Draco bit his lip and watched silently as she firmly chastised a small boy of five or six, with short light brown hair and pale skin. He stood forlornly in front of her; head bowed and eyes peering up at Narcissa. The boy’s toes scuffed at the carpet and his hands were shoved deep in his pockets, a guilty expression on his small face. He looked exactly the same as Draco always used to when his mother scolded him. Draco watched, jaw agape, as his mother continued her lecture firmly – "I have told you far too many times already, Arthur! Food is for eating, not for vandalising your room! I am sick to death of scourgifying your bedroom walls, and we frankly cannot afford to have you wasting entire bottles of tomato sauce, mustard and anything else you can get your hands on!"