Part Two
Ladera Lestrange habitually lost her sanity when her sons returned from Durmstrang School for Black Magic and Sophisticated Sorcery. She regularly went crazy, buying all sorts of things - little pieces of junk not even teenage boys could make any use of - and started decorating the manor in the most insensible way. For whatever reason.
Consequently, her husband Richard could not say with honesty that he was looking forward to Rastaban and Rodolphus coming home when Christmas was nearing each year, considering that his wife tended to take up her ridiculous behaviour three weeks in advance at the very least.
This time, of course, Rodolphus was not actually returning from school, but from his flat in Edinburgh, where he had begun to make a living of Snowjarvey breeding and Knarl hunting, very opposed to the family tradition of joining the army or take on a leading position within the Ministry of Magic. Rodolphus had finished school about six moths ago and, so Richard had been told, actually managed to grow up since the time he had left home. For some reason, however, his father had his doubts about this. In fact, Richard could not help thinking what a great relieve it was to not bear the responsibility for the hotheaded fellow's actions any longer. Rodolphus had nearly landed himself in Azkaban twice so far, because of his inability of keeping his mouth shut during politically unstable situations. Richard found that his elder son had been more of a risk and a nuisance to the family than anything lately and resolved that this was decidedly something to worry about.
Their relatives, of course, were not ignorant of this situation. Richard and his son did not get along, and even though he did approve of his inheritor's intention of marrying Mercurius Black's eldest daughter Bellatrix, Richard was still not quite convinced whether it was such a good idea to bring him to the annual Christmas dinner at Mercurius' brother's place, considering that Rodolphus had, in fact, turned into a bit of a rebel over the years. A danger for the old ways.
Ladera, of course, was too excited once again to show any such worries and chatted happily away as they made for the Blacks' house, and had informed him of ever single relative that had ever been known to marry into a Muggle household by the time they had reached the Blacks' doorstep.
It was Gladia who eventually opened the door, saving Richard from his wife's flow of words.
'Richard!' she said in an unduly surprised voice. 'Ladera! We didn't expect you before long. What happened?'
'Rastaban arrived early,' said Richard, throwing an interested look at Gladia's evening robes. 'New clothing?'
'We haven't seen each other for ages,' replied Gladia frowningly, waving them in with one, elegant gesture. 'You cannot expect to know every square inch of my wardrobe if you only turn up every other month. Are you satisfied with your new job, by the way? You seem to rarely be home these days.'
She stepped into the kitchen and they followed gladly. Ladera closely behind her husband, Rastaban at his elder brother's heel. Rodolphus was his younger brother's role model. In every sense. Richard had even noticed his younger son's tendency of dressing like his brother. Good thing he had not picked up his restlessness, though, or acquired his big gap, Richard thought. Thank Merlin.
'Very satisfied, thank you, dear,' he replied, stepping into the kitchen and greeting one family member after another. 'Good place, good job... good people.' He shook Lance's hand with some excitement. 'How are you, commander?'
'All well and healthy,' replied Gladia's brother pleasantly, not bothering to get up, as Richard was practically eye level with him already. 'You recovered from the shock of making it into the ranks of the well-paid wizarding officers?'
Richard nodded. 'Yes. It took a while, but... I have decided that there's more positive sides to it than drawbacks.'
'Drawbacks? But - not at all!' Lance smirked. Gladia followed his example, causing a resemblance that was almost frightening between them and pointed at the empty seats around the table.
'Do sit down,' she said. 'We have already started, of course, but there is plenty left. Plenty of wine as well.'
'Oh, I'll have some of your excellent green wine,' said Ladera quickly. 'I have been craving for it all week.'
Gladia nodded and, with a wave of her hand, provided them with another bottle.
'Do tell us about your new job, Richard,' she said while filling their glasses. 'I daresay you have a lot of interesting news.'
'The Ministry seem to have spotted his leadership qualities at last,' Ladera was happy to inform her. 'There is a good chance they'll make him commander next year, you know, if he continues making such a good impression...'
'I doubt Lance would like that,' interrupted Gladia, winking at her brother, who had not even moved his massive chest, but was staring unblinkingly into Ladera's pitch dark eyes. 'Or am I mistaken? Isn't that your current position, my dear?'
'It is indeed,' replied the Snape. A distinct sneer was playing round his lips, but Richard knew that this was habit rather than mockery. Sarcasm looked differently with Lance Snape.
'But you are giving up?' requested Marius Malfoy jumping in the conversation.
'Moving,' said Lance, raising his eyebrows. 'To the other end of M'bwa. There's more than one surveillance area down there. Enough for two commanders to get their share.'
'I thought the other end was guarded by great-uncle Ferdinand?' remarked Mercurius's daughter Bellatrix wonderingly, blinking at her uncle with heavily painted eyelids. Her father gave her an appreciative smile and turned to his brother as well. 'Yes, that's what I heard. Always busy abroad the good Cardinal. At his age, too. Where is he, by the way? Still de-egging his dump?' The last question was directed at his hosts. Perseus looked up, but Gladia was quicker.
'He'll join us later,' she replied cheerfully. 'I believe he has given up his job in Africa due to bad health, hasn't he, Lance?'
'He decided to step aside to give way for younger generations,' replied her brother, his sneer becoming yet more pronounced. 'That is how he puts it, anyway. Yes, bad health, I believe. And old age.'
'Uncle Ferdinand isn't old!' prompted Ladera sarcastically, causing some of the children to snigger appreciatively. 'Experienced! But not old...?'
'He is a hundred-and-sixty-seven,' said Gaia stupidly. 'I'd call that old.'
Her first remark since the second round of wine. Several people looked up in surprise. Marius grinned and cuffed her tenderly.
'Cousin,' he said, his thin lips curling into a lofty smile. 'Dear cousin, surely you would recognize a joke when it is dancing right in front of you?'
'Third cousin,' said Gaia sharply, as if trying to shut him up, though her eyes told a different story. She enjoyed the bantering as much as the rest of them. 'Twice removed. And I am not stupid. However hard you try to prove that to me each year, Marius Lucius Malfoy.'
Lucius looked up at the mention of his name and Marius glanced at him briefly, suppressing a smirk.
'Wrong choice, Gaia dear,' he informed her. 'I have been named after my grandfather. Marius Manilius Malfoy.'
'Neat,' grinned Gladia's son Sirius, earning himself an extremely severe look from his mother.
'You speak when you're addressed. Not otherwise,' she snarled.
Her son scowled and looked away quickly. 'Sorry, mother.'
Richard nodded absently. A good boy. Hot-tempered, but certainly well behaved. A shame he had not made it in Slytherin, really. Unimaginable to what greatness he might have grown.
'Ah, but you must have had a reason to name your son Lucius,' Ladera interrupted his stream of thoughts, assuming an almost playful voice while addressing her second cousin. 'Let me guess... someone famous?'
'Family,' said Marius simply. 'Delecta's great-grandfather. Lucius Lucilius Longbottom.'
'Oh, I didn't know you had a link to the Longbottom line as well,' said Gladia enthusiastically, turning to Delecta with a broad smile. 'That makes us cousins at the very least, doesn't it? I am Virbia's sister in law after all!'
'Let's not talk about family relations,' said Richard, holding his head to fight of an upcoming headache. 'No one has an overview over their various relations these days, have they? It is getting rather worrying.'
'That's because your lot refuse to marry into the McGonagall line,' said Marius teasingly, 'which would be the logical consequence of the most recent two-hundred years of breeding.'
'Over my dead body!' snarled Richard, feeling his insides boil. 'And what do you know anyway? Have you done any research on the matter? I should think not. I refuse to believe they are the last line on the other side who have not died out.'
'The Bloody Baron's line is still available, I hear,' said Ladera pensively. 'Even though he is technically not on the other side. Oh, and the Potters, of course. - Perhaps we should offer them to get back to speaking terms?'
'No way!' said Richard resolutely, making the room ring with his relatives' laughter. Wine glasses were re-filled on a regular basis now.
'We know that YOU can hold grudges,' grinned Marius, slapping Richard on his shoulder. 'I can see, of course, why you wouldn't want to get involved with a line that embarrassed your family over nine hundred years ago.'
Almost everyone laughed now. Richard felt his face flush while Gaia was singing under her breath: 'Battle of Hastings... a time for hasting...'
'Shut up,' snarled Ladera with a worried side-glance at her husband. 'It's not funny.'
The only answer to this was more laughter.
'I daresay your ancestor had every reason to run for it,' remarked Perseus in his usual low voice. 'The good Sir Howard used to have an excellent ability of estimating when the situation required an honourable withdrawal...'
In the meantime, Gaia had not stopped singing.
'There was a soldier named Howard... a bull of a man, but a c-'
Richard felt he had difficulties not hitting her with something big and heavy. 'Will you shut up,' he hissed, now seriously angry, 'and leave my ancestors alone?'
'No offence, dear cousin, no offence,' said Mercurius quickly, silencing his wife with a glance. We don't want a family crisis over some dusty war legend, now, do we?'
There was a murmur of universal agreement and some quiet discussion among the Malfoys.
'Very true,' said Gladia, obviously feeling that it was up to her to lead the conversation away from unpleasant topics. 'Lance dear, why don't you tell us a bit about your journey to South Africa earlier this year? Has it been successful?'
Her brother raised an eyebrow. 'Difficult,' he said. Very difficult. Those bastards just won't agree to our civilized ways. They'll have to be convinced by force, naturally.'
Gladia laughed. Richard turned his roast beef to inspect the other side while Ladera was helping herself to some more turkey.
'Really Lance, she said, smiling appreciatively at the dark-haired soldier, 'I am sure you are doing a marvellous job.'
'Most of the time,' shrugged the Snape. 'Haven't got as much of it as I used to, though.' He threw a side-glance at his son Severus, who was listening intently to a quiet conversation of Sirius and Andromeda. Marius's son, Richard noticed, was listening as well, throwing angry glances at the good-looking first-year, and Rastaban was showing something to Mercurius' youngest daughter, which he could not quite make out. All in all, a bunch of happy, well-behaved children, he thought, turning his attention to the grown-up conversation once more, wondering why it had wavered in the first place.
'You would, of course, be preoccupied looking after your wife these days,' Marius said. Lance gave him a dark look and did not reply.
'Is she still as bad?' asked Ladera. 'I seem to think you sent her to St. Mungo's a while ago?'
'I did,' muttered Lance, giving the impression of great embarrassment rather than concern. 'I did, but it is as I said - medical treatment won't help. It is - worries. Destroying her from the inside. I wonder...' He fell silent with another side-glance at Severus and heaved a distinct sigh.
Richard, realizing that the conversation was about to take a rather uncomfortable shift exchanged a quick look with Perseus Black before raising his glass.
'Let's drink to your wife. To all our wives, in fact. Let's drink to us.'
'And to success,' said Marius Malfoy, raising his own glass in a swift movement.
'Purity and success,' said Perseus. 'Inseparably combined forces. A toast to Lance's and Richard's future careers. A toast to smugglers.'
'A toast to smugglers,' echoed the room and people drank. The grown-ups their wine, the children their pumpkin juice. Obviously not used to so much of the excellently shimmering, green substance Gaia let out a small giggle and Richard noticed her eyes turning glassy and her cheeks assuming an interesting shade of purple. 'Goo' stuff, Perseus,' she hiccoughed. 'Cultivated in Spain, I presume?'
'Portugal,' said Perseus Black, looking rather flattered by her remark. 'My nephew is in the wine-growing business down there. In Lis- Les... Lebanon.'
'Lisbon,' came a voice from behind Lance's bull-sized torso and Richard watched the soldier's cheek redden before giving his son a sharp slap on the back of the head.
'Speak. When. Addressed,' he snarled through clenched teeth. 'Not. Otherwise.'
Richard suppressed a grin. Gaia and Ladera laughed appreciatively and Gladia quickly opened another wine bottle.
'Mercurius? Ladera?'
'Yes, please,' said the latter, still not quite able to keep her face impassive. 'By the way, Lance. I hear you are going to leave for Portugal at the end of the week?'
'Spain,' said Lance, positioning his glass in front of his sister who promptly filled it again. 'Barcelona, in fact. We have a couple of convicts who have been charged of smuggling twice in a row, meaning they will have to be taken to the International Wizarding Court.'
'The IWC? I didn't know it was in Spain,' said Marius, raising his eyebrows at Gladia's brother. 'Has it always been down there?'
'As long as I can remember,' said Lance, a trace of sarcasm twisting his dark face. 'It used to be in Belgium, though...' he made a little pause, allowing his opposite a little knowing smile, only to add '...some two-hundred years ago.' afterwards, causing more laughter and re-filling glasses.