Lucius Malfoy

Alice really didn’t take any offence to anything Lucius said about her appearance, because frankly she really didn’t care about his opinion at all. If she had cared about the opinion of any of the pureblood elite she probably would never get out of bed. But she had grown a hard shell when it came to opinions of others, and didn’t let it get her down. She was happy with how she looked, even if Lucius didn’t approve. And Frank was very forthcoming with approval of her appearance, so she really didn’t think there was anything wrong. 

“I think I’ll pass” Alice mused, a little smirk on her lips. But then she just shrugged. She had been pretty happy with her outfit choice, still was really, and wasn’t about to let a Malfoy change her mind. “I’m sure you’re far too busy for little old me” She mused, that little smirk on her lips. Honestly though? She really didn’t want Lucius’ help in any areas of her life. She only really put up with him for the sake of having a good image. Not that she needed it. Alice was a law abiding, ex-auror. She didn’t need to put across a good image, unlike some members of the population.

Alice just raised an eyebrow at his next words. Her feet? Why was he suddenly so interested in her feet. “Oh that.” She hardly remembered that to be honest. Sure. It had been a painful week in her life, but she’d had a lot worse. “Oh no. Not at all. That was a minor injury compared to some of the others in all honesty” She mused, with a shrug. It was. She’d had a lot worse. “I’m sure Frank actually caused worse when we were sparring” She mused, probably a bit more conversationally that she would have usually intended with Lucius. She did particularly remember a concussion that Frank had given her, that she would really put worse than that foot injury. The annoyance with the foot issue was that it had taken the healers so long to work out how to fix it. But they had, and she barely gave that injury a passing thought these days. 

A Lovely Longbottom

"Well it’s your choice, but it’s also your loss,” Lucius replied with absolute honesty. Yes, there were other schools of thought in the realm of fashion that his, people who said that his style was too ostentatious, too modern, too unmasculine -- but those people were quite simply wrong. He wasn’t surprised by the thought that dull, drab little Alice Longbottom was one of them...but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t still be willing to help her. “And I assure you, darling, I would never be too busy for you,” he grinned. “After all, what else is family for?” he laughed.

Oh that, Alice said, and brushed-off his inquiry about the old injury. “Oh yes?” Lucius said, more intrigued than miffed -- yes, all right, he was a bit hurt to think that his brilliantly clever re-appropriation of a gardening charm as an offensive spell hadn’t been more traumatizing for its target, but c’est la vie. It had taken Alice out of the fight and kept here there for a full week, which was nothing to scoff at; the fact that the woman was an Auror, and thus could take such things in stride (stride! ha! when she could walk, anyway!) didn’t take anything away from the merits of the deed itself.

“Do tell,” he said, twisting gracefully to snag two goblets from a passing tray and holding one out to Alice while he grinned at her over the lip of the other. “You must have some truly enthralling stories from your time as an Auror,” he prompted obsequiously. “Not to mention the outright war stories.” Lucius fluttered his glittery lashes appreciatively. “Go on, give us a tale. Let this dull little stay-at-home-father have a vicarious glimpse of all the adventure and excitement of what it was like to actually fight in that breathtaking conflict.”

Alecto found herself having to stifle a groan at the sight of the person in front of her. Okay, she didn’t stifle it at all, a whine escaping her lips as she pulled them into a tight approximation of a smile – all teeth, no joy. Perhaps, some time ago, Lucius was somebody that Alecto respected. Back when they’d both been fighting on the same side of the war, back when they’d both been passionate about the same end goal. Lucius was someone who had earned himself a place in the Dark Lord’s ranks with ease, and Alecto couldn’t help but admire that… among other things.

Of course, the respect and admiration that she had once held for him had long since festered away, leaving bitterness and hostility seething in their wake. Alecto took loyalty very seriously – to her brother, to the Dark Lord, to the cause – and, as far as she was concerned, the war wasn’t over just because they’d been forced into hiding. The Dark Lord wasn’t really gone ( because that would mean that Amycus would rot in Azkaban for the rest of his life and she couldn’t have that ), they were merely in limbo, awaiting his return.

Alecto remained loyal to the cause. She’d tried to make herself useful in the years since the Dark Lord’s fall ( to varying degrees of success ), but Lucius hadn’t. The Malfoys had swiftly and deliberately distanced themselves from the cause they’d once fought for, claiming innocence and worming their way out of the consequences – leaving people like her brother to take the fall instead. So, no, Alecto no longer respected Lucius Malfoy. He was a serpent without a spine, and she couldn’t wait for the day that the Dark Lord returned, for the day that he would see who his true followers really were.

“Lucius.” She greets through gritted teeth, swallowing down the anger that rises from her gut. There’s no use making a scene here and now, however much she wants to. Her eyes narrow skeptically at the false compliment. “What are you doing here? Been busy bribing officials?”

.

Alecto, for some unfathomable reason, did not seem elated to see him, which only made Lucius smile more broadly. While he loved being loved, he’d learned to enjoy being loathed too -- which was really just the other side of the same coin, after all. Whether fueled by adoration or abhorrence, engendering that sort of emotional intensity in someone meant that one had certainly been noticed; meant that they truly cared. It was always nice to know how much you mattered to someone else, no matter how they expressed that interest.

“Alecto darling dearest, you wound me,” Lucius lied, devastation heavy in his voice and in the pout of his perfectly painted ruby-red lips. “As though I need to bribe an official to win their regard? Please...with this face? This body?” He ran a hand alluring down the velvet that lined his torso and fluttered his silver-crusted eyelashes at her. “Darling, all I need to do to get your sweet, hapless little co-workers into the palm of my hand is wink at them.”

He laughed at added, “Well, sometimes it’s a bit more than wink...but you’d know all about that, no?” Lucius should probably feel badly about teasing poor Alecto this badly -- but he didn’t. “Feeling bad” was a waste of time -- especially when one had no intention of altering one’s behavior. If one was going to keep on doing the things one “felt badly” about, why waste the time with meaningless guilt without purpose?

Alice just raised an eyebrow as she watched Lucius. “Right… Right….” Did Lucius always have to be so extra? She really did not know how Narcissa put up with it. Or maybe she was just as an extra as he was? All Alice knew was that she was glad her husband was cool, calm, and collected. She found that a lot more attractive in a man. Luckily she didn’t seen Lucius all that much, so didn’t have to be annoyed by him too much. Honestly, she only really engaged with the man because of the social implications. Nobody needed any bad press. Hopefully once they’d had a small conversation she could find a way to politely excuse herself.

“One does have to make some effort for galas” And She really didn’t get much opporunity to dress up these days. Both of the Longbottoms felt anxiety leaving their son, mostly because they really didn’t trust anyone other than there selves to look after their son. Frank’s father had him tonight, but they still pretty nervous about it.

“A little” Alice mused, not giving much away. She didn’t want to give Lucius about amunition, and was always careful around him. To be honest she was careful around both the Malfoys. “I will admit I’m much more at home at one of these galas…. so” She shrugged, a little smile on her face. She had always enjoyed these dances.

“I’m looking forward to dancing away the night with my husband”

Alice looked so uncomfortable that Lucius was almost tempted to ask her if her feet were feeling any lingering effects of that nasty Curse she’d suffered a few years ago at his hands -- not that she, or anyone else outside of a select few among the Dark Lord’s former Death Eaters, knew that he’d been involved in that event -- but there was lightly needling his old adversaries for his own amusement and then there was being reckless, and Lucius was too cautious a man to risk the latter without good reason.

“One does, yes,” Lucius agreed -- nodding toward his own exquisite ensemble of shimmery gray and purple silks, iridescent leafy half-cape, and perfectly-coordinated shimmer-green eye shadow, violet lipstick, and enchanted long green-glitter lashes, not to mention the delicate enameled-flower combs that held his hair up in an intricate layered twist -- although his polished smile faded a bit as he looked at Alice’s comparatively plain ensemble.

Daringly-cut, yes, but the dark blue color did nothing to add sparkle to her eyes -- nor catch anyone else’s eyes -- and the jewelry...well, at least she was wearing some. But her hair? Her face? So ordinary, so plain. It was tragic, when she had such natural beauty with which to work and yet refused to do anything interesting with it. “Perhaps a bit more effort next time, though,” he suggested with a friendly grin. “Just a bit. Out of the habit, are you? Let me offer my services to assist you the next time a fancy event demands your efforts.” Lucius didn’t consider it an insult (Alice had eyes after all, she could see that she wasn’t as well-dressed as she could have been, surely!) but simple generosity: he had talents that were relevant, and he was offering to share them. How could anyone take offense?

She cocked her head at the hideous object, having a deliberate sip of her wine to swallow back the comment about the hand in question. Poppy quirked a brow though, genuinely surprised when Lucius mentioned giving it to someone else. “It’s a gift? I thought it was more your style, Lucius.” Even as a boy, Lucius Malfoy had been a little more… Flamboyant than others his age and status.

The woman smiled back warmly, genuinely pleased to be with a former student. “Malfoy, good to see you. How are you? And Draco?” And it was genuinely good to see him. She had a particular soft spot for the more… Unique children at Hogwarts, and was quite proud of the way he and Narcissa had wholeheartedly embraced their son. She kindly dodged the question about enjoying the ball, instead turning her attention to the auction object again. “Well, it is a silent auction, so you never know who might go home with it.”

She looked to the portrait then, giving a sigh. “Personal- I thought it might do well in my study. Thickey is a bit of a reminder among Healers to be honest in our work. And to seek treatment for a root cause, not symptoms.” 

A Medicinal Auction

“’My style’?” Lucius repeated, mock-aghast. “Madam Pomfrey, you wound me. “As if my sense of style would ever be brought low enough to include something as wretchedly tacky as that abomination to good taste?” He sighed dramatically. “Do you truly hold me in such low regard? Either I have to tear these robes off right now and burn them, or I need to revise my assessment of my younger self’s sense of fashion completely and retire entirely from society for at least three years out of shame.” He shook his head, mortally wounded.

The fatal injury was immediately cured by mention of his son -- Pomfrey used the boy’s name without having to be reminded, how wonderful! -- and Lucius beamed at her. “Up until I was so adroitly skewered by my old hospital matron, I was doing quite marvelously, thank you. And Draco...” Lucius’s bright grin softened with undisguised affection. “Draco is a perfect treasure. You are going to adore him,” he predicted confidently -- less for any tangible reason than because Lucius genuinely couldn’t imagine anyone not adoring his precious child. “Although,” he added with a quasi-apologetic shrug, “I fear you may end up having to repeat a few of those lectures that I always so rashly ignored; he’s already demonstrated a love of being airborne. I think you’ve another Quidditch player coming.”

Another talented dueler as well, although Lucius saw no reason to mention that to Poppy Pomfrey -- but he had every intention of teaching his son to defend himself properly.

Instead he gave her a grin that was all slyly-curled glittering violet lips and sharp white teeth. “Don’t be silly, my dear matron. As if I would ever let myself be out-bid on something that I truly wanted -- even if it is just to see the look on father’s face. No, Severus I think -- he’s a better choice to receive this splendid gift. He’s such a serious fellow; might cheer him up a bit, or at least give him something new to grip about,” Lucius laughed.

Despite the negative emotions that the topic of sex and the dementors that constantly haunted her husband brought up, Elizabeth couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as Lucius warned her about the retribution that would come should her comment affect his own relations with Narcissa. Elizabeth knew better than to take the warnings seriously –– she doubted that anything would impact Lucius’ ability to be thoroughly enthusiastic when it came to his wife. After all, the Malfoys were nearly famous in their circles for being that inappropriate couple. Elizabeth and Stephen had once given them a run for their money, but those days were over. For now.

Elizabeth was touched by the genuine concern she heard in Lucius’ voice, but his words had little effect on swaying her from her devotion to her husband. Stephen was the only one she would ever have eyes for, no matter how long he was stuck behind bars, and if she had her way, that wouldn’t be all that long at all. But of course she couldn’t tell Lucius that. For all he knew, the Dark Lord really was gone, and Stephen would be in Azkaban for the rest of their lives. But Elizabeth knew better –– she had listened when their master had bragged about his road to immortality, and she had been trusted with his great secret about the horcruxes. It was only a matter of time before Stephen was back at her side.

Still, she had to play the part of hopeless war widow for a while longer, even to those who had once been (and still were, she admitted sadly to herself) her closest friends and confidants. As much as it hurt her to admit it to herself, she couldn’t trust the Malfoys with this secret, and she wouldn’t let anything get in the way of her plans. As much as she loved Lucius and Narcissa, she would always choose Stephen over them, and the only way to get him back was to get the Dark Lord back. “Ah, alas, I think that time of life for me is over,” she said lightly, turning her attention back to her daughter with the hopes that it would close the subject.

Luckily for her, Lucius’ attention was grabbed by a passing vendor, and she sighed inaudibly with relief, looking down to watch Liza’s excited face at the prospect of fizzing whizzbies. At Lucius’ words, Liza looked up at her mother hopefully, and Elizabeth couldn’t help the indulgent laugh that left her mouth. It seemed their children would always be their weak spots. “Absolutely, she will,” Elizabeth responded to Lucius, her tone of voice back to the confident and assured one that most of the world was so familiar with. “I think she and Draco will be fellows on the Quidditch team one day.” 

Captain of the H.M.S. Lucius

Ah good, a laugh. Elizabeth didn’t do nearly enough of that these days, Lucius was convinced. He’d truly meant what he’d said: what was the point of being alive and free if one wasn’t going to revel in being alive and free alike? Sometimes that meant shagging your pretty wife -- or your not-quite-so-pretty friends -- a dozen times a day, and sometimes that meant buying silly treats so your son could pretend he was a snidget floating above the cobblestones while sugar ran down his chin in sticky trails. It certainly didn’t mean locking oneself away in self-imposed misery and...and spinsterhood!

Lucius clucked his tongue in dismay at Elizabeth but bustled forward to make the purchase as Draco eagerly beat his hands on his father’s elegantly-garbed shoulders to encourage him -- the children always came first, especially his -- but he wasn’t done with Elizabeth so easily. He lifted Draco down so he could properly revel in the floating induced by the Fizzing Whizzbee then handed one of the sweets to each, making sure they were happy with the taste and well-absorbed in the consumption thereof before he turned back to Elizabeth.

“Don’t be absurd, darling,” he said firmly. “You’re far too young and too lovely to make such ridiculous declarations. That time of your life is ‘over,’ puh-lease.” Lucius drew the word out like the crescendo of a song. “I refuse to let you force yourself to artificially wither away decades before your time -- to let you mope yourself to death. What kind of an example would that set for your daughter?” He nodded down at little Liza, who was happily sucking away at her Fizzing Whizbee alongside Draco, who skipped every few steps in hopes of triggering the levitation magic faster. “You need to let yourself be happy, precious. Not lock yourself away from the world until you turn into a dried-up prune.”

marlsmckinncn​:

A snort followed his words, unable to help herself, at the thought of Lucius being anything other than perfect. He was not her type ( she’d never liked blondes really ) but even Marlene couldn’t deny the fact that Lucius was a beautiful person. He had plucked the words from her mouth before she’d even said them, and Marlene couldn’t help but close her lips in a tight line. What had the world come to if Lucius Malfoy could almost read her thoughts? “Well, I don’t think two pastries would really work on you that quickly,” Marlene said. “Not sure if it’s how it works. But, to each their own.”

She winked before taking another bite of the pastry he offered. Strangely enough, she felt comfortable standing here with him. Alice might kill her if she knew that, but, Lucius Malfoy was harmless; a man only in search of what would best suit him. He’d flip-flop sides, that much Marlene knew, but she also understood him. His motivations were easy to process when you learned that Lucius was only going to protect himself and his family ( well, in Marlene assumed it was his name, although there was no doubt he loved his son ). 

“Ah, Lucius,” Marlene laughed ever so slightly. “I was just joking. Appreciate it, though. Hope the sugar won’t go straight to your gorgeous waistline.” Not now, after all this time of Lucius trying to get on her good side. Marlene knew something was brewing, but a part of her hope that maybe, just maybe, Lucius and Narcissa would remain either neutral or fight on their side this time. They could use someone with his talents; his connections.

Of course, didn’t that make her just as bad as him? If she were merely talking to him in order to gain something. Bloody hell. Marlene took a deep breath as Lucius spoke, rolling her eyes ever so slightly at his dramatics ( really, she should be used to it by now ), before offering a slight smile. There were days where this talk might’ve worn her out, but right now she would take any distraction she could get. Her mind was already formulating one too many ways that the Death Eaters might be assembling, and it wasn’t worth the anxiety to sit here, crushing some treats in her hand. “Well, I don’t know if I’d call it lovely, but we can call it an exchange. I get to talk to you instead of listen to the bloody band on stage. I think they’re trying to bring scream-o to the wizarding world…” Marlene paused, realizing that Lucius probably had no idea what that was. “It’s a, uh, form of music that Muggles like. Where they scream notes instead of sing them. Appreciate the dedication, but, blimey it hurts my head.” 

At Marlene’s complimentary observation, Lucius gave a little twirl so she could admire said flawless waistline as the skirts of his elegant jacket flared around him like purple wings. “It is, isn’t it? It’s a good thing. Makes it worth every skipped pastry to look this gorgeous.” He laughed, not at all self-deprecatingly -- and why should he? He was gorgeous, and pretending he was too dim-witted or unobservant to be unaware of something that everyone within fifteen yards could see just for the sake of some kind of false modesty would have been pathetic.

“I’m glad to see that you recognize that speaking to me is superior to listening to a band you dislike, but I’d be even more please to know you rank me as more pleasant auditory company than any band,” he said -- less fishing for compliments than simply teasing. Lucius didn’t have to fish for compliments; they came to him without effort and he enjoyed every one.

“I hesitate to ask,” he continued, balefully eyeing the not-so-distant little stage and its band of...performers, let’s call them; it was a day for generosity, after all. “But what on earth is, what is it...scream-o and what is it doing on stage in Diagon Alley?” He wrinkled his nose all the way up to his brow as he made note of the...let’s not call it music; there’s such a thing as being too generous, and this barely qualified as noise. “Are you saying they’re making that cacophony on purpose?” His grimace deepened. “Can we send it back to the Muggles?” he asked.

Location: Ballroom of the Nott Estate Date: October 18, 1986 @sevsnpe​

Lucius had just finished his twelfth dance of the night (one with the hostess of course, and seven with Cissy) and was about to refresh himself with his ninth goblet of wine when he finally spotted one particular face skulking amongst the crowd’s outskirts. He scooped a second glass from the floating tray to join the first and lost no time in swanning his way through the revelers across the room.

“Severus, darling, there you are!” Lucius exclaimed, loud enough to draw several eyes their way (there was no point in attending a party like this if people didn’t see you there, and while Lucius had no doubt that his own ever-visible presence had been noted by anyone of note, he was just as certain that Severus Snape had been doing his best to pass unnoticed, a state of affairs which Lucius considered it his duty to amend). “I’ve been looking for you half the night, where have you been hiding yourself? Have you seen Cissy yet?” He didn’t pause to wait for an answer before adding, “She looks devastatingly gorgeous, doesn’t she?”

Narcissa loved the feeling of Lucius behind her, that awareness that here they were as a family and as a completely entity, unified against the world. She stayed still long enough for him to lean around her to kiss their son. Then as the toe headed to the door, she smiled and leaned into him. Resting her head against his chest, she looked back toward Draco. 

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” she whispered back. Of course he had. Lucius complimented all of her lullabies, even the ones she’d sung a million times. She still appreciated hearing it. She closed her eyes and reached down for her wand. With a slight flick, she heard Draco’s door shut quietly behind them. “Speaking of enjoying things, what did Draco talk you into buying today?” Narcissa said it to tease, not to scold. She was very much of the opinion that their son deserved everything his little heart desired. 

.

Lucius chuckled -- quietly, despite the one-way sound-muffling charm that lay on Draco’s door to help prevent him being awoken by unexpected noises while still granting his parents unimpeded auditory awareness of any sounds emanating from within, such as tears or demands for sustenance; he knew the magic was there and he trusted it, but that didn’t mean he was going to be reckless with his son’s slumber.

“You slander the chlid so -- or perhaps you slander me, implying that I would have to be talked into acquiescing to our darling’s every demand?” Lucius grinned as he spoke. He knew full well that their son was spoiled, and he reveled in it. What was the point of having a child if one didn’t intend to dote on them? “Let’s see, there were the sweets of course but those are all long gone so I don’t think they count,” he started his list. “Then there was a dreadfully tacky sapphire necklace of a bluebird that I can only hope he will misplace promptly, a wooden dragon with a walking charm -- but it breathes only illusory fire, I checked! -- and a model boat that plays music when wet. Hardly anything, really,” he demurred. “I’d say he showed uncommon restraint...unless,” Lucius accused his wife cheerfully, “he got most of his shopping urges out when he was with you before?”

elizabeth-nott​:

Elizabeth shook her head, unable to stop the chuckle that left her mouth at the insinuations Lucius was making. The fact that her cousin had found such a happy marriage (and such an active one) was something that Elizabeth was glad for, just as she was that her own marriage had been so full of love and…activity. After all, it was that activity that had gotten Elizabeth pregnant at the peak of the war when she most wanted to be out on Death Eater duties. It was difficult to be careful when you were so earnest. Still, she wouldn’t trade a thing. She had Liza now, and that was a better reward than even serving her Master.

Watching the wizard walk away, Elizabeth considered Lucius’ words. It was true, they were well intact. Maybe that was where her annoyance came from. They weren’t attempting to bolster their reputation –– they were showing off the fact that they had managed to maintain peace for these last five years. It infuriated her when she thought of what that peace had cost her. 

Elizabeth looked back at Lucius as he prattled on about spectator sports. Anyone overhearing as they walked by would think nothing of it, but she understood his meaning. He had gotten comfortable in a life without serving the Dark Lord. For Lucius, the war was really over, and so was his allegiance to their Master. She wondered idly if he really thought that the Dark Lord was dead. It seemed impossible to her, to think that anyone else within the inner circle could assume that, not after the way he had boasted about immortality, but of course, maybe Lucius hadn’t been as trusted by their Master as she and Stephen had been. After all, they were two of the few Death Eaters who knew about the Horcruxes.

This was just one of many instances that had Elizabeth worried about what would happen to the Malfoys when she finally managed to bring the Dark Lord back. They had spent the last five years denouncing him and cozying up to the very people that their Master would have most wanted destroyed. Would he forgive them their dalliances? Would they even want to return? 

But Lucius’ next question only steeled her resolve. As much as she loved the Malfoys, both of them, she had to put her own family first. Her daughter deserved to have a father, she deserved to have her husband back at her side, and the only way that would happen was if their Master was returned. “Well, considering Dementors aren’t great spectators for the particular sport you’re referring to, I wouldn’t say I’ve had any opportunity these last five years. Stephen’s the only one I’d want to play with.” 

Lucius’s shudder at Elizabeth’s mention of dementors in conjunction with the “spectator sports” about which he had been banter was only half-feigned; they were ghastly creatures, and if the Ministry of Magic were truly as progressive an entity as it claimed to be they would have had them all exterminated years ago instead of making uses of the beasts to guard their little gulag. The first few months after the war -- both during and after the trials in which a large chunk of the Malfoy family gold and an even larger chunk of the favors and debts which Lucius, his father, and his wife had all accumulated had been spent to secure their freedom -- had involved more than a fair few nightmares about Azkaban and its ghoulish guardians. These days however, Lucius hardly thought about the dementors -- and he liked it that way.

“I cannot imagine what would possess you to reference such horrid creatures in conjunction with such pleasant activities,” Lucius grimaced then cautioned her, “but if said reference ends up haunting me enough to negatively impact my ‘sport’ I assure you that both I and Cissy will hold you to blame.” He was only half-joking; there were few things in the world that Lucius took as seriously as pleasing his wife. Even his hair came second to Cissy -- barely second, but it did.

“At any rate, darling,” he continued, the partially-horrified and partially-teasing tone dropping from his voice to leave gentle logic behind, “you do worry me. It’s not healthy, locking yourself away like that. Stephen is the one behind bars, and tragic as that is, you can’t live your life like you’re there with him. I can’t imagine he’d want you to, either; whatever he sacrificed for your freedom, he’d want you to be free. He’d want you to be happy. Don’t you think?” There was uncommon sincerity and sympathy in Lucius’s voice and in the soft smile he turned on her. “And there has to be someone who’s caught your eye at least in passing in five bloody years. Have some fun,” he suggested. “It will do you good.”

marlsmckinncn​:

Talking to Lucius Malfoy was almost like someone had shined a spotlight on him, making his world a stage. Of course, Marlene used to despise running into him and his family. Before the war, before she’d lost her life, they seemed so ridiculously above everyone else, as if they didn’t even live in the same world. And then the war had happened, and Marlene’s rage at their getting to keep their family in tact, happy and healthy, made her blood boil. 

For a while she resented them, and for whatever reason Lucius never picked up on that fact. He came around, day after day, trying to get closer to her. Soon, she didn’t quite mind his presence, and now she even sometimes liked his dramatics. Lucius was charming, in an annoying theatrical kind of way. Of course, the resentment still boiled whenever she saw him with Draco or Narcissa. She could feel it bubbling even now as he walked up, offering her a cinnamon roll. Luckily, the rest of his family was away, which made it slightly easier to offer a soft(er) smile. 

“Only you would make it sound like a pastie is a the scourge of the Earth,” she teased, taking the sweet from him and taking a bite of it. She trusted, at this point, that Lucius Malfoy would not poison her, and it seemed her paranoia had went down around him. Marlene knew that it was most likely his whole point; trying to get her to lower her guard, let him in, back into the good graces of those who had won the war. But, even she wasn’t completely impervious to charm. 

After meeting his eyes, she shrugged and ripped off a piece and held it out to him. “It’s actually fairly delicious,” Marlene said. “Can’t hurt to have a bite, yea? You did buy the thing after all.”

Marlene, as usual, seemed simultaneously entertained and displeased by him, which Lucius considered both a victory and a source of great amusement -- as though she didn’t want to like him, but couldn’t help herself. Lucius didn’t know if that was how she truly felt (did anyone really know anyone’s true feelings? more importantly, did they matter?) but it entertained him to think it and that was enough for him.

“Scourge of my waistline, perhaps,” Lucius retorted primly, running his newly-freed hand down the sleek lines of his jacket to emphasize the (exquisite) subject under discussion. “Imagine if I’d been forced to consume both, and found myself unable to fit into this elegant little ensemble next time I pluck it from my wardrobe. Now that would be a true tragedy -- and don’t,” he added, shaking a scolding finger at her even though she had yet to offer any such protest, “say that I could just charm it to fit. An outfit so adulterated is never the same.”

At any rate, she’d taken the pastry readily enough -- which was a good sign for more than his waist, even if there were still clearly limits to her trust. A knowing smirk played across his lips as she offered him a bite of her roll -- identical to the one he still held in every way. Well, Lucius was hardly going to be so ungracious as to refuse to play along...especially when he couldn’t really blame Marlene for being clever enough to doubt him, even if he was a bit insulted that she thought he’d be stupid enough to do anything untoward now.

elizabeth-nott​:

Elizabeth smiled indulgently at both Lucius and his son. If there was one thing she could respect about the Malfoys, it was the kind of parents that they were. She hadn’t understood it at first, when Draco was an infant and they were all serving the Dark Lord. To an extent, she had even resented the fact that the Malfoys cared more for their child than the cause, but when Liza was born, all that had changed. As devoted as Elizabeth still was to returning their master, Liza would always come first. 

Laughing and giving a slight roll to her eyes, Elizabeth smirked at her cousin’s husband. He was far too much of a busybody for that to be true, but he also wasn’t often inclined to share gossip about his own family, so Elizabeth would have to come to her own conclusions about where Cissy was spending her time. Luckily for her, Narcissa never shared information that would put Elizabeth in a…difficult situation, so if she didn’t discover it, all the better.

“Come now, has Narcissa ever been able to surprise you?” She asked, shaking her head. Elizabeth had never quite understood the dynamic between the Malfoys, but it worked for them, and she was glad that her cousin and best friend had found happiness in her marriage. Laughing outright at the interaction with the Ministry official, Elizabeth raised her eyebrow. “Now come, Lucius, don’t tell me your ability to charm the Ministry has worn off?” 

Shrugging in answer to her question, she glanced down at Liza, who was still happily babbling away to her cousin. “It’s been as I expected, but I can’t say I’ve been longing for this day,” she replied sardonically, glancing out of the corner of her eye at a witch who seemed to be staring at them. “But who among us can resist the opportunity to see the Ministry try as hard as they always do to bolster their reputation? It’s almost become a spectator sport at this point.”

The smile that curled across Lucius’s face might have been more fitting to a man wearing a silver mask -- all thin lips and sharp teeth and glittering, glinting grey eyes as sharp as a crucio...but then he ruined it by waggling his eyebrows as he said, “Ohhh, there are plenty of surprises in our marriage on both sides, my dear Elizabeth, you needn’t worry on our account.” He winked and laughed, not at all abashed about making such salacious innuendo around the children. “Just the other day she caught me completely off-guard with an Incarcerous for instance, and we had a truly lovely interlude right out in the garden.” It was innuendo for a reason, after all, and one of those reasons was (or had been, as soon as Draco was old enough to begin understanding English, anyway) that little ears lacked the understanding of enough context to parse its meaning -- or at least, that was one of its chief reasons in the Malfoy household.

The other, of course, was that it was more fun to tease and flirt than to simply state such things outright in bland, boring, and obvious words. Where was the fun in that?

He laughed again, without any of the sly wink-wink-nudge attitude that had characterized the earlier outburst, at her teasing about the Ministry and his charms. “I don’t know,” he grinned back, “it seems pretty well intact to me. And look, as usual I didn’t even have to draw my wand.” Lucius didn’t know why the fellow had stared like that -- could have been because he was overwhelmed by Lucius’s fame, could have been captivated by his robes or his general good looks, could have been remembering an earlier flirtation or affair, could have been old half-dormant memories from having been Imperiused during the war...really, the reasons were as infinitely multitudinous as the contents of Lucius’s jewelry cabinet -- and didn’t much care; the end result was amusing all the same.

Lucius knew, of course, that Elizabeth Nott was not by nature pragmatic enough to have drawn the same obvious conclusion that he had about the end of the war and the future of the wixen world -- but at least she wasn’t moping. Not outright, anyway. That was more than he could say about many of their former “colleagues” -- and she was certainly right about the Ministry. “Despite my youthful preoccupation with the Quaffle,” Lucius drawled, not actually referring to his school-days Quidditch career but one didn’t raise such topics as their time together in the Death Eaters openly in public, “I do find that I’ve come to enjoy spectator sports more and more as the years go by.

Alice just raised an eyebrow as she looked at him. She had to admit to herself that she had kind of missed this, but she knew she’d made the right decision. There was no way she could’ve been on the other side of this was, and she knew if she’d stayed in that world, she probably would’ve ended up married to a Death eater. She couldn’t imagine a worse life. “I’ve seen plenty of photos of you Malfoy. When do you not pose?” She mused with a little smirk. Clearly, if though she tried, you couldn’t fully take the pureblood girl fully out of her.

“I didn’t say that” Alice pointed out, rolling her eyes. That was another thing she could’t stand about most pureblooded men. Twisting words, and wanting to come out on top. She was grateful that Frank saw her as his equal, rather than just another prize. She’d met plenty of men that just saw their wives as trophies. Alice was not a trophy, even if she was a decorated war hero. If anything, even though she’d retired, she had actually been the superior auror to her husband. But that wasn’t something she boasted about. The Longbottoms were a team, both in the workplace and out of it, and they always would be.

“There are plenty of photos of Frank in our home. He does live there too after all” She mused, a little smile on her lips. It was funny, because her whole demeanour changed when she spoke about Frank. She was a lot more relaxed, at ease, and happy. It was as if the simple thought alone of Frank made everything better. She didn’t comment on the marriage thing, mostly because she didn’t want petty ears over hearing. There was nothing wrong with her marriage, but she didn’t need any reporters twisting her words. The last thing they needed was non-existent drama overshadowing the celebration of Augusta’s sacrifice. “If anything there are more photos of him than me” She mused, with a little laugh. “Mostly because I enjoy taking the photos” She loved nothing more than taking photos of Frank and Neville, her two favourite people in the world.

Alice just smirked at him. Whilst she didn’t really want to spend too much time in Lucius’ company, she knew it would look good. The Longbottoms didn’t really need to look good. Their legacy was enough, but it wouldn’t hurt. That was really the only reason she put up with the Malfoys. Sure they said they were on the good side, but she didn’t truly believe them, not trust them as far as she could throw them. Which probably wasn’t far.

“Since when have you been a gentleman?” She teased, that smirk on her lips as she took a step forward to begin walking. 

“It’s not posing if I’m just naturally like this,” Lucius retorted cheerfully -- and even he would have struggled to say whether or not he meant it. He laughed at her evident annoyance with him, fleeting though he assumed it must be (Lucius Malfoy was far too charming a wix for anyone to be annoyed with him for long -- anyone with taste, anyway, and questionable choice of husband aside, Alice at least had always had that). “No?” he asked, grinning down toothily. “My mistake. I assumed that when you protested the inappropriateness of one photograph of my own handsome self adorning your home, it was due to a lack of other Frank-filled photos already. I admit, I am most becoming,” Lucius continued haughtily -- not joking even a bit now, although his light tone of voice made it sound like he was; there was no deficit of self-confidence in Lucius Malfoy -- “but I confess that even I would have thought it overselling my good looks a bit to think that a single photograph of me could outshine a plethora of shots featuring dear Frank, at least in the eyes of his devoted wife.”

Nobody else’s eyes though, to be sure. Frank Longbottom didn’t hold a candle to Lucius -- hell, he didn’t even hold a charred wick in comparison!

“Although I can’t blame you,” he said, pausing to glance at his reflection in the nearest window -- hardly a satisfactory mirror, but it would do in a pinch. “If I weren’t married to Narcissa, I would say that I think I’m probably the most attractive wix in all of England. As it is, I suppose I shall have to settle for second best.” He cast a somewhat disappointed eye over Alice and her drab ensemble and clucked his tongue disparagingly. “I shan’t tell you where you rate today; you deserve a much higher spot on the list than that outfit merits,” Lucius teased. “And not even a single bangle on those ears to bring out the sparkle of your eyes.” He clucked his tongue again, even more sorrowfully. “What kind of example are you setting for your little boy, I ask? How society’s standards have fallen!” he lamented.

Falling into step alongside Alice, Lucius laughed again. “You wound me, madam,” he lied. “Has there ever been a day when I’ve not been a gentleman?” Lucius tapped his chin, as though deep in thought. “Well...perhaps once in a great while...and!” he added brightly, perking up from his faux-reverie, “I have been accused on occasion of being too ladylike to qualify -- no doubt that’s what you meant?” he teased slyly. “Certainly you cannot have been impugning my impeccable manners.”