RP: A night at the opera.
Characters: Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Malfoy.
Location: Malfoy Manor -> the opera.
Date: 6th December 1999, evening.
Status/Warning: Private.
Summary: Lucius has promised Narcissa an evening out.
Completion: Incomplete.
Lucius had not told Narcissa what had happened with Draco; she knew something was wrong, but she had not tried to get him to tell her what. Lucius was more grateful for that than he could ever have said. How could he tell her? What could he tell her, for that matter? There was no way to broach the subject, no way to phrase what had happened that would not make her worry, or frighten her, and he would not to that to her.
He wanted to tell her, he wanted that more than practically anything, but Lucius knew that his reasons were partly selfish. He wanted someone else to know so he would not be carrying this burden on his own, and deep down Lucius wanted to wrap his arms around Narcissa, bury his face in her hair and admit that he was worried for Draco. But he would not, no matter how much he wanted to. She had always been there for him and comforted him, but there were things she did not know, and things Lucius did not want her to know. Telling her would do no good whatsoever.
He had promised her an evening at the opera so she could wear her new gown, and had purchased tickets for Turandot earlier that week. Lucius was determined not to spoil his wife's evening by giving the impression that there was something on his mind, and as an extra precaution had taken a Calming Draught to ensure that his concern did not show.
Lucius smoothed down his new dress robes and made his way to Narcissa's dressing room in case she wanted him to button up her gown.
Location: Malfoy Manor -> the opera.
Date: 6th December 1999, evening.
Status/Warning: Private.
Summary: Lucius has promised Narcissa an evening out.
Completion: Incomplete.
Lucius had not told Narcissa what had happened with Draco; she knew something was wrong, but she had not tried to get him to tell her what. Lucius was more grateful for that than he could ever have said. How could he tell her? What could he tell her, for that matter? There was no way to broach the subject, no way to phrase what had happened that would not make her worry, or frighten her, and he would not to that to her.
He wanted to tell her, he wanted that more than practically anything, but Lucius knew that his reasons were partly selfish. He wanted someone else to know so he would not be carrying this burden on his own, and deep down Lucius wanted to wrap his arms around Narcissa, bury his face in her hair and admit that he was worried for Draco. But he would not, no matter how much he wanted to. She had always been there for him and comforted him, but there were things she did not know, and things Lucius did not want her to know. Telling her would do no good whatsoever.
He had promised her an evening at the opera so she could wear her new gown, and had purchased tickets for Turandot earlier that week. Lucius was determined not to spoil his wife's evening by giving the impression that there was something on his mind, and as an extra precaution had taken a Calming Draught to ensure that his concern did not show.
Lucius smoothed down his new dress robes and made his way to Narcissa's dressing room in case she wanted him to button up her gown.