Narcissa's return
Date: 18th June 2001 (backdated by one day)
Time: Around half past nine in the evening
Location: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire
Characters Involved: Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy
Rating: PG - perhaps PG-13/12A later for language, discussion of violence, etc.?
The sun had set, and the sky was rapidly darkening now, as the summer dusk fell quickly. The still air was still warm from the summer sun, and no breeze stirred through the open windows of the house.
For Narcissa, the familiarity of this setting was more welcome than almost any part of her return. As she shed her light cloak into the hands of the waiting house elf, she looked around the grand entrance hall. Nothing had changed in six weeks.
"Inform my husband I am home," she told the house elf, not needing to add the command to begin unpacking her luggage. With graceful strides, heels clicking softly on the marble floor (not parquet here; this part of the house was very old), she made her way to the largest drawing room. The tastefully decorated chamber stood with lit, lamp-shrouded candles, and with open french windows; the room was pleasantly cool, particularly after the hot, crowded vulgarity of London, and Narcissa took a moment to walk slowly across to her chair, reorienting herself with each refined luxury that was hers through right of birth, right of marriage, and right of blood.
She was still wearing her travelling robe; a light but robust garment for summer Portkeys. She had been sitting for a few moments when a tray materialised onto the coffee table by her side though unobtrusive house elf magic. A cup of tea, just the thing - Narcissa poured, and added one spoon of sugar.
Lucius would be a welcome sight to her eyes - she had missed her husband, and his letters were masculine and brief, not nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity. Let him come.
((My first post to FI! :D))
Time: Around half past nine in the evening
Location: Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire
Characters Involved: Narcissa Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy
Rating: PG - perhaps PG-13/12A later for language, discussion of violence, etc.?
The sun had set, and the sky was rapidly darkening now, as the summer dusk fell quickly. The still air was still warm from the summer sun, and no breeze stirred through the open windows of the house.
For Narcissa, the familiarity of this setting was more welcome than almost any part of her return. As she shed her light cloak into the hands of the waiting house elf, she looked around the grand entrance hall. Nothing had changed in six weeks.
"Inform my husband I am home," she told the house elf, not needing to add the command to begin unpacking her luggage. With graceful strides, heels clicking softly on the marble floor (not parquet here; this part of the house was very old), she made her way to the largest drawing room. The tastefully decorated chamber stood with lit, lamp-shrouded candles, and with open french windows; the room was pleasantly cool, particularly after the hot, crowded vulgarity of London, and Narcissa took a moment to walk slowly across to her chair, reorienting herself with each refined luxury that was hers through right of birth, right of marriage, and right of blood.
She was still wearing her travelling robe; a light but robust garment for summer Portkeys. She had been sitting for a few moments when a tray materialised onto the coffee table by her side though unobtrusive house elf magic. A cup of tea, just the thing - Narcissa poured, and added one spoon of sugar.
Lucius would be a welcome sight to her eyes - she had missed her husband, and his letters were masculine and brief, not nearly enough to satisfy her curiosity. Let him come.
((My first post to FI! :D))