Full chapter almost finished. Just don't want people to think this is abandoned.

Lucius

The letter had specified, 'half past four o'clock'. Ample time yet, thought Lucius as he ordered tea for himself and the girl in a quiet corner of The Terrace. The tea parlor was nearly packed, as it normally was around this time. If anyone should ask him who the young girl sitting across from him was, he would be thanking her for much needed services on his land, offering her support and references; a perfectly suitable explanation.

The girl was quiet as she usually was; not a conversationalist was Miss Burke! Lucius had decided to appreciate her stillness, though it would have been nicer if he could call her tranquil, but tranquil she was not; 'taciturn' was a more accurate description. She spoke enough at times, of course, and Lucius liked that she was watchful; her eyes often flitting from person to person, from corner to corner; someone had taught her to be aware of her surroundings.

She was fascinated by the tea he'd ordered—a black blend of vanilla bean that sounded too exotic to pass up. The deep, mellow flavor lulled his body into a calm, contented state, and Branda actually smiled after a few sips. He encouraged her to eat, reminding her to not take a second bite of food until she'd swallowed the first! She'd blushed, struggling to do as he said as though she expected the other finger-sandwiches to walk off the table. Lucius considered that he might try to remedy that —perhaps send leftovers to the apothecary—he could say it was an afterthought, that the food was unwanted at the Manor though still in fine condition; surely they wouldn't take it as charity, but as a thoughtful gift? Yes, he would do that, decided Lucius.

"So, erm . . . sir, why did you invite me to tea with you?"

"Because it was either you or one of that lot back there, and you're much more pleasant to look at across a table" said Lucius bluntly.

Branda, predictably, turned red.

"Forgive me, my girl—that was rather brash of me—although it is true I preferred your company today over any one of theirs. One grows tired of the same people over time, you see?"

Branda shrugged, somewhat recovered.

"I suppose so."

She distracted herself by eyeing the pastries, seemed to decide against them and asked him which of the sandwiches he liked the most; it was obvious she wanted more of those instead of the scones or sweet cakes waiting for them. Damn, but she was like her father there! Lucius begged her to indulge herself, selecting a plain scone for himself. He checked his watch, excited when he saw there was only fifteen minutes left. He kept their conversation flowing, asking her opinions on various topics. He discovered that she didn't know much about politics; she didn't read Witch Weekly or any other magazines, but she did use the library in Diagon Alley. He asked why she didn't like cakes very much, and she said she'd always loved yeasty breads, that the denseness and sugariness of many homemade pastries was off-putting to her since she could remember.

"Sometimes, sweet breads almost make my head spin. I don't know why."

"Might be a good thing" said Lucius distractedly, looking round in case the old woman entered at that time. He didn't see her, though it had to be nearing half past. The tearoom had become busier; several patrons crowded the entrance, searching for a table or to find seated friends. Well, he hadn't been completely certain that the old woman would come; perhaps he oughtn't have expected her at all?

"Tell me Miss Burke, how many of your father's relatives do you know—beside Donius and Yaxley, that is? Your grandparents for instance?"

Branda paused, her cup hovering over its plate.

"I thought I'd told you I've never met them."

"Your grandparents, you mean?"

"Yes."

"I see. May I ask—what about your aunts and uncles? Surely you've met more than just Donius and that old madame?"

Branda sniggered, shrugging her shoulders, "No, sir; I only know those two."

"Ah" said Lucius, giving a nod of assent. Needing a distraction, he busied himself with his tea, for the girl's admission had put an odd mix of surprise and confusion in him; no other Burke relatives? Did she not know then of her uncle Tolmander, or even her dead aunt Chrysandra? And how much—or little, as it seemed—did Tolmander and his parents know of Nicander's brood?

"What of your Godparents, then?"

"No Godparents, sir."

"No Godparents?"

Branda shook her head, impeded by a mouthful of egg salad and watercress. Lucius mulled this new bit of information over; how could Nicander have neglected to assign his children Godparents? Who would they have been—not his brother, certainly! Their sister had died after Branda's birth, so she might have been named as Godmother…

Lucius's thoughts were immediately swept away, for standing there, just inside the doorway, a look of mingled shock and longing on her aged face, was Nicander's mother, Deverra.

Ha, she'd come!

By his owl, Lucius had told Mrs Burke, in no uncertain terms, that she was not to engage him or Branda.

If you would like a glimpse of your granddaughter . . . the message had said. I trust you'll be discreet should you come. . .

After their encounter in the street nearly a fortnight ago, Lucius had begun to consider how he might go about convincing the elder Burkes to speak with him.

It had also been quite titillating to see the effect he'd created after telling the old woman how he'd thought her son's daughter to be so like him!

The tearoom bustled, a crowd of young Ministry workers gently knocked past the old witch in their way. Had she seen Lucius? She must have.

"Miss Burke, what do you make of this tea?"

"It's really good."

The distraction working, Lucius leant back in his chair a bit, catching Deverra's eye. The old woman glanced uncertainly at him, then back to her granddaughter. She looked as if she might take a step forward, and I Lucius gave her a warning look—no, ma'am!

He turned back to the younger one with him, keeping Deverra within his peripheral vision. Branda noticed nothing.

It struck Lucius how unlike the two witches were. Deverra had been one of those people who's blonde hair had that unique ashy cast to it, though by now hers had lost all its blondness; all ash colors, now. Branda, of course, had inherited her father's and grandfather's blackish hair. The girl also had none of her grandmother's delicate features, which were catlike in appearance, the gray eyes tilted up just so, the nose smooth and short, just so, and the high cheekbones—there! Those Branda had been graced with, as Nicander had been. Beyond that, Lucius could see no immediate resemblances.

She'd perhaps stood there for only a minute staring at her son's child when the proprietor asked if she required assistance. She shook her head, whatever spell her emotions had cast over her suddenly lifting. Lucius eyed her steadily, lifting an eyebrow in a gesture of farewell when she looked uncertainly at him. He watched her turn to leave, saw her last forlorn peek at her first grandchild; when he was certain she was far enough away from the vicinity, he turned his attention back to Miss Burke.

"Would you repeat what you just said, my girl? I was . . . distracted a moment . . ."

As Gwenyn would say, gor blimey, but that man can feed me up! I'm not even sure I can eat dinner with the kids tonight, I'm so full! It's weird that; being full from an afternoon tea instead of a regular meal, innit? Then again, I did eat most of the finger sandwiches . . .

Mr Malfoy and I have gone our separate ways, him out of Diagon Alley, and I back to Knockturn Alley. Though it's hardly after five o'clock, the crowd has lessened significantly. As I pass a secondhand robe shop, I notice a wizard lurking in the narrow strip of alley between two buildings, rummaging through the pockets of his shabby robes. He looks up a moment, and I recognize him at once—Professor Lupin!