Draco Malfoy wanted to pace. He was that anxious. Luna knew that, of course, so she'd allowed one of her frumple-dings to work out Draco's energy. It was a queer sort of blue-silver wisp of foggy not-light, that danced and twirled and twisted itself in knots.

In short, just what Draco Malfoy had wanted to do.

The children were inside. Not, in the parlor, as if they'd been coached and chivvied to look good to their betters (like Mum had done to me). They were about chores, and quietly talking in the Family Room, and in the library.

In short, what perfectly well-behaved orphans would be doing. As if they didn't even know there was going to be a Visitation.

Narcissa Malfoy would know better - and moreover, she'd expect better than some silly unwarned orphans.

She was going to bring her white gloves, and test every surface for a scrap of dust.

Woe betide the child who was the loose end.

Woe and grief would be the least of their troubles, should they put her beloved son in danger.

Narcissa came down the walk in an elegant, beautiful steel-gray gown. She twirled a parasol, and Draco had to wonder if it contained any edged weapons.*

"Draco," Narcissa said, pulling her son into a hug that was familial. Her eyes scanned what she could see of the house, missing nothing.

Luna Lovegood had entered the room at some point, but Narcissa didn't seem to pay her any heed. "Draco, my dear, won't you show me these adorable orphans you've been keeping all to yourself?"

Draco knew his mother didn't talk like that. That was Socialite Narcissa, a persona he was well-familiar with. "Of course, Mother."

"Children," Draco Malfoy said, projecting without yelling - a trick he'd picked up from Gryffindor teachers - Snape never talked louder than a conversational tone, and still commanded all the attention he pleased. "We have a visitor."

They appear then, having been schooled (multiple times, as Luna had shown up in Narcissa's guise, her sylphs as always willing to spin a shield to shroud men's minds) to appear slowly and yet with interest. Having been schooled in how to curtsey, or bow, and stand at attention when a lady is present.

Narcissa looks at each one in turn, her parasol point over her shoulder, as she bends down, lifting up one girl's chin, and straightening another's shoulder. The children don't know it, but Draco recognizes his mother in a Mothering Mood. She's assisting them, quietly, the way her mother had helped mould her into magnificence and the very model of gentility.

At the end of the paired line of boys and girls, Narcissa seems to half take a tumble, and drops her bumbershoot. One of the boys stands in her way, ready to prevent her fall with his own body. And yet, somehow, managing to remember one of Draco's first lessons to them - touching another without consent is bound to lead to offense. So he stands in her way, offering himself as helpmeet to someone nearly twice his height.

Narcissa balances herself by digging her talons into his arm. The boy does his best, but cannot hold back a wince.

"May I?" asks one of the taller of the girls - a Gryffindor that's actually older than Granger. Draco Malfoy still can't believe she'd actually listened to him without need for a Stupefy.

"Yes, of course," Narcissa says, and watches the girl squat down to pick up the parasol, and then hand it back, giving Narcissa the ability to pick it up by the hook.

"Oh, how silly of me," Narcissa says, her eyes gleaming brightly with mischief.

*umbrellas are a famous martial weapon, used to good effect by schools from the Far East.