"Quite precisely what I mean, but not quite how I'll present it," Narcissa clarifies, shaking her head briefly before she summons a box of cigars. (They were upstairs, and she suspects Malfoy Sr of being a light sleeper now; she would be, if she were him.) "I doubt I can immediately convince him to understand he must care about that, but I've a good chance of being able to persuade him not to make his own situation worse for himself."

She pauses again, then shrugs and says, delicately, "I expect to have more luck if I frame the idea in a way that won't threaten his ego. I don't think he has anything left except his pride, so he may cling to it a bit less sensibly than my husband."

Quieter, "If we have a problem that way, it'll be my sister."