Narcissa looked away instinctively at the mention of the mark, her heart tripping over a beat though her smile stayed obediently in place. The Dark Lord would follow her everywhere, she realized, even into an easy afternoon chat with a loved one. He was a shadow always licking the corners of her mind, always waiting to slip its fingers through hers and remind her that, no, they weren't free of him. Not anymore.
Orion continued, the mark a mere footnote in his anecdote, and Narcissa snapped her attention back to his words. Her time with him was precious, and he must be her focus. The Dark Lord had stripped her of enough happy moments with her family over the years. He wouldn't take this one, as well.
Her brain pulled Orion's sentences into an image of their ancestor, wearing the heavy beard and dour expression she knew from his portrait, rushing unexpectedly into a dining room and catching her poor uncle off guard. At once re-enraptured by the story, Narcissa leaned forward a bit more, now literally on the edge of her seat and looking for all the world like a seven-year-old being told a ghost story. "I think I'd have died," she breathed, "if he'd have come rushing in on me." Phineas was terrifying enough in portrait form. To actually see him in the flesh, especially when one was having a quiet meal, and especially if he was unexpected and demanding... "What on earth did you say?"