It was a lot to take in. He had been snatched from his home, forced into a world in which Draco was an adult, in which people he'd thought long dead were suddenly alive again, in which his future had already happened without him. Narcissa's words, although comforting at first, had filled him with dread. She had said that she needed to speak with him in person, and that was never a good sign. Not that he didn't long for a familiar face.
Lucius was sitting at the dining table when he heard the knock, anxiously twiddling the quill within his fingers. He saw Narcissa before she saw him; she hadn't aged much, in fact, if he hadn't been married to her for nearly fifteen years, he wouldn't have noticed the change at all. "Cissy? I'm here." he replied, rising to his feet.