you should join sev and i for a drink
Who: Lucius Malfoy and the Snapes
Where: Snapes' residence
When: Now.
Warnings: One hopes not.
It was during the early evening, or what counted for it in this place, that saw Lucius headed from his room and down the length of the corridor. It was clear of rain, or tundra, or sprouting trees, for all that Lucius found himself studying his palm at where rust from his door handle had scrubbed off and onto it in loose flakes. There was a slickness to the floor that made him step warily, but none of these curiousities were really suitable excuse for avoiding the ~happy couple~ for much longer.
Lucius wasn't even sure if avoiding them was what he particularly wanted to do.
There was no mistaking the knock on the door. Three sharp, metallic raps of snake headed cane against it, the item placed back within two hands as he stepped back to wait.
He was dressed in too much fabric as is customary of robes and matching cloak, hair combed as if in defiance of his own bedraggled dampness that he'd met Martha with, his overall demeanor somewhat better improved since his quarters had become his own, since his magic had been returned to him. Resembling more himself, than that of an Azkaban prisoner.
How much of this was skin deep was yet to be determined.
Where: Snapes' residence
When: Now.
Warnings: One hopes not.
It was during the early evening, or what counted for it in this place, that saw Lucius headed from his room and down the length of the corridor. It was clear of rain, or tundra, or sprouting trees, for all that Lucius found himself studying his palm at where rust from his door handle had scrubbed off and onto it in loose flakes. There was a slickness to the floor that made him step warily, but none of these curiousities were really suitable excuse for avoiding the ~happy couple~ for much longer.
Lucius wasn't even sure if avoiding them was what he particularly wanted to do.
There was no mistaking the knock on the door. Three sharp, metallic raps of snake headed cane against it, the item placed back within two hands as he stepped back to wait.
He was dressed in too much fabric as is customary of robes and matching cloak, hair combed as if in defiance of his own bedraggled dampness that he'd met Martha with, his overall demeanor somewhat better improved since his quarters had become his own, since his magic had been returned to him. Resembling more himself, than that of an Azkaban prisoner.
How much of this was skin deep was yet to be determined.