He tried to speak, but when no sound immerged his clear grey eyes narrowed. Hermione ran one finger over the remains of a curse scar on his left hand and appraised his form critically. "I do have to hand it to you, Lucius. Most of your lot have gone rather to seed these last few years. I suppose, as exercise plans go, Cruciatus punishments are a rather affective isometric regimen. The sudden absence of it after your Lord fell would take a tool on the waist line. You, dear Lucius, seem to have maintained yours. Pickup Quidditch with your grandsons?" She smiled gently. "Hasn’t done much for Ron honestly. Perhaps I should have you write out your secret before I get to work. No? Oh well. Can’t blame a witch for trying."