Dinner passed in the quiet civility that was the usual state of affairs between Elizabeth and Narcissa, until the ladies withdrew.
"Well," began Igelbert, once the door had swung shut behind the ladies. "I must congratulate you, Dr Snape, but I must also admit myself highly confused." He turned a frown on Lucius. "I thought you were too desperately in love with her to let her marry another?"
"If she wishes to marry, it is not in my power nor is it my right to stop her," he answered, coolly. Igelbert merely nodded; they were all perceptive enough to know that Lucius had not actually denied being in love with Elizabeth.
"She is an amazing woman," murmured Draco, contemplatively.
"Yeah," sighed Theo, still regretting his rash words, even though she would now be happy. "Do you think she's capable of being happy? I mean, truly happy, not just passingly so." The other four all shook their heads, each having no way of answering.
"It might be indelicate to ask," began the Nott patriarch. "but is the baby a relic of war?" As Severus was opening his mouth to answer honestly, Lucius caught his eye and shook his own head.
"Yes, although I am loathed to admit that I was so cruelly creating life when at any moment I might lose my own." They all nodded their understanding and Lucius then moved the conversation on to some bill on increasing the connectedness of European educational establishments, which he was in favour of; Igelbert was not overly keen on; Severus was dreading as part of the bill was an exchange program; and Theo and Draco were keen to hear about, having been completely ignorant of it until now.
EG
Having discussed several of their shared contacts, including the Parkinsons and Greengrasses, Desdemona and Narcissa ceased their conversing and, while the latter disturbed Elizabeth's reading of the Prophet, Lady Nott took a cushion case from the communal work basket. As she settled herself near the window, Narcissa drew close to the woman she hated most in the world.
"Now that you are engaged, can I expect to see less of you?"
"Lucius owns another estate in this area, doesn't he?" It was not a question that needed answering, Elizabeth knew every detail of the elder Malfoy's business.
"Yes, Caverham House, what of it?" Elizabeth just smiled at the older woman in answer. "How can you do this?" Narcissa exclaimed suddenly, but then dropped her voice when Desdemona looked up. "How can you marry Severus? Lucius loves you," she told her, bitterly. "and you love him. Is it really fair on Severus?"
"Listen to me!" Elizabeth hissed, sitting forwards toward the supposed lady of the house. "And listen well: your husband had his chance and he blew it. That was before I started up with Severus and Lucius knew he had lost all chance of me being his wife when that happened. Now, I'm just the woman he loves but can never have. Some part of me does love Lucius, probably the ambitious politician in me, and he will always be high in my regard: we've been through too much for him to ever lose that place with me. However, the wife and mother in me, the docile little housewife, loves Severus with all my heart. Then again, the out-of-place schoolgirl, loves Draco as fully but as a brother. To put it simply, Narcissa," she said and then paused to collect her thoughts and to take a deep breath. "I love many people, I like more, suffer some and actively dislike a few. Lucius knows and understands this, now you need to too and get over your jealousy."
"But he loves you!" snapped the older woman, frustrated. "He has never loved anyone else: not his father, not Draco and certainly not me."
"I know," said Elizabeth, quietly. "I do love him, I always have and always will. I told him I would marry him, but he had to prove that he was actually ready to make that commitment." The younger woman got up to move to the window but Narcissa caught her wrist.
"He could not marry you, he was still married to me."
"Precisely," said Elizabeth, looking down at the pale, thin woman before her with a dead look in her eyes. "I told him to kill you, but he said it was his duty to keep the family together. I let him go. We will always regret that he did not have the strength to take the opportunity I offered, but you" – she sneered, her expression turning to disgust – "can take solace. It does not matter how many affairs you have, he will never take retribution on you. However," she hissed, leaning down. "if I ever find your perfume on my husband or in his bed, do not doubt: I will visit Fenrir's fate on you both." Then, she pulled away and went to stand beside Desdemona's chair at the window.
EG
It was after a further half hour of silent tension among the women and talk among the men, before they came into the drawing-room. The ladies were glad of their company as a relief of the tension that had been so icily built up by two of their number.
"Shall we take our coffee in my study, Lady Gaunt? Sir Igelbert?" Severus caught his fiancé's eye, then glanced at Narcissa. Elizabeth's jaw tightened as she saw the glint of first triumph and then fear in Narcissa's eye.
"Severus will also join us, Lucius," she said in a hard voice that none of them had heard since the war and had all hoped never to hear again.
"Of course, I trust he is abreast of all the developments thus far?" Lucius said, trying to smooth over the memories that voice brought to the men's minds. Severus nodded and the four prepared to leave, Lucius and Igelbert kissed their wives' cheek, before the lord of the manor led the others up to the first floor and along to his study. Once inside, they settled into the velvet-covered, over-stuffed armchairs that were arranged in front of the walk-in fireplace and set about discussing what they had managed to come up with so far and what they should do next. Elizabeth sat herself at Lucius' left and her lover sat himself across from her.
"Strong with a drop of milk, so that it's a golden brown," said Lucius, holding out one of his mugs to Elizabeth. She gratefully accepted it, but placed it on the table between them. This, of course, was one of the many advantages of having coffee in Lucius' study, rather than Narcissa's sitting-room: you got decent sized mugs, not piddly little teacups. Their host handed out the rest of the coffees and then sat back with his own. "The floor is yours, my dear."
"Thank you. Well, I trust you both got my last letter?" They nodded, so she continued: "As I said, that study is lacking sufficient data. I think it would be wise to suggest to Cornelius that this study will raise negative feeling, particularly with the parents of the children from the study. Separately, I think we need to distribute copies of the study to the most old-world of the Wizengamot."
"And possibly a reporter?" suggested Igelbert.
"Yes," mused Lucius.
"So long as it's someone from a respected periodical and it's not Rita Skeeter, then fine."
"Skeeter's become a liability," added Lucius. "Oh, I found another study, by the way. It was published about five years ago and covered thirty years and all different parent types. It actually showed that, as long as the parents are no nearer than second cousins, there is no danger to the child. It also shows that the rate Pye and Clay came up with is also prevalent in half-blood and squib couplings."
"We should add that to the package. You're right about Skeeter, she is a liability, but we can't get distracted at the moment, so leave her be. Can you find us a reliable reporter?"
"Yes. I've been cultivating Jeremy Weaver for a while, from the Wizarding Chronicle," Igelbert told them and Elizabeth smiled.
"That seems to be everything sorted." She began to rise, but was halted by three sets of raised eyebrows and piercing stares. "Fine," she sighed annoyed, sitting again.
"We need a plan for if we fail to stop the bill," Igelbert apologised.
"You are the one who is always saying we need to be prepared for any eventuality," added Severus, but his fiancé shot him a murderous glare. He shut up but only to allow his brain to ponder over what could have happened between her leaving table and Lucius making his suggestion. The only thing he could think of was that Narcissa had revealed they used to be lovers but why would she do that?
"Well," she said, bringing out the original note from Williams. "My spy said 'muggle witches', so it will probably only effect pureblooded males who are not yet married."
"Basically, he wants to take the money and property away from the old blood-lines," Igelbert said, his blood pressure rising.
"Probably thinks half-bloods will be more generous," Severus dared to mutter and the other men agreed, but Elizabeth just sat there a grin of realisation spreading very slowly across her face.
"Of course!" she breathed.
"Oh no," dead-panned Lucius, teasingly.
"There's no getting any sense out of her like this," sighed Severus.
"Oh, shut up, you two," she snapped at them, but then her grin relit her face and took on an evil tint. "Have you heard about the European Excellence of Education Bill?"
"Yes," Lucius told her in a bored voice, he was quite used to her sudden explosions and did not let them worry him much.
"We were, in fact, discussing it earlier."
"Well, if our young men have to marry Mudbloods, then let's make sure it's Mudbloods with fortunes and property who have been raised in the same manner as our young women have been raised." It amazed them how she, who had served on Dumbledore's side since the beginning, could use that word so easily. They all stared at her in silence for a moment and then Lucius caught on to her meaning.
"You're a genius," he told her with a grin.
"I have my moments," she smiled, dropping her eyes.
"That would work well..." started Igelbert, nodding slowly.
"But how does the education bill help?" asked Severus.
"They're planning on exchanges," she smiled. "So, we don't even have to work out our own system for bringing the girls across."
"Basically," began Lucius. "our system of arranging marriages will be linked to those in other countries and extended to include appropriate Mudbloods." Elizabeth laughed.
"What?" asked Severus.
"Cornelius has been wanting us to co-operate with other countries for ages!" They all laughed at the thought of Cornelius when he discovered that he had inadvertently become the means to one of his beloved ends.