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Lucius Malfoy manages to get the door of his office closed before he collapses into his chair and presses the heels of his hands to to his eyes. The color's mostly leached from his face, and there's a naked pain on his face that outweighs any he's let display in any battle or mission. But he can brace himself for curses thrown at him in the heat of battle; the visions - and the blinding headaches that come with them - are almost always without warning, especially lately. This was easier to hide until recently.

Until recently, it was occasional, he could use his reputation as a lazy and bored pureblood wizard to simply disappear when one started. But with his new position - and with the flood of time deviants - it's become worse, and sometimes he's just...trapped. Today, at least, he takes some small comfort in the fact that no one's likely to walk in. Peter won't be in for another hour, by which time - well, he'll be semi-functional, at least. The Ministry is quiet at this time; it's generally only the Minister himself - unlikely to come by this office, at least Lucius fervently hopes not - and Bella. Bella's been known to drop by, of course, but perhaps she'll be occupied until he can smooth his appearance and force the pain behind a smirk.

He focuses on his breaths as nonsensical visuals and the accompanying pain swamp him. A phoenix rising from the ashes. Open warfare. Faces that are nearly like the ones he knows but...cannot possibly be them. It used to be, before the time deviants, that he could at least make sense of what he saw, but lately he's not sure when he's seeing his future or...theirs. If there's a point when the world he knows becomes the world he sees in these increasing visions, Lucius hasn't seen it yet. He's focused enough that he almost doesn't hear the door when someone pushes it open.

Almost. Fuck, he thinks as he meets Bella's eyes. He hadn't gotten the wards up before the worst of it hit, and for a moment their eyes meet - hers wide, his bloodshot and dark. There's no hiding what's happening, he thinks, and he...he can't come up with a clever lie in this moment. "Ward the door," he says, and there's a rasp to his voice as he lets his head fall against his hands again. "Please."

He's just going to have to trust her.

Who: Lucius and Bellatrix
What: Just a witch and a wizard having a lazy weekend breakfast
When: Over the weekend.
Where: Malfoy Manor
Warnings: Disturbing levels of domesticity. Dark Arts Nerds, probably.

He still goes back and forth between Malfoy Manor and the far more distant and isolated Lestrange property where he had been living - but more of his nights are being spent in his own home, and it has its advantages, no matter how many times he contemplates just moving to the cottage in Cornwall and leaving them to it (a brief and unrealistic fantasy, honestly). One of them, frankly, is his kitchen elves are better than Rodolphus' are - and the spread includes coffee and tea, of course, but also chocolate and almond croissants and his favorite éclairs.

One might posit that after months of breakfasting with likeminded friends, a solitary late breakfast at Malfoy Manor - long after the boys have gotten themselves out of the house - might be lonely. It can be, certainly, Lucius thinks as the coffee pot raises in the air and pours the perfect amount of black French coffee into one cup. But not always.

His arm stretches across Bella's back as he reaches for the sugar. Which obviously he doesn't need to do, either, but. Well. "Cream, darling, or are you too busy stealing books from my library?"