let's play a game; let's tell a white lie

[malificence]

It wasn't only that he could tell what kind of conversation Bellatrix was having from across the room, Lucius thought as he exhaled smoke on the balcony and watched. He could quote every word Cygnus Black was saying, because Abraxas Malfoy had said it too. The motherly role Druella was playing was less, intimately familiar, but only because his own mother had died of a fever before he was old enough to have these specific expectations.

There were always other expectations, of course, even at the age of thirteen. But marrying a properly pure witch were a bit below being the very best in Slytherin. Focus had begun to shift there the year he'd turned seventeen.

Lucius ground out his cigarette and stepped back inside in a swirl of black robes. He tipped his head to one side. Really, it was none of his business; he and Bellatrix had been friends, of course, school friends, close in their own way, but he was proud and she was prouder, and that was all it had been. Still, they'd always been a good team when it came to it; they still were, on occasion. His father was getting more insistent and therefore annoying, and he expected that went double for a pair of Black parents.

His stride across the room seemed measured, and certainly not as impulsive as it was, and Bella's back went ramrod straight when his hand touched it, but his first words were for her father instead.

"I am sorry to interrupt, sir," he murmured. "But Bellatrix and I arranged this dance earlier."

Comments

[scinlac]

Druella had spent the first eleven years of Bella's life duly ignoring what the nanny had warned her of ever since the girl was old enough to walk unaided. Right up until she had accompanied her eldest daughter to purchase her first wand and they had left Ollivander's with one shaped like a cruel bird's talon – and described as 'unyielding'. All she wanted was for her daughters to be docile. Middling witches, perhaps, not too stupid as to draw humiliation for it, but not too bright, not too skilled, not... eager to rival a wizard. After all, Druella hadn't dug her nails into Cygnus Black and endured her sister-in-law, Walburga, only for her daughters to do the sorts of things that would not advance the family's standing.

So here they are, Cygnus and her, once again reminding their eldest daughter that the noble young heirs present tonight will not be present forever, and that she is ageing, and that she ––

And other such things. Bellatrix, meanwhile, is thinking of the war, and thinking of the Dark Lord, and thinking of all the twisted things she's learned and used and will go on with. Just next week, there is something planned. It keeps her temper in check, but she stiffens, of course she does, as he predicted she would, under Lucius' touch.

"You would not let me get a word in." Her voice is measured, her smile is sharp, Cygnus is delighted – and Druella is, for once, without words. Bella, for her part, turns to Lucius, and only one who has come up against her in many a practice duel would be able to see the wheels turning. "This song is ever so lovely."

And with that, she allows him to guide her to the dance floor, though the question she has remains unasked. What on earth is he doing?

[malificence]

He used to consider it strange, the way they knew each other better - even when less than close, even when rivals - than their families did. It isn't that he thinks Bella is particularly close to her parents; he suspects he's far closer to Abraxas Malfoy than she is to Druella and Cygnus. It's more that clinging to an idea like this approaches delusion in the extreme. Clearly, neither of them had a burning desire to be married at nineteen.

Of course, Lucius is pointedly ignoring that desires have little to do with marriages in their set.

He lets her stew for a couple minutes into the dance, just for fun, but finally he does speak. "It seems we're suffering from similar plagues," he says in that same amused drawl. "Personally, it's nearly enough for me to invent a romance with a witch in, for example, China."

[scinlac]

"I am afraid a wizard they do not know nor have ever met would not solve my predicament." Her tone is amused, rather than reproachful. It's understood that they, and every single one of their peers, are in the same boat – the ones, at least, that have not had their arrangements made for them.

Ironically, Bella had been very much promised to one herself, but Rodolphus Lestrange had been an early casualty of a still-fresh war: Diffindo, a simple spell taught to every twelve-year-old, is not usually lethal, especially in the hands of a Mudblood. Unless said Mud casts it, by impure chance, right at someone's jugular in panicked self-defence.

But that was months ago, and Bella had spat a little too much venom about the arrangement in front of her parents to now fake the grieving fiancée. "A dance like this could give them an entirely wrong idea."

Except –– it could be useful, to keep them thinking of this.

[malificence]

He can tell by the increasingly crafty look in her eyes that she's picking up on the idea that had him crossing the floor towards her. There are multiple advantages to it, as well; the Dark Lord has noted which of his followers are the most clever, the most vicious, and the most skilled. It's without a doubt the two of them, and they are often paired. Adding a false component to that relationship will make their work all the easier.

"It could be convenient," he says as they move in the complicated steps of the dance. "And give each of us a rest from the questions." He doubts, as well, that her parents would question it too closely. Neither would his father. Why look a gift horse in the mouth?

"I'm afraid we'd have to tolerate more of this sort of thing," he adds. He means the dancing. He doesn't, yet, mean the other parts of pretending to be involved. But don't worry, that will occur to him soon, too.

[scinlac]

"I think we are in agreement that we have had worse dancing partners between the two of us," though of course she isn't thinking of dances at all. They play well together, when they go out to do the Dark Lord's bidding, and while it isn't a flawless system, she does believe it has significantly more potential than, for example, she and Rabastan do. They fight, of course they do, but when push comes to shove, there is no one in their age range she'd rather have with her on a mission.

"You would have to endure my mother."

She isn't considering anything else yet, it doesn't occur to her that they will need to sell their act. Not yet, that is. It's not been necessary with Rodolphus, decided as it was for her, but it'll be quite necessary if they are delaying engagements on account of the pretence of a true courting.

[malificence]

They play well together, and neither of them are particularly known for it among the Death Eaters. Enough so that, among their closest colleagues, there are whispers of just this. Jealous lies, of course, but it could prove useful.

Lucius smiles as they turn on the floor. "Your mother likes me," he says. "Some people, I'm told, find me charming." Bella has never been one to find any man charming, he believes, but he's confident she can pretend. Probably.

"We'll need to make appearances together, of course," he adds. "And not just at these sorts of things." Dates, Bella. He means dates.

[scinlac]

There are a few things that fall together here in unfortunate ways: the concept of a female Death Eater is a bit of a novelty, and there is the suggestion that she got where she's going with her legs in the air, for one. For another, much like Bella, Lucius is already surpassing many of the first generation Death Eaters in terms of skill, power, and perhaps most importantly, in the Dark Lord's regard. It's no surprise that lies about them spread like wildfire.

It's no surprise, either, that Bella takes great offence and (she imagines she shares this with Lucius) spends plenty of her time learning more intricate curses, becoming more proficient in forbidden magic.

"Some people are simple creatures." The only person Bella considers charming, well. Let's say if she turned her eyes to Lucius, her tastes would massively improve. "We can make appearances."

Her eyes widen as she finally gets to where he's been guiding her: "I'm not going to Madame Puddifoot's with you."

Three guesses when Bella's last date was.

[malificence]

Bella isn't so obvious that Lucius knows exactly who she finds charming but - if she were to let it slip - it wouldn't entirely surprise him. She was never one to have patience with boys her age, including her late and not particularly lamented betrothed.

Who, he reflects as the music starts to die off and they stop dancing, must have given up on dates when they were still in school. "Are we fourteen?" he drawls out with some amusement as he offers his arm. They might as well milk it while they're here, so he doesn't lead her back to her parents. "I think we outgrew ice cream and confectionary some time ago." Dinner and a murder seems more their speed.

Unwise, of course, to say that here. So, something more palatable to the masses. "Perhaps that bookshop in Knockturn," he says. "Dinner, somewhere the irritating Rita is lurking."

[scinlac]

She takes the arm he offers, and whole-heartedly ignores how quickly time had passed during their dance. Frankly, she ignores a lot of things about him – from the way he plays society grates on her, to the very handsome twist in his smile when he eviscerates someone.

Subtly, she steers him towards the balcony – privacy enough to talk, but not private enough to hide them from curious eyes. Are they fourteen? No. But it occurs to her that her adamant refusal waste any of her precious freedom on dates – much less relationships – that were doomed from the moment her engagement was announced, might now prove to be a disadvantage. She only knows what she's supposed to fake from the outside looking in, none of her real encounters were ever meant to outlast a few nights.

"Practical," the bookshop, she means. "I suppose Rita can be tipped off, just to be entirely sure word gets out."

There is, of course, another matter entirely. "I was under the impression you were... quite taken with a certain witch. I recall Narcissa being ever so upset every time they encountered one another."

[malificence]

"Certainly we can," Lucius says. Though he suspects that them tipping Rita Skeeter off will just genuinely intrigue her, and therefore become more of an annoyance than otherwise.

He leans against the stone railing of the balcony, crossing his arms as he watches her. Narcissa Black is probably number one or two on Abraxas Malfoy's picks for potential daughters in law, in part because she plays the role Druella always wished her daughters to play - a skilled witch, charming but ultimately biddable. It's also why Lucius isn't particularly interested. "Adeline?" he says with a raised brow. "I believe she's married to a Swiss wizard now, and living in Lausanne. It seems she lost patience with waiting for me to propose."

[scinlac]

Married. That is... evidently what she wanted to here, if her small smile is anything to go by. She joins him by the railing, and looks up at the night sky – to the southwest. It's a clear night, she has a good chance of spotting gamma orionis.

"I had to ask." This is as good an apology as she can give, though she isn't certain if any aspect of his relationship to Adaline was any more true than what he is suggesting to her now. It might have been. "I am afraid my poor mother's heart cannot take another scandal."

Not that there has been a scandal, not that there has ever been a middle Black daughter. Still, Bella wouldn't wish to wind up in the humiliating position of being a vehicle to stir some other woman's jealousy. And perhaps she is paranoid. She does rather give the impression of a kneazle trying to sniff out a tasteless poison in its food.

"A year sounds like a long time, doesn't it?"

[malificence]

Lucius looks like he's considering a snort, or a laugh, but he merely lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "I should not wish to be the cause of your mother requiring her smelling salts," he says, "but I do not expect to see Adaline again." Or not for years. Part of her appeal when he was climbing the ranks of the Death Eaters was that she hadn't been one to ask questions or argue with the man she thought she was going to marry.

Of course, that's also why he'd gotten bored.

Lucius straightens away from the balcony ledge. "It doesn't seem that long at all," he says, "when you consider the amount of owls I get from my father on the matter of continuing the line." He has every intention, of course, but he's young. There's plenty of time, once they've won the war.

He glances out the balcony door, and sees both Cygnus and his own father. Watching. "We may need to start selling this now," he says. "Don't hex me."

That's her warning, a moment before he leans down and captures her mouth in a kiss.

[scinlac]

It says a lot about the kind of habitual way she has learned to trust some part of his judgement: she doesn't turn to check what he has seen when he made the snap judgement. This is why they work in pairs, after all, and she would expect no less of him.

She doesn't protest, the deal is too good. That doesn't necessarily translate to approval, however, because she is now confronted with the cons of the plan. The pros are obvious: she is evading the questions her parents would otherwise not stop asking, she is buying herself a little time, a little freedom. The cons, however, are the very public impression she gives just by kissing him, just by being seen with him. There is nothing worse, to her, than to have to give the impression that she could be so weak as to desire someone's company, to want any kind of affection, even the implication of a close relationship in which she ostentatiously might find support or show some manner of weakness.

It almost overrides the fact that the kiss is, for all intents and purposes, good.

Almost.

Of course, that realisation, combined with his explicit order not to hex him, is a bit too much.

It's not a hex, she doesn't have her wand out, but she does command enough wandless magic to send an unpleasant bout of current through him where her gloved hand touches his chest.

[malificence]

His breath hisses out and he jerks reflexively. His eyes narrow as he leans back from her, but at the same time, his lips curve in a knowing smirk. "Couldn't resist, I expect," he says. The dry words from anyone else would indicate that Bella's little wandless trick had missed its mark; with Lucius, it's just because any Death Eater as highly ranked as he had best have learned to work through most pain.

That's all it is, of course; certainly, there are no twisted inclinations on his part.

"Our fathers were watching," he adds. "And mine is likely to be skeptical without the occasional...display." Hers too, he expects. They've both been resisting this too long for their rather shrewd parents to be easily led.

[scinlac]

"Just a reminder that I am not taking your orders." Her voice is light, though, and her words don't carry. If all they catch is her tone, it's almost happy.

She does... wonder, at the jerk and the hiss. There are certain proclivities that they have not had much of a chance to hide from one another, and she feels an uncharacteristic surge of curiosity at the idea that they might extend –– 

"After I spent an evening denying any involvements?"

[malificence]

"If I ever thought you would take orders from me, I would likely be mumbling in St. Mungo's," Lucius says dryly, but with a chuckle that, if it carries, would sound seductive. "Fortunately, I've never been that stupid."

She has a curious look in her eyes, not dissimilar to the kind she has right before trying a new way of murdering a Mudblood. It isn't the time to inquire into that.

He does smile, however, a genuine smile. "You really have managed to avoid most of these ridiculous games," he says. "Our parents will believe the story they want to believe. And what your father will want to believe is that this is real, and what you said was a lie."