Narcissa had been feeling particularly motherly since Scorpius's birth, and was spending more time with Violet. This Faustus... he tended to linger, too, much to her dismay. It was only her son's wish for her silence that kept her from absolute volcanic eruption. Lucius had her entirely convinced that Severus Snape was a great portion of the reason for her son's strange loyalties; the unworthy professor directly stood in the way of their family. Keeping his spawn alive and healthy made her nauseous. Faustus got to live in this house, and her beloved husband did not. Life was atrociously unfair.
Violet had been playing with Granny (ugh) Cissa's long hair until Scorpius's feeding was through. Mrs. Malfoy had then taken her grandson into her arms, and was walking him about the other children. Though Scorpius deserved every bit of attention she had, her eyes kept turning to Faustus. He looked so like Severus... so unfortunately like Severus. Disturbing.
Her son's voice caught her attention when her back was turned. She faced him with a smile that flashed from genuine to fake as she laid eyes upon Severus Snape himself. Faustus was, for the most part, an innocent party, but his father did not belong where she dwelt. Her blood was very quickly boiling, and she felt the need to hand off the child for fear of burning his fragile skin with her own temperature.
"Indeed. I believe the perfect little thing has been needing his father anyway, yes?" Making eye contact with Snape was suddenly more painful than usual. She recalled a time when they helped each other, and it seemed foreign. "You look well, Severus." Unfortunately.