nothing you say will release you [Open]

[malificence]

The Ministry

It's not the most unreasonable appointment, Lucius thinks as he eyes his new desk for a moment. He's smart, he's organized, Central had still been under control of one of the few department heads who weren't unswervingly loyal to the cause. That doesn't mean he doesn't know this is a kind of punishment for the, ah, lackadaisical performance since he'd joined the Ministry proper. The department of paper trails, he thinks, before he flops into the chair and leans his elbow on the desk. Still, he'll make the best of it. He's already gotten the assistants running to bring him reports of the current interdepartmental communication practices. He's already got the mid-level bureaucrats simpering to get in his good books.

They don't yet know that he doesn't really have any good books to get into, he thinks as he crosses one ankle over his opposite knee, his black robes spilling down the back of the chair. His finger taps a rhythm as he looks at anyone who comes into his office with raised brows.

"And you're here for...?"

It's not like Central is the DMLE, or the DMAC. It's not even Mysteries. There's an extremely limited number of reasons to be in the office of the chief bureaucrat.

Malfoy Manor

Central isn't the only vaguely unpleasant pill he's swallowed today; Lucius knows an order when he hears one, even over M.I.A.V.I., even in the mild and politic tones of the MFM. And so when he leaves the Ministry for the day - several hours later than normal, and after a pleasant interlude with Chande - Lucius doesn't take the floo to Lestrange Manor, as has been his wont for some time. No, it's home he goes, to Malfoy Manor. He doesn't let the irritation show on his face until he's there and settled in in the main sitting room. Alone, for the moment, though he's well aware that it's not likely to long be the case. He's there as a glorified babysitter, after all, and whoever enters the manor next will get a level look - whether it's Scorpius, Albus, or a friend or colleague.

"So I should tell the elves there's more for dinner, then."

Comments

Malfoy Manor

[secondpotter]

Albus isn't expecting to see Lucius Malfoy. He has grown used to the fact that Lucius is away from the Manor most days. He and Scorpius have had the run of the place, which was how Albus liked it. No one was looking over their shoulders or breathing down their necks. They had time to puzzle out the mystery of their sudden time displacement in relative peace. But now Lucius was there, glaring at him with an expression Albus had seen on Scorpius' father's face from time to time. It didn't give him warm fuzzies.

"Dinner? Oh, uh, I suppose? They usually set two places for me and Scorpius but... Are you going to have dinner with us?"

[malificence]

He and Albus have rarely spoken; most of the few times that he's come back home for the evening, it's been well after dinner, and only Scorpius has approached him. Lucius senses, sometimes, that Scorpius Malfoy keeps looking for something of the grandfather he remembers in him, and sometimes he does wonder what that Lucius is like. He tries to avoid that kind of introspection often.

No, the only time before this when Lucius and Albus Potter have spoken is after the boy caught the attention of both Grindelwald and Rodolphus, the short exchange with the latter having been enough to send Lucius directly back to Malfoy Manor to have a word, to put it mildly.

"Yes." Apparently. But as he's under orders not to say why, not to let the boys know they got the attention of Minister Riddle, all he does is raise a brow. "This is my house, you realize. I am aware that Scorpius considers it his, and I'm certainly more than happy to offer you shelter, but it does not make it less mine." Even if he'd prefer a number of locales over it - the silence of dinner at Lestrange Manor, or a tete-a-tete with pretty Chante at the London flat.

[engorgimpressed]

As may be expected, Scorpius trots into the room not long after Albus, back immediately straightening upon seeing who's joined them for the evening. "Oh, good evening!" He draws up a smile, decides it probably looks too goofy, and falls to a more neutral- but still pleasant- expression.

It's always more uncomfortable, putting on airs for others when Albus is there as well. He doesn't like his best friend to see him like that. "We're having dinner together, I assume? It's only that it's been a few days since we saw you."

He never thought he'd miss his actual Grandad so much, but at home the worst family dinners got was awkward and strained. Here, it feels like one mis-step and all the awful in this world will pile right on him and Albus.

[secondpotter]

Albus straightens up when Scorpius walks into the room. Speaking to Lucius alone is one thing, but with Scorpius around he feels more pressure to be on his best behavior. Not for Lucius' sake - the man was a royal arse as far as Albus was concerned - but for Scorpius'. This was his best mates family, even in a different time. Albus didn't want to make things even more awkward or to give Lucius any reason to kick them out of the Manor (or worse).

He bites back the snarky response he'd been about to utter. Nice, he reminds himself. You have one thing going for you besides being Scorpius' best mate. You're a Slytherin. If there ever was a time to show how much of a snake you are, now is it.

"Thank you for letting us stay here," he says. "Malfoy Manor is your home, of course, I didn't mean to imply otherwise."

[malificence]

"I've been occupied, unfortunately," Lucius says. He's too much a Malfoy to not realize that both boys are putting on expressions to conceal their real thoughts; Scorpius is better at it than Potter, who looks a little bit like he's contemplating bodily harm for a moment before his expression smooths.

It's enough to bring an ironic smile to his smile as he lifts his brandy to his lips and takes a sip. "I've been working with the Ministry on setting up Braelyne," he says. "It's kept me away, unfortunately. I didn't see you at today's potluck."

[engorgimpressed]

"Oh, my apologies, we didn't realize you were expecting us there." Scorpius has never had the "pleasure" of having to make appearances to public events. In his time, when it comes to public opinion, the Malfoys are tolerated at best. Certainly not on the must-invite list. It didn't even occur to him. And more importantly, neither of them wanted to go, not when it was sure to be swarming with Ministry officials. Meaning, Death Eaters. "I hope it went well."

Perfectly nice and pleasant conversation. It can happen. It can totally happen.

[secondpotter]

Albus bites back the comment that they can go where they bloody well please, it's not as though they need a baby-sitter. In truth, he may have grumbled that last bit out beneath his breath. He exchanged a glance with Scorpius that was a cross between "There goes our evening" and "Yes, I know, pleasant."

"We're still figuring out our place here," Albus says. "Back home, we're not much for keeping up with the Joneses."

He feels incredibly awkward around Lucius. He's seen the infamous Malfoy composure before but he's never felt compelled to adopt it himself. Albus is slightly in awe of the way Scorpius can so easily slip into the act.

[malificence]

"Oh, I had no such expectation." Some people might call his smile rather sweet; some people are idiots. "Your time's your own, of course. Both of you," he adds, to include Albus in the conversation. He rises to his feet and pushes his hair off his forehead as he sets his half-finished drink on the side table.

"It wasn't exactly a boring dinner party with the Parkinsons," he says, glancing back over his shoulder. "I only thought you might go because many of the other Displaced were. Who knows, Albus might have some relatives that have popped up and haven't been able to get in touch with anyone." And then he could live with them, he thinks.

[engorgimpressed]

Albus, please, the tiniest amount of subtlety would be greatly appreciated right now...

"You're right, it'd be very nice to know if anyone we know has shown up. If the Ministry throws another such event, we'll be sure to go." Scorpius replies amicably, following after Lucius at a sedate pace. "What were you considering for dinner, if you don't mind my asking?"

Food is a perfectly neutral topic. Nothing dangerous there.

[secondpotter]

Albus sincerely hoped none of his immediate family had suddenly found themselves in this mad time, but he couldn't be certain. There didn't seem to be a real reason why any of them had shown up. He and Scorpius had found little that gave them much in the way of an explanation.

He wisely keeps his mouth shut for the moment, letting Scorpius change the topic. He made a mental note to look through his MIAVI later in the evening. Perhaps Lucius knew something Albus didn't, and that thought concerned him.

[malificence]

The Lucius Malfoy Scorpius actually knows would know to point out that a Weasley-Potter is never going to be a bastion of subtlety. This one only knows that he's hit a nerve with the suggestion that there might be family wandering around out there. He doesn't, of course, know for sure. He can check the registry, but they're all well aware that there are plenty of people avoiding that.

"I believe Sunny," Sunny being the kitchen house elf who works enough magic with pastries to attract a variety of Ministry officials to brunch, "has made rack of lamb with gorgonzola sauce tonight and roasted vegetables." And a chocolate trifle, because she knows well who she's dealing with. "No doubt more than enough for all of us."

The Ministry

[contumelies]

[ the british ministry of magic has always made petia feel like a foreigner despite her dual citizenship and her family ties here. it is one of the many reasons why she chose to work outside of its walls. she doesn't belong in this government, only a passerby in its midst. ever since her arrival back in london a little over a year ago, she has kept herself hidden from the magical community, focusing most of her attention on her careers and spending time primarily with her father and elektra.

however, with the introduction of the time deviants registration department, petia feels it is due time for her to formally announce her official return to the british wizarding society after her year-long mourning period over fedorov's death. she plans to make a public post once she has resettled into her country estate.

since last month, she has been away on another curse-breaker assignment in france. she would like nothing more than to be within the comfort of her own home. unfortunately, she has to stop by the ministry first and it is why she is here now, late into the evening with several baggage floating behind her.

she has just finished her business and she plans to visit one particular person before she apparates to her estate. it is a long overdue social call and, with the news of his recent promotion to head of central department, she feels a congratulation is in order. besides, it's along the way.

heels clicking on the marble floor, petia wears a pair of black stilettos along with her attire of a black shirt beneath a brown leather jacket and tight navy blue jeans. her long brown hair has been released from its usual ponytail. coming to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the office of one lucius malfoy, she gives two sound rapt on the frame of the open doorway before she leans against it with an amused smile and folded arms. ]

Why, Lucius, [ her tone is a cool, enticing drawl, a signature to her near irredeemable namesake as a vile temptress. ] you look perfectly at home here.

[malificence]

[ If there's one thing that he never expected to irritate, Lucius is thinking as he stares blandly at a sheaf of parchment just dropped on his desk by one of the mid-level Central managers, it's simpering and sucking up. He'd taken it for granted back in school, after all, and some of these...people are just picking up where they left off. Too much time with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, he thinks, in departments where it's a little less overt when it's still there.

Perhaps it's that influence that has that gaze remaining bland and unimpressed when he first looks up. Or maybe it's that the voice doesn't entirely register, not until he pairs it with the face. It's been a while, after all, since he and Petia were in the same place at the same time. When she'd dutifully married Sheridan Wallace, he'd left for Norway. When she returned to Russia and ultimately married Fedorov, he was staying near Wiltshire. And, of course, he thinks, there was many a society hostess leery of putting him and Petia Parkinson Wallace Fedorov Parkinson in a ballroom together.

He might...regress.

In any case, it only takes a moment for his expression to warm with a smile. It's only a little sardonic. ]

Really, darling? But I haven't redecorated at all.