'Finally coming home' did just about sum up how Narcissa felt at the moment, though she never would have expected to use the phrase in reference to the Nexus. The place was a trap, pure and simple, and it was keeping her away from her son, but for right now, it was enabling her to see a man she dearly loved and had thought to be lost to her forever.
"Of course," she answered warmly as he suggested Butterbeer, before turning a pointed look to her house-elf. The elf, valiantly struggling to fold Orion's overcoat over her arms in such a way that would neither wrinkle it nor allow it to touch the floor, met her gaze. Narcissa gave her a smile, said, "Bring two, please," and then left the elf to her labors.
"The parlor is still this way," she told her uncle, slipping her arm affectionately through his as she led him west of the foyer, "even though I think sometimes the house would rather it be in the other wing." Orion was a Black, and thus she felt no fear of him being uncomfortable in such a formal room, which seemed the only proper place to entertain an elder family member for whom she had so much respect. "I keep finding things in the East Wing that belong over here-- trinkets and whatnot." She smiled, amused. "As long as it doesn't move my piano, I can live with it."
The drapes were open in the parlor's bank of windows, letting in the afternoon sunlight that rolled down across the grounds. A fire blazed and popped in the old, heavily carved hearth, helping to fight back the chill and making the room feel more inviting. Oil-painted faces whispered amongst each other in the room's portraits-- "That's Orion Black, you know;" "I hear he's a chess player;" and so forth-- as they excused themselves to frames in another portrait gallery. Narcissa had implemented a rule during the First War that all portrait-dwellers, beloved though they were, were to leave the parlor, the dining room, and the library when guests came calling, lest anyone feel his privacy was in violation. The political danger had passed with Voldemort, but the rule had remained, and in a place like the Nexus, where danger was still very much present, the practice served the Malfoys well.
"Please, make yourself at home." Narcissa relinquished Orion's arm as she spoke, arching up on her toes and giving his cheek another kiss. "I'm just so glad to see you, Uncle. You really have no idea."