Bellatrix spares a moment's more consideration before, finally, lowering her wand. It's tucked out of sight with a flash of her old grace, something that's so rare to see now but evident still in her patterns of movement and speech, however haggard the years have left her.

By the time she moves forward any semblance of elegance has fled her again; she takes a few haphazard steps to close the distance between them, and then her thin arms are snaking their way around Narcissa's shoulders, embracing her with strength she barely looks to possess.