An icy wind chased through Londons streets hurling thick snowflakes at whoever dared to be outside in this dark November night. Despite the hostile weather the Copper Alley was full of people. Small bars and restaurants shed their golden lights on the name giving reddish cobblestones, still warm enough to melt the snowflakes into a glittering sheen of water. Light strings twinkled above the crowds. Young witches and wizards alike dressed in the latest fashion moved towards the one huge building at the alleys dead end.
The 'Mirage' was the most popular night club in London to those with high standards. It was an old theatre and the former structure of its terraces and pulpits as well as the huge stage had been kept. While looking its part as a theatre from the outside, the clubrooms were a wholly different matter.
Lucius made his way from the apparition point over to the entrance. A member of the security staff recognized him immediately and led him directly to one of the VIP lounges in a pulpit. Owning the place is paying off, Lucius thought with a glance at the enormous cue.
He sat down in one of the black leather arm chairs, when a waitress brought him his favourite drink. "William Chase Gin, no tonic water, Mr. Malfoy. Can I get you something else?" The petite witch politely smiled at him, holding the black tablet like a shield before her midst. Disparagingly he looked at her tight fitting blue cocktail dress; the waitresses' uniforms.
"No, you can leave. But stay around should I reconsider" he drawled. The small woman nodded, nearly bowing and hastily made her way to the back room. Sipping the rather expensive gin he glanced over the balcony watching the dancing crowd in front of the stage.
A DJ was standing on it, levitating CDs around his head and every now and then touching one to turn on another song. Acoustic charms however, prevented the music to reach Lucius ear. Inside the lounge his own music played from boxes hidden behind the furnishing.
He scanned the crowd for some worthwhile guests to invite to his private lounge. Several young woman could hardly be described as dressed, looking cheap despite the undoubtedly expensive shreds of cloth upon them.
A man stepped into his lookout and followed his gaze to an exstatic witch in a sinfully short red dress. "What brings you here, old friend?", his tenor rumbled. Lucius looked at Rabastan Lestrange.
The younger man had proven to be just as vindictive as him, when it came to the trials following the end of the war. He had shown up in his office and humbly declared his admiration for his work and person. In the next step he had asked, if there was a possibility to join him. Lucius had considered for a while, before accepting the apply. Rabastan had become his right hand in the mean time.
"A new beginning", came his late reply.