Well, I suppose I'll make my greetings and go, then. [Narcissa's tone is airy and faintly amused as she crooks a fine brow at her sister, moving to seat herself primly in the chair across from Bella's desk without invitation. When she speaks again, her tone is sympathetic.] Are they really keeping you so busy? Simply absurd, if you ask me.

[Behind the closed door of her sister's office and away from prying eyes, Narcissa relaxes in a way she hasn't the luxury of doing in public. The constant niceties and pandering to all manner of rabble exhausts her, but maintaining a pristine public image is essential for someone as high-profile as the youngest daughter of the Black family. She's dedicated herself to exuding perfection since she came of age (all the better for increasing her prospects of marrying well when the time comes), but amongst a select few, Narcissa has he luxury of being herself: haughty, entitled, snobbish. A welcome respite from false smiles and feigned sweetness.]

Honestly, those Mudbloods ought to feel ashamed of themselves for selfishly demanding so much attention from honest witches and wizards.