My Lord Malfoy was a notorious rake. There was no gentleman in society who became 'notorious rake' quite as well as he, for he cut a dashing and impressive figure. His dress was always so impeccably youthful - as neat and fashionable as required, but thrown together with a lackadaisical air; his brow so dark, gaze so intensely penetrating, with lips more often than not curling in sardonic amusement or mocking with his lacerating wit. His behaviour was roundly scolded by every mama, scandalously admired by every debutante, and his antics were knowingly joked of by the gentlemen. His father, Lord Abraxas Malfoy, Duke of Salazar, had every notion of his son's reputation, and spoke widely and laughingly of his son's conduct. That they were never seen to socialise between them - or indeed, that they rarely attended the same functions - spoke tellingly of their natures toward one another. So long as the fortune remained intact, he was not much minded. After all, how much is there really to say between two men of different generations?

Miss Narcissa Black was the youngest daughter of Lord Cygnus Black, Marquis of Rosier, and his frivolous wife Druella. Her parents had instilled in her the same arrogance and pride in their ancestry as they had in her older sister, Bellatrix (Andromeda, who came between them, was much kinder and gentler; and did not care for society's frills, conceit and excess). Her features were exquisitely pale and delicate and her dress beautifully kept, and - true to her name - she admired in her face all the gallantry of the poets. She was about to make her debut, not realising that her entrance into society would spark enough gossip as would last for three seasons. As it was, society already awaited her. Bellatrix's debut had been glorious; her first appearance as a vision in white had quickly given way under her dark, wild personality, and that season had been an unbridled succession of giggling gossip. She was revered as a delightfully scandalous girl - never enough to bruise the Black name - and although her younger sister Andromeda had disappointed on that count, Narcissa showed all the exciting promise of the first and all of the delicious purity of the second.

The Lords Malfoy were preparing for the Black's ball. The youngest was to debut that night, and appearances had to be made on both their accounts. However, as it was the second - and, knowing the Blacks, the most exciting - debut in what was proving to be a very boring season, all of Paris was going to be there, and really, they didn't have to see much of one another. No doubt His Grace the Duke would be in the card room all evening, and his son mostly in the ballroom. Salazar didn't much anticipate any extra excitement for his circle; he and his friends were all married, their excitement stemming instead from cards and finery, and watching young bucks exhaust themselves in their melodramatic pursuits. My Lord Lucius, on the other hand, predicted great entertainment from this night. The older sister, Bellatrix - or Trixie, as the younger half of Paris knew her - had been a brilliant sport of fun for everyone, happy to flirt, dance and bestow kisses and posies at any turn. Andromeda had been deathly dull and pious, but Miss Narcissa was rumoured to be much similar in haughtiness and prettiness as Bellatrix.

As Dobbs applied powder thickly to his wig, my lord found himself considering this, and a dark smile curled his lips. Dressed richly in light gray satin, elaborately embroidered with black and silver and exquisitely fitted, Lucius' well-skirted dress cut into his figure, showing off his trim waist. His cravat was artlessly tied in the most fashionable style, with a large diamond pin nestling in the ruffles and diamonds on his buckles. The only ring he donned was his crest. Dobbs noted his master's smirk, and Lucius replied mockingly - as was his way - that he expected the evening's events to afford much amusement, and received felicitations upon what Dobbs assured him would be a vastly diverting ball.

"No doubt mademoiselle Black will be a delight to behold," Dobbs commented, and met his master's eyes in the seeing glass for a moment. The sinister twist in my lord's lips widened, and the valet thought to himself that his eyes seemed to sparkle with mockery and privately wondered if perhaps the girl were to be pitied. Sport was low this season.

Meanwhile, Narcissa stood afore her seeing glass, face poised in practised hauteur. She quirked her eyebrow at herself, lips pursing in a flirtatious line, and her handmaiden Katie affixed a single patch on her cheekbone: The Poser. She was, as her sisters and her mother had been before her in timeless tradition, decked in trailing white silk, her face painted immaculately in white, a minute blush of rouge on her cheeks and her lips a stark kiss of red. A string of pearls hung about her elegant shoulders, and a single white rose adorned her flawless hairpiece. Her eyes were dark, and sparkled with anticipation. As Narcissa stood, silently, motionlessly and ravenously preening her reflection, a dark figure in striped satin snuck through the door. Narcissa caught the motion in the side of her eye, and looked to her sister who leant back against the door, eyes wide with mischief.

"Trixie," Narcissa greeted her coyly, a small delighted smirk tugging at her lips. Bellatrix admired her sister's figure from the door, before moving toward her with a feline slink. Her hair tumbled, unpowdered, from atop her head, decorated with pearls to complement her sister's debut. "Cissy," her sister responded. Tearing her eyes away from the glass where they had inevitably returned, Narcissa went to her sister, hands outstretched. Cissy swatted her hands lightly away from her and brought her sister in for a gentle embrace.

"Parfait, ma petite," Bellatrix said, her hands clasping the younger girl's in excitement. Narcissa received this compliment with delight, and was shortly upbraided by her mother who had bustled in and scolded them for being late. The guests were to start arriving any moment, and here they were not even ready! Get down, get down, before all Paris was upon them!