He appreciated the way she offered the topic without being overly pressing. She would not pry, and for that, he couldn't be happier. Of course, she wouldn't know of all the details, why those occurrences meant more to him than to others. And he wasn't about to tell her they'd contacted him!
He shrugged briefly. "I've not allowed the Ministry to best me yet," he smirked. "I am doing well, though. I hope you received my invitation? I hope for a good turnout, though," he paused only enough to be noticed, "It will be a different crowd than Malfoy Manor has seen in some time." No, the last time a Muggleborn was in the manor, she was being tortured by his insane aunt. Yesterday, he'd sent the same Mudblood a personal invite.
He managed not to show outwardly the disgruntlement he felt. He hadn't realized how jumbled his thoughts on the matter had become. Now, though, with Mudblood and Muggleborn almost interchangeable in his mind, he wondered what that meant for how he viewed them. Was it pity now rather than disgust? Best not to examine it too hard.