a. dolohov

“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.

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.

“Americans are generally strange, aren’t they?” Cora laughed lightly; she had nothing against them, of course, but she had noticed that they just seemed a little odd to her. But that might be her British prejudices popping out. “Still, they have the right idea as far as climate.” Maybe she could talk her parents into a holiday this year, somewhere warm and tropical; she’d have to promise to be on her best behavior, but she could do that. “That makes sense,” she murmured, although she wasn’t overly aware of anything going on in Russia at the moment. She liked to know what was going on in England but didn’t pay as much attention to the rest of the world. 

“What sort of business? I know it’s not a very ladylike question,” she added, wrinkling her nose, “but I’ve always been more curious than is good for me.” Or so her mother liked to say. All Cora could say is that she wanted to know everything.

Her words drew a chuckle out of him, genuine and amused. He had never been a fan of Americans, thought them just uncouth enough and he shook his head as they spoke. “Perhaps they do,” he said with a shrug. “But I can’t get over the accents, I’m afraid.” After spending years of his life perfecting a British accent, the idea of bastardizing it speaking American English was not one that Antonin wished to entertain. He ran a hand along his jawline, nodding briefly, not wishing to speak too much longer on his homeland. Antonin was in England now and he intended to keep things moving forward.

“I work in imports and exports,” he told her with a smile. Not necessarily legal ones, but he wouldn’t say such things to a lady. “Some magical objects, some muggle ones, too.” After all, muggle money was still easily converted into gold. “It’s all very technical at times and from what I understand is very boring to hear about.” He took another sip from his glass.

Narcissa had a hard time imagining a life like he was speaking of in Russia. For one it was just so…muggle and Narcissa had been thoroughly brought up in wizarding, and more importantly Pureblood culture. She had never known anything else and had been brought up to believe that the Black family was the noblest of them all. It had been difficult for Sirius and Andromeda to leave their family for well…people that were less than the Black’s. Andromeda with her marriage to that muggleborn and Sirius with his group of degenerate friends. But even then she had a very hard time understanding the appeal of a life like he was speaking of. “I suppose it benefits those who have nothing but at the expense of those who do have things. I can’t imagine something like that happening to England. Many of our families have worked for what we have,” she said. Although that wasn’t necessarily true. “I’m sure that they will realize that their way of life isn’t the right one and will change eventually.”

Perhaps it was a cliche that she loved France the way that she did, but many of her dearest memories were visiting her Rosier cousins over the summer, playing at the French estate with Andromeda and Bellatrix. “Perhaps its a bit cliche,” she admitted. “But it’s always been my favorite city,” she said, brushing a piece of hair away from her face. “It’s been a while. Things have been so busy, life happens, and the like. But when I was younger, we would spend summers in France visiting family,” she said. Perhaps she would be able to convince Lucius to take a holiday to France in the near future. She nodded her head. “As am I,” she said. “I have a feeling that it’s going to be one of the best yet.” She nodded her head. “I understand. I am the same way. I quite like my routine in England. But it has been nice to have a break from it. It was starting to get rather….well, the same. Sometimes you just need something a little bit different.”

Antonin knew he could have hidden his past, could have hidden his origins as easily as he hid the business he ran. But he had never wanted his upbringing to be a weapon his opponents could use against him and so he wore it like armor, a shield against those who would see harm come to him. And, if he was being honest, he was not entirely pleased with the government in his native land; his mother and her family had been monarchists, though they’d kept that a secret during the revolution. “I would agree with you there,” he said with a chuckle before taking another sip of his drink. Englishmen seemed proud, more proud than Russians who would allow others to take what was rightfully theirs. “It is one of the reasons I’m pleased to be here for now.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Perhaps. Or perhaps they will be taken over by another government that is stronger. All I know is that Russia will not be my home for much longer.” He intended to return only when he could rise to the top of the Russian aristocracy.

She was right – it certainly was cliché, though he was much too polite to say such things. “Paris is a lovely city.” His tone was agreeable, even as he disliked the words coming out of his mouth and Antonin contented himself with the knowledge that he was making a valuable connection. “Do you have a great deal of family in France?” he inquired, curious as to how far the Black family network truly extended. He nodded. “I certainly look forward to it, well, what I can fit in between my work schedule of course.” He would never delegate all of his responsibilities to subordinates. Nodding, Antonin found himself wondering just how Lucius Malfoy was satisfied with a woman who seemed rather shallow; of course, he would not say that either. “There can be something good in doing something new,” he agreed, as he looked up at the sky. “I believe I might see some of the greens now.” He pointed ahead.

“That’s true - and coming from England, I was always very happy to be in a place where it was sunny and didn’t rain as much.” Their family vacations were some of her favorite memories as well; they didn’t do a lot as a family but that was one thing her parents insisted on. They took trips together when they could, although the trips had been much less frequent since her graduation from Hogwarts. Perhaps because of her one rather disastrous solo trip. It was funny how just that laugh made Antonin seem less intimidating - he still didn’t seem like the sort of person she would just approach flippantly, but he had a charming smile. 

“Oh, that must have been lovely for you. I remember hearing about it and wishing I could see it. But again, we wanted warmer climates for our holidays. What brings you to England now?”

“Indeed,” he agreed. While it was cold in Russia, Antonin had not found it as dismal a place as London in the springtime. “Though I find the Americans and their jaunts to the Caribbean to be strange.” His mouth twisted in amusement and he took another sip from his drink as they conversed, content with this conversation as opposed to the many others he’d felt forced into thus far on his holiday.

“Russia is beautiful,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “Though it is not the best place for travel at the moment.” The tenuous political situation did not help the idea of tourism. Antonin shrugged one shoulder. “Business, mostly. And the British government didn’t try to garnish my wealth.”

“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.”

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.”

Narcissa had initially only had a polite interest in Antonin Dolohov. He was a stranger, after all, an unknown in a society that she knew so well. However, this conversation was turning out to be most interesting, and it seemed to her that Antonin may be an asset to have. He wasn’t a Fawley or even a Selwyn, but he was an interesting man, for sure. One who she was going to have to watch out for. “Very true,” she said, with a nod. She understood him, understood what he was saying. At his words, she looked at him thoughtfully for a moment before taking a sip of her champagne. “Yes, that does seem rather unfair.” She couldn’t imagine their government controlling their finances. “It’s rather crazy to me that people are alright with that,” she said. She couldn’t imagine that any of the pureblood elite would stand for that.

 “There’s something special about going to the city for the first time after a long winter. So many people moving about and such. I love popping into London to go shopping or have brunch with my friends when it starts to get warmer,” she said. She nodded her head when he mentioned the grey drizzle that was their spring and summer. “I know. When I was younger we would go and visit our Rosier cousins in France during the summer and it was always so beautiful to play outside in the sun and pop into Paris and walk the streets,” she said. They hadn’t done that in a long time, it seemed like. She wasn’t entirely sure why they had stopped. She supposed they had just gotten older. Perhaps it had stopped when Andromeda left them. “You won’t want to miss it. My Grandfather’s events are always legendary,” she told him. And it meant a lot to be invited, she knew that Antonin had been invited this year, which had been a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one. She nodded her head. “I understand. I am looking forward to getting home and getting back into my daily routine as well. It’s been lovely here, but I do miss my home.”

Antonin cared little for the British aristocracy; oh, he cared about belonging to it, cared about what they could do for him, but he couldn’t bring himself to have much emotion or ties to the families that believed themselves more simply because they were noble and storied. Power, to Antonin, was the real motivator and the ultimate decider of who should be the most influential. And while Narcissa Black might not have power herself, she was certainly connected well enough to those who did. He chuckled, pausing only to take another sip from the goblet held in his hand. “Some are and some are not. If the government is willing to care for those who have nothing, why would they not support it?” He shook his head. “It will not last; eventually those who have nothing of their own will seek ambition and will not want to be crushed by the government because of it.”

He wondered if all pureblooded women were so shallow. Certainly he knew they were, in a cursory sort of way, but it was always difficult for him to feign interest when women spoke of shopping and the city and the ever-hated brunch. But he nodded as if he understood, as if he agreed, and chuckled. “There is always something so lovely about Paris.” He personally thought the French city trite, overrated, and visited by those who could not find better. But he was much too polite to say that. “Do you visit Paris often?” He ran his free hand along his jawline, agreeing in theory with what Narcissa said. He would be stupid to ignore the Black patriarch’s invitation and Antonin was very many things yet stupid was not one of them. “I am quite excited for the social season,” he said. “I find I miss my routine,” he confessed. “I am a man who prefers things just-so. It is always difficult to acclimate to something new.”

“Oh, I don’t really know that this counts as politics. Think of it more like an elaborate family soap opera. That’s something more familiar to Russian culture, isn’t it?” She was pretty sure Lily had once read an absolute door stopper of a book called War and Peace. That was all she knew but she assumed it was enough for small talk. 

“Speaking of,” she continued, grasping at things because she couldn’t very well float away just yet or she’d be sent back to try harder. “Do you think you’ll settle in London? Or do you have plans to return to your homeland?”

He hummed in response, lips curved up in amusement. Though he might deny it, Antonin would admit to being amused by the McKinnon girl; he had no intention of furthering that relationship through an alliance of marriage, however, and so he kept his amusement contained to the flicker of his lips and the light behind his eyes. “There are some similarities, though I do not think that such familial dramatics are contained to one particular culture,” he pointed out.

The glass in his hands was lifted once more to his lips and he chuckled. “Russia is not the best of places to live at the moment,” he admitted. “The magical government is tied to the muggle one and they are less than impressed with private enterprise.”

Narcissa had to smile at his answer. She certainly liked the appeal of subordinates understanding their superiors and doing whatever it took to keep them happy. It was how Narcissa had operated at Hogwarts, after all. “Yes, i’m sure that they understand the importance of not disappointing you,” she said. She wished that Lucius’s subordinates would understand and stop causing so many problems. It was getting rather old, that they couldn’t handle anything on their own. At his explanation, she looked at him curiously. She didn’t care much for politics, especially politics as far away as Russia. Even with Lucius working in the Ministry, she found it difficult to really care so long as she looked good and it gave them a position of power. “That must be so difficult for you, i’m sorry,” she said. “That sounds rather difficult. It’s always hard when politics get in the way of living your life.” Narcissa made a mental note to stay away from Russia, as if she had really had any plans on going there in the near future. 

“Well, I’m certainly glad to hear it,” she said. She believed him that it would be worth the wait, she just wished that they didn’t have to. She had never been good at waiting for things, as a child she had always been given whatever she wanted and she never learned to be patient. At his words, she nodded her head once. “Yes, I can imagine how that would get rather…dull to just look out at the snow all the time. I sometimes feel like that at the manor when it snows a lot and never seems to melt,” she told him, taking a sip of her drink. “Hm,” she mused. What was she looking forward to upon returning home? She wasn’t entirely sure. “I guess just being back home. I’ve enjoyed staying here, but there’s something about being at home again. And I suppose, planning the annual gala, of course. It’s our family’s year to host. What about you?”

In Russia, the Dolohov name had meant little when he was born and though it was known now, feared, even, Antonin felt it best that others in Britain think him harmless, a man who could get things done but not one who could undo all that they held dear. His smile was genuine, though it was tinged more with amusement than with joy, and he took a heavy sip of the wine in his goblet. “There is much to be said,” he drawled. “For rewarding efforts as well.” He did that on occasion and he inclined his head at her politeness. “It is not as difficult as it sounds. I am able to return when I wish to, but it is not the way of life I prefer.” His lips twitched. “I do not like the idea of the government being in control of the finances of others; it is one reason I chose Britain.” For now, anyway.

“Incredibly so,” he agreed with a chuckle. “I was lucky, I suppose; Moscow is always moving. There are always people around and things are ever-changing. I could not imagine living in an area so remote…” just the thought of Siberia gave him pause and he took another sip of his wine, as if doing so would put such thoughts from his mind. “I have enjoyed England’s weather, though the grey drizzle that permeates much of your spring and summer is not nearly so beloved.” He much preferred the sunlight, a facet of his personality that might surprise many who thought him entirely dark. “I’d nearly forgotten about it,” he remarked, his lips a tease as they flipped up at the corners. “I am certain it will be an auspicious event.” It would be Antonin’s first year being invited to the gala that marked the start of the season; to be invited at all told him he’d done well. “I will work on a few more exports I’m hoping to get authorized but on a personal note, I’m rather looking forward to returning to my routine. I do not like much deviation most days.”

@theantonindolohov​

Marlene had been enjoying the party, doing the best to ignore that feeling in her gut that said nothing good could come of Sirius’s return to Society. But a young, supposedly eligible, witch’s work was never done - at least according to her mother. And so Marlene thought she would appease her by talking to an older, supposedly eligible, wizard. 

The trick was to look like she was making an effort while ensuring that under no circumstances would Antonin entertain the idea of a betrothal. It was fun for her but probably less so for Antonin - not that that mattered. 

“Some party, huh?” she asked as she approached him. “I’m not sure what I expected tonight, but it was definitely not that.”

He had lived in Britain for years now, but this was the first time he’d been invited to the opening event of the season. It proved, in Antonin’s eyes, how well he was doing, how easily things came to him, and while he had yet to find a wife, it was only a matter of time, especially if he continued to be invited to events such as these.

He stood with a glass of vodka in hand and just as he sipped, he saw Marlene McKinnon in his periphery. She had a rather forceful mother and he had assumed she expected him to eventually bring her daughter into his home. Such a thing, unfortunately, was not in Antonin’s plan.

“It seemed lively,” he responded, a half-smile present on his face that did not quite meet his eyes. “But I am not as familiar with British politics, Miss McKinnon.”

After landing himself in the proverbial dog house with Narcissa and then stirring up a whole other mess with Violet - the consequences of which were definitely a future Lucius problem - he had retired to the smoking lounge. He was not yet ready to go to bed and the smoking lounge had seemed like the place he was least likely to find himself in even more trouble.  

He’d just stubbed out his last cigarette when Antonin Dolohov appeared, cigar in hang, like some sort of fairy godfather. 

“Not yet. Though I am sure I will come to regret it tomorrow,” he said as he accepted the cigar and chose to ignore the other comment. He knew exactly what he thought he could use and was equally certain it was off the table. “Shouldn’t you be off wooing someone or making bad decisions?”. . 

The smoking lounge had a good amount of liquor and Antonin began to peruse the shelves. His preference was vodka, cold as ice, but he doubted that their host would have any that met his exacting standards. A bit of rummaging later found something that he deemed passable and he poured some into a glass, conjuring a large cube of ice to go with it.

A chuckle escaped his lips and he put a cigar in his own mouth, using his wand to light it. He was not the sort to pry into the affairs of others ( unless he had a vested interest, which in this case, he most certainly did not ). “I’ve heard that men most often do, though it’s not a feeling I’m used to indulging.” He rarely regretted his own actions, though whether it was confidence or hubris was anyone’s guess.

“I’m too old for the latter and have yet to decide on the former.” His lips curved upwards in jest and he took a sip of his vodka. “Tired of my company, already?”

Narcissa nodded her head in understanding. “Oh, I completely understand. Lucius has had to return home to London on occasion, his subordinate at the Ministry is completely hopeless so he had to return to save the day,” she offered as an explanation. “I’m glad that your subordinate sounds more than capable though, i’m sure that it was nice to have a break,” she told him. It was intriguing to hear his Russian accent, even though she had known that he was from Russia his accent had never been less than impeccable. “Do you miss it?” She asked curiously. “I have never been to Russia but I’ve always heard wonderful things. I would love to visit one day,” she said with a smile. 

She nodded her head when he said that it was when the sky is darkest. “Well, i’m sure that it will be well worth the wait. I’ve heard that it is quite beautiful,” she said. Although she didn’t love the idea of having to stay up so late to wait for something that may not show. “Yes, of course,” she agreed with a nod. Taking a sip of her champagne, she nodded her head in agreement. “Well, I can’t entirely blame him, his estate is rather beautiful. I’m not sure I would want to return to Britain if I had the choice to stay here,” Narcissa said with a shrug. “But perhaps he will come and visit sometime.”

His head inclined. While he knew Lucius to be a rather intrepid sort, he found it difficult to believe that he so often needed to save the day, as it were. Certainly, Antonin thought, the ministry could not be that inept. But he stayed silent on the matter, instead giving Narcissa a smile. “My subordinates know well what will happen to them if they do not give me their best.” It might have sounded dramatic or theatrical coming from his lips, but it was also very much the truth. Antonin had little patience for those who could not be bothered to do what he paid them to. A light laugh escaped his lips. “Moscow? On occasion. It is not the safest place for people to be right now, given the state of the world politics. The muggle leader of Russia is a communist and the magical one follows his lead. They do not take kindly to outsiders.” But perhaps someday.

“It is worth the wait, if the view is any like I’ve seen before,” he drawled, hoping to set her mind at ease, if only for a short while. He lifted his drink to his lips and took another long pull, the warm liquid pleasant on his tongue. “Perhaps.” He shrugged one shoulder. “It is cold here, like in Russia. And while it looks pristine and beautiful now, it can become very stark if one must look at it the entirety of the winter season.” One eyebrow quirked. “And what are you looking forward to upon returning home, Miss Black?”

Since the first day, Regulus had regularly attended whatever meal times and social hours to the best of his ability. There were some days initial conversation wasn’t on the forefront of his mind but at least he was making an effort in the silver lining. There were some people he recognized, but the others that Flint invited were far from his radar. 

“I’m hardly talking to my own, let alone picking a fight with them. Flint has been beyond courteous as a host to even think of giving us each a house-elf. I just wish I had the chance to talk to him but there’s always a waiting line,” Regulus observed, his eyes glancing in the direction of the few people surrounding Flint, no doubt wanting to catch him for a conversation. “I will as well. The whole night is resting on the assurance it will show. It will be quite a plain aurora party without the aurora.”

Antonin had spent a large portion of his time making connections, though he’d also set aside time each day to respond to correspondence and handle any internal issues that came up in his company. It was strange to him, sometimes, that he was able to so easily take on the role of an aristocrat when he’d been born to be anything but. “He is one of the best hosts i’ve seen,” Antonin agreed as he thought of Hamilton Flint, wondering just why the eccentric man had chosen now as the time to come out of proverbial hiding. “You have not yet spoken to him?” he inquired, curious. It had been one of the first things he’d done.

“I imagine the breakfast table will be filled with short-tempered individuals if it does not show tonight,” Antonin agreed with an incline of his head, lips twitching at the corners. “How about another drink while we hope it does?”

Most of the other guests had gone to bed after the farewell ball, but Antonin Dolohov had felt too awake, too alive to return to his room and to the empty bed. Instead, he had thought to see if any of the other single men were still awake.

The smoking lounge was nearly empty and Antonin entered it calmly, nearly jauntily, as if he had little care in the world. His brow lifted, for while the man in there certainly wasn’t single, he was alone. Antonin let out a low chuckle as he reached into his jacket pocket. “You look like you could use more than just a smoke and a drink,” he pointed out before he handed one of his cigars to the other man. “Bad night?”

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?”

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.”

Narcissa took a moment to appraise the other man standing there. He was a good looking man, not as attractive as Lucius of course, and he didn’t have the name that Lucius had, but she supposed some woman would be happy with that. He was rather old as well, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t been married yet. It was certainly intriguing. “Have you been enjoying your stay, Mr. Dolohov?” She questioned the man. 

She brought her glass to her lips and took a sip of it before she lowered it again and glanced out into the open estate. “Three in the morning?” She questioned, curiously. “I hadn’t realized that it would be so late.” Narcissa wasn’t a patient woman, and it seemed rather torturous that they were all out there waiting and it wouldn’t come for another few hours. “Hamilton Flint certainly knows how to throw a party,” she agreed with a nod of her head. “I am,” She said, with a smile. She wished that she and Lucius had had more time to spend together, but she supposed that they still had time. “It’s been lovely. Mr. Flint has been a very gracious host. And how about you?”

He was not immune to Narcissa’s appraisal, but as he was a gentleman, Antonin said nothing, merely offered another close-lipped smile before taking a heavy pull on his drink. He had heard the rumors about her, of course, and thought her a rather formidable opponent, especially as she had clearly wound Lucius Malfoy around her finger. “I have been enjoying the respite,” he acknowledged. “There is always business to attend to, unfortunately, though my subordinate has been handling most of it. Still, the cold winter air and the snow reminds me of home.” Though his London accent was flawless, he allowed a small hint of his Russian to shine through.

“Indeed. It is when the sky is the darkest.” He remembered seeing the aurora as a child in Russia, waiting up with his siblings until it was so very late they’d nearly missed it. “Of course there are exceptions to most rules and it would hardly be considered a phenomenon if it appeared like clockwork.” He raised a brow before taking a small sip. “Our host is a most auspicious man. It is a shame he has exiled himself here; we in Britain are not left better for it.” He shook his head once more. “I have little to complain about.”

There had been much time served at the grand manor and somehow the splendor had not extinguished. Regulus was still finding more things to amuse himself and wondered if Flint himself ever became bored. He doubted it given how many people he knew and how many events like this he must hold. There were things that he missed from England and the one missing piece Regulus craved the most was being back at work. A vacation could only be a break for so long before it exhausted him. 

Regulus turned to Antonin and shared a knowing smile and shook his head subtly. He didn’t have any bright opinions for the other purebloods, but Dolohov had left an impression on Regulus like none of the others had. “I was about to ask you the same thing. I believe I saw someone shout at their house-elf earlier but that must have been the only action I’ve seen this evening that caught my eye.”

The food was good; Antonin could certainly attest to that. He plucked a small amuse-bouche off a tray and popped it into his mouth, pleased with the flavors that trickled over his tongue. Washing it down with a lengthy pull on his drink, he was in a relatively decent mood, though he would admit to some tiredness.

The Black heir was certainly one to cultivate, if Antonin’s research was anything to go by. The Black name in and of itself was certainly one that was vaunted and he was certainly not stupid enough to go against the family that was known for its love of darkness. His eyes glinted in the low light and he inclined his head. “How very gauche,” he remarked. Antonin had grown up without the luxury of house elves, without the luxury of a warm meal most evenings, and so he found such things rather petty. “I will be rather put out if the aurora does not show tonight at all.”

Cora had always prided herself on her ability to remember names and faces - she might get lost walking down a hall or street, but she could recall people with ease. Antonin Dolohov was not someone she had interacted with much but she knew the name. They weren’t well acquainted enough for her to have a true opinion about him, aside from a general sense that he wasn’t cut from the same cloth as many of her peers. “I have no, so I was very excited for this opportunity,” she said, smiling as she took another sip of her wine. 

“Our travels have been to areas more tropical, I must confess.” A flash of memory startled her - the scent of the salt water and bergamot and dark curls and laughing eyes - but she shook it off. “I feel that this might be a foolish question but have you seen it before?”

He took a long sip of his drink as he looked over at the woman. There was little he knew of her, though he had people that could find out information if he so desired. But for now he was simply making small talk, not trying to forge lasting connections that would benefit him in the future. He could afford to relax and so Antonin forced himself to smile wider and allow his shoulders to loosen.

“I have always found warmer climates to be better for vacations; there is more for one to indulge in.” He chuckled, a good-natured laugh that made him sound more approachable than most people found him. “Indeed. I grew up in Russia.” Antonin had hated it most days, finding the squalor of Moscow untenable. “There are place in the northern part of my country where one can see it. It’s a magnificent sight.” Unless, of course, it was one that he had already partaken.