Nvmalfoy - Darling, You're Boring Me

bellalestrvnge​:

Bellatrix quirked her eyebrow in amusement. “If your son wants to be in cages, that’s no business of mine. You have to let the young make their own choices sometimes, Cissa.” Rolling her eyes at her sister’s insistence, Bellatrix led Narcissa up towards the guest room currently occupied by Draco. “Two lovely plump pillows. I’m sure if he wanted more, or blankets, or anything he would ask Shanks. He is a grown man, Narcissa. And this is hardly the slums.”

❀

“Honestly, Bella. After I told Lucius you wouldn’t allow any harm to come to him and then I see what you let him do to his hair.” She sniffed. “Two? Only two? I didn’t realize education included a denial of basic comforts.” Catching up to Bellatrix, Narcissa fell into step beside her. “He’s hardly grown. To expect him to have all his needs met with one elf spread between the four of you. Slums would be a compliment.”

“It’s your responsibility to watch him. You’ve taken that on now that you’ve stolen my only child away from me.”

anastasiadolohov​:

Anastasia bristled at the correction from Narcissa, fighting to keep a look of distaste from her face. She wanted to get on with the Malfoys, she really did - after all, it would be a very long life if her marital family all detested her. What a poor way to live that would be - but Anastasia doubted that Narcissa had ever dealt with the struggle of learning a second language and trying to speak it as fluently as her first. She was certain that the woman knew additional languages, most pure-blooded women did, but there was a difference between learning French to use perhaps twice a year and trying to learn English colloquialisms just from picking them up in conversation. With difficulty, Anastasia nodded. “Thank you for the correction, ma’am,” she said, though a sinking feeling had settled in her gut. “I will warn him. Perhaps he needs to come home to his mama to fight for the title.”

Fifty or seventy of the birds around the estate. At least now she knew - and she would come prepared next time, both mentally and physically to deal with them. “A wedding gift, you said? Were they gifted by Lucius, or perhaps just a family friend?” Anastasia wondered if it had been a gift from her godparents, from what she understood of the Lestrange family they did not seem like the sort who were particularly fond of any sort of pet. “Bears are easily dealt with, they are not as scary as they may seem initially. Boars are the real trouble - they are deceptively fast.”

Hovering as Narcissa turned heel, Anastasia didn’t know whether it was more awkward to not follow and have been invited, or to follow and have Narcissa query why she was following her. As it turned out, she didn’t have to wait long and she hurried to follow. “My apologies. I haven’t been down to this side of the manor yet. Are these your parlours?”

❀

The title of ma’am never had the intended result once it hit Narcissa’s ears. It was what you called a woman over forty. Despite being a woman over forty herself, a fact she would never utter out loud, aging wasn’t something she wished to be reminded of. Ma’am. It would have been more apt to refer to old maids like Audrey Selwyn or hags, like her sister, as such.

Anastasia, a girl who had done nothing to surprise in her short stay at the Manor, managed to do so twice in quick succession. “Is that a talent you believe you possess? Getting Draco to return home? I would love to see it in action, Anastasia.” Lucius wouldn’t be able to believe it if the girl pulled it off and it would certainly help them both settle on the decision of one Russian bride. “Call me Narcissa. We’ll be family soon enough.” If she survived the summer. Heels clicking against the marble floors and a smile of possibility on her lips, Narcissa’s mood had taken an uptick. She would do well to stop looking at their guest as a failure but a possibility. A change to shape her son’s future in the right direction and perhaps even steal him back from her sister’s home. “The Shafiqs were kind enough to gift them to us. They’re a symbol of beauty, loyalty.” All the things one could hope for on their wedding day. They also died of grief if they lost their mate which had to be the intended meaning of the backhanded gift. “Faithfulness. Has Draco told you how his father and I were matched?”

“Bears and boars.” Rather bores. Is this what Russians spoke about? “I won’t worry how you’ll fair against the birds while outdoors any longer.” A charmed handle opened at her presence and Narcissa swept into her sitting rooms, pleased to see the elves had done away with the layers of dust that used to tell just how frequently Narcissa found herself in this area of her home. The atrium had become her den of choice, not tucked away rooms where she couldn’t be admired. “I encourage you to explore more. If you were to wander somewhere you’re not meant to be, the manor will set you right.” Malfoy blood was required for all the hidden passageways and tucked away secrets. All the corridors she was sure Lucius used to spring out from for dramatic effect. “They are.” She wandered the room, finding a window seat and lifting a cushion in order to grasp– there! The book she pulled out was slim, unassuming, and with a tap of her wand the words Sanctimonia Vincet Semper appeared on the cover. “I was younger than you when my mother-in-law gifted these rooms to me. After my wedding. I can’t imagine that being away from your family is easy, Anastasia, but a space of your own may help with it. And this comes with the rooms.” 

Strolling back, she held out the thin book that appeared to contain no more than a chapter’s worth of information with two hands. The hefty weight of the hardcover not matching appearance. “Every Malfoy wife has read these pages since, well, let’s go with centuries.” Anything to do with numbers took far too much time. “It’s difficult for me to remember a time when this lifestyle was foreign but I know at one point it was. Everything you will need to know is in here.” Meaning Narcissa did not have the patience to answer questions upon questions. The dense contradictory guide of rules, regulations, and outdated societal norms would have to do. 

@draconianmalfoy

swancries​:

open

diagon alley

The Diagon Alley’s florist has given Cho quite a great deal on the sunflower seeds and the white gardenias. It’s way cheaper than at the Muggle shop down her street. And the florist has wrapped the flowers up so neatly in newspapers for her, it looks like a proper bouquet. They’ve even placed the seeds inside a small cardboard box. She pockets the box carefully, cautious to not spill its content, and puts the flowers inside her large canvas bag, the one she always brings with her for weekend’s shopping days like this one. Cho pays the florist and thanks them before moving on with her shopping.

When it comes to shopping, Cho has never been good at keeping to her list. A maximalist at heart, her approach to it is to buy what she thinks she needs in the future. Hence why, the next thing Cho knows, she’s hauling a huge and heavy copper cauldron around. Flailing about as she tries to remember the spell for making things smaller. Her hands grasping at the cold copper.

“What is that spell again?” Cho huffs, finally placing the cauldron on the ground of the quieter part of Diagon Alley. She tugs her hair behind her ear and dusts off her hands. Looking around for familiar faces. When she spots one, she waves her hand at them and smiles apologetically, trying to get their attention. “Hey! Great to see you. Please tell me you remember first year spells better than I do.” 

❀

Narcissa’s heels clicked against the cobblestones of Diagon Alley as she walked with the authority of a witch who had put one too many small businesses into bankruptcy, ruin, and shame. She was on a mission today. Determined, even as shopkeepers, cart owners, and employees seemed to dodge out of her path, to figure out just who had run their mouth to her husband about her discussion with William. 

Her mission, which did include popping into Twilfitt and Tatting's to see just how small the fitting rooms had become, did not include being called out to like a peddler on the street. Blonde hair being tossed over her shoulder, Narcissa looked the young woman up and down. She couldn’t place her. Not one of Draco’s friends. Not the daughter of someone she knew. The girl was irrelevant. 

“I will admit I’ve never heard of this particular scam before but it won’t work on me.” She wouldn’t be getting a single galleon out of her purse for the opportunity for Narcissa to be in her downline or the cauldron to vanish the moment she set her wand upon it. “An owl to the Kwikspell Company would be in your best interest if you don’t wish to spend the rest of your days trying to swindle innocent pedestrians.”

anastasiadolohov​:

.

If Anastasia were a lesser woman, of weaker body and mind, the threat of the birds might have sent her running straight back up to her room. She’d never seen anything like it - surely these birds did not reside in Russia? A bird like this didn’t seem like it would survive a harsh winter - it looked as though a strong gust of wind would knock it over. This was a strange place, but Anastasia needed to get used to the Malfoy ways. After all, it seemed as though she would not be a Dolohov for much longer.

The Malfoy’s seemed like the sort of people that holidayed in Spanish islands, not in Russian mountains. It was a shame, really, that her father thought these people were the best choice for her. Why couldn’t she have been pledged to Ivanov, or Belsky? But she knew that arguing was fruitless - if nothing else, it was likely that her father would petition the Malfoy’s to bring the wedding forward the more she complained. He was that sort of man. “They are lovely gardens,” Anastasia complimented, a small smile crossing her lips. “I can see that lots of work has gone into them. They must be your…hm, how you say, your joy and pride?”

“I’ve never seen a peacock before,” Ana confessed, turning to look back at the horrid birds. “How many roam these lands?” The bird was creeping closer, and Anastasia took another step back, further into the perceived safety of the manor. “Of course they bite,” Ana said in exasperation, throwing her hands into the air. “They look like little horrors. How can you bear for them to be in your lovely gardens?”

❀

Being blonde was a pro for the young Dolohov but her list of cons was far longer. A Russian in the Malfoy home, carrying the Malfoy name, and wearing the family jewels. Her own mother-in-law would be haunting the corridors before long, content to level Narcissa with a haughty look of judgement until the end of her own days. “How sweet of you to say. Pride and joy.” Five years in this country and Anastasia still hadn’t mastered conversation? They couldn’t take her anywhere until this was remedied. “Draco holds that title though the gardens are quickly rising through the ranks. Perhaps it would best for you to warn him flowers may take that accolade from him.” In her own time as an unmarried woman bearing a maiden name in an estate far larger than one she had occupied before, Narcissa had taken to learning all the ways a Malfoy woman carried herself. She expected the same of her future daughter-in-law. “Fifty or seventy. You’ll have to ask the ornithologist. He keeps track of these things.” A second eyebrow joined the first, lips pursing at the show of dramatics Anastasia was putting on. Draco needed someone intelligent, which she was, for a partner. Someone strong, a quality Narcissa thought was required in the cold barren home this Dolohov hailed from. 

“As I said, those horrors were a gift. Surely you’re used to horrific creatures. Bears, wolves, your boars and tigers. You’ll find none of those here. Just flamboyant peacocks strutting about the estate.” The head of said flamboyant fowl leaned in past the threshold of the outer door. A quick flash of her wand sent a stinging hex in its direction, finding a home between the beady murderous eyes of the bird with a taste for blood. “Flora and fauna aren’t in their palette. They’re carnivores.” Turning on her heel, the hem of her dress flowing behind her, Narcissa began her trek to her sitting rooms. A rarely used set of walls gifted to her once the marriage contract had been signed and the last golden threads of her wedding bond had disappeared from her pale wrist. It was only when she reached the door and didn’t hear the sounds of following footsteps that she looked over her shoulder, head tilting in confusion. “Do you require a formal invitation, Anastasia? Come.” 

bellalestrvnge​:

“Oh Cissa, just put some bleach in his shampoo when he comes home - it’s hardly the world collapsing in on itself that he’s decided to turn his back on the blonde. Perhaps it is a sign that he is thoroughly fed up with Malfoy ways - a few weeks with us wouldn’t push him to that,” Bellatrix offered unhelpfully. “And precisely how many pillows does he have at home, hm? Seven, eight? Men don’t need eight pillows. Oh, let me guess, Lucius needs eight pillows. Narcissa, I have welcomed you into our home time and time again - don’t you dare call this a slum.”

“If Draco wished to go home, he is more than welcome to. I think he rather likes it here.”

“It’s a sign of youthful rebellion and we won’t have it. He has nothing to rebel against.” She had seen this behavior play out in her youth, watched her sister and cousin turn their back on everyone just for some idolized freedom. That wouldn’t be happening to her son. “I’m so sorry his choice to sleep comfortably bothers you so. Not everyone is content with the wooden boards, coffins – Is it a bed of nails you and Rolf spend your nights cuddling on?” With a pout upon her lips, Narcissa gazed around at the decor that had never been to her taste. “Hovel then. Shanty. And I don’t see how he could.”

Her insults paused for a moment. “I know you’re looking after him.” She wouldn’t have agreed to this if she thought Bella wouldn’t.  “I appreciate all that you’re doing for him.” Preventing Draco from following down a path outside of their control. “I just want him home.”

bellalestrvnge​:

Who: Bellatrix & @nvmalfoy  Where: Lestrange Manor

“No, Cissa, I don’t know where your son is,” Bellatrix said over her shoulder, leading her sister through the entrance hall into the main parlour. “He’s not five, he’s perfectly entitled to come and go as he pleases. You can check the basement, if you’d like - I haven’t got him in a cage.”

❀

“When you say things like that it only convinces me you do have him in a cage.” Arms crossed, Narcissa followed her older sister through the Rookery. Her eyes raking over every door that could lead to the basement of this haunted home. 

“Show me where you’ve put him. I’m sure he needs something to make it feel more like home. How many pillows have you given him? Don’t tell me it’s only one.”

rabastanlcstrange​:

WHO @blanchexxprimpernelle​ & @nvmalfoy​ WHEN 12 June 2003. WHERE The Augurey Club.

The sunglasses were a poor disguise. Perched upon the bridge of his nose and designed to keep the world out or another world in, they had done little in the way of providing a shield either way — he felt scrubbed raw and exposed, every nerve awake and inflamed. Bash could hear the whispers floating around the patio, could taste the distinct lack of champagne in his mimosa (clearly Rolf had gotten to them here, too) and with each passing moment the urge to drive the stem of that crystal glass into the nearest overly-deferential neck was becoming a more viable option. And yet.

He took a sip of orange juice and soda water (a monstrosity), nose wrinkling and teeth bared in a smile that had turned half-feral as his head turned in anticipation of the click of heels upon the tiles of the patio. “You’re late,” he offered, raising his half-full glass of not-mimosa into the air in the hopes it might be swept away and replaced with one less disappointing. Time was slippery at the moment, skittering away between his fingers whenever he tried to pluck at the strings of it. “You missed the shift-change for the pool boys.”

Small sunglasses slid down to reveal a judgement filled gaze, a sliver of eyes and skin not hidden by the sun hat gracing her blonde head, as Narcissa tilted her head down to get a better look at her brother-in-law and almost first husband. “You’re early?” She sniffed, raising her chin up in even more judgement as she stole the glass from his hand. “I don’t know what I expected after you fled to host your little theatre games.” Without inviting her.

The sip was horrific and Narcissa had half the mind to spat the concoction out on the patio stone but ladies didn’t spit. Instead, she swallow the horrific citrus-y drink as her lip curled and slid the glass across the table and as far away from the pair of them as she could manage. “What was that? Poison?” Not willing to spend another moment with the foul taste on her tongue she removed her glasses, tucked one ankle behind the other, and glanced in the direction of one of the cabana boys. He came running.

“I’m not sure who in their right mind decided that–” A french tipped nail pointed to the offending drink. “–was an acceptable thing to serve but I’ll need their name. Immediately. Three fresh mimosas. Bring the bottle.” Her eyes slid over to Bash. “A black coffee.” When the pool boy didn’t scurry along to fix the grave error, Narcissa’s gaze shifted slowly. The effort of acknowledging a cabana boy who couldn’t even have the decency to unbutton his shirt quite taxing. She blinked and as if that simple action had broken the spell, the boy spun and left in a frenzy of flurried embarrassment.

Leaning over, she planted a kiss on Bash’s cheek and patted his face to see if some color could return to the sour disposition she adored. “You look terrible.”

@blanchexxprimpernelle​