Chante-moi l’histoire d’une fille d’autrefois

Narcissa liked the idea of helping Lucius’s cousin in theory, it showed her desire to help the Malfoys and that she wanted to be family with them. But sometimes it was tiring. She never knew what to make of Camille. She seemed like a proper Pureblood, and Narcissa was sure that she was, but everything just seemed so…shallow and on the surface when she talked with her. She would have liked to get to know her better, but there seemed to be a bit of a wall there. But no doubt, Narcissa would figure her out eventually. “You know that I’m happy to help. Lucius’s family is mine as well,” she said. That she was sure of. She would be married to him sooner than later. “It has been rather relaxed here, don’t you think? I’ve enjoyed the break from England, but you’re right that things will be different when we get home. There are so many events to attend and people to see.” 

Camille made a note to see if she could get some information from Lucius about his future plans, although she had few doubts that Narcissa was right. It would be foolish to go about spouting things like that if the future weren’t settled. “Relaxed is a good word,” she said, nodding. It had been a nice reprieve - if only because the house was large enough that she could sneak away when people were annoying. She did not look forward to returning to England and how annoying things were there, but she couldn’t do much about it. “Well then, obviously I will need your assistance to maneuver through it all.” At least she could be sure that Narcissa would know how to do that well; the Black family had a reputation after all. “I’ll be wanting some new dresses, and I’m sure you can direct me to the best shop for that.”

He chuckled. “And what other firsts have you experienced here?” Antonin inquired, his tone a fraction lower than it was only a moment before. He took a sip of his drink, rather curious to see what Camille might have to say. He had wondered if she enjoyed being around her family, though given the vapidness of Narcissa Black, Antonin found that a difficult thought to stomach. “It is a shame he has been out of society for so long,” he remarked. “Though perhaps we would not enjoy this nearly so much if it was commonplace. The novelty of an experience such as this certainly has helped.” He shrugged.

Camille’s suggestion surprised him, though Antonin knew only an idiot would turn it down. And Antonin Dolohov was far from an idiot. He nodded. “Very well,” he remarked, offering her his arm. “Though don’t be surprised if we’re the next fodder for the gossip mill. I hear the elderly matriarchs very much enjoy sitting around a table with cups of tea and stories that they’ve heard a million times.” He began to walk toward one of the gazebos, wondering just how much he might have misjudged her.

Camille clucked her tongue at the question, shooting a look from under her lashes. “A lady cannot reveal all her secrets.” She turned to scan the area again absently, twisting her goblet in her hand. “I imagine seeing him frequently would certainly dull the excitement all this has caused,” she said thoughtfully, nodding. Exposure to anything at all took away the excitement, although she had a feeling that Hamilton Flint would take longer to become less exciting than most other people. Something about him was . . . more than most other people. 

Smiling, she moved to walk with him. “I’m sure it won’t be the first time either of us have been the topic of gossip,” she said lightly, transferring her goblet to one hand so she could tuck the other around his arm lightly. “And knowing pureblood society, it won’t be long until another scandal comes along to take our place. Unless you’re worried about the possible backlash . . .?”

It came down to not wanting his parents to get ideas if he appeared to enjoy dancing with someone else. At the end of the day, Rabastan cared most about coasting through parties - sticking on a happy face but not going out of his way in seeming interested in the whole ordeal. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Malfoy,” He gave her a small smile then offered his hand to her. “Rabastan Lestrange. I imagine it must be an interesting adjustment going from there to here.”

Camille took the hand with a smile, pleased that while he might not be interested in socializing, he at least wasn’t being rude about it. “It certainly has been an adjustment,” she said, smiling. “Although there are aspects of pureblood culture that seem universal.” She gestured around at the ballroom as an example; aside from the fact that they were speaking English and she knew so few of the people here, it could be any party she’d attended in France.

Her mother would have scolded her instantly, and Briar couldn’t help but feel a bit foolish as the other woman’s confusion became evident. She thought she recognized the other blonde, but it was evident when she turned, and when she spoke, that she was not who Briar had originally thought her to be.

Still, she would be lying if she claimed to not know who the other was. But she didn’t need to know that. “Forgive me, it was my mistake. I mistook you for someone else.” Her apologetic smile was genuine, as it should be, after years of perfecting every look in the book. “I’m Briar Avery. You must have come in just as I left.”

Try as she might, Camille could not place the other girl but that was hardly unusual. She did her best to recall people, but it wasn’t always an easy task. And Camille was not yet overly invested in making her home here in England. The many people she had to remember were not very important to her as of yet. But at least it didn’t seem like she was committing a social error. “I’ve done that myself,” she said, shrugging away the apology. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Briar. I’m Camille Malfoy.” She nodded, although she had been in England for a little while. Probably she ought to know the other girl by now. “I came shortly before Hamilton Flint opened his estate, but I was somewhat overwhelmed by all of the new faces and wasn’t as social as I might have been otherwise.”

Narcissa had no idea why her Grandfather had sent for her when they returned, but she was sure that it would be good, whatever he wanted. She was hoping that he wanted her help in planning the gala, perhaps. It would be nice to get to help plan the event with him, she knew that it would be a great one, no matter what. “It most definitely is,” she said in agreement. “My Grandfather never spares any expense when he hosts and for an event like this, i’m sure that he will go all out,” she explained. Narcissa wasn’t sure how she felt about helping Camille through it all, but she would do what she had to for Lucius. She just hoped that it would work out for Narcissa in the end. “Yes, when we return back to England the spring season will be rather busy with Galas and teas and the like. I’m happy to help you navigate it, of course. Perhaps we can have tea and go over it all when we return to England, yes?” 

Although it helped, Camille wasn’t of the belief that expense necessarily equaled quality. But she would keep that to herself, and instead nodded placidly. And no doubt in this case, the expenses the Black family took care of would help make the party a success. “That would no doubt be very helpful,” she said. Knowing what was coming and what she ought to be more invested in would be invaluable. And as much as she was ambivalent about Narcissa, if the girl did end up married to Lucius, then it wouldn’t do to have cut her ties there. “I would be very grateful for your assistance. Being here has been helpful - not so tied to everything British, but returning to England will be a different story, no doubt.”

when: wednesday, april 25. after the witch’s institute charity tea. where: diagon alley. who: briar avery & anyone.

After what had seemed an eternity of being relegated to the Avery home in the French countryside, hearing a litany of her misjudgments and sins from her mother, and surely missing some of the biggest social events in good society, Briar was thrilled to be back in England, and to have found a few hours to herself. Her mother had been watching her like a hawk during the entirety of the tea, but had agreed to let her shop for a few unchaperoned hours after.

All for a mere flirtation.

Briar let out a sigh as she moved between shops, relieved to be back in the familiar hustle of her home. Turning, her eyes landed on a familiar figure, and moving to catch up with the other, she grinned. “Oh thank merlin I saw you. I was beginning to think everyone really had turned on me.”

Camille had attended the tea, although she wasn’t sure that it was something she would be eager to do again. She had learned to carry herself well at such events but her preferences remained for things that were more lively and boisterous - Quidditch matches were her favorite, but anything that let people shout and show some passion. So after the tea, she was happy to slip away for some browsing on her own.

Stopped in front of a window, she was startled to hear the other woman speaking to her and turned with a puzzled expression. She didn’t know if she could place the other woman, although she had been trying very hard remember names and faces. Her confusion lasted just too long for her to mask it with a polite exclamation and she decided to go for the truth instead of a polite misdirection. “I’m so sorry - I’m not sure I can place you? I haven’t been in England terribly long.”

Antonin nodded, a light hum escaping his lips. He hated small talk, even if it was about something interesting, and talking to Camille right now felt like never-ending small talk, as if they were mere strangers who had never met before. But it seemed to be the thing in certain British circles and Antonin was not one to upset the status quo before he’d learned entirely what the status quo was. “After tonight that will be different,” he remarked, his voice light.

“He does not seem to be a man who believes in inhibition,” he pointed out, his eyes alight with amusement at the thought. Antonin had met their host on two occasions thus far and found him to be fascinating in his knowledge of wizarding history and also simply in the way he had chosen to live his life. Though Antonin would never live unencumbered of responsibilities and social mores, he could respect it in a man who had seen much more than he had, whose own eccentricities had allowed him to live a full life. A brow arched. “There are a couple more gazebos that way,” he pointed with his free hand. “That seem to have a view with fewer trees. I do not think they will be much better, but it is certainly possible.”

“That is true,” she said in a low tone, glancing up at the sky for a moment. “A first - this has been a trip of firsts.” They were mostly insignificant, but it was true nonetheless. She sipped her drink and gave him a glance from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge how careful she ought to be; it was a delicate balance, to weigh her need for discretion against the loosened inhibitions of the other attendees. “That is true, I don’t know that inhibition is in his vocabulary, and the trip would be far less interesting if it were.” 

She turned as he pointed out the other gazebos; no doubt he was right in that they likely wouldn’t provide much better viewing. However, they might provide more privacy, and Camille found that she didn’t mind that in the moment. An itch to do something a little reckless before the return to England had overtaken her, similar to the itch she’d always felt to run wild and free and embrace her true nature. “Perhaps we could see what it’s like over there,” she said lightly. “It seems to be less crowded.” She turned to face him, with a curious expression, almost a challenge but mostly interested to see what his answer might be.

“By design,” Rabastan gave a chuckle and shook his head. He could dance but it wasn’t something he enjoyed. Not seeing someone came with the perk of not needing to do so unless one of the women went out of their way to ask him - which, he wasn’t one to turn down an offer. “My apologies,” He added after and tilted his head to the side. “You seem familiar but your name is escaping me.”

“Then I suppose it cannot interfere with your enjoyment of the evening,” Camille said; she’d known many people like that at home, who preferred to spend their evenings on the edges of the dance floor rather than in the middle of it. “I’m Camille Malfoy,” she said, “and you don’t need to apologize because I’m not sure of your name either. I have been introduced to a great many people since I came here from France.”

Narcissa wasn’t sure what to make of Camille, but she expected that they would be family in the near future once Lucius proposed. And for once, Narcissa didn’t want to cause problems. She wanted Lucius to think that she was perfect, which she was, and if it meant getting along with Camille she would gladly do so. “Me too. I’m ready to return home.” At the mention of the gala, she smiled. “Yes. It’s our turn to hold the annual Gala to start off the season, my Grandfather is hosting it. It’s going to be an event that you don’t want to miss, my Grandfather’s events are always legendary,” she explained. Grandfather had requested her presence when they returned back to England and she was dying to know what it was that he wanted. It would be good, she was sure. 

She was curious to see if the legendary Black family could hold up to their reputation, although Camile was biased and felt that nothing here in England could equal the elegance that she had become accustomed to at home. Not even the Black family. Still, she knew better than to alienate her allies. “That sounds like a night that should not be missed,” she said lightly. “And I understand there are a number of other events in the near future. I’m sure it will be quite busy once we return. No doubt I’ll be very grateful for your help navigating the social scene.” Lucius too, of course, but she had a feeling that Narcissa would be more vital when it came to understanding the social climate.

Narcissa made her way through the ball, needing a break from all of the dancing. Lucius had gone off to get them drinks, and she wanted to steal away to the bathroom to make sure she still looked perfect. Of course she had charmed her makeup to not smudge, but one could never be too careful. On her way, she spotted Camille standing off to the side, and she decided to take a detour. She hoped to recruit Camille to her cause, after all, when she married Lucius they were to be family. “You look wonderful,” Narcissa complimented, a smile on her lips. “I needed a break as well, Lucius, and I have been dancing all night,” she said with a laugh. She scanned the ballroom again, looking to see if Lucius was headed their way, but he wasn’t. “How did you enjoy your stay? I’m not sure if i’m ready to go home tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Narcissa,” Camille said, smiling. The compliment was, of course, appreciated. And quite true; she knew she looked wonderful. Her feelings toward Narcissa were a little more complicated, and ranged from irritation at how dependent she felt on the girl and amusement at how she tried to be the ice queen - Camille had seen enough of those in France, and Narcissa made an admirable effort but it wasn’t impressive to Camille. “I have quite enjoyed this time,” she said thoughtfully, “but I believe I will be glad to return to England and some semblance of normalcy again. I believe I heard that your family will be hosting some sort of function when we return?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Rabastan murmured, not bothering to look at her at first. He took a sip of his champagne then properly stole a glance at the woman. Another sip of the drink was needed before he bothered with saying anything else. “I haven’t had the chance to venture onto the dance floor.” Not that he would have wanted to dance anyway, but it appeared to be the only worthwhile thing going on during the otherwise yawn-worthy evening.

It took Camille a moment to place the man; she had done her best to learn names and faces, and be able to connect them together. If she planned to live here for some time, she needed to know who each person was. The Lestrange family was not one she was overly connected with, but it wouldn’t do to be rude, of course. “By design, or by accident?”

Of all the people he could have spoken to, Camille Malfoy would have been at the top of Antonin’s list regardless, though he likely would have mulled his options over longer. He had been debating what to do about Camille even before they’d arrived in Sweden, given their history. Certainly pursuing her was to his benefit, for her name – the Malfoy name – was respected in England, even if her father’s scandal had caused an uproar in France. She was obviously beautiful, and he found them mostly compatible on the basest of levels and yet there were simply too many options for Antonin to fully commit to any of the carrots that had dangled in front of his face. He lifted his goblet to his lips as she smiled politely, and he wondered if she was similarly minded when it came to intentions.

“Indeed. The best time for the aurora to be visible in the sky is in the early hours of the morning. But perhaps it will come earlier in Sweden than it ever did in Russia.” He inclined his head and took another sip, an affable smile visible on his face. “It has its moments, though the late hour and the sheer amount of wine available is rather dizzying.”

“I cannot say that I have experience with the aurora at all,” she said, although obviously he would be more knowledgeable about this than she was. And she didn’t mind staying up late for this sort of thing. Socializing might be a little easier in the wee hours of the morning, after people were sufficiently drunk. Or so she hoped. Absently, she glanced around to see if she could spot Lucius or Narcissa anywhere; she didn’t know if she wanted to see them or not, really. But it was always good to know where one’s allies were.

“I have been a little staggered at the wine selection myself,” she admitted. “Both by the quality and the quantity. It seems that it could be a little foolish, to have so much available but perhaps that is our illustrious host’s plan.” Certainly watching drunk people make fools of themselves was an enjoyable pastime, but she didn’t know enough of Flint to decide if that was true for him or not. “Do you think there’s a particular spot here that will provide a better viewing? Since you have some experience with the aurora.”

Date: March 27, 1979 Location: Aurora Borealis Viewing

It certainly was taking long enough. Antonin’s thoughts were punctuated as he took a heavy sip of the mulled wine the elves were serving. [ That, at least, was quite good. ] Though the man in question was generally patient, tonight Antonin Dolohov could admit some annoyance. He had already spent much of the day making connections and pretending to be amused by some of these vapid witch’s anecdotes when he already could be thinking of more pleasant things to enjoy.

Still, he was not a man who would insult his host by acting so surly, even if he felt that way on the inside. With a practiced smile on his face, he moved toward one of the glass pavilions. Upon seeing a familiar face, he tilted his head to the side. “Have you seen anything yet?”

Camille’s hands were carefully wrapped around a goblet of mulled wine - it was surprisingly good, even by her exacting standards. She had come on the trip, having received an invitation - much to her surprise, as she had only been in England for a limited amount of time before the festivities. But she thought it would be a good opportunity. As it turned out, she would have been happier staying in England alone - she didn’t know enough people to really socialize well, and she felt too dependent on Lucius for introductions and assistance. It was irksome. But the wine tonight helped her sour mood somewhat.

She wasn’t aware of Antonin’s movements until he was at her side, and it was too late for her to retreat gracefully. She didn’t know how to act around him as of yet, since she didn’t know how she wanted to handle anything. Still, she smiled politely and shook her head. “Not as of yet - I am under the impression that it will be coming later, perhaps?” Taking another sip of her wine, she shot a look at him from the corner of her eye. “Are you enjoying the star-gazing?”