you can tie my hands to the walls [LUCIUS.]

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place “Miss Black, these are very important questions. Would you cease and desist?” Narcissa Black looked up from the stone floor and halted her tapping foot. She was cold and she’d begun the small shaking of her leg to warm her pale flesh up, but apparently her humanly needs were not to be fully met by the great Auror Flincher. She quirked an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and sat up fully in the chair. The hospital gown she wore crinkled as she did so. She’d been here for, Narcissa pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth as she counted, nine days now. Nine long, painful days. Auror Flincher was the man in charge of her case and she had sat down with him more often than her grandmother attended Daily Mass (which should say something about the frequency). “Please do continue with your questions than, Mister Flincher. If they’re so important, that is.” The balding man before her clicked his tongue and shook his head at her. Narcissa, if she were not seventeen and a legal adult, would have liked to stick her tongue out at the shiny-hairless patch of head visible as the man ducked down to read his parchment. “Do understand, Miss Black, that you are now responsible for your actions in this time? And that the Ministry of Magic is not responsible for your behavior? You also are expected to continue your magical education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. ” Narcissa nodded and then vocalized her understanding as the Auror continued to look down at her. She was now responsible for her behavior, yes. The past nine days had assured that she understood the world around her, the current social climate, and just where she stood with it all. It had been more than enough to take in, having already been burdened with being ripped from the arms of her family, friends, and time period. Auror Flincher had begun slowly, at least. He informed her of the year, who was currently the Minister, and who would be her Headmaster at Hogwarts for her last year. When he began to bring the Dark Lord up, Narcissa had grown very still in her wooden-folding chair. The Dark Lord had fallen, defeated by no more than a small child. Many had received life sentences in Azkaban. Narcissa had hardly been able to contain the chills that swept through her spine as Auror Flincher had met her eyes solemnly. She had had difficulty swallowing until Auror Flincher changed the subject. She had been given a temporary wand as another team of Ministry Officials sought to see if her abilities or knowledge had been dulled by this whole fiasco. Another group had scrubbed her head-to-toe, informing her that a certain strain of dragonpox had been eradicated since the seventies. Her clothing had been burned and she’d been issued a solid purple hospital gown of cheap fabric and fuzzy socks. She was less than thrilled by day two. Each night, without fail, Narcissa would curl up in the little cot they’d given her. She pull the cheap sheet over head, turn away from the girl they had roomed her with, and cry as softly as she could manage into the pillow. Her fingers gripped the flimsy material of her bedding, as if clutching something tight would bring her back home. She had never felt so alone in her whole life. On day seven Auror Fletcher had informed her of her mother and father’s deaths and Bellatrix’s imprisonment. She did not bother with the Ministry-Standard dinner left on the small desk at the foot of her bed before curling up in bed that evening. And there Narcissa sat on day nine, arms crossed and hair tightly braided down the back of her scalp. Her eyes were red and dry, her face frustrated with the lack of moisturizer in the Ministry of Magic, and her neck hurt from sleep on a cot for over a week. Auror Flincher produced a folder from the desk drawer to his left and withdrew a piece of parchment. She watched him scribble down her name, date of birth, and a few other key details that he’d learned from her these past miserable days. He looked up suddenly, his quill poised at the ready. “Miss Black, you are to be released to your husband. Mister Malfoy has requested another medical inspection of you for his lawyers, which will be conducted when-” Narcissa jerked her head up, biting her lip as the quill curled lightly into the letter ‘L’. “Mister Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy?” She asked, her voice unsteady. The Auror cracked his quill in surprise and bent to retrieve a new one. “Yes, Miss Black. Mister Malfoy, the elder, passed of Dragonpox several years ago I believe. Now, as I was saying…” “And Lucius is to be here? Soon?” “If you would let me finish a single sentence, Miss Black.” Auror Flincher no longer seemed patient. Narcissa relaxed in the chair, having not realized that she’d moved several inches closer to the desk at this knowledge. No one had mentioned Lucius before and Narcissa had, which she mentally castigated herself for, assumed that Lucius was amongst the many imprisoned or dead. She swallowed a rather large lump in her throat, a small flood of relief washing over her. She nodded for Auror Flincher to continue. “Mister Malfoy is to be here in ten minutes to oversee the medical exam himself, as I mentioned in my last owl to him. We do not have the time to do so. I also requested that he bring your wand. While many others in your condition no longer have their wands intact, I believe your counterpart left yours behind. If you will excuse me, I shall leave your paperwork with the secretary responsible for all this. She shall hand you off to Mister Malfoy when he arrives.” Narcisa watched as the man stood up, leaning her head back to get a good look at the man before her. He looked decidedly weary. He opened his mouth and then shut it before saying, “Good luck, Miss Black.” He left her quite alone after that. The room, she assumed, was sound proof. The many times she’d visited her father’s office, she had found the Ministry to be loud as a whole. The constant humming of hundreds of Witches and Wizards produced a tangible buzz in the air, as if their voices and magic were being forced together to create a large, unsettling echo. Narcissa stood, seeing little reason to stay seated. She moved around the room slowly, looking for any sort of decoration. This was a standard interrogation room, she guessed. Surely if this was Auror Flincher’s office he’d have a photo or two (or any personal element) on the metal monster of a desk. She moved to the enchanted window across the room, pressing her nose against the cool glass. They were still underground, of course. The windows must have been charmed. June would not have produced such a nice, cool feeling against her nose, either. She turned and rested her cheek against it then, her fingers reaching up and stroking at the end of her hair ribbon. One of the secretaries had conjured one for her. She stroked the satin fabric between her ring and middle finger, growing suddenly nervous. What if this Lucius wasn’t the one she truly knew, her Lucius? What if he was a hoax? What if this all was a trick? And who, in Merlin's name, would feed her cat? Narcissa was very, very unsettled. words: 1258 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

These past nine days had possibly been the worst of his life. The first of them had started off innocently enough, with him waking by his wife’s side, enjoying breakfast with her, and then leaving off for a day of work. There had even been a bit of hop in his step, and, by all rights, why wouldn’t there be? Oh yes he had heard the whispers within the Ministry - the Heads were all a-flutter with desire to quell the “rumors” and “lies” of the Dark Lord’s return. Though, Lucius knew better. He had witnessed it – and yet, he was here, making sure that doubt of Potter’s honesty was well in circulation. There was a bit of giddy in this, Lucius realized, assimilating amongst the crowd while knowing better. It gave him a certain power that he so enjoyed – and so enthusiastic was he that he decided that he would share in this ecstasy with his wife. Though, when he returned to the house, a bottle of expensive brandy in one hand and a gift box for Narcissa in the other, he found it to be disturbingly empty.

Of course, Lucius kept his cool. It was improper of a man like him to search in a panic, not when he didn’t even know if something awful had happened. Though, he could not help the slight quick pace in his graceful gait as he went from room to room, calling her name with his authoritative air. He rested, unsettled, in his office an hour later, his mind calmly assessing the situation at hand. He had decided to wait a couple more hours to see if Narcissa would return home. Time passed by at a slow crawl, and when Lucius realized there was something gravely wrong, he reluctantly summoned the proper authorities to report his wife missing. Of course a letter was sent immediately to Draco, who had been on holiday with a few of his friends, to inform him of his mother’s disappearance. Just as Lucius expected him to, he returned home immediately.

After that was a horrid waiting game. Of course the Ministry was of no help in the matter, though not without some hassle on Lucius’ part. They assured him that they would do all they could to find her, though that wasn’t good enough, was it? Lucius would demand to see their superiors, throwing around his name and others to see if he could influence a little more leeway in the matter, and found himself settling for a little extra broadcast on radio networks asking for any information on the Lady Malfoy’s whereabouts. It was in times like this that Lucius felt absolutely helpless, and there was nothing more that he loathed. He spent most of his times self-medicating with his stores of brandy, sloshing the liquid courage almost as if it were the drink of life. Inebriated most of the time, his company found him most insufferable as he stumbled around, mumbling to himself as if he were a madman. The cat, especially, grew on his nerves as it took to bothering him once more, now that the Mistress had gone missing. It batted at his legs as he sat in front of the fireplace, mewling like the pathetic creature he was, to which he attempted to kick away but found himself missing completely. Draco, of course, did not approve at all, but it wasn’t as if Lucius’ cared in particular for his opinion. Though, in some ways, he knew the boy to be right. Have to keep up appearances, his mind chastised him wearily, before he sneered and took another sip from his glass.

He was rather surprised one afternoon when he had been contacted by the authorities. They informed him, rather casually, that not only had they found Narcissa, but they had found her over a week prior. The news was soon followed by the shatter of glass and the sound of a muffled growl. A stream of abuses fell, albeit gracefully, from his mouth, as he addressed the official with contempt and disbelief.

“In all my years under this Ministry…”

“Sir, believe me when I tell you that we regret to inform you so late on the matter—“

“… of all people, I should have been the first to be informed…”

“Under the circumstances, we could not contact you—“

“… incompetent, foolish and absolutely bloody idiotic…”

“Sir, had the situation been any less delicate, we would have—“

“… do you even know who I am?!”

Of course, he demanded all that he could from them. As quickly as he could pick up his wand, he had contacted his lawyers and so that they could begin to work up a case. Lucius requested that a medical examination be done on his wife, to make sure that she had not been mistreated in the incapable hands of the Ministry. In the meanwhile, he tidied himself up enough so that he was presentable and polished when he would be reunited with his wife, and retrieved her wand from his office (where it had, of course, never left his side). He had been informed that Narcissa would have to do a discharge interview before she would be allowed into his custody (which, of course, he fought. How dare they demand any more of his family?); so, when he arrived, he was immediately asked to wait before being allowed to go up to the bunkers to retrieve her.

Bunkers, he thought disdainfully. They had kept Narcissa Malfoy in a bunker. For a week.

Soon enough he was informed that Narcissa was free to see him, and Lucius moved as quickly as appearances would allow. Of course, in such a public and official place, Lucius could not lose his cool; though he was allowed the cold and quick sneers he made toward staff on his way toward the Auror’s office. Otherwise he looked pristine and genteel when he finally arrived, walking stick in hand, clearing his throat in an authoritative manner as he glared down his nose at the secretary.

“I’m here to collect my wife,” he informed her icily.

The woman looked up at him, frowning slightly when she noticed his demeanor, but said nothing as she stood and peeked her head through the door of the Auror’s office. “Miss Black, your husband is here.”

Lucius frowned immediately. Black? Miss? Who did she think she was speaking to? What right had she to address his wife in such a manner, as well-known as he was in the Ministry. Oh yes, a strongly written letter would be sent to her superior for her lack of disrespect. In the meanwhile, his arms crossed as he stared at the door, gloved hands twitching their fingers as he waited patiently for the very vision of his wife to step through the threshold.

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place Narcissa nodded to the slight woman as she popped her head into the door, smiling in sheer reflex to the woman’s own toothy-grin. She had seen this woman several times since she found herself rather unceremoniously dropped onto the cold stone of floor nine of the ministry of magic. It was this woman who had supervised any medical or bathing procedures because, as Auror Flincher had informed her, female Aurors were far and few between and they were dealing with much bigger situations than she. If Narcissa was not quite certain that her clothes were far too muggle and her hair cut just a bit too sapphic to be proper, perhaps she would have intended on sending a thank you care or small parting gift to this woman. It was no matter now, though; she would not send her regards. She pulled her skin away from the cool glass and instead gazed into her reflection for a minute. She bit her lips, trying to draw out their natural color and pinched her cheeks for much the same reason. She was pale, far too pale. She deserved a large piece of ganache-covered cake and beef wellington for her troubles and Narcissa rarely rewarded herself with food. She wondered, vaguely, if it only took a week or so to induce anemia and deficiencies. Maybe she was just premenstrual. Whatever it was causing her cravings, Narcissa squished it with her mental heel. She was about to meet her husband, and she should at least attempt to look her best. What would he be expecting? Surely they’d informed him of her…age condition, at the very least. Would he remember her, in her youth? Would he be expecting a nurturing wife and mother to his (surely they had) children? That caused the small girl to look down and cup her breasts in the reflection. Surely motherhood had increased some parts of her body. She blushed a deep crimson red before placing her hands behind her back. ‘It’s just Lucius,’ her internal self chided, wagging a finger. Or was it? That was the mental war right now. How much did she believe of the Auror? Some of the tales he spun seemed outrageous. While she could think of no true reason why the Ministry would attempt such a convoluted prank, Narcissa could not completely subdue the nagging in the back of her mind. Narcissa decided, in times such as these, it was best to merely place one (purple, wool clad) foot before the other and greet whatever life placed forth before her. Her fingers hesitated on the door knob, twisting the metal for a moment before she pulled the door open. The light was shocking on her eyes and it was only then she realized that no one had turned the lights on in the room she’d previously occupied. She raised a hand to her eyes and blinked, scowling at the secretary. Was it truly necessary to keep any room this bright, provided this wasn’t an area of any angel-accompanied afterlife? She licked her lips and pulled her hand away, blinking feverishly at the woman and man before her. ‘No,’ her internal self practically melted. ‘That is not just Lucius.’ The man before her, she assumed, was the aged version of her school sweetheart and fiancé. He was tall enough, she supposed, having to crane her head back to properly get a look at his face. Lucius had always towered over her, like a child and her doll. His strong jaw and nose line were entirely those of Abraxas Malfoy, though, she recalled. She had last seen the eldest (and now, she supposed, deceased) Malfoy during the Yuletide season. She bit her lip again, though not to produce any pretty color, but rather from nerves. Gazing up at someone that had been almost her age a fortnight ago seemed to nudge on the theory that this was one great big hoax. Outside of schemes and dangerous ideas about just what was going on, another part of Narcissa’s mind pushed everything aside to point out the glaringly obvious: Whoever this man was, Lucius or husband or whoever, he was sinfully handsome. Narcissa could not possibly imagine what her face looked like just then, she realized as the different emotions battled in the very definition of turmoil. She was nervous, apprehensive, relieved to see some similarity, and in possession of giddy feelings often found in her peers. Fighting off a swelling feeling of nervous nausea, Narcissa forced her lips into moue. Well, she wasn’t expected to start a conversation, was she? words: 762 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

There were plenty of things that Lucius had expected to see when his wife came out to meet him. At the worst he expected her to look malnourished and dressed in peasant clothing, to which he knew the immediate remedy. Of course he would take her into his care after the proper, legal examinations were made, before treating her to a lovely dinner at home, and doing what Lucius did only on rare occasions: Pamper her. After the trauma she had been through, she deserved nothing less. However, no amount of mental provision could prepare him for what actually did appear before him. Had he not been well trained on how to keep collected in situations like this, he would have most certainly been physically taken aback.

The vision before his eyes was an odd sort of nostalgia. Of only one thing he could be certain: It was his wife. However, it was not the wife that he had known most of his life. Rather, before him stood the mousy form of a girl he had not seen since he was a young man himself. Pale blonde hair, silky and thin, juxtaposed against blue eyes – her lips were gnashed against teeth in such a fashion that he recognized as a form of her nervousness. Everything about her was Narcissa, and yet at the very same time she was most certainly not. While this confusion over-washed him, she stared up at him apprehensively and unsure, as if she had no idea who he was.

“Is this your idea as some sort of a joke?” His lips parted slightly when he finally spoke, clearly addressing the secretary as his grey eyes stared daggers down at the small girl. Rigidly, then, he turned his head toward the woman in question, a sneer forming upon his lips. “In the next five minutes I expect to see either Flincher or Kingsley, hell, bring the Minister if you must, addressing me to explain this.” The woman stared at him with wide eyes, before his own flashed at her viciously, forcing her to tense before leaving to find someone, anyone to come. There was no way Lucius was going to let the Ministry do this to him. Not after everything they had already done.

No one would make a fool out of Lucius Malfoy.

When the two of them were finally alone, Lucius stepped forward and reached out his hand with deliberate carefulness. Gloved leather pressed against her alabaster skin as he lifted her chin up, grey eyes scrutinizing every inch of her. He turned her head right and left before he was finished, dropping his hand to his walking stick as he gripped it tightly, which made his gloves squeak in a tense fashion. “Narcissa,” he uttered very quietly, almost as if he had made some sort of decision. “But not my wife.”

He raised an eyebrow and gave a long, drawn-out sigh. “Explain yourself.”

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place Narcissa watched the scene before her, wide eyed and with increasing discomfort. Perhaps she was unsure of what exactly she expected to happen, but she certainly had not anticipated being treated as if this whole situation was her fault. Certainly this was inconvenient and uncomfortable, but if there was anyone to blame it was whoever was in charge of managing the Unspeakables below. Wasn’t it they, Flincher had explained, that had created this whole catastrophe? Narcissa had been minding her own business in the comfort at her ancestral home, enjoying creature comforts that were unavailable at school, when she wound up here and now? Her moue was quickly replaced with a frown and then a scowl of her own. When the secretary scampered away, no doubt terrified for her life (or at the very least, her job), Narcissa shivered and stared at the desk for a few moments before she allowed her eyes to return to the man before her. Before she could drink in his presence, he had his hands on her, examining the her features as if her bone structure would explain this whole mess of a fortnight. She would have pulled away if he didn’t release her first, she reasoned. Perhaps she would have even bitten the digit that pressed itself into her jaw. ‘Narcissa,’ she caught him say, her own breath hitching slightly. ‘But not my wife.’ Her scowl deepened and she slid her eyes the door, hoping that someone would return soon. When, after a breath and the silence in response to his question became uncomfortable, she decided that it was time she said something in defense of herself. The sharp tone that escaped her mouth was unintended, but decidedly useful in this situation. “Explain myself?” She demanded, rolling her eyes and taking a small step back from him. Her arms, which she was completely unsure of what to do with, crossed her chest. The hospital gown she wore shifted precariously over her left shoulder. She mimicked his sigh. “I have been a holding cell, without sunlight or proper food and constant accosting for almost ten days because someone decides that standards should be mysteries in the Department of Mysteries,” She seethed. “And you ask me to explain myself?” It was then that Auror Flincher returned, looking tired and flustered that he had to return to this mess already. He looked at Narcissa, then to Lucius, and pulled the familiar folder from the desk to thrust Lucius’ way. Narcissa, just then, had other ideas. “Mister Flincher, I will not go home with this man. You promised me Lucius Malfoy and until you finally go through with these promises…I…I will return to my father’s home or stay here or rent a room.” She spat out the last option as if she was suggesting renting a room in Azkaban and not a, no doubt, sumptuous one-room apartment in the ‘In’ area of Wizarding London. Auror Flincher looked between the two, pressed his forefinger and thumb to the bridge of his nose, and sighed deeply. “Mister Malfoy…what can be released about the accident in one of her Departments should be in the folder.” “You are speaking to me.” “The Ministry can’t have this situation…running around London, spewing things in a childish rage.” “I will show you childish rage.” words: 550 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

If nothing would have convinced Lucius that Narcissa was standing before him now, it was her insolence. It was a most endearing nature of hers that persisted throughout her youth, until graceful age equipped her with better faculties to diffuse the disrespect of others. While his wife icily battled wits with him without raising her voice or even seeming angered, her younger counterpart crossed her arms and frowned in a fashion most unfitting for a young woman of her breeding. Though rather than getting angry, Lucius found himself, for the first time that day, becoming slightly amused by the display, watching her huff and hiss at him as if his very presence offended her. When Flincher had returned, his expression hardened slightly, as his eyes fell upon the file that was thrust toward him as if it were sufficient explanation for all of this. He almost protested, were it not for the little chit that interrupted him seconds later by addressing the Auror in question.

Lucius approached the desk, taking the file in hand without looking at it. He gave Flincher a dismissive look, before going and sitting himself at Flincher’s desk. He traced his fingers against the delicate smooth surface of the file, before flipping open the cover to see the front page. It was at times like this that he was glad he had authority and privilege within the Ministry, it allowed him access to information that most people were not privy to, such as this. Flincher thought that this amount of intelligence would be all that he was allowed, but Lucius knew other ways. Lucius’ attention was stolen briefly when he heard Narcissa’s voice again and with a snarl, he addressed her again: “Now, now, Narcissa, your father would not approve of such a display if he saw you. Be a good girl and stay quiet.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, eyes piercing, before he glanced back down at the file upon his lap. It took him enough time to read through the contents, shifting through the information in his head while he deep hums as he always did while he was thinking. Unspeakables… Accidents involving time turners – it seemed as if there were many people who had been… misplaced, as they had so inappropriately phrased it. Various members of families, dead and alive, had suddenly vanished, and had now been replaced with beings that had seemingly jumped through time. What, exactly, did that mean for his Narcissa, though? She had just vanished, without trace? Would he ever see her again? What would he do with this girl in the meanwhile? He frowned a bit frustratedly, Draco would certainly have a fit.

It wasn’t as if she were an awful thing to behold, just unfamiliar. He had not expected to see Miss Black ever again; and yet, there she was, dressed clumsily in a wrinkled hospital gown and woolen booties (of course he had noticed), looking as petulant as Draco when he was much younger. He pursed his lips slightly, placing the file on the desk as he glanced up at the girl again, his grey eyes surveying her carefully.

“It seems, my dear, you have no choice or say in the matter,” he told her evenly. “I doubt your father could handle the shock, much less the scandal, of having a teenager in his home again. Even so, I’m afraid the responsibility lies on my shoulders, whether you would like it to or not. I’m sure you will be much more comfortable and safer in Wiltshire, with me. I will not stand for this becoming a media fanfare. I would rather not put Draco or myself in such a position, considering the circumstances. Besides,” he gave a quick look toward Flincher, “we have other matters to attend to, the other scandal, so to say.”

Lucius wrinkled his nose distastefully as he stood, rounding the desk before towering over her and cocking his head to the left. “You will remain civil on the matter. Am I clear?”

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place Narcissa’s lips closed together quickly, her skin blotting to a bright pink color from the base of her cheekbones to the tips of her ears. While it was all together true that Cygnus Black would have been thoroughly displeased and ashamed at her behavior (despite what his youngest daughter had been subjected to and forced to endure at the hands of the government), there was such a familiarity in the set-down that Narcissa found it second nature to follow the command and be a good girl. That was not to say that her younger, much more tactful, Lucius Malfoy was prone to yell at her. She could hardly remember the times he’d been driven to raise his voice towards her (and he would have thought to offer her his cloak at the first glimpse of her world-weary self). It was something about the way he hissed certain words and clipped together, it was warm-cool way he spoke her name that made her think of ice cubes on hot flesh. Only one man had ever said her name that way (and only one man who could cock an eyebrow with such ease and was apt to hum as he read) and he’d apparently developed flaws since his younger years. While Narcissa did not speak anymore on the topic of her own rage and just what her father would do to the Ministry if he found this whole mess out, she continued to frown in her husband’s direction. She crossed her arms and she tapped her foot. She huffed and shifted her head, forcing the braid from one shoulder to her back. When he graced her with a look, she turned her head away and tilted her jaw upwards. While Narcissa knew better than to blatantly avoid eye contact when being talked with (or to), she had no intentions of acknowledging what he said until she was given some reward, compliment, condolence, or present. She was the victim here, after all, and no one had better forget that. She chose to watch Auror Flincher, as Lucius talked, in stead. The man nodded and made some sort of ugly throat-noise as his sign of agreement. ’Really, no choice though…It is good of Mister Malfoy to take such responsibility….and your comfort in hand….really, we do want to avoid any sort of scandal. If this is all well and done, I do believe Rose can handle the rest…’ She swallowed a nasty response, involving insults towards his mother and lineage, about just how he could have avoided this scandal in the first place. She jutted her jaw out, keeping it well raised, as Auror Flincher excused himself. As much as she’d grown to hate the man, she suddenly found herself wishing for some sort of chaperone other than the flesh-colored folder on the desk behind her. Narcissa turned around, ready to tell him airily that he could take her to her prison for the next three months. She had not realized the man had stood up and had been so close behind her. The blonde was forced to shuffle backwards slightly as she muffled the small noise of surprise. She recalculated her choice of words, having lost some of her grasp on her woe-is-me-princess feelings when she was unsettled and turned her slightly-jutted jaw on him. “ And what matter would, Sir?” She asked, blinking up at him as if she could not possibly fathom what he meant. “My discomfort in Wiltshire, the scandals at hand? And what could the second scandal be? Who is Draco? Is he the other scandal?” Narcissa bit her lip as the last accusation slipped out, regretting the decision almost immediately. She did not know for sure if she was implying affair or bastard, but both were ideas conceived from sheer spite. She swallowed, stepping backwards again. “I did not mean it like that.” words: 644 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

There were a myriad of emotions that were swimming in every nook and cranny of Lucius’ insides, though one that was prevalent, thankfully, was the amusement that he could not help but feel in the presence of her. She jutted her jaw at him, pouty and peevish, while her body seemed to tense at discomfort at the sudden realization of his closeness. His eyes traced the line of her delicate jaw, going down to her pale neck, staring at it with a slight smirk on his face. He remembered watching the subtle contours of her body before, but he was much lither and eager back then, much more suited for courting. Looking at her caused a rather intense realization about his age. So much time had passed in the meanwhile… He hadn’t realized.

Lucius remained rather silent in the meanwhile, finding her outburst more droll than he would have had she said it in company. He allowed himself a slight chuckle for his troubles, as he tapped is walking stick against the floor. “You are the last person I would have ever expected calling Draco a scandal, considering how much you pamper the silly boy.” It was strange having to explain that to her, and it was something he knew he would have to get used to. There would have to be many adjustments, for that matter. He had no idea how he would explain this to Draco. He swallowed back a sigh – a glass of brandy sounded absolutely delightful right about now. "Though, I wouldn't worry your pretty little head over scandals and the like. Having been through such an ordeal, I'd imagine that you've had a rather heavy load of information forced upon you all at once," he added, trying to sound as tactful as possible. He wasn't exactly sure if it was such a smart idea to relay any information to her about the Dark Lord yet... if at all. It was a delicate situation, and it would be possible that he should remain privy to the knowledge alone.

“I suppose you think I’ve condemned you,” he asserted rather casually, rolling his shoulders. “I pray that you consider otherwise. You actually found Wiltshire to be rather comfortable, and I will, to the best of my ability, attempt to make you comfortable until something is sorted out. We’ll prepare a room for you, since I doubt you’d feel proper sharing a marriage bed with me, after all.” He allowed himself another chuckle, of course. The luxury of delight was permitted to him. His eyes looked over her clothes and he hummed deeply, shifting his cloak over his shoulders. “In the meanwhile, I won’t have you be seen like this. We’ll have to adjust your wardrobe at home, though if you disapprove I will take you for a few private fittings.”

He removed the cloak and draped it around her, pursing his lips with an eyebrow poised upwards as most of it fell to the floor. Regrettably, it would drag and he would have to have one of the House Elves wash it… Such a hassle… but veiling her was worth the sacrifice. He smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, making a few minor adjustments until he was certain it was on correctly. He found it rather easy to fuss over a creature such as her, something that seemed to come as second nature. “Echo will stay with you,” he told her. Of course, this would be an insistent rule. There would be no way he would endure the cat’s presence any more than he needed to. He only hoped the creature would take to the new addition to the home.

“Regardless, we still have some matters to attend to. Misplaced or not, you are still in my care, and I will hold the Ministry responsible for any sort of abuse or mistreatment.” He took a few steps forward before turning, signaling for her to follow. “Come. We are expected at the infirmary.”

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place Narcissa drank in Lucius next words with much more ease than his previous ones. It was comparing firewhisky (which she had been given by this Lucius’ younger counterpart one New Year’s Evening and had sworn off of it ever since) to a sweet, smooth wine. Perhaps because they no longer seemed to imply that she was the cause of this whole mess. Perhaps it was because he called her pretty. Perhaps it was just because she enjoyed the next multitude of topics. “Boy?” She questioned, her voice cracking ever so slightly. Her boy, then, to pamper. She pictured him suddenly, imaging a blond little boy through various stages of life. She had wanted to start a family immediately after the wedding, fulfilling the deep-seated longing for an infant in her arms. He must be older than, into his early twenties. Or, she supposed, he could be a young sibling. She pictured a nursery, dotted with blue ribbons and paintings of bunnies that frolicked in a meadow. She imagined pressed into Lucius’ chest, late at night, with a small child holding her nightgown in fear of a raging storm. She made a mental note to ask Lucius further questions about her motherhood (and his fatherhood). A small, happy warmth spread through her stomach at her thoughts. Even the idea that this cold, unwelcoming man that her fiancé had become fathered these children could not stop her flood of emotions and thoughts. She jerked herself away from her beautiful, warm mind when to nod. “I am rather exhausted, you understand. So much information to understand…to take in. A good deal of it seems unrealistic,” She added, her nose contorting as she remembered many of the details the Auror had explained to her. Her sister in jail, her parents deceased, and the Dark Lord fallen. The world she had imagined as a young girl was not at all what she had hoped for. She had married Lucius, yes…but it was not at all the same. “Wiltshire is cold and large. Your father never had enough fires lit at night,” She recalled, shaking her head and continuing to watch his face as she replied. “And certain things should be discussed about my wardrobe and…the marriage bed.” She added the last part as an afterthought, thought it occurred to her that it was a matter of discussion. Legally, Auror Flincher had explained, she was certainly still Narcissa Malfoy. Her signature, her future signature, was on the contract. Were they married then? Wasn’t he due certain rights? Narcissa’s eyes grew wide at that impending thought. While Narcissa had spent countless nights pressed against a young Master Malfoy’s bare chest in a purely platonic fashion, nothing had ever progressed past that one evening after his graduation and they’d still been clothed. She chewed the inside of her cheek, shrugging deeper into to the cloak. He had spent so long adjusting it that she had to hide the grin as it slid away from it’s intended spot. Her fingers clasped the warm fabric, drawing it around her frame. She buried her nose in the silken lining, her eyes slipping closed as she inhaled. When she looked up and composed herself from her adoration of creature comforts, she met his eyes. “You wear the same cologne,” She announced, though it almost sounded like an accusation. In her mind it had been hard to link older Lucius and younger Lucius, as if they truly weren’t the same person. Yes, the looks were similar if not aged, but things seemed surreal. There was a sudden mental click, a link, as she spoke. She shook the thought away to continue her reply. “And I certainly don’t believe that an infirmary trip would truly be needed, I’m quite done being poked and prodded like a cre-” Even as she’d spoken, though, she’d moved to the door of the office. She doubted very much she was going to win this argument and had merely hoped to shorten this all to temperature reading and basic check for cuts and bruises. All of which, of course, could easily be healed by her own wand. However as she actually comprehended his last addition to his speech, she stopped and jerked her head up. “Echo? Echo is still with me-us-you-me?” She asked, her voice breaking from sheer excitement. Echo, she knew, would recognize her. She would be a familiar Familiar in this terrible, awful storm. “Does she still sleep in drawers and sit on my shoulder? Does she sleep in with us bed? Does she get along with the hunting dogs…do you even still keep the hunting dogs?” She rattled off the questions, adjusting the cloak about her shoulders once more. “Do I still put her in ribbons? Does she get on well with the children? You said Draco was a boy…but the others?” She had always wanted at least several children and Lucius had never seemed opposed to her picture perfect idea of two sons and a little darling girl to dress and adore. And if they were still sharing a bed, as many pureblood couples ceased doing after the birth of an heir, it was assumed that he still was…eager for her body. Surely, that was all it took to create children. “Do you have a pocket-portrait?” words: 881 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

There were a great deal of many things she said that seemed to prolong his amusement, from what she remembered of his father’s manor, to the fact that she recognized his scent. Yes, he had continued to wear the same cologne he had since he was a young man, not because it was the most expensive and well produced, but because it was Narcissa’s favorite. It was just like how he had encouraged her to continue to clean herself with that wash that made her smell like strawberries and cream. There were many subtle things that Lucius adjusted in his behavior and routine for his wife’s pleasure. He gladly did it, and what made it even better was the way his wife would address these changes – just as elusive as they were made, with added affections and gratitude, more than his Narcissa usually graced upon him.

Of course the girl recognized Echo, as he expected. Perhaps it was only connection between the two girls, which was rather inconvenient for him. He supposed she would depend on the kitten as a crutch, and Lucius had already had enough of the creature the past few days. There were moments when he regretted ever giving the girl it as a birthday present, but he always seemed to change his mind whenever he saw how happy it made her. Though he would have rather stayed on the subject of that insufferable creature than what she brought up next. He feared that this question was coming, though he had not expected it to come this soon. It was still a rather difficult thing for him to talk about, and as a general rule it was never spoke of between the two because of all the pain it had caused Narcissa…

Lucius never saw himself as a father figure. It was not until he courted and fell in love with Narcissa that he was willing to step into that role, although he was hesitant to give into her demands that they have a veritable brood of little blondes gallivanting about the house, making all sorts of noise and mess. His poor nerves really could not handle such an endeavor. No matter what way one could slice it, Lucius was not exactly up to the job; but, for Narcissa’s sake, and always for her sake, he would try. He could remember the very moment of excitement that befell her gorgeous pale features when she found out she was with child – how gracefully she carried herself with such an affliction and how easy the pregnancy had been. Lucius thought her to be rather blessed, and often he realized how built she was for pregnancy. If another had deserved to be a mother, it was she.

He hadn’t expected the sickness, or the news that came after. It had all been a huge shock to him. Narcissa was hardly the same after that and neither was he, for that matter. He had never seen a spirit shattered so thoroughly, and it was in that moment of seeing her wet, red eyes that he had wished he could have given up everything to repair what had been broken. He assured her that they would try again and, of course, they did. Draco’s time was rather difficult, leaving Narcissa and Lucius no other choice than to just stop where they were. From that moment on, Draco was taken care of with as much attention as Narcissa could provide and, although Lucius outwardly disapproved, he not only understood, but never stopped her.

Though nothing stopped him from wondering what could have been, if there had been a Cassie.

Lucius frowned at her very solemnly for a long while, his posture becoming rigid. She was expecting some sort of answer from him, but of course he wasn’t going to tell her – not now, at least. That bit of information was much too traumatizing for her to handle, and he did not know if he could take being this bearer of bad news. He didn’t even know if he could handle seeing the shattering of her spirit again, or to view as the brightness left her eyes. He cleared his throat and tapped his walking stick against the ground again, glancing over his shoulder toward the door. “I regret to say I have not brought such things with me. Though I will assure you that Draco and Echo did get along for the most part. There was a bit of discrepancy when he was born, of course, Echo had been the receiver of your affections for quite some time. As much as I would love to continue to exchange pleasantries with you a while longer, I am afraid we do need to go the infirmary. My lawyers have requested a second medical interview. I promise you it won’t take long.”

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place Narcissa was disappointed with his answer. When, if, she returned to her own time she deeply hoped that she could get Lucius into the practice of carrying miniatures in his pocket. Her father always had, but she supposed that was like being a horse breeder and always carrying around statistics about the horseflesh in question. While he hadn’t been able to have sons (and at times, when he witnessed the pain Sirius and Regulus caused Narcissa had imagined he was partially grateful) he did have marriage, contract-forming daughters. Of course, there was some pride. ’Look how lovely she is. Top of her class, you know.’ While hearing such things aloud, in person, and with sincerity was a rare occurrence the coos and compliments always brought a warmth of pride to her being. Just Draco then, she thought. She ached to say the name aloud and roll it around on her tongue. My son, Draco. When she was alone she would practice over and over, she firmly promised herself. She pictured the boy in question (with her cat strewn across his lap). He would be tall, of course. She imagined him to be broad chested too, like his father. Her nose, his eyes. His smirk, but her coloring. She let herself fantasize about the boy as she walked, hoping that despite the lack of miniatures, there would be plenty of moving pictures to fulfill her curiosity when they returned to Wiltshire. “When did you start needing a cane?” She asked in a buoyant, conversational tone. Leaving and the lighter subjects of their conversation had boosted her mood somewhat and as each moment passed she grew more curious about the man walking ahead of her (longer legs, she reasoned. And he knew where they were going). “How old are you? How old is Draco?” The name felt satisfying on her tongue. Even as she said it a small part of her shouted in glee as she realized that their child wasn’t named for a long-gone roman emperor but rather a constellation. Even as they slipped into the infirmary, Narcissa’s questions continued. The healer shut the door behind her and helped her up onto the examining table. Narcissa removed Lucius’ cloak with great care before laying the monstrous, warm expanse of fabric and placed it across her lap. “Did you go into the Ministry like you planned? How is your mother?” The healer only managed to halt Narcissa’s endless questions with the insertion of a thermometer into her mouth. An enchanted quill to the side of the room recorded her temperature and a prod of needle drew blood. The blood was placed into several potion filled phials to determine levels of certain nutrients. She removed the thermometer and the questions resumed. The woman monitored her breathing for a few moments and then her pulse, checking her eyes, ears, and other orifices for any abnormalities. Narcissa was, despite her intentions to do otherwise, as compliant as she could be. She hissed only once as the woman pressed her intensely cold hands to her skin. The healer parted the back of gown to examine her back for any signs of abuse, checking her arms and legs as well. The woman nodded along as the quill recorded muttered notes. “When did we get married? Will you give me a present on our anniversary?” She questioned, rather indulgently as was her fashion. The healer took little notice of the conversation, eager to get this job done as quickly and accurately as she could manage. She removed the gown swiftly, without warning, and pushed the girl backwards to lie down. Narcissa crossed her legs in an attempt to hide at least one area of her body. She faltered in her questions for a moment, turning (she was sure) very near purple as she blushed. “You never…” she shivered as the healer’s fingers brushed her stomach. “Answered my question about the hunting dogs. Do you still keep them? And Abraxans? Are the gardens still lovely? Do you still hold a Yule celebration at your home?” Narcissa covered her breasts with her arms when the healer seemed to be done with her chest. She moved to sit up as the healer moved away, but was pushed back down. Her head collided with the metal edge ever so slightly. She flinched. Narcissa, her braid hanging over the edge of the table, let her eyes flicker between Lucius and her healer. She wondered what the pause was for, though she did not have to wait long. “Would you like a gynecological exam performed, Mister Malfoy? Your lawyers instructed for a thorough exam and we do occasionally get requests for evidence of lesions and tears.” “That will do.” words: 787 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

Of course, Lucius had expected such a torrent of questions from Narcissa. After all, who wouldn’t have the foresight to ask questions about their own future, if they had the chance? He left her to ramble off one question at a time, keeping mental check of her queries carefully as he mulled them in his mind. She was rather chatty, so as they made their way to the infirmary he was well entertained. Even as they arrived and she was hoisted onto the examination table, she continued to prattle away as if nothing the Healer did disturbed her in the slightest. Lucius perched himself near an area where he could properly keep watch over the goings on and with a smirk, he pulled off his gloves in a poised fashion, and draped them over his left wrist.

“It is not a cane,” he began, waving his walking stick slightly in the air as if he were wagging his finger. “It is a walking stick. You gifted it to me, in fact. On my twenty first. I am rather affronted that you would believe me to be that old. I’m middle aged, not venerable.” He gave a quick to the Healer, who seemed too caught up in what she was doing to pay proper attention to what he was saying. Even then, he was suspicious. He didn’t know how much he wanted the layman to know of the scandal, much less his life. Not to mention that he could have no control over where rumors would begin to spread. With a slight hum, he continued once more: “Draco has turned fifteen. He shall begin his fifth year at Hogwarts later this year. As for my mother, she has died. Shortly after Draco was born, if I remember correctly. As you can plainly see, I do work for the Ministry – in fact I’m a rather valuable member. For a while I was School Governor of Hogwarts... until I needed to retire for my governmental duties.” His eyes flashed for a second, seeming to gleam with his pride. He did so enjoy speaking of his accomplishments, and he was in no shortage of them.

“We were married shortly before your graduation. April twenty-fourth. I’m afraid I already gave you your present for this year. You would have to wait another year. Besides, I’m not exactly sure how proper it would be to give you a gift.” By this point Lucius was grinning slightly. He could definitely see the Narcissa he used to know inside this tiny girl, and he was slowly beginning to realize why he had fallen in love with her in the first place. She was huffy, but never to an annoying point, and it was an endearing sort of nymphet sweetness that made Lucius’ hardened insides warm considerably, even though he made no outward implication of its effects.

He continued to answer evenly, despite the state of undress that the Healer had forced Narcissa into, without pomp or circumstance. Of course he could not help his wandering eyes, he was a man after all, but there was a slight knowingness to his gaze, as if he were looking upon a familiar vision he had seen many times before. “We have the hunting dogs, yes. My father is alive and healthy, as well. Yule celebrations do go on as usual, Miss Black, though the affair is reserved privately for intimate members. We keep the riffraff out that way.” Of course, he would never admit that their reputation had suffered some since. Lucius had done well to keep the secrets of his woes well hidden. What didn’t need to be known wasn’t known, and Lucius liked it that way. His eyes briefly traveled to the Healer who made a rather heavy request on him, though he listened more amicably than Lucius would have allowed himself to be in public. His eyes fell upon the blushing young girl before him, as he pressed his walking stick against the ground and tilted his head, seeming as if he were surveying something of great importance.

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” he answered finally. “Miss Black has been scandalized enough. Unless she would like to admit being approached in a lewd manner while in the care of the Ministry?” His eyebrow perked upward of its accord, as he watched her face turn a deeper shade of pink, much to his delight.

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place “There is little difference between the two, Lucius Malfoy. You are splitting hairs with me and abhor when you do this,” She responded evenly. “And despite the geriatric air it gives you, I believe it’s a sophisticated touch. Of course I gave it too you,” She added with a headshake, her head turning ever so slightly to examine the silver snake grip. “It is an exquisite piece of craftsmanship. And useful, too, for when your age catches up to you.” She was teasing now and her tone far from suggested anything spiteful. She even laughed, just a small giggle, as she blinked. “And I assumed that perhaps it was your knee acting up. After that Quidditch injury I swore that you’d have lasting effects if you didn’t let it rest properly. Your long term health is infinitely more important than your Seventh Year Cup game against Gryffindor.” She turned her head back as she listened to the rest of his answers like a proper young lady would, give the situation. “I am sorry to hear of your mother, though. She was very sweet and always had impeccable taste,” She added slowly, rubbing the pad of her thumb against her unpolished nail. Fifteen then. Her own child was almost her age, barely two years difference. That was quite a lot to swallow. Auror Flincher had reminded her several times about her commitment to education and it really only occurred to her now that she would be attending school with her son and his friends. What would Lucius do while she was at school? There would be no wife to set meal plans or to keep the elves properly in line. It seemed there would be things to discuss, she was sure. “I don’t think it would be improper for you to give me a gift,” She said airily, a coy smile spreading across her face. “I think I’m owed a gift, if anything. I was supposed to spend the weekend on the French coast with you, you know. Well, you’re younger self. I never told my parents that your parents weren’t going to be there.” She added, laughing softly. Her fingers traced small circles on her upper thigh. She listened to him chat on about dogs and Yule, happily listening as he spoke. It wasn’t really until the healer became concerned with her below-stairs parts that she really grew uncomfortable with the situation. She ceased the majority of her questions for now, doing her best to tug on the paper gown while the healer talked to Lucius about possible lesions in areas that she did not know could get them. She was grateful when Lucius concluded that the examine was well and truly over. “If I admit that Auror Flincher winked at me in a really rather provocatively,” She managed to get out without choking or coughing from mortification. “Will you personally guarantee that he has his Aurorship revoked?” She arched her own eyebrow but did not wait for his answer as she slid from the examination table. Narcissa tugged the paper gown back around her, shifting so that the ties lay at her side instead of her back. She tugged on them tightly, catching some the sorry-excuse-for-fabric in the knot as she did it. She carefully pulled the cloak back over her shoulders, tugging on it as well to cover her body the best it could. She no doubt looked ridiculous beneath a cloak several sizes too large and the purple socks raised hallway to her knee. She felt ridiculous standing there without any undergarments on in some bizarre excuse for clothing. She was eager to find a replacement, any replacement for this ensemble. “Do you have my wand? Flincher said you would,” She stated, digging through the pockets of his cloak and finding nothing of any interest. She wrapped her fingers around the collar after, tugging it up to her jaw. “I’d really rather like to go home,” She murmured, watching as the healer collected her things and promised to submit the proper forms to Lucius’ lawyers first thing the next morning. When the healer left, Narcissa watched Lucius’ movements carefully. The more she watched him, the more she listened to him, the more she found of her Lucius in this older man. He evoked something in her, the way he spoke to her. And all the while it made her long for herLucius. And even as she realized this, another vital thing occurred to her. Lucius was surely in want of his Narcissa. She bit her lip, once again frowning before him. words: 764 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.

[LUCIUS PHINEAS MALFOY]

It was amazing how rather quickly she seemed to grow comfortable around him, but Lucius couldn’t force himself to be too surprised at this. It had always been this way between them, even from the very second he met her. He supposed it was nice to feel that way again, at least it did wonders for his temper. In some ways she made him feel like a young man again, but he supposed that she was no replacement for what he used to be. According to her, the next week he was to take her to the French Coast – he remembered that trip very vividly. She would have enjoyed it, though it was a rather inappropriate subject to bring to the topic at hand. Though he could notice in the way that she presented herself that she was flirting some, but that was just how Narcissa was. It was one of the many things he had adored about her, and it took a great deal of self-restraint to avoid the temptation to do the very same back.

“I will attempt to do what I can with my resources. In the very least, Flincher will be reprimanded by his superiors for acting in such an inappropriate manner. I hope that takes some burden off your mind.” By now he was grinning ear to ear and playing with his fingers as he watched her graceful movements. With some amount of trouble she was able to finally to get his cloak around her body once more without revealing unnecessary flesh to her again. He almost stepped forward to help her, but found it best to keep his distance. When her eyes glanced up at her again, he felt an unexpected shiver to travel down the length of his spine. She requested her wand, and Lucius was very glad to change the subject.

“Of course,” he told her lowly. He lifted his walking stick and quickly pulled his wand from the sheath. His nimble fingers grasped the ebony of its width as he tipped the rest of his walking stick over, forcing a small piece of wood to fall gently from inside. He removed it and handed it to her, humming lowly before he returned his own wand to its hiding place. “You’ll find that it is well taken care of. You were just as careful with your wand in your later years as you were in your younger ones.” His voice rang with a distant sort of affection, which shone briefly in his eyes before he forced it away. He cleared his throat and began to put on his gloves.

“If you are ready, I will escort you. We won’t tarry any longer than is needed. Though, I must warn you, that I must return to the Ministry for a few hours on official business… So you will be alone in the Manor for a little while. Would you feel comfortable doing that?”

[NARCISSA VIRGA BLACK]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style,width: 350px; padding: 10px; background-image: url(http://i.imgur.com/w6MZf.png);] but you can't tie my heart to this place “It takes a great deal off of my shoulders. I was beginning to become worried that my innocence was in jeopardy,” Narcissa returned, unable to help her own grin from widening in response to his. What was it about humans that made them respond to smiles in such a way? Even in her darkest moods certain people could expose their little pearls and force a smile from Miss Black. Perhaps her mood wasn’t quite at it’s darkest, at least not any longer, but she was certainly not at her peak either. There was also, of course, an actual feeling of relief; she was free of the Ministry, she was in the hands of someone who (despite callous first impressions) actually was concerned for her health, as there was a small spark of hope that the situation would not be as bad as she first thought. She watched him pull his cane apart with avid interest, covering her mouth to spread the even wider grin as both canes were produced from the wood. Whatever foul mood that had once again been bubbling beneath her surface was dulled for now as she admired the sheer ingenuity of his walking stick. “Well now it’s obvious that of course I picked that out,” She murmured, accepting her wand carefully. There was an odd senstation of being reconnected with her right arm, as if she’d been missing it for the past nine days. To a which, she had been missing a crucial appendage. She inspected each of the small pearls embedded in the handle with the pad of her finger. Not a single one was missing or scratched. The length of black wood was smooth and warm to the touch. She sighed contentedly. “If you must go then my level of comfort has little meaning, though I do appreciate the question,” She said, her smile fading and her voice soft as she registered his own dismissal of amusement. She tugged the cloak tighter around her shoulders, closing her eyes and preparing for the uncomfortable tug on her navel. Of course, she realized when she opened her eyes, they weren’t actually in the Manor. It was sure to have the same protection charms placed upon it that her own home had had. The fact that they were even able to appear relatively close to the front door was brilliantly done, at least to Narcissa. She vaguely registered the peacocks squawking in distress on the lawn, moving quickly moved up the steps, slipping in as the door was opened for her. She was eager to be done with her apparel, especially her footwear. The entrance way was just as cold feeling as it had been upon last visit, though it seemed brighter. The curtains, she determined, had been replaced. She hardly noticed as an elf cracked! beside her, merely dropping the cloak into its out stretched feeble arms. She was far more comfortable in this environment, she decided, looking about. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. She only opened them when the most familiar, indignant meow met her ears and something soft pushed it’s way between and around her legs. Echo. The grin returned as Narcissa plucked the white cat up, letting the creature rub herself against Narcissa’s skin before taking her usual spot draped across her shoulder. She pressed her lips to the cat’s jaw, rubbing one small finger beneath it. “You’re far too old to be doing this, you know. Cats your age are supposed to be in the sun,” Though, like any other chastisement she’d given the familiar, it really held little meaning. Echo made a half-hearted noise in reply. She had forgotten Lucius and spun around slowly, trying to suppress the girlish smile on her face. “My wardrobe, you said, could be adjusted? I don’t remember how to get to the master suite. I only really only walked by it the once. I won’t snoop, I promise; I just long for a well cut dress and some sort of support.” words: 668 - tags: Lucius - outfit:gross.