"A troll, indeed. That's very nice." Lucius, for all his reluctance to condemn himself to a life of quiet virtue, was less troubled by the thought of giving up the Manor than he might have been. It had been his home his entire life, but it wasn't as though he were selling it; so long as it stayed in the family, it was where it belonged. And he was relieved, though he would never say so to Narcissa, that it was still here to be passed along - and that Draco was still here to take it. The inheritance was proof that not everything had been ruined, and it would lift a heavy weight from him the day it was accomplished.
"We shall." He bade her sit when they reached their destination, called up a bottle of wine from the elf they'd brought along, and took his place beside her as the glasses appeared in front of them. He put his arm around her; she had gotten stiff again, and although he couldn't fool himself into thinking a little wine would fix anything, he could try. "It's all about as I remember it, I'm happy to say."