DINNER FOR FIVE

The Malfoy family portraits had been playing a special part in the life of the Malfoy family ever since the oldest one, depicting Bertrand de Malefoi who'd come over with William the Bastard (the idea to shed that rather ignominious nickname had been Bertrand's, along with the new, much more flattering epithet), had been hung on the wall of the first Manor. The house had been rebuilt three times since then, becoming grander and more spacious in the process, and the portrait gallery had been allotted more and more room. In its most recent reincarnation, Malfoy Manor looked almost exactly like Blenheim castle, only in better shape and with decidedly fewer tourists.

The current occupants were, at least in the portraits' opinion, not much different from their forefathers. They'd found the gallery when they started to walk on their own, had spent a few hours screaming in fright when they discovered that the painted people could actually talk, and in the end had discovered that their two-dimensional ancestors were great people to talk to. The portraits were discreet, due less to any natural inclination than to their fear of turpentine.

On a cloudy summer morning, whose humidity promised imminent rain, the latest Malfoy scion was restlessly pacing up and down the gallery.

'Because, you see,' he said, turning towards Modestus Malfoy in what seemed to be the continuation of a conversation begun some time ago, 'pulling girls is difficult enough with a name like Scorpius.'

Modestus quirked a white-blond eyebrow. 'I can't quite see why Scorpius should be more of an impediment than the name my father chose to burden me with.'

'It's a good name,' snapped the portrait hanging next to him. 'A camouflaging name, I don't mind telling you.'

'A bloody pain-in-the-arse name, if you ask me,' growled Modestus. 'Girls immediately associated it with modest proportions. It was awful.'

Scorpius sighed. 'Could we get back to the problem at hand, please? You can quarrel all you want when I'm gone. As I was saying,' he continued when Modestus had turned his gaze back on him, 'the name Scorpius is bad enough, just one step away from Coitus Interruptus.'

'One step too far in your case,' Modestus remarked, 'or you wouldn't be here, young man.' The other portraits sniggered.

'Very funny. Anyway, there's this girl…'

The portraits, who had listened to many a confession starting with the very same words, arranged their faces into expressions of dutiful interest. "There's this girl" might be leading anywhere, depending on the character of the speaker. In some cases, it had led to the speaker being burned, because the ecclesiastical authorities hadn't been too tolerant of virgin sacrifices in past centuries.

'And I think she really is the one,' Scorpius went on dreamily. 'She's smart, and fun, and very, very pretty. I met her during my gap year as a tutor at Beauxbatons – she was still a student then.'

There was a whistle from the far end of the wall. 'French?' As usual, Luciferus Malfoy managed to convey a world of depravity in one single syllable.

'No, Italian. She speaks French of course, and her English is very good, too, but that's beside the bloody point.'

'Have you…' Modestus wiggled his eyebrows.

'Yes, we have, and it was bloody wonderful, but that's not the point either. The problem, which has become a problem only because I couldn't keep my stupid mouth shut, is that Lucius has invited us both to dinner. And not,' he added ominously, 'at a restaurant.'

'So?' Modestus prompted, cocking his head.

'So we're invited to dinner at grandfather's bloody mansion in Kent.'

'You ought to be relieved. If this were still his house and he'd invited you here, he might have shown her the torture chambers. As I've been informed, some weak-stomached ladies don't react too well.'

'It still is his house, he's just left it for dad to live in. And it's not the house I'm having problems with. It his, erm, situation.'

Modestus and his father exchanged looks of incomprehension. 'His situation?' Modestus echoed.

'Yes, his situation. His lifestyle, if you will. In case you've forgotten, the old man is living with a man and a woman! One of whom is my former teacher, and the other my dad's former schoolmate! She's in her mid-forties now, and Lucius and Severus in their mid-sixties, and they're still going at it like Nifflers!'

'Not, I presume, in the presence of strangers, at the dinner table,' said Modestus.

'Well, probably not, but you never know. What will Luisa say, though? I'll have to explain it to her – what if she's so scandalized that she never wants to see me again?'

'I think,' said Modestus, 'that you are exaggerating a little. Why should she be scandalized? And why, if I may inquire, should her being scandalized by your grandfather's debauchery have any impact on your relationship? I'd call her a very silly girl indeed, if she jumped to the conclusion that you wanted the same as your grandfather. Or do you?'

'No, I don't. But you know how it is – those things always jump one generation.'

'That's twins,' Circe Malfoy, Modestus' right-hand neighbour, pointed out reasonably.

'All right then. But what if the conversation takes a turn towards, you know?'

'You'll just steer it away from you know,' said Modestus. 'And be careful not to mention the word orifice. That might give them ideas.'

'The only thing I really like about dinner parties,' Severus stated, 'is leftovers for breakfast.' He cut himself another large slice of roast lamb and topped it with cold gravy. The composition wobbled dangerously on his fork.

Lucius shuddered delicately. 'How you manage to eat this stuff for breakfast is beyond me.' He took a sip of tea and frowned. 'Actually it's disgusting.'

'You had too much to drink, dear,' Hermione said, frowning at him from underneath her curls. 'You're not as young as you used to be, and drinking with a goblin wouldn't be a very wise thing to do even if you were still twenty.'

Rolling his eyes at Severus's snicker, Lucius poured himself more tea. 'Ragnork is a very important goblin, and I clinched the deal. This in itself' – he made a face at Severus – 'would warrant a bit of consideration for my delicate sensibilities. Besides Severus is developing a pot belly, and we really can't have that. Severus running to fat would be too incongruous even to contemplate with equanimity.'

'Be quiet pots, and listen to the kettle pontificating. You've been hoarding pounds like the Bank of England, Lucius. You've got more stones than Stonehenge.'

'In some people,' Lucius retorted, miffed, 'it looks better than in others. Look at Hermione for example-'

'Are you saying I'm fat?' the lady in question snapped.

'Not at all, my dear, not at all. You are statuesque, which is a lady's prerogative, and it suits you to perfection. Severus on the other hand has the physique of a cheetah, and fat doesn't befit a cheetah.'

'What are you then?' Severus muttered, 'A polar bear?'

'Don't be ridiculous, Severus. I'm a tiger and thus a feline of massive build. The structure swallows up a few pounds without any difficulty.'

Hermione, sensing that her two men were only inches away from quarrelling, took hold of the tiller and resolutely steered the boat of conversation into more tranquil waters. 'Speaking of dinner parties: Scorpius and his inamorata are coming tomorrow, and I have to plan dinner. I'm not quite sure what to put on the menu.'

'You,' Lucius said, reaching across the table to capture her hand and kiss it, 'have become such a paragon of Lady-of-the-Manor-ness. You could fret about menus with the best of them.'

'Well, it is worrying,' Hermione said sternly and retrieved her hand. 'We want to make a good impression, don't we?'

Severus frowned at her over the rim of his coffee cup. 'I thought the girl ought to make a good impression, not us.'

'Yes of course, poor dear, she'll be fretting about being presented to the family. But we have to create a favourable impression for Draco's sake.' Hermione fished another piece of toast from the racket. 'What I can't decide about is, do we honour her by serving an Italian meal, or do we stick to English, so she feels she's accepted into the family?'

'Or,' said Lucius in a distinctly mocking tone, 'do we opt for neutrality and serve Swiss food?'

Severus harrumphed. 'There is no such thing as Swiss food.'

'There is cheese fondue for one, I'll have you know,' Lucius replied tartly, 'and there's Rösti, and…' He shrugged.

'Not much good for leftovers, if you ask me. Scratching burned cheese gunk out of a pot and eating it with cold, greasy potatoes isn't my idea of a breakfast.'

Hermione merely sighed and got up, intending to retire to her study and ruminate over possible menus.

'You haven't told me much about your grandfather, amore,' said Luisa, when Scorpius produced the portkey that was to take them to their destination.

'There isn't much to tell really.' Scorpius was grateful he wasn't under a Pinocchio charm, because the tip of his nose would already have arrived in Kent. 'I think it's better if you form your own opinion. I wouldn't want you to be prejudiced,' he added virtuously.

'Is prejudiced good or bad?'

'Neutral, I'd say. You'll see for yourself.'

'Is he married?'

'Yes,' Scorpius lied through his teeth (nose would just have crossed the Channel). 'I'm sure you'll like her. And there's this distant relative staying with them, just for a bit of course, so I suppose you'll be meeting him as well.' (Nose just above Paris, if you look through the window on your right side, you can see the Eiffel Tower)

'Oh, that's nice. So it will be a family dinner, yes?'

'Absolutely. Strictly family.' He activated the portkey. 'Ready? Let's go then.'

Oh, dio mio!' Luisa exclaimed when they materialized in the garden of the mansion, 'This is the most beautiful garden I've ever seen! Look at those – what are they?'

'No idea,' Scorpius said, busy storing the portkey in his pocket. 'You'll have to ask Uncle Severus-' He stopped abruptly. But too late, the words were out already.

'Your uncle? So he's not that distant a relative, is he?'

'Well, you know how it is with family – everybody is an uncle, even if in reality they're your great-aunt's cousin seven times removed. It's an English habit,' he added, for verisimilitude. Having successfully circumnavigated this cliff, Draco vowed to watch himself more closely. He gallantly offered Luisa his arm, and they walked towards the house.

Their three hosts came to greet them in the entrance hall. With the introductions duly finished, Hermione asked them into a small salon for aperitifs. They trooped after her obediently – Luisa darting glances here and there, trying to take in as much as possible – with Severus and Scorpius bringing up the rear.

'You look well-fed,' Scorpius remarked.

Severus smiled. 'You know how it is – the sex is good, but the food even better… Once I discovered my hedonistic side, there was no holding me back.'

'Speaking of sex' – Scorpius stopped just outside the salon and grabbed Severus's elbow – 'do you think you might… I mean, there's no need, really, for Luisa to know that the three of you…' He fell silent, shooting Severus a look of pure desperation.

'You're talking to the wrong person, my dear boy. I'm not the indiscreet one in this relationship. It's Lucius, and I'd better warn you about any such requests to him. He'd be doubly indiscreet, just to spite you.'

'Merlin help me,' Scorpius muttered.

The dinner – half-Italian, half-English – was progressing in a very satisfying manner. Hermione, who by dint of sheer stubbornness had indeed become a perfect hostess, merely to spite Lucius's pureblood friends, was quite happy with her little soirée. Even Lucius and Severus were on their best behaviour and hadn't yet engaged in one of their verbal sparring matches.

The fish plates were being cleared off the table, and the house elves prepared to serve the main course. There was a brief pause in the conversation.

'Luisa, dear,' Hermione said, 'I think I haven't asked you about your family yet. What do your parents do?'

Luisa gave her a radiant smile, obviously happy to be quizzed about her family. 'Mamma is head of the Fiscal Department of the Ministry for Magic,' she said, 'and Papa is an… how do you say orefice in English, Scorpius darling?'

'Orifice?' Hermione offered helpfully.

Scorpius choked on his wine.

'Nonsense, my dear,' said Lucius. 'A person can't be an orifice. A person has an orifice.'

'Lots of them,' Severus said, grinning broadly.

Luisa looked around. 'Did I say something wrong? What is orifice?'

'Don't ask!' Scorpius bit out between coughs.

'An orifice,' Severus said, instantly switching to teacher mode, 'is an opening. It derives from the Latin word os, meaning mouth. Orifice, however, although the mouth is one of them, is not the only opening in the human body that word may be used for. The ears, the nose, the vagina, the anus are all orifices – are you quite sure you're all right, Scorpius?'

The last Malfoy scion merely covered his beet-red face with a napkin and nodded.

'Ah,' Luisa said laughing, 'that would be orificio in Italiano. No, papa isn't an orificio, he's an orefice, which means he works with gold. He makes lovely jewels, you know – Scorpius, what is the matter with you, darling? You mustn't be shy, talking about orifices is perfectly normal.'

'No it isn't,' Scorpius panted. 'Not… not here anyway. It's just not… done.'

'Isn't it strange,' Lucius remarked in urban tones, 'that the young generation, who is supposed to be more open-minded, can sometimes be so puritan? What's the problem with orifices? It's a perfectly civil word, and we weren't even elaborating!' He tsk-ed.

'I think,' Severus said carefully, 'Scorpius might have left our guest in the dark as to the exact nature of our relationship.'

'Oh, no.' Luisa gave him one of her dashing smiles. 'He didn't, you know. He told me that you're a distant relative living with Mr and Mrs Malfoy.'

The smile on Lucius's face grew lupine. 'Did he now?'

'Grandfather, please don't!' Scorpius implored him in strangled tones.

That hadn't been a very clever thing to say, because now Luisa's curiosity was awakened. 'Why? What's the matter, Scorpius?'

'My dear grandson,' Lucius said, gallantly taking Luisa's hand and planting a chaste kiss on her knuckles, 'is very obviously ashamed of disclosing to you, my dear, that Severus, Hermione and my good self are living together in what you might call a ménage à trois.'

Luisa's eyes went wide. 'Really? Oh, that's… that's so interesting! That's incredibly exciting! Why didn't you tell me, Scorpius dear?'

'Because,' Scorpius croaked, 'because I thought it might, well, put you off me.'

'Put me off you? I get to meet the most exciting family a boyfriend has ever introduced me to, and you think it might put me off? Besides' – she leaned over and kissed her fiancé soundly on the mouth – 'these things tend to jump a generation, don't they?'

'That's twins,' Scorpius said with all the authority he could muster. 'But, come to think of it, I know this really nice guy, Hugo Weasley…'