"I suppose I can at least wait until he's nine," she said, only mostly kidding. "I was nine when I attended my first society function, and started my first awful rumour." It had been in regards to Greta Goyle, who had trod on Narcissa's beautiful new shoes. She regretted nothing.
When he made that face, he reminded her an awful lot of Draco when he was in a snit, and she couldn't help but smile at him. "St. Mungo's is a much better fit then," she said, then sobered at the mention of Bella. "I...have. It wasn't pleasant." She swallowed, and looked away briefly. "She's...mad. Utterly and totally mad, and it's not because of Azkaban. She was that way long before the Dark Lord fell." Fanatical, obsessive, completely blind to anything except her Master. It broke Narcissa's heart to think of her sister that way, remembering the completely hopelessness that came from watching her slow descent into madness.
It made sense. Regulus had always been overly fond of his Elf, but if that fondness had led to the Dark Lord's demise she couldn't fault him for it. "So you went to Dumbledore?" She was extrapolating that point, but she had very little doubts that Dumbledore had his sticky hands in this business somewhere. "I can understand that. What I can't understand is why you disappeared after."