At the Zoo-By A.A. Milne

"And lions and roaring tigers
hate saying, "How do you do?" -
But I give buns to the elephant
when I go down to the Zoo!"

Chapter Three- The Muggle Zoo

Bellatrix was young and impetuous in her social statement, but her recklessness would be her downfall in the end. I, on the other hand, believe fully that in order to make a statement flare is necessary. It captures the attention of those around you inspiring them to notice you, but when you set the whole place on fire, they're notice won't matter because they'll be trying to put you out. Bellatrix is to flare as an explosion is to a candle; both enticing and beautiful, one is deadly enough to tear you limb from limb in achieving recognition for itself, and I am positive you need not me to tell you which that is.

That was why attraction had drawn me to Narcissa in the first place. Narcissa had flare. She carried herself dangerously, but as an observer one was never left asking about the scar she'd leave behind. The scar was an inconsequential memoir, a token that she left behind that reminded you she'd been there. Even as I wanted to believe she couldn't get to me, that at any given time I could get up and walk away from that table and never think about Narcissa Black again, I knew I was lying to myself. I barely knew her, after all. We'd shared simple, but intriguing conversation over a span of two hours, and yet I was obviously infatuated enough with her to spend another twenty minutes after Bella's departure waiting for my dinner companion.

I must have looked like an absolute fool, and to this day, it is one of the few things I begrudgingly hold under my tongue against her. The wait staff continually checked in on me, asking if I might like another drink, or if perhaps I might. . . but one menacing, but casual glare had been enough to silence any other insinuations on what I might like to do with myself in their restaurant. I was Lucius Malfoy, after all. If I wanted to sit in the center of their dining room all evening drinking fire whiskey and singing Guiseppe Verdi's Les Vêpres Siciliennes (I Vespri Siciliani,) line by line then by damned I would do it, and not one of those pathetic roaches would say a demeaning thing about it.

But alas, the joke was on them all, for when Narcissa breached they doorway an unearthly silence gripped the dining room and all eyes turned toward her. When she saw me, a subtle but endearing smile broke upon her full mouth, and she began toward the table. She didn't walk toward me, but glided, as though her feet barely touched the ground at all and to this day I still remember every detail of the outfit it had taken her more than an hour to arrive in. Glistening, silver seed-pearls decorated the bodice of her gown, refracting the light so that an opalescent glow surrounded her. What a vision she was to behold, I thought; how I would love to have her. I recall the precision of her hair, how it swept up off her neck into an elegant, honey-gold bun in the back that sprouted fluid springs of curl.

It almost shames to confess that when I tried to stand, I was so flustered that my thigh caught the edge of the table, but that humiliation was a small price to pay to be in her fair company. "Narcissa," I extended my hand, surprised that I had found my voice. Not that I had been worried, but moments before I spoke, it had felt stuck behind my tongue. "You look simply. . ." whatever compliment I adorned her with had to match perfectly. It couldn't fall short or else I'd lose her before she was even mine. I swallowed, "Breathtaking."

"Why thank you, Lucius," she held her hand to me and I lifted it to my lips. Her skin was flower-petal smooth and deliciously fragrant. As I helped her into her seat, I instinctively ran my tongue over my bottom lip, tasting the essence she had left on my kiss. Dear Gods, what was wrong with me. She was just a woman; a young woman who hadn't even taken her N.E.W.T. tests yet and I had had dozens just like her. "Please do accept my apologies," she said. I pushed her gently up to the table and she thanked me with another smile.

"Apologies?" I astounded. "Whatever for? You have nothing to apologize for."

"I'm more than an hour late," she reminded me.

"Oh, that," I grimaced inwardly, but kept my best face on for her. "It's nothing, really, and well worth the wait, I assure you."

Sweet laughter trickled from her, "Well, Bella was under the impression you were somewhat upset."

"Upset? No," I said. "Of course not. I don't know what would have given her that impression. Perhaps it was the martini."

She tilted her head to look at me, a curious innocence fawning her exotic features, "Or perhaps she was trying to taint my fascination with you with a little fib." She laughed again, "So she might have you all to herself."

"Perhaps," I took my seat again. Had Bellatrix told her sister she'd tried to tempt me? Was it part of some sisterly game they played? There seemed so little distance in their ages, perhaps no more than ten or eleven months which would inspire heavy competition, I imagined. Lifting my hand, I gestured for the waiter. Confounded fool, ten minutes ago I couldn't get him away from the table, but now he made me wait. This is why we enslave house-elves. There is no hesitation. You simply tell them what you want and they do it for you; none of this ridiculous waiting. "Shall I order wine?"

She opened the wine list, hesitantly perusing the contents, "Perhaps we might wait until we order," she suggested casually. "I'm not sure I could decide just yet."

You see, this was where I think I actually fell in love with her. She didn't correct my minor social blunder, or even draw attention to it, but simply overlooked it. Obviously someone of my position and status would know not to order wine before dinner, and truth be told, I did know, but in her company, in her radiance, my mind was positively befuddled. "I must confess," she added, "I have no head for wine at all, you see, and were I to have a glass before we dine, you might very well wind up with a silly little girl in your care."

I laughed, "We wouldn't want that, now would we?"
It was true. I wouldn't want her incoherent. That was part of the conquest. I wanted her just as she was, unhindered, unembellished by wine or spirits, and I wanted her to want me too. It was ridiculous. I felt like some silly school boy bumbling through his first date, when in fact I had already been out with more women then most men ever even meet up with in one lifetime. When the waiter finally came, we ordered and he recommended the wine. Narcissa insisted on a dry, red French wine in honor of Paris and the New Year, and seeing as that was the most expensive bottle on the list, I could hardly deny her.

Only seconds before the waiter walked away, I felt doubt. What if now that we were absolutely alone, not a family member or acquaintance around to save the conversation if it faltered, Narcissa and I found we had nothing in common? How embarrassing would that be? I almost wished that Bellatrix were back so I had someone to sneer at, while vying for her sister's affection, but then Narcissa said, "Now that we're alone, I'm dying for you to tell me all about America."

"America?"

"Oh yes. My father tells me you do business there. What kind of business?"

"Nothing all that important, I'm afraid. For the most part I have been an emissary for the Dark Lord, gathering supporters to his cause." I told her.

"Lord Voldemort?" she boldly asked. "Yes, my sister is quite fascinated with his view, but I know so very little about it myself. Tell me everything."

"Everything?" Well, that took care of dinner conversation. I took great pride in discussing the politics of muggle and wizard interactions. If I had my way, there would be no such thing. They belonged in their world and we in ours. Narcissa nodded agreeably, she argued a few valuable points about Muggle medicine and the recent advances in their technology.

"You do know they've finally been to the moon?"

"Yes, but look how long it took them to get there," I shook my head. "And their method. . ."

"It is rather crass, isn't it?" It was mind boggling to me that I was on a date with a woman who was interested in wizarding politics. Most of my dates with women consisted of me nodding with feigned amusement while they related their boring family history to me aunt after uncle, cousin after cousin. "However, I think it's important to take into consideration that some of their medicinal technology is edging toward surpassing ours."

"Poppycock!"

"No, really, it's true," she swirled the wine in the bottom of her glass gracefully. "They have these machines they use to look right through the human body at bones. Of course it's toxic for them to use this machine, and they do anyway."

"Whatever would they want to do that for?"

"To see if they're broken."

"Ah," I nodded. "How ridiculous."

Her sweet laughter touched me in such a way that I felt so humble in her presence. Not another woman had ever had such power over me and she had yet to even let me kiss her anywhere except her hand. "Well, they aren't near as advanced or intelligent as we are, but I think the fact that muggle-born witches and wizards are born every day suggests that some part of nature would like to see the two worlds merge."

"My word, that's the most preposterous suggestion I've ever heard."

"Well, I never said I agreed with it as a principle. Personally, I think we should put them into segregated colonies and study them."

"The way i>they /i> do with animals?"

"Precisely," the curve of her lips was wickedly delightful. "Muggle zoos," she said

"Now that I'd pay to see. Are you sure I can't introduce you to the Dark Lord? He might be interested in hearing some of what you've said here tonight."

"Perhaps at some point we could arrange such a meeting."

"Why not tonight?" I leaned across the table. "I could take you to meet with him after dinner?"

"Oh, no, not tonight," she shook her head. "Tonight we're only having dinner, Lucius."

I don't know quite why, but her saying this knocked the wind out of me. Dinner was nearly finished. There was little more than a swallow of wine left in her glass and we were only just beginning to scratch the surface with each other. "But, I thought perhaps I could interest you in a walk, at the very least."

"Perhaps next time," she said.

Next time? Next time? Dear Merlin! How could she expect me to wait until next time? Then it occurred to me that she had hinted that she would go out with me again. Rodolphus would be absolutely astonished. Smugly, I said, "All right then. Next time it is." I swallowed, kept my composure even though I was unraveling once more on the inside. "I'll hold you to it."

"I would be offended if you didn't," she smiled.

"Will you at least allow for me to see you home?"

"Of course," she agreed.

I'd have the entire drive home to try to woo her, I realized. . . all thirty minutes of it.