(DM10i) Interlude II

“Sometimes I feel you’re not listening / Sometimes I feel you don’t understand”

“Just a Little Girl,” Amy Studt

“Lux,” Lucius said from his place on the sofa.  “Lux.”

“I’m sorry, Lucius,” she murmured, coming and sitting on the chair diagonal to him.  “It’s just Sirius.  I got a letter from him.”

“The ever present godbrother,” Lucius sighed, putting down his cup of tea.  “Well, we’ll never talk about my wedding to Narcissa until we get this out of the way.  What does he have to say for himself?”

“They haven’t disowned him but they’ve scorched him off the tapestry and it’s all my fault.”  Tears formed in her violet eyes.  “He says he’s gone to the Potter boy’s—his mother’s a Black, so that should help—because he’s afraid the Kingsleys won’t give him sanctuary.”

Lucius came up to her a kneeled before her, grasping her hand.  “What happened, Lux?”

She cried even harder.  “They’re saying our friendship is unnatural.  I know he doesn’t court any witches, and I’ve refused courtship offers, but there’s nothing wrong—“

“Hush now,” Lucius murmured, taking Lux into his arms.  He could feel her frail arms come up around him, her long fingered hands tugging and then loosening on his waistcoat.  “I’m sorry it’s come to this.  I know how close you are.”

“Is it wrong?” she begged.  “I love him so much.  I know I should never say, but he’s mine, all mine.”

He stroked her hair.  “Enough of that,” he murmured.  “You don’t want to get in trouble with Madeleine or your father.”

She pulled away and dried her tears with the back of her hand.  Lucius produced a handkerchief and she gladly took it.  “No, of course not.  How silly of me.”

“Well,” Lucius said, placing his hands on his thighs.  “Heir Sirius is not disinherited, which is good.  From what you’ve said over the years, he and Lord Regulus are not fond of each other, and I’m afraid if Sirius lost his title to his younger brother, it would only get worse.”

Lux laughed.  “Yes.  You’re probably right,” she agreed.

“Heir Regulus also doesn’t have the same sound to it,” Lucius concluded, making Lux laugh again.

“Now, before this wedding talk, I believe you had gossip on that friend of Sirius’s.  I can’t remember his name.”

“Yes,” she said quickly.  “James Potter.”

“The pureblood chasing after the Mudblood?  Shameful behavior if there ever was one.”

“I’ve tried to introduce him to a few Ravenclaws, as a favor to Sirius, not that he seems to care, but it never seems to work.  Potter looks at them, maybe asks them out on one date, and then forgets they ever exist.  It’s all about this Evans girl.”

“Then what’s the gossip?”

“Well, Evans is best friends with a Slytherin, Snape.  He’s the nephew of Lord Prince.  The half-blood nephew.”

“Shameful,” Lucius tutted, getting back to his feet and to his sofa.  He picked up his tea and heated it with his wand.  He motioned that Lux should pour herself a cup.  She sighed, but obliged him.

“Evans and Snape had a row.  He called her a mudblood in public, if you can believe that.  It’s absolutely shameful.  Potter was so happy because now he thinks he has a shot with her, though Sirius is doubtful.”

“What do you think, my dear?” Lucius looked at her over the cup.

“You know what I think.”

“Humor your uncle.”

“Well, she’s a mudblood.  A prefect, which makes her intelligent.  The only way to rise socially is to marry a well-placed pureblood.  Now, ideally, it would be Sirius, but he’s not interested, so her next best bet is Potter.  Really, they’re all the same.  If we revisit the subject in five years, you’ll see that I’m correct.”

“I have no doubt,” Lucius told her firmly.  “Mudbloods are all alike.  Now, I’m having a bit of an argument with Narcissa.  You’re definitely a bridesmaid, but she wants her sister Bellatrix as matron-of-honor.  I’m trying to convince her to have you both be maids-(or matrons, whatever you like)-of-honor.  I don’t think a Malfoy Lady should play second fiddle to a Black.”

“You do realize the Blacks are preeminent.”

“Well, the Lestranges aren’t,” he declared.

“Nor are the Kingsleys.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right.  We Malfoys tend to make love matches, with blonds as it always turns out.”  He looked over at her blonde curling hair and smiled.

“That may not always be the case,” she told him.  Lucius was afraid she was thinking of Sirius Black.  Hopefully, that was not the case.

“No, perhaps not.  But it’s at least true for my generation.”

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