"We should delight in it," Mrs. Malfoy said, "That our son expressed even the simplest interest in a young lady at last."
But the usually gentle candor of Abraxas Malfoy was rife with worry as he said, "Lucius is shy, we should be cautious in case we overexcite him."
Lucius turned and went back down the corridor, holding a dreaded sigh in his chest until he was far enough away to have not been heard, and then he did so, a frustrated sigh elicited from his chest and up to his throat, and he rolled his eyes. He kicked mildly at the stone wall nearest the kitchens where no one but the house elves might notice, but they knew well enough not to bother him.
Mrs. Black had written back in haste and with regret that they had other plans and would be detained a little over a month in London with their extended family, and the earliest they could meet was at the ball the Malfoy's hosted in the late fall. His mother suggested it prudent to go to London to make their specific acquaintance, but his father disagreed. No doubt, his mother had not chiefly expressed the reason for the invitation, and so Mrs. Black felt no pressure to alter their plans. Had she expressed that Lucius wanted to marry Narcissa, he would have been mortified. For one, he knew only of her faint visage through a cheerfully bright window in afternoon fog. He could not recall in his mind her voice, interests, or social demeanor at all. He could not even place her in the Slytherin Common Room, surrounded by a bunch of laughing girls or otherwise.
She was a ghost in his memory, someone he had without justification or provocation, completely missed in his social upbringing. Even though he paid little attention to his suitors or the companionable women he danced with, he thought he could at least notice them with little identification. He was sure he had danced with Andromeda and Bellatrix Black over the years, and after Theo ascertained what year the eldest sister was in relation to their own, he was quite certain he remembered her at Hogwarts too, but with Narcissa he was at a loss. It was this that enticed him to ask after her, a mere curiosity had claimed his thoughts in the interests of the lady, not infatuation, which his parents misconstrued.
It proved best that the Blacks did not come around for dinner, for the evening Prophet headline was dreadful. His name was printed in large blocky letters in the headline, along with Theo and Candra, that they were the main suspects in the murder of Scarlet Greengrass. No sooner had it arrived than Aurors were calling at the front gate, and Mr. Malfoy walked them through the driveway and into the house to question him.
There were three men who called upon the family just after dinner. Lucius had been reading on the couch next to his mother, who was working fastidiously on her embroidery, while his father sat behind them writing a letter. When they arrived outside the gate, the bell which rang through the house to alert them went off, and his father left the room in a hurry to greet them.
The men gathered themselves around the fireplace for warmth and Mr. Malfoy drew them comfortable chairs up from another room in the house with a quick flash of his wand, and they settled and positioned themselves to face Lucius, who had only just deposited his book onto the table to greet them before they were speaking:
"Lucius Malfoy, we are here on considerably important business regarding the investigation of Scarlet Greengrass, whom as you know and reported, was found dead in Knockturn Alley," the first Auror said gruffly, "Since you declined to give a statement at the Ministry, we have no other choice but to see you here, in the comfort of your home. We should speak to you alone so that we can gather your testimony to the best of our ability."
"Nonsense," Mr. Malfoy interjected, as he crossed his arms, "My son will not be left alone with you to be coerced into confession. No doubt, sirs, you have seen the evening paper, where you have smeared our good name, without evidence or proof? You expect me to believe this is news? My son has not been convicted of a crime at all, yet socially, he has been burned for it already."
The Aurors were not patient and lacked the civilities of gentlemen, so their anger and impatience were openly expressed upon their faces. First, Lucius believed he was right in assuming that what they wanted, more than to coerce him into confession, was a moment of peace from the ranting and raving of his father. Second, he thought the sole purpose his father was so obstinately discussing his son's innocence was that he did not trust Lucius enough to not perjure himself and his name in an effort to absolve himself of the crime, of which he had no motive or reason to commit.
"Mr. Malfoy, you are, I hate to say, the most classless and tactless man I have ever met!" the Auror, the only one whom had dared speak so far said, "And it is your bursting pride and selfishness that spawns the hateful things you say to men who are merely here to do their duty. Your son may have seen or heard something that could very well change the entire scope of the investigation, if only you will allow him to speak!"
Most turned red in anger, their necks and cheeks flushing, their eyes flashing dangerously. But Mr. Malfoy had the opposite effect; the angrier he became, the softer he appeared, his face drawn, taught, and pale. Only his eyes, which turned an unbearably cold grey, were of an indication of the rage swimming beneath the surface of his emotions.
"I am a gentleman amongst friends," Mr. Malfoy remarked, "A tireless man, lively in the pursuit of arts and politics, selfless with my devotion to kindness and the love for my family. I am the perfect gentleman to people of my status and to those below it if they have class. You have neither the status nor the class to make up for the former. You're a wretched little Mudblood, and if you speak ill of me once more, I'll have you thrown from my house!"
At the word "Mudblood", Mrs. Malfoy flinched, for she despised foul language more than anything else. She sat up suddenly and gathered her belongings.
"This," she murmured tactfully, "Is no conversation for a lady."
And she left at once, her sodden angry fueled deep within her, and Lucius knew that his father would be reeling from his behavior later on when she finally decided to lash out at him. In France, where his mother originated, (and she was admittedly a distant cousin of his father) the word "Mudblood" was never used. Though the prejudice existed in their society, it was thought that pureblood families ought to have more taste and class than to berate those beneath them with that sort of hateful language.
Her quitting the room removed the tension of it too, and the Aurors decided against fixating on Mr. Malfoy, who paced along the back end of the couch with his arms crossed and his jaw set.
"Lucius Malfoy," the second Auror spoke up now, as the first was drawn into himself in rage, "Please, walk us through the events you can remember of the day Scarlet Greengrass died. Why did you go to Knockturn Alley?"
He did not look to his father for approval to answer, merely cleared his throat and began to dictate somewhat shyly, with as much detail as he could, the events of yesterday evening.
"Candra Zabini suggested we go to the White Wyvern pub to drink and play cards," he said, "Theodore Nott and I were visiting him. We went to the pub and drank beer, nothing out of the ordinary, and played cards, as I said before."
"Can anyone verify your whereabouts?" the Auror asked.
"Yes, anyone who was there," Lucius remarked, "The bartender applied Anti-Apparating bracelets upon our wrists when we'd had too many, so we didn't splinch ourselves, I imagine, but we left the pub to sober up. Candra stripped his clothes off and ran ahead of us, and Theo and I followed down an alley."
"He stripped his clothes off?" the Auror asked, snorting with laughter.
"Yes," Lucius replied, "He was very drunk, I don't think he would have otherwise. Besides, there was no one else in the street."
"Are you sure?"
Lucius shook his head. "No, I cannot be, I was very inebriated. I drank too much with friends, sir, but I did not hurt anyone."
"How did you come upon the body?" the Auror asked.
"The three of us walked up the alley," he replied.
"Did something alert you?" the Auror asked, "Why did you go down the alley and then turn around?"
"There was a noise," Lucius replied, after several moments of consideration, "Someone Apparated, I think."
The three Aurors exchanged glances, though he did not know what that meant. "Were you well acquainted with the victim, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Not at all," Lucius replied, "I don't even remember speaking to her."
"Curious," an Auror said, with a cruel smile, "We have reason to believe otherwise."
It was then that Mr. Malfoy interjected, and his harsh voice startled Lucius, who was leaning into the armrest of the couch and feeling anxious. "You cannot suppose the word of a gentleman is untrue. He says he does not know her."
"Her diary is incredibly articulate and accounts for every night she attended functions in your society," the Auror announced, and he produced from an inner pocket of his cloak a worn black leather journal, which he opened and handed to Lucius to review.
In girlish, swirling handwriting, he saw the names of each man she danced with and which event it occurred, as far back as two years. Beneath each name was a small indication of what they discussed. It appeared, when she liked the men she corresponded with, she wrote at length of her night with them. They were not all men, of course, she also tallied her new friendships with women and social events and callings she had with them, and like most would use a diary, used the journal daily as a place to divulge her feelings.
His name was frequent, and she wrote at length about him in the year prior to her death, though as he flipped through, he saw that her reports of him diminished as her crush faded, and she moved on to someone else. The most striking thing was that he did not recall most of the moments she found significant:
Danced with Lucius Malfoy three times. He was charming as ever and asked me about my sister and my family, where we were planning on staying over the summer, and inquired how long it took to fix the ribbons on my dress. I did not have the opportunity to ask him much about his own life, because Pearl Parkinson was next on his card, and we were interrupted two other times by girls coming directly to him to ask for dances.
If anyone in Wiltshire was charming as dear Lucius, I would be struck dead! As he passed by me this evening, I asked if he would make room for me to dance since my card was nearly full, and he obliged so politely and enthusiastically that I dare to believe he was looking forward to it all along! And he even lightly touched my arm as he did pass by!
Danced with my dear Lucius at the Zabini's. He was more distant this time and distracted. When I asked him what the matter was, he mentioned the weather again. I assume this means something deeply personal happened that he could not trust my confidence with. How I long to know what goes on in his brilliant mind!
Lucius skipped dancing and stood outside with his father and his father's friends. We did pass one another late in the evening and he obliged me with the last dance of the night. We did not talk. Whatever hangs heavy on his conscious must be great indeed.
L spent nearly half the dances entertaining other ladies and did not seek me out at all. I do not know what to think.
The accounts went on like this, and Lucius was embarrassed to see that she had become frustrated that he always seemed to ask her vague questions and never told her anything about himself or his interests, though it became plain she wanted to know more about him. Not only did she detail every awkward thing he did, but she wrote a length about her emotions surrounding his actions, such as one particular entry:
Dear Diary,
I should have presumed that a man of Mr. Malfoy's status would not lend himself easily to my alluring qualities. With the help of my sister, we conspired it perfectly that I would sit next to him at dinner. Twice, I gently pressed my fingers to his wrists to flirt. I inclined my head, laughed when he spoke, and tried to express to him that though my name is lower in the hierarchy of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, I was not so unruly as the Black sisters, who are somehow fit to be queens at the top, while I languish near the bottom. Mother agrees that a marriage between us would most handsomely suit both families, but I find it exceedingly difficult to get him to notice anything, let alone me, at all. He floats around social activities, barely making eye contact or taking notice of his surroundings and makes it quite clear that he scarcely focuses on anyone for long. What I thought was him warming to my presence was perfect indifference and cold civility.
The only solace he seems to take in these events is when he is caught up in conversation with one of his gentlemen friends. Quite surprisingly, I came upon him animatedly discussing Herbology with Rodolphus Lestrange, and so ascertained from that small eavesdropping that he might like the subject. But when I brought it up at dinner later that evening, Lucius asked me again about my ribbons! He is either obsessed with ribbons or believes women are not capable of another subject.
Oh, but he is polite, just, and true as a gentleman in his candor! His soul is as light as his fair hair, which mother says he has let grow too long, but I think it is becoming. Should I find a way to delight him in conversation, I am sure I would be Mrs. Malfoy at once, but I doubt it very much that I am capable of holding his attention for more than a few fleeting moments, and so I am resigned to find another gentleman. The woman who actually gains his attention and thereby affection will have to be a woman of either impeccable taste or no taste at all, thereby shocking his system with either extreme. For me, this has been an overly taxing ambition I no longer wish to battle, for I feel each night I've swum upstream trying to get him to notice me. His friend, Theodore Nott, is almost as handsome and easy to distract. I think he might do.
SG
Mr. Malfoy was reading, hovering up against his son's shoulder so closely he could hear him breathing.
"This reflects nothing undo about my son," he announced flatly, stretching his back. He pressed his hands firmly against the back of the couch. "Only that he is a poor conversationalist in rooms with great distraction."
"But this journal proves, against his statement, that he knew Miss Greengrass," the Auror replied coolly.
"A journal from an infatuated young woman who sought marriage above her station!" Mr. Malfoy retorted, "She wrote about him with great excitement until the end when she realized he did not hold the same affections as she and she quit him. The evidence you procure of the victim even states that Lucius did not know her."
"I don't remember speaking to her," Lucius added quietly, "Despite the many entries in which she did. I am sure there are journals belonging to many ladies which have my name in them—to be sure, I would have asked customary questions, but there are so numerous dance partners, interviews—"
"My son is chiefly the most eligible bachelor in Britain," Mr. Malfoy interrupted, "What he means to say is that there are so numerous women who wish for his hand that, after years of pursuit, he can no longer catalog every interaction he has with them. It would be impossible. The women in this generation far outnumber the gentlemen; marriage is of the utmost importance to any of them. They are vultures."
The Aurors exchanged skeptical glances. "What a rich life to lead," one said, whom Mr. Malfoy had called a Mudblood, "To be so young and yet so pursued by so many women."
The three of them laughed at the joke, but Mr. Malfoy was incensed by it. He seized the moment when their frivolity died and said, "My son is a victim of this society! It is not his fault he is exceedingly wealthy, born from high standard and class, and remains to be highly sought after. That you wish to demoralize his character will not be tolerated. He and his friends drank too much in error and do not recall every event that unfolded in the night, but they were sober enough to report the crime they came upon as good gentlemen ought to have! This injustice is an outrage!"
"Many adjectives you have applied to your son are true," the Auror said sternly, "But a victim he is not. Scarlet Greengrass is the victim, Mr. Malfoy. She is the one who is dead."
Another Auror spoke up at once, "And your son refuses to supply all of the details necessary to prove his innocence. We requested Veritaserum, which might help uncover the truth, but you have repeatedly denied—"
Mr. Malfoy exploded into a long rant, spilling from him decrees of laws supplied for pureblood men, allowing them loopholes in the government. One particular law allowed a father to intervene on behalf of legal procedures the Ministry had against an unmarried son or daughter, of which the Aurors assured that Mr. Malfoy was well exercising his legal right to. The other was that no application of Veritaserum or curse could be used on unmarried purebloods, but this law applied only to the Sacred Twenty-Eight, thereby eliminating it for the lesser-known purebloods or blood traitors.
When he had exhausted his speech, his throat was raw and his voice hoarse, the Aurors spoke again, this time with less cadence, as it was clear every man in the room wanted to be done with the conversation.
"It is my understanding that this will be the official record of events from Lucius Malfoy," the Auror said, "Mr. Malfoy states that he went out with Theodore Nott and Candra Zabini to the White Wyvern pub on Knockturn Alley, with no supplied time of day, and proceeded to drink beer and play cards. The three of them became increasingly inebriated to the point that the bartender was concerned for their welfare and provided Anti-Apparition bracelets to their wrists. At some point in time not stated by Mr. Malfoy, the three went outside. Candra Zabini proceeded to remove his clothing and run down Knockturn Alley and Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott followed him. Mr. Malfoy supplies no reason or activity as they went down the alley, which did not connect to another street and is a dead end, and then they walked back up the alley after hearing someone Apparate."
Lucius did not respond and let his father affirm the details of his statement on his behalf, afraid that if he spoke, it might entice his father to rage again, and they might have to start all over. He thought of the alley and the statement itself, a woven lie considering he knew Candra had not been with them the entire time. And furthermore, he did not wish to expose his own actions nor Theo's. They had been very drunk, Lucius decided and suddenly passioned to kiss, but it was not something he would admit in public, and especially not when his father was standing directly behind him, already enraged by the fact that the Malfoy name was in any way negatively attached to a murder investigation.
The Aurors rose from their seats looking grim and dissatisfied. They produced a card with their office number to Lucius, begging he might supply additional details if it came to him, and they left quickly to avoid Mr. Malfoy, who was pacing again like a caged animal.
What came the next morning was worse than before. It seemed that the contents of the poor girl, Scarlet Greengrass, were published and with every entry containing Candra, Theo, or Lucius highlighted, including specifically embarrassing traits of Lucius and the improper etiquette Miss Greengrass described him as having.
Lucius was now convinced the Ministry was submitting their findings to the journalists to force them to act, but Lucius was quite certain he would rather be tied to a murder investigation, of which he could not be truly convicted as he had not committed a crime, than to be publicly shamed for the true act he committed in the alley, which would thus ruin not only his chances at marriage but be the folly of his best friend's prospects as well. It was embarrassing to think about that night when in a frenzy, the two of them kissed, but it pained Lucius more to think of what would happen if it were made public.
Additionally, the journal contained worthwhile gossip of possible affairs. Scarlet criticized the marriages of their parents' generation and blackened the doorstep of nearly every home in her entries. She wrote in detail any sleight of hand or eye contact she observed, or conversations she heard in small pieces or out of context, thus polarizing the entire society. In fact, no one was particularly safe from her inflamed, sometimes vicious accounts of history. She wrote in-depth of her jealousy against the Black sisters, particular Bellatrix, who seemed to vex her personally. She called Narcissa Black a "particularly scathing, ill-mannered, and loathsome witch" and suggested that Narcissa was a bastard child and unfit of the Black name and notoriety. And those were the nicest of endearments she gave the three daughters, whom Lucius could surmise had done nothing to have such poor things said about them.
"The only thing this proves," Theodore Nott said, as they sat around the table at Malfoy manor with his family and all of the Zabini's, "Is that Miss Greengrass presumably had many enemies, and we three happened to be crushes of her daydreams. It is mere coincidence that we were the ones that found her. I feel that everyone who she had ever interacted with should be seen as suspect as gossip seemed to be her favored trade."
"Here, here," many at the table cried, but Lucius remained contemplative and quiet, and said nothing over dinner.
For he read the rest of the journal entries in Witch's Weekly, which published the journal fully and unedited. There were so many pages they dedicated a special edition to it, and Lucius had purchased it to peruse it. What shocked him was her decision and vicious nature in regard to her society. She hated each of them so richly unless of course, she loved them dearly. There were thirteen men in two years which she fancied, some of them were even properly married and with children. Some were the men that worked with her father, and she spent some time with them around the house if there was little work to be done that day, or if they were staying for socialization. She reported nothing improper, but Scarlet was clearly a manipulative flirt who desired the satisfaction of marrying rich above all, and none of her targets were worth less than an extraordinary amount.
At first, it stunned Lucius to think that these entries were the inner workings of a girl whom he presumed so normal as to not notice her at all at parties, and if her thoughts might be so violent and cruel, he balked at the thoughts of other women in her station. He had never heard his mother speak ill of anyone, in fact, she held most people in her heart with great esteem, and she almost always believed in the good inside people. Contrasting her with Scarlet confused him; he could not identify which version of womanhood was correct and true, and which one was more manipulation.
The other reason he remained quiet was that Theo seemed very changed around him. He had sat across from him, sure, but never met his eyes. Lucius was certain he was embarrassed, but he also wished in vain that he did not think he had told the Aurors what they were doing in the alley on the night she died.
When dinner was over, he pulled Theo aside and invited him outside to the south garden veranda. It was so cold that no one bothered to follow them, and he exchanged a cigarillo with him and lit them both with his wand, and then said:
"I can't help but feel you have been avoiding me," Lucius said, struck again by the way Theo shrank from him.
Theo pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and finally met his eyes. "I am sorry. I shouldn't be cruel. I am just incredibly embarrassed—"
"Say nothing of it," Lucius interrupted, "It was a passing moment between friends. I said nothing of it to the Aurors and will never tell a soul, I swear it on my friendship."
"Your loyalty is amazing," Theo replied.
This defused the tension between them, though both still seemed entirely nervous and too cold to be standing outside in the pitch-black darkness, with the only light coming in from the warmth of the manor and the ends of their cigarillos.
Lucius tossed the cigarillo off into the garden when he had smoked all he could, and he stepped into the bend of light of the windows. In that small light, his hair was a shiny halo around his head, an object of angelic fancy that his best friend watched with a remarkable yearning he didn't understand, his fingers itching to touch the soft strands and crush them in between his fingers.
Despite their ability to converse now, it was no relief for Theodore, who had spent the days after Scarlet Greengrass's death agonizing over his sexuality rather than his imminent future. The kiss posed a slew of questions for Lucius too. For it had awakened in him the reminder of Scarlet and her journal entries, which frequently showed him ignoring the fairer sex in favor of gentlemen. He dismissed her and showed his rudeness by not listening to a thing she said, but he listened when men spoke to him.
Either he was horribly sexist, or he was latently homosexual, but neither of those words seemed to define him adequately. What he would find in the coming months was a definition, though that varied between person to person, and the true identity of Lucius Malfoy was considerably known to only a few people.
The first party he attended after the newspaper began printing about the murder was at the Rosier home, which Lucius was casually acquainted with their son, Evan Rosier, who graduated three years before him. Their manor was historic, an original from their journey to England in the 1060s, and they had made little renovations in the centuries after. The Malfoy manor was nearly unrecognizable to the handsome mansion it had originally been built to be when they moved from France, having made numerous and sizable expansions to it with each generation.
Lucius skived from the party shortly after dinner so that he could avoid dancing, and thereby eliminate the temptation some of the ladies might have had to question him about Scarlet Greengrass. Or worse, perhaps they wouldn't dance with him at all for fear he would slaughter them in front of everyone. Either outcome made Lucius decidedly anxious, so he escaped the main room by himself quietly and wandered up the stairs to the hallway. The private part of the Rosier life seemed unchanged from the public ones; he did not drift through any doors, but he did glance along the walls at the numerous portraits, some of whom had remained in their portraits, and others were gone to watch the dancers in the ballroom.
He stopped in front of a family photo with faces he recognized. It was the Black family, though taken quite a long time ago, as the daughters were not yet grown. Narcissa appeared to be five years old, clutching a small doll in her hand. Blonde curls spilled down her shoulders and back and her dress was light blue and very frilly. Lucius laughed at the sight of it, and watched the expressions of the family change slightly, choosing to instead regard him as though he wasn't there.
"That is my sister," a voice said behind him, and he turned his head.
A middle aged woman with dark hair and bright green eyes smiled. "Druella Black, I mean. She's a Rosier. That is her husband, Cygnus Black, and my three nieces, Narcissa, Andromeda, and Bellatrix appear to have walked out of frame. She does that."
Vinda Rosier was more beautiful than her sister, Druella, but scarcely so, as the entire family was blessed with good looks. Lucius felt his throat constrict to see her; she was beautiful in a way that pained people to see her. There was something exceptionally charming and effortless about her, and he wondered how long it took her to compose that aesthetic, or if it came naturally.
"I had no idea," he admitted.
Ms. Rosier nodded her head. "Oh yes, though I think my dear elder sister fits the Black family esteem better than even Cygnus does. She has always been a stickler for rules and propriety— 'Always pure' it defines her. I presume you know her daughters?"
"Only a little," he replied.
"Well," Ms. Rosier said, crossing the distance between them.
She wrapped her arm securely around his elbow and pulled him down the corridor.
"Bellatrix is the eldest, recently betrothed to Rodolphus Lestrange, as you should see in the paper this week," she told him, "She is an excellent dueler, I would not cross that one. Andromeda is bookish and good at domestic spells but think not that she is but a mere housewife, she's quite brilliant. And my youngest little niece is but eighteen, but she has such a personality!"
Lucius smiled. "What sort of personality?"
Ms. Rosier nodded and smiled widely, exposing her bright teeth as she led him around the corridor and turned left. The floor wrapped around on itself, so they could walk in a full circle. "To be sure there is no finer young woman to acquaint yourself with, Mr. Malfoy unless you wish to speak to her equally fine sisters. Dearest Cissy is as witty as they come, and it is positively criminal how intelligent she masters her subjects with ease and grace."
"You seem very fond of your nieces," he remarked.
"Quite so," she said, "Having no husband or children myself, I delight in watching them grow."
The sad history of Ms. Rosier floated to him. She was highly connected to Grindelwald, a catastrophe of a man that came before Lucius's time, and her impropriety with him had nearly had her banished entirely, but her love and obsession rendered her unlikely to marry any man with any sense at all, and so she remained in their society as a maid, though this did not detract from her alluring senses and features.
"What are Narcissa's subjects?" Lucius asked.
The young woman was threatening to devour Lucius in curiosity, this seeming figure hovering just outside of his reach, whom he was growing steadily impatient for having not met such a woman as she had been described.
"Herbology and Potions mostly," Ms. Rosier announced, "But she is proficient in all required to become a Healer. She was licensed only this summer."
"She is working?" Lucius asked, shocked.
The women in their society did not work nor earn any sort of income. It was unheard of, but not necessarily against the rule so much as no one chose to engage with it. There were plenty of wives that donated some of their time to charity, but none would bother actively pursuing a career.
"Volunteering," Ms. Rosier corrected him gently, "But essentially, she is working! She began additional studies during her final year of Hogwarts. Frankly, I don't know how she found the time with N.E.W.T.S."
"Nor I," Lucius said, "I barely survived them."
To think that there existed a woman of good breeding and intellect as Narcissa Black made him all the more in awe of her. He only hoped she was true to life and that he would not be rendered entirely disappointed when he met her for the first time. Ms. Rosier discussed more of Bellatrix and Andromeda and their accomplishments equally, but Lucius thought of the youngest daughter while she spoke, and he was lost in his thoughts as they turned about the corridor again and Ms. Rosier took him down the stairs.
"I heard of your misfortune with the Greengrass girl," she said, as they walked down the stairs to the main foyer.
Music played loudly through the closed ballroom doors and Lucius suddenly wished she had not found him so that he would not be forced to return to the party. He cringed, despite his best efforts to hide his emotions when she mentioned Scarlet.
"Yes, it's a tragedy that she died," Lucius said, "Though, despite her journal entries, we were never more than casual acquaintances."
Ms. Rosier inclined her head. "Of course, Mr. Malfoy, I wasn't implying anything sinister. I merely meant to reflect that gentlemen, truly good ones, rarely escape unscathed by the sordid opinions of smaller people."
He wondered if she actually meant him, or if she were speaking of the gentleman of her past. Either way, he thanked her for the gesture of good faith. She opened the ballroom doors for him, and they passed through it. Mrs. Malfoy was nearest the entrance, and she scarcely concealed her surprise to see who was standing next to her son.
"Vinda," she said, lightly, moving over to them at once with a flute of wine in her hand, "I thank you for finding my son. He often wanders off at these sorts of things."
Ms. Rosier was all smiles. "I found him upstairs looking at our family portraits. I was boring him terribly, regaling him with tales of history, and of my sister and her daughters."
He watched his mother do small calculations of thought as she connected who Ms. Rosier's sister was, and when she had done so, she glanced at Lucius with muted curiosity. He had once more been caught inquiring about the Black family.
"Oh yes, Druella," she replied, "I know her. How is her extended family in London? She wrote to say her family was visiting for a while."
"Miserable, I imagine," Ms. Rosier remarked, "I don't know if you had heard, but Orion Black has been ill for some time—"
Lucius was pulled from their conversation by a woman who seized his arm suddenly. She dipped into a frantic curtsey and straightened her back. "Mr. Malfoy! Please, you have not danced at all this evening, allow me to be the first. I am Miss Pearl Parkinson; we have danced before—"
"It would be my pleasure," Lucius interrupted, taking her by the arm.
As the unmanned instruments rearranged to play the next song, he brought Miss Parkinson out to the dance floor. It was a simple waltz, one of the favorites of the ladies to dance, as it was one of the few where they were allowed more intimate conversation without the possibility of being overheard. He turned her around the dance floor fluidly as the violins began to play.
He was resolved to remember this encounter and take heed of every other dance and conversation he ever had, the effects of Scarlet's scathing remarks from the grave left him disgruntled. He realized too he might never find a wife with such a flippant attitude, so he determined he must make more of an effort.
Peal Parkinson was not the woman in which to start this newfound attentiveness, he found, as she was incredulously stupid and pugnacious, though she was quite a beauty. She was nearly as forward and unruly as her introduction to him had been. She talked at length of herself and her irritations in her home. Her sister was an ugly thief that stole her diamond hairpins, though she still had not found them after destroying her room in a frantic search.
When the music ended, it was the only salvation for him, and he nearly tore away from her and ran if he had the chance, but she was pulling on him again, and he heard her high pitched shriek of a giggle as she pulled open the ballroom doors and ripped him from the party.
"Miss Parkinson!" Lucius exclaimed.
She shoved him on the stairs and latched onto him, her mouth all over his. He thought first of the sharp pain radiating down his spine, so acute he thought she might have done real damage, and then of the sloppy way her lips fell over his, her tongue on his lips, which deposited a good deal of saliva across his mouth. Having had all he could of her, he gave her a good shove off of him, though not enough to send her toppling off of him. She took the hint and unlatched from him. In disgust, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up from the stairs. His back erupted in violent pain, and he gritted his teeth, tossed her a well-deserved glare, and left her in the corridor.
Lucius unabashedly hid outside in the courtyard on the east side of the house by himself, smoking and resting his back against the cold stone wall in an effort to appease the pain. Thrice he heard Miss Parkinson step outside and bellow his name, but he shrank into the shadows, pulling his cloak over his hair, to obscure himself from her. He did not return to the house until he heard the carriages arriving, and then he took the courtyard steps two at a time to the back doors, and he slipped through them into the ballroom looking windswept and flush from the cold.
He found his parents in the foyer. They stared at him very curiously at his appearance. Solemnly, his mother reached forward and grasped a stray leaf that had stuck in the strands of his hair and pulled it from his shoulders. He heard a loud, candid giggle behind him, which he knew to be Pearl's, and he ducked quickly out of the door and left his parents to catch up to him at the carriage.