slim fingers clench and tug at the coverlet, her usually graceful hands tense, the knuckles white.