His wand was in his hand and he was across the space between them before Rabastan could so much as stand up straight. He slammed Lestrange hard enough into the wall behind him to drive the air from his lungs in a great whoop. "You'll not touch her," he snarled.
A flick of his wand had the nearby French doors flying open just before he turned and used the handful of Rabastan's robes that he was holding to fling the other man out into the cold November air. Lucius stalked outside after him with a the fury gleaming in his eyes as his only expression. "You'll not speak of her in such a manner again, Lestrange. Narcissa is a lady. She is to be honored and cherished. I will not have you tarnish her honor, now or ever."