If this was a cottage, Rowan didn't want to know what the Malfoy clan's idea of a house was. Walking around the perimeter, while necessary, was her way of delaying the inevitable: seeing Raphael Malfoy inside. Thus far, she hadn't seen the tell-tale sign of his blonde figure but it was only a matter of time; this was his residence. When she first realized where she was headed, the thought crossed her mind that she might be able to avoid him. Perhaps her luck would turn around.

But there was no such luck for her today, and a quick scan over the preliminary report told her that the son had picked up the object, still yet to be described. She hadn't cared for the way her stomach had lurched when she read that the son had sustained a nasty injury. Perhaps it was cowardice that kept her outside to make sure the proper spells were in place on the structure in case the removal of the object caused stress on the structure. With the last spell cast, there was nothing to it but to head on in.

Brushing a lock of hair back into its place, Rowan walked into the front garden (impeccably kept) and under the iron arch sprinkled with the most intricate, delicate vines. It was easy to guess that the rest of the cottage would be just as beautiful, if not more so. She wove in between the various healers and investigators that had been called to the house, observing that there seemed to be more bodies here than a) was usual and b) was necessary. But she supposed when it came to the Malfoy family, the Ministry didn't pull any stops. It was with a slightly sour taste in her mouth that Rowan rounded the corner and walked into the room that most people seemed to be filing out of.

Her gaze would have moved in the direction of the figure sat on the chair, but the grandness of the room caught her eye first, and she took in her surroundings partially out of habit and also out of slight awe. Everything seemed to have been handpicked and placed in this room for a reason, from the marble and gold features to the beautifully carved furniture. The sound of her name broke through her musings, and Rowan's eyes tore away from the room to land on — "Malfoy."

She nodded tersely, taking in his form. He was in a mild state of undress - slacks as casual as they could come when part of a wealthy upper class family, with his jacket slung over the back of the chair as if it had been thrown off, and his shirt slightly mussed with the sleeves pushed up haphazardly to his elbows. What caused her to hesitate in her tracks was the sight of the spider-like lines crawling up his forearm and disappearing under his sleeve. She wanted to quip something potentially snarky, like how it seemed it was her turn to save him...but save usually implied free of marks or injury, and it seemed he'd already passed that point.

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