Now it's raining more than ever.

[thegooddrjones]

Who: Martha and Lucius.
Where: Seventh Floor corridor
When: Now.
Warnings: Probably not.

Comments

[thegooddrjones]

The hiss of wood and metal had caught her off guard and she chided herself silently for not being more aware of her surroundings. She knew that everything was still as it had been, and her guard for the moment was somewhere around and probably invisible. Seeing the black and blond rather than the black and brown that she expected, Martha didn't relax, per say, but there was a minuscule shift in posture, because she was no longer bracing for the curse that she'd expected.

Instead, however, she looked to her umbrella and then to the rain that didn't show any sign of letting up. A decision was reached immediately, because there was no sense in both of them becoming soaked. Offering a quick half-smile, Martha gestured broadly to the umbrella. "You can share if you like. It's big enough and there's no point in getting wet."

Her arm extended to accommodate the additional length that was required by the variance in their height and then she waited, directly next to him for him to take a step forward. Her face was calm, and unhurried, and there was no fear in it or in her eyes. Sometime in the future, this man was a friend of her husband, and he'd dance with her at their wedding. For now, she'd start with this.

[truemask]

If he knew who she was, it doesn't show on his face - and it probably would. For all that Lucius was a more than adequate liar, there were some things he couldn't help display. His own disdain and arrogance being two of them.

Sliding his wand back into his cane, he glanced down at the sloshing water filling the hallway. While there were simple charms for drying wet shoes, these were Italian leather and ran the risk of getting ruined without some further precautionary measures. "A moment." And so they were taken off, with a few snaps of buttons and buckles, protected beneath his coat under the wing of a folded arm, and socked feet were the submerged in the chilly, frothing water.

"Thank you," was said with the same imperiousness as when good service was provided, but he didn't have any coin on him for tokens of appreciation.

[thegooddrjones]

There was a bit of relief when the man didn't appear to recognize her. It appeared that while Bellatrix did know what she looked like, and had responded to her before, but the knowledge hadn't been shared amongst the two death eaters. It was a reassuring thought: if they'd planned to harm her together, she was certain that he'd know what she looked like.

Pausing when he asked for the moment, Martha stood in the rain, watching as he removed his shoes. Her own would be left unharmed once they dried, and they'd gone through worse things in the CES than a bit of chilled water. The complete surrealism of the scene threatened to override her but she just bit back the grin that threatened at the corner of her mouth, and her face was neutral when he once again stood at her side.

The Slytherin lessons that she'd been practicing (or rehearsing depending on how humorous Martha was finding the situation at present) met their first test when he spoke to her in such an arrogant tone. Equals, Martha, she could hear her husband reminding her in a slightly exasperated tone and she said back calmly and confidently, "you're welcome." There was no submissiveness in her tone, but nor was their challenge in it.

[truemask]

No evil schemes hatched today.

Lucius did not bear the demeanor of someone desiring a conflict or even to introduce himself. Martha's measured reply scrapes by his attention, more focused on keeping his cane above water and attempting to ignore the drag of his coat through it - but at least he wasn't bitching at her to hold the thing higher or tilt it more his way, even as a lash of rain gets his sleeve. Azkaban had shown him that there were worse things than a little rain.

The flooded water was a little nervousness inducing, of course, all things considered. "This had best rise no further," he was moved to mutter - barely actually talking to Martha, and more to himself as they started down the corridor.

[thegooddrjones]

"I don't think it will," she replied in a bit more natural tone than the one that she'd uttered before. This one was a bit more assured and conversational. "So far, at least, things in the hall have stayed in the hall. Our private rooms should be safe." A pause, because the nature of the Barge would rear it's head again soon. "For the moment anyway."

Slogging through the water had a familiar sensation but for the fact that the rain was confined by the walls on both sides of them. The familiar doorway of her own room was passed, and she knew that Lucius lived a bit down the corridor from where they slept. There was an odd symmetry to the way in which so many magic users ended up in the same place.

Martha supposed that it would do well to contain the odd smells of brewing potions.

"Which one are you?" She asked after a second, knowing that he probably expected her to follow him to his room and drop him off. It made sense, considering the nature of the ownership of the umbrella.

[truemask]

There was indeed his expectation, picking his way through the water and doing his best to stay beneath the cover of umbrella without actually getting overly near the woman holding onto it. She could well be three houses elves stacked atop one another and holding the umbrella for him for all the attention he paid her, listening blandly at her words about what the Barge is up to and what it isn't up to, the assurance that seemed to matter only so much.

"Number sixteen."

He lifted his chin to indicate it, the polished black wood that resembled, some, the portal he remembered leading into his private chambers at home. He hadn't asked for specifics - had he thought to, he might have asked for one of his guest rooms rather than his bedroom, but c'est la vie.

[thegooddrjones]

Martha Snape-Jones had been ignored by people a bit often in her life, and she'd been ignored by people who were held in much higher esteem that Lucius Malfoy. She was prepared by that, coupled with her lessons so she wasn't at all bothered by the way he was ignoring what she was saying. Her own chin was raised a bit and she looked to the door in question with a nod.

"You're not far from us," she announced. "It really doesn't make any sense why you haven't stopped over before now, Lucius." His name was spoken consciously, because he was her equal whether he wanted to admit it or not. And besides, calling him 'Mister Malfoy' was going to be awkward in social situations and that wasn't the sort of precedence that Martha wished to set for their relationship standard.

With her next words, Martha had the uncomfortable sensation that her husband was probably going to murder her for doing this. The wait, however, was starting to make her edgy and she would both assure and remind him (as well as herself) that she hadn't actively planned on this. "You should should join Sev and I for a drink."

[truemask]

It wasn't that Lucius was startled that someone knew his name. Just that it was used so familiarly. He stopped, despite the rain and the water sloshing around their ankles, the glint of pale eyes somewhat wolfish in his sudden study of her when before he'd barely seen her at all beyond the implement in her hand and the direction of her stare. Now he studied her, puzzle pieces clicking into place even before the name Sev is out of her mouth.

His mouth pulled into a slice of a half-smile, not particularly pleasant, especially seeing as there wasn't any mirth in it, and certainly not in his eyes. "You'll be Martha," he said, tone even enough to measure by. "What makes you think I should do anything of the sort?"

[thegooddrjones]

Her steps paused in tandem with his and she turned more fully towards him in order to allow his studying of her. There was no flinching from assessment of her--there was no point of it when she knew that he was sizing her up. Martha's smile in return to his own was calm and pleasant, the movement of her lips and eyes containing warmth that she found it hard to stifle in circumstances that she should. Like now, perhaps, but she hadn't learned how to not smile with her eyes unless she was forcing the expression. At the moment she didn't feel the need to do it.

"I'm Martha," she agreed, the same expression and calm tone of voice. If his question caught her off guard it didn't show in her immediate response. "Because you're right here, and I'm inviting you and it would be rude not to come." Manners were important after all, and his manners were meant to be far more impeccable than hers were; after all, she was a muggle and a plebe.

[truemask]

The sound of rain drumming off the umbrella was a reasonable cacophony, and Lucius imagined, fitting underscore to the raised eyebrow look he had cast down at her. Manners, owed someone like her? Manners, at a time like this?

...not that there was anything wrong with that.

The latter part.

But all the same. The subtle shift forward was just that - near imperceptible until he was looming a little more than he was before. "Do you really think that a little rudeness is all you'd have to fear," he asked, his voice kept at a level of quiet that he's cultivated into intimidation over the years, but there is a certain watchful quality to his stare down at her at the same time, "from someone like me?

"You know my name, but perhaps you do not know enough."

[thegooddrjones]

Martha Snape-Jones was many things, but being easily intimidated wasn't one of them. She didn't back down or even blink when he loomed over her (something that was easy to do considering Martha stood at only a bit over five feet.) And she met his eyes easily and without a trace of fear. She'd faced Saxon down, and Davros and the Doctor himself and she Lucius Malfoy didn't frighten her.

"I know more than your name, Lucius. I'm not ignorant as to what you were, or as to what my husband was and what you both participated in." Martha told herself that she knew he was baiting him, and she kept her voice calm and quiet, even, and not overly emotional. Each thing was commented in a very matter of fact way.

"I also know you're Sev's friend, and you matter to him. I don't want there to be war between us. I don't expect you to like me, but I do expect you to tolerate me. So, a drink, I think. I know Sev has good brandy."

[truemask]

Logic says she would have to know a thing or two about Snape's past. Just how much and how it counts towards the present is what Lucius holds more interest in, this notion of past tense when referencing Severus' sins and also that--

--damnable nickname.

"Manners and tolerance. How presumptuous for a single sitting." This was a lot easier, talking down his nose to someone, when he wasn't standing beneath the same umbrella and clutching his shoes beneath his coat, but one takes what one gets. Still, there was a touch of relent in the tip of Lucius' head, sliding a glance off towards the door he desired to get towards without getting thoroughly drenched.

He drew in a breath that squared his shoulders. "Then you'll tell me the preferred time of you and your husband and I'll see if I'm available."

[thegooddrjones]

"Perhaps." Martha said the words with a little bit of a shrug, because she was quite certain that he was going to use one to fake the other. When there was the sliding glance towards the door, Martha gestured towards it, and half-turned in order to keep walking towards his room. She didn't want him to get soaked either, and she was becoming uncomfortably aware of the way the water was sliding down the back of her neck and under her collar.

Knowing that this perhaps might count as a victory, Martha decided to just accept it. "Why don't we say half-seven?" It would give them enough time to go through whatever frantic lessons Snape decided to impart to his wife. "I think it'll be better to have the drink after dinner than before it." And it seemed to work better with brandy, if things from 1913 still held true in Wizarding London in 1996.

[truemask]

"Yes, very proper."

Arriving at his door, Lucius risked the inevitable gap between umbrella and doorway so as best to reach the door handle and let himself inside. If there was any spilling in of flooding monsoon water, it could probably be resolved with a few wand flicks, blessedly repowered that he is (for all that he was not pushing his luck either).

"With any luck, the hallway will have drained by then." And Lucius was on his way to shutting the door in neat, lock-clicking division from the rest of the world, leaving her with only that first thank you so that he could best go get dry.

[thegooddrjones]

Martha nodded with his agreement, and she kept her face a bit neutral as he opened the door into his room. She didn't bother to responding to his final statement, because she knew that one: it would weaken her position, and two that he really wasn't going to bother to listen. The lack of listening was an odd position to be in considering everything that she'd done in the past.

Oh well. Martha took several steps away from Lucius's door, her face breaking slowly into a grin each time her heel made contact with the puddle. Once she was quite certain that Lucius wouldn't be able to see her, Martha Snape-Jones punched the air.

[emptyyourself]

Thanks to the unexpected downpour on level seven, Severus had found it difficult to follow Martha and Lucius without attracting notice. A Disillusionment and Impervius charms only took one so far. He had settled for halting, stock-still, midway between rooms eleven and sixteen; thankfully, their conversation could be heard quite clearly.

He had to admit, while there were a few things he might have done different, Martha handled it with aplomb. He kept his wand drawn, but not at the ready. He suspected Lucius wouldn't attack Martha on their first meeting - certainly not so soon after the Marquis had returned his wand. Then again, Lucius sometimes surprised him.

He waited, still under the effects of the enchantment, until the door to room sixteen was closed and Martha was patting herself on the back to take her by the arm and steer her towards their own room.