An important man. Lucius's face darkened. It was hard to keep the sneer out of his voice, but he had done his time with politicians, too - he knew about hedging, about holding one's distance and keeping clean hands. There was nothing he would have liked more than to take that look off Weasley's face, but instead he merely smiled. It was a bit toxic - he doubted if anyone had ever believed him innocent since he'd learned to talk - but a smile nonetheless.
"Certainly, certainly," he said lightly, capping his pen and tucking it away again. "I meant no offense." He never did, when it came down to it. Simple, bald denial had lifted him out of more tight spots than should ever have been possible. Incontrovertible fact was highly inconvenient (dangerous, even, in some forms), and he avoided attaching himself to it when he could. Opportunities to slither around the truth were dwindling these days, alas. He folded his hands on his side of the desk, leaning forward very slightly to signal his attention.