#(themalcolmgreengrass3)

Merde merde merde merde merde.

Nic had never used polyjuice before but he was fairly certain that tingling behind his head and along the edges of his fingers wasn’t a good sign. The party seemed to have fallen apart anyway and Nic was no good to anyone if his cover was blond in the middle of a dance floor.

He slipped toward the edge of the Great Hall as quickly and quietly as he could in heels- which was neither quick nor quiet, unfortunately- and kicked them off as soon as he was in an empty hall, picking them up and practically jogging to find an empty room. The strange feeling increased. Nic really really really didn’t want to still be in this dress when he transformed back into himself.

When he found an empty room he didn’t bother looking closely except to ensure that he was alone, pulling out a backup of clothing from his enchanted clutch, and then using his wand to neatly undo every lace on the back of his dress. It fell to the floor and he kicked it aside, leaving Basiliso’s pale body clad only in her underthings. He’d just picked up a black sweater from his pile of clothing and was about to pull it on when the door creaked open behind him.

Ah, fuck.

“Have you ever heard of knocking first?” he snapped, voice still high and imperiously English, red hair swishing as he glared at the intruder with what he hope was enough angry confidence for them not to question what precisely he was doing.

Rodolphus had only just escaped his altercation with Remus Lupin, sporting several rather nasty wounds as a testament of the werewolf’s dueling ability. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he’d lost sight of Bella in the madness and worried that she’d do something stupid like take off her mask again. 

So of course, that was when he stumbled upon Malcolm Greengrass in a rather enclosed corner of the chaos, levitating- a body? A rather beaten one, by Rodolphus’ once-over, but still, what the bloody hell was Malcolm Greengrass doing carefully levitating a body over a pile of rubble? He was surrounded by morons.

“Malcolm!” he snapped, one hand pressed over his wound. A headache was beating in his temples. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

Lucius’ gaze followed Narcissa through the crowd. No matter who he was talking to, or how far the dances separated them, some part of him was always looking for her. Ever since he learned she was pregnant it was like a sixth sense for him, always filled with joy but also worrying. She looked so small all of a sudden and today was her birthday, a reminder that she was also young, even if she was undoubtedly the stronger of the two of them. Anxiety curled in his gut but he refused to let it ruin a nice evening, where he’d gotten to dance with his wife and lavish her with affection, like a goblin-made tiara from the Malfoy vaults. 

Tonight was also the first public appearance of the newlywed Greengrass’s, and when Lucius saw Diana’s obviously pregnant state he’d sought the man out along the edges of the room. 

“Malcolm!” he said, expression quirking with a small smile. “How was your honeymoon? I’ve just seen Diana- congratulations.”