byrightsinhell | Backstory - Riches have never fascinated me, unless combined with the greatest charm or distinction.

Backstory - Riches have never fascinated me, unless combined with the greatest charm or distinction.

The restaurant is elegant and simple, the kind lit by candles and without prices on the menu. It's a wizarding establishment, of course, a few streets away from the bustle of Diagon Alley. Lucius is quite pleased with himself as he selects his entrée. He hadn’t seen Narcissa Black on a regular basis since graduation, and when he had seen her in passing, there had generally been little time to study her. Now he had her to himself for the evening, and he was more and more certain he had made an excellent choice in pursuing her more seriously. The three years since he’d graduated had been kind to her; they’d certainly gotten a few discreet stares as he’d escorted her in. He’d given a lot of thought to what sort of woman he would settle down with, and Narcissa had so far done nothing but reinforce his initial thoughts on the matter.

She was, he admitted, a far cry from the girls he had been seeing. But then, what he looked for in a wife and what he looked for in a romantic partner were somewhat different. And it was time to settle down. For one thing, it would relieve him of middle aged witches throwing their daughters at him like a shotput. And, perhaps a bit morbidly, the thought has crossed his mind that if the Malfoy family is to have an heir, he may not have an infinite amount of time in which to father one. The three years since graduation have changed more people than Narcissa Black, whether he admits it or not. He has no doubt that, should the courtship go as planned, Narcissa will make a good mother and will run the manor with elegance. She’d never call herself mistress of it otherwise.

Those were all thoughts for another night. He intended to enjoy dinner, and to enjoy her company.

However, once the waiter has come for their order, he’s already planned his opening question. Taking a sip of his wine with a smile, he asks, “So. May I ask why your mother spent ten minutes reassuring me that you would warm up to me if I gave you a bit of time, before you came down this evening?” His lips quirk. “I believe she used the exact phrase ‘Let her get used to the idea.’”

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He'll learn.

"Of course! And I will need access to your staff, of course, and the manor." In a way, she muses, it'll be sort of like practise - it couldn't hurt to see how well the place fits under hands before she's even asked for an answer. One should never go into anything without fully familiarising themselves first.

This may or may not have been Lucius' original idea. He nods and says, "Only reasonable. Besides, it's been awhile since you've been to the manor, hasn't it? I'd have liked you to see it anyway."

If he's courting her as an equal, that means that, practicalities aside, she could say no. It doesn't hurt to show himself in his best light.

"It has been some time- though I expect it hasn't changed much since then? It's always been so lovely." Narcissa'd always thought, regardless of how her opinion of Lucius himself has fluctuated over the years.

"Thank you. I find it pleasant enough." And while it may have lost some of the little touches that came from having someone run it who knew about running households, everything is still pristine and in working order. He is proud of it and if, for some unfathomable reason, he didn't marry, the place would still be lovely years from now, if a bit more masculine and bacheloresque.

"Do you spend very much of your time there?" Traveling for business or social reasons is so much easier when one has magic - though Narcissa knows no other lifestyle - but it doesn't mean that there aren't wizards of their set who, for one reason or another, keep smaller properties in more convenient locales.

(Some reasons perfectly innocent and some less so; men are men are men, whether they're wizards or muggles.)

"I try to." Lucius does have a small flat in London, but it's less along the lines of a spot for trysts and more along the lines of an emergency safe house. Malfoy Manor is home. "I am comfortable there. I find having a place one feels truly at home is invaluable."

And the fact it's the only home he's ever known will make things so much worse, decades from now, when it's no longer his in anything but name, for a time. But the smiling 20 year old Lucius sitting here now has no inkling of anything going a way other than his.

"History makes a home," she observes. "I had that very conversation with Prisca while we were in Tuscany - the villa that we were staying at was unutterably charming, but it did lack a certain something. A...a stability, I suppose. Do you know?" Or understand, rather, what it is she's saying?

He nods. "I do. A place can be lovely, but home always has an extra weight. Just as family does, more than the dearest of friends." Well, friendship for Slytherins is always a little complicated, but even so. "A home that has been passed down for generations doesn't have only one's own stability, but generations of ancestry to keep it steady and solid."

He isn't a sentimental young man, but the importance of family is something he really does believe in. Perhaps moreso because, at present, his only family is distant relations he never sees.

"Just so! I do enjoy going away sometimes, but one must always have somewhere to come back to. All the better if you leave your own mark there, too, your own historic weight."

He is pleasantly surprised to find her so firmly of the same mind on the subject. He says, a little more seriously, "It must be hard, then, to be expected to pull up stakes and begin again when you marry."

"Oh, it is," she admits, dropping her gaze - the enthusiasm that was driving her words a moment ago flags a little, though it's not gone. "I do sometimes wish I'd had a brother."

It feels a little faithless to think of marrying and committing herself to some other life when she thinks of her own family; her children will not be Blacks, and there are precious few of them left.

He nods. It's a heavy weight on young Regulus, with his cousins all girls and his brother such a disappointment. Lucius knows something of the pressure, but he's (he feels) better prepared for it.

After a moment, he says, "I'd like to give you a proper tour, when you come visit next. You'll only have ever seen the places open for social occasions. If you'd like to see the rest of the manor, that is." Because that has to be her choice; she surely doesn't need to in order to help plan a garden party.

Narcissa glances up at him, with a wry little smile, and then - quite bypassing his offer, although she'll return to it - she says abruptly, "Is this as odd to you as it is to me, Lucius? I don't think we've ever been so genuinely polite to one another."

Polite, certainly, but they're playing a rather different game today.

At that, he actually laughs a little. "...no, I don't suppose so. It's odd. But... not entirely unpleasant, I hope?"

Though it doesn't show in voice or manner, he's surprised to find himself... just slightly nervous. When he'd set this set of events in motion, he'd considered the conclusion foregone. The alliance made far too much sense on both sides. And he still feels that way, but he's also beginning to grow a bit attached to the idea of marrying her. He could find someone else as beautiful, and from as good a family, perhaps, but he hasn't been on a date where the conversation was this good as ages.

She's right. They won't bore each other. And Lucius had almost forgotten how desperately bored he was.

"No, not unpleasant," she concedes, still smiling. "In fact, I daresay that I could name a number of practical considerations in your favour that you hadn't even thought of. And if you're very lucky, I might even tell you what some of them are- but not now. Do you think we should still have time to walk a while if we have dessert?"

With a little twist to his smile from the tease, he draws out a simple silver pocketwatch. "Yes, I think so. Did you have one of the desserts in mind?" There are a few places they could walk that he knows won't be terribly crowded. Or terribly dangerous.

"Creme brulee, I think," she says, demurely, as if she weren't even the least bit difficult. (She is extremely difficult.)

Creme brulee suits her, he thinks; not overly sweet, but incredibly hard to do well. "Very well. Shall we split one?" Because he sees no reason not to defer to her taste when it's quite acceptable to him.

A very apt description of a lot of things, although not one that has occurred to Narcissa in such a context - yet. "Yes," she decides. "I'd like that."

With the dessert ordered, then, and on the way, he says, "You know, if it's odd for us, it's going to be even odder for the people who knew us at school." He sounds amused. "I'm actually quite looking forward to people attempting to take it graciously as a matter of course."

"Do you think anyone will ask you?" She doesn't imagine very many people will ask her about this change of heart - although she may be underestimating how effectively she'd forged her own reputation. If she weren't Narcissa Black then her assumption might very well stand.

"I'm not sure. Maybe not directly." He almost grins; it's really a nice smile, when he indulges it fully. "I suppose that question rests on whether my reputation for being calculating outweighs my reputation for bickering with you."

"I, at least, am quite charming when I'm of a mind to be." And how many of their arguments had been inspired by less than that 'I, at least'? Narcissa's smile has an edge of self-awareness and she mercifully refrains from pushing her luck - as tempting as it briefly is to incite him just to see if he can be pushed.

(Of course he can be pushed, but he's set out to woo her, hasn't he? He might not fall so easily with his eyes on that goal.)

The look he gives her is slightly arch; he hears what she's doing, and acknowledges it, but won't take the bait that easily. "I had no doubt you could be. Just as I'm sure you'll mention it if you see me straying too farm from the path of social grace."

"I promise faithfully to correct you if I see a need for it," she says, piously sweet.

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byrightsinhell - 2010-05-11 17:22 (UTC) - Expand

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vanities - 2010-05-11 17:24 (UTC) - Expand

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