Lucius.01 - Blog Posts

slipperyfriend​:

If Lucius recognised the annoyance dancing behind Narcissa’s stare, Lucius didn’t acknowledge it beyond the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, his eyes already shifted back to the girl currently poised behind the counter. Last minute jitters, was all this was — one last flirtation with another catch before they took their little Russian salmon back to the kitchen. While the girl they lingered over may be a Selwyn, she seemed to have little desire for elevating her families status — and surely their only son’s match in life should hold higher aspirations than the trafficking of whatever nonsense Lockhart had brandished across a page this year. Draco may be becoming a less desirable match by the moment, but it didn’t mean they should settle for less than what any Malfoy heir deserved.

“Warren Selwyn hasn’t played squash a day in his life,” he replied calmly, tucking another strand of hair behind her ear with the same fixed smile that seemed entirely intended to bait her. He was well aware that Narcissa’s concept of squash and the reality of the game fell square miles apart. What happened at the club, stayed at the club, and their squash games were far too rich in stakes for a man like Warren Selwyn. “His networking leaves much to be desired.”

“Besides,” he continued lightly, easing a copy of  Armando Dippet: Master or Moron? open and feigning a glance down at the dedications with apparent great interest, “Apparently nothing is impossible anymore. I have it on good authority you were speaking to a Weasley in the middle of Diagon Alley the other day.”

“Darling, do you not like my hair like this? How would you rather I wear it?” Long lashes fluttering as she stared up as her husband with a hint of a challenge in her eyes. “You know pleasing you is most important.” Narcissa grasped his chin, tilting his head up so the stubborn man she had chosen to marry would look at her instead of whatever trite they thought deserved to be printed now. There were so many avenues she could choose for revenge but the perfect one fell into her lap the moment her soft skin caught against the rough stubble of Lucius’s jawline. “We’ll have to find you new razors. Or have you gotten lazy with your advanced age?”

With a pursing of her lips, Narcissa ended her examination. Hand falling to pluck the book out of his hands and into hers. Armando Dippet, really? She closed it, placing it back on its shelf and looking past the books to spot Audrey Selwyn at the counter once more. “What does Antonin know of the game?” The brutish gruff man wasn’t someone she wished to see more than once a season, when the night had grown late and she was positively just tipsy enough to be amused by his mountain man routine and partake in his home-brewed vodka. Warren could at least carry on a conversation. “She’s brunette.” It should have been the nail in the coffin. The risk of the Malfoy hue being bred out. Draco had dallied enough for it almost become an irrelevant detail.

“A Weasley? Your blood hounds are becoming more unreliable by the day. William works for Gringotts, dearest. It was purely business.” Twirling on the ball of her foot, a smile set upon her red lips that would lead most men into danger, Narcissa set about straightening the glittering tie around her husband’s neck. “What would you say is more impossible? Your devoted wife ensuring the objet d'art she acquired for your birthday is no longer capable of bringing you any harm or her husband with a wandering eye parading around half dressed with a French tart?” Satisfied, she move on to his scarf. His penchant for ignoring seasons never not infuriating. 

“Twilfitt & Tattings have never had the space their creations deserve. Why the dressing rooms are hardly big enough for yourself and the tailor. Though I did hear you found a way to make plenty of space for Giuseppe to continue his work.”

slipperyfriend​:

WHO: @nvmalfoy​  WHEN: 6th May, 2003. WHERE: Flourish & Blotts, Diagon Alley.

Surely this was just a case of what they called buyer’s remorse. 

The quest for the perfect bride-to-be had led he and his wife down many avenues, delving into many deep and winding rabbitholes that they never wished to enter ever again and yet here they were again, only hours after the official offer had been extended and accepted by the Dolohovs (the expression on Antonin’s face did not bear thinking about — Russians wore smug so terribly), bickering behind bookshelves once again as the Selwyn girl did her absolute best to pretend she hadn’t noticed them.

“She is just so terribly old, darling,” he sighed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear before his eyes drifted to peer over the top of the shelf in the direction of the counter with a judgemental eye, “And when was the last time a Selwyn did anything of note? Perhaps Draco will be inspired to learn Russian or — Chess?”

There had to be something the Dolohovs were good at beyond drinking that paint-thinner disguised as vodka (he could still feel it, burning away at his insides from Antonin’s celebratory toast) and fighting bears. Draco needed no encouragement in the area of cavorting with bears. 

If not for the lurking public pretending not to be gazing upon the private moment between the Wixen World’s happiest couple, Narcissa would have swatted her husbands hand far from her. Her hair had been styled to perfection, charms and pins keeping her cascading locks high in the air. Any strands fallen free from the carefully coifed creation were intentional. Her hair was not to be disturbed in public.  The public, however, was still gawking. Looking to see what books the Malfoys purchased, what novel or author was in. Bringing a hand up to caress her husband’s cheek, Narcissa’s beamed like the besotted wife she played so well. Her gaze full of annoyance she knew Lucius could identify after years of sharing their lives together. “She could be beautiful if she put any thought into her appearance.” Her heels didn’t lend her the height needed to follow his gaze and catch sight of Audrey above the stacks. Pushing the copies of The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore aside to spot the witch in question, a quiet tsk left her. “Have you seen Warren at the club lately? Antisocial behavior could be hereditary.” 

Tinkling laughter, quiet melodic notes that seemed to go on forever, filled the space between them. “A Malfoy man with a talent for chess? We’re seeking perfection, darling. Not an impossibility.”