Draco was nervous. There was a small, black, velvet box burning a hole in his pocket. He hated that he was nervous, as it made him feel weak. He hadn't felt this nervous about anything in... well, it'd been a long time. And even now as he looked across the table at Astoria, his palms were sweaty. He'd been quiet and pale--even more so than normal. He tore his eyes from her face to look at the wine glass as he reached for it.
"She's well." He said, his throat nearly cracking. "She's been attending some meetings for some charity function or another, I never can tell what she's up to."