RP: Musing in the music room
Date: Saturday, 9 September 1998
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy
Location: Malfoy Manor
Status: Private (Lucius could pop in if he hears her loud playing at the end)
Summary: Cissa has time on her hands
Completion: Complete
Narcissa worked her way through the first movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata almost automatically. She had too much time lately; the repairs on Hogwarts were complete and there were students in the castle once again, and Narcissa was back to her familiar lifestyle of running her household and making social calls. Although the latter, of course, was hardly worth mentioning these days. Their circle of friends and associates had been drastically reduced by death and incarceration, and most others who had kept their noses clean now wanted nothing to do with the house of Malfoy.
Playing kept Narcissa's hands busy in these idle days, but her mind was free to wander. The Ministry had quite effectively limited Lucius' prospects, so it would be up to her to rebuild the family's reputation. Working at Hogwarts was one step, as was the generous donation to St. Mungo's, but they alone weren't nearly enough. I am a tolerant and harmless member of society, Narcissa thought, as if repeating such a mantra would somehow make other people believe it. Her birthday at the end of the month could be a good opportunity to call public attention to them... well, playing nicely. But what if those to whom she wished to prove her point refused an invitation out of stubbornness or spite? She knew that trying too hard would make others question her motives, so how could she prevail against such opposition?
Narcissa wrinkled her nose as if a foul smell had invaded the room, and transitioned to the third movement, presto agitato suiting her mood better and also not allowing her thoughts to wander. It was cathartic, venting her frustration upon the keys, and when she picked her hands up from the final strong chords she was calm again. She stood up from the bench and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds. They had been sorely neglected while Voldemort was in residence. Not that she blamed the staff who could get away for doing so, but here it was, fall already and time to plant the bulbs, and who would do it? She resolved to speak to Lucius about hiring someone. And to write Draco. She knew she couldn't expect him to visit very frequently during the school term, but he could at least send and receive Owls.
Characters: Narcissa Malfoy
Location: Malfoy Manor
Status: Private (Lucius could pop in if he hears her loud playing at the end)
Summary: Cissa has time on her hands
Completion: Complete
Narcissa worked her way through the first movement of Beethoven's "Moonlight" sonata almost automatically. She had too much time lately; the repairs on Hogwarts were complete and there were students in the castle once again, and Narcissa was back to her familiar lifestyle of running her household and making social calls. Although the latter, of course, was hardly worth mentioning these days. Their circle of friends and associates had been drastically reduced by death and incarceration, and most others who had kept their noses clean now wanted nothing to do with the house of Malfoy.
Playing kept Narcissa's hands busy in these idle days, but her mind was free to wander. The Ministry had quite effectively limited Lucius' prospects, so it would be up to her to rebuild the family's reputation. Working at Hogwarts was one step, as was the generous donation to St. Mungo's, but they alone weren't nearly enough. I am a tolerant and harmless member of society, Narcissa thought, as if repeating such a mantra would somehow make other people believe it. Her birthday at the end of the month could be a good opportunity to call public attention to them... well, playing nicely. But what if those to whom she wished to prove her point refused an invitation out of stubbornness or spite? She knew that trying too hard would make others question her motives, so how could she prevail against such opposition?
Narcissa wrinkled her nose as if a foul smell had invaded the room, and transitioned to the third movement, presto agitato suiting her mood better and also not allowing her thoughts to wander. It was cathartic, venting her frustration upon the keys, and when she picked her hands up from the final strong chords she was calm again. She stood up from the bench and walked to the window, looking out over the grounds. They had been sorely neglected while Voldemort was in residence. Not that she blamed the staff who could get away for doing so, but here it was, fall already and time to plant the bulbs, and who would do it? She resolved to speak to Lucius about hiring someone. And to write Draco. She knew she couldn't expect him to visit very frequently during the school term, but he could at least send and receive Owls.