[ His nose wrinkles, and it's both at the idea of Molly defeating Bella, his Bella, and at the tangential thought of Arthur Weasley, a man he disliked so much that he'd goaded him into a fistfight in a bookstore in between slipping the Lord's diary into his daughter's bag.

But then she rather hits the nail on the head, and Lucius gives her a sidelong glance. His lips tighten, and it's hard to tell if it's a smirk or a grimace, but given the conversation, the latter is more likely. ]

The war gave up on me, I believe, first, and after that there was only one thing worth living for, and we were always on borrowed time.