“Good evening, Mrs. Malfoy.”

Mafilda Malfoy took her time to look up and see who had greeted her - she was, after all, a pretty important person, at least as far as her own line of thought was concerned, and others could wait. The old lady smoothed out a few creases in her dress, arranged her expressions, and then finally glanced up.

- and, of course, an evil sort of smile crossed her face, at once, as she saw [what she thought was] the rather powdered, fake-happy face of Andraviona Castle.

“The new hostess, aren’t you, Andra?” she asked sweetly. She would have her fun, with this. Cats always do when they know they have cornered the mouse. Not that Andra wouldn't have thrown ladylike-ness to the winds, and punched you smack in the face, if you had told her she was the mouse in this scene.

“Yes,” Andra replied briefly. She kept her answer short because she had decided, quite a while ago, not to try and start a conversation with – to use Varius’s words – the old hag, this night. Her object of interest was her son, and it was whom she now addressed. “Hey, Lucius. How are you?”

Lucius turned to give her a warm smile, glad that he was no longer alone with his mother - Mafilda really did come up with the most ridiculous ideas, when they were alone. “Charming,” he replied. “Let me congratulate you on having the honour of hosting this ball, Andra." Formal language and stuff - he was sure it was a requirement, on occasions like these. "You must be excited.”

“You’re wearing black, like Bellatrix,” Mafilda cut through, before Andra could so much as open her mouth to respond, and it was clear that she was not too happy at the warmth in Lucius's tones - not that that meant anything. “Did you copy her style?’

Andra raised an eyebrow. For someone like her, to be called a copy cat was a pretty big offence on the part of the person speaking to her – especially when it was not true; and she could not take it lightly. “I see you’re wearing purple, like mum," she said coolly. "Did you copy her?”

“My, my, what an unbalanced person you are, Andra,” Mafilda said sweetly. “... and I thought these Castle hostesses, they were known for being polite. Nice girls, or something like that.”

I’ve ruined this. There was a rather sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but Andra managed to hold her head up high. “We do not tolerate impoliteness in our balls, Mafilda,” she said haughtily. “Lucius – would you like a walk?” – anything to get away from the old hag.

“Definitely –” Lucius began - he clearly wanted to get away from his mother, too - but Mafilda cut through again.

“How impolite, Lucius!” she chided softly, her eyes aglow in their usual, evil way. “You have not yet greeted half the people you are friends with, and you are going for a walk with the hostess? So what if she does not know that, for the moment, her duties involve greeting the people, and not taking walks with gentlemen? You, at least, should know your manners.”

Andra stormed off, one hand clenched around her wand. Stormed off in a way that could have matched the fire in a certain Nicola Miller's exit, not too long ago.