"I need no leeches, thank you." The answer she gave would have echoed dimly the usual imperious demeanor of a Malfoy, except that Narcissa was too distracted and too confused to sound sure of herself. She was trying to place the fellow who was addressing her. He looked like a fugitive Death Eater, or else one with a curious notion of what constituted adequate hygiene. His hair straggled the way Snape's used to do. Perhaps another of the Dark Lord's servants who shunned the light? Against a background of such drab drones, her fair Draco should shine all the brighter, as her Lucius had done.

Where was Draco?

"No cloth will suffice for this." She plucked at the grease-sodden skirts of her robes. "You are too kind."