His touch was warm and gentle, and she felt her eyes close, despite herself.  "You are a mudblood, guilty only by association.  The Dark Lord has little interest in you beyond that you are muggle-born.  I think that he may find it... amusing... if I were to further disgrace myself by sullying myself with a mudblood.  A mere child, my son’s age, at that."  Did he mean what she thought he meant?  What was left of the color drained from her face.  He noticed, though he said nothing.