Narcissa

[alt_regulus]

I thought perhaps I should write something just to let you know I am not wasting away into 'catatonia'. I'm fine. The arm is fully functional again, too, rendering the whole episode completely useless. I apologise for having put you to such unnecessary trouble last week.

Comments

[alt_crouch_jr]

You are an idiot.

[alt_lucius]

Indeed.

[alt_regulus]

Granted.

I apologise for inconveniencing you. Did you get the blood out of the Axminster? Fortunate about the colour and pattern: it shouldn't show too badly if cleansing charms failed to do the job.

[alt_crouch_jr]

You deserve to be hexed.

Has your Mother seen to that? If not, I'll stop in later and do it myself.

[alt_narcissa]

Well, chiding aside, I am relieved to see you taking a more active role in things. Aunt Walburga has (blessedly) let me alone since yesterday evening, but you must admit that last evening when she said you had not come down for meals all day, I had no way to know whether that was an extension of the doldrums I observed in you earlier this week, or merely avoidance.

I'll thank you to remember this outcome if in the future you should contemplate any similarly dramatic, though one hopes ultimately ineffectual, gestures.

It's also a true pity you weren't able to come with us today. I'm quite sure you would have laughed yourself silly over the antics of the Scroops' youngest family member at his sister's engagement party.

[alt_regulus]

Haven't you heard? We're out of bounds at the moment: no visitors may enter and neither of us may leave.

You needn't worry, though: Mother's taken the frustration just as you'd expect. Your efforts would be redundant, so it's as well you can't come waste your time and energy here.

[alt_regulus]

I find I rarely have much appetite when I'm forced to spend more than a night here in Grimmauld Place.

I have no intention of making any more vain gestures.

The Scroops have one that's not yet school aged? Scroops the elder will be in his dotage before they get that one married off.

[alt_narcissa]

Is it possible that in all this time, neither your Mother nor I have discussed the scandal? Goodness.

Well, depending on to whom one listens, old Scroops apparently wanted to prove that he can still give his all for the Protectorate, but the more pernicious story is that young Maurice is not his at all. As you know, Scroop was over twenty years older than Enola when he married her - a fact I have never forgot, considering that he had even spoken to Father about me, and I'm a good eight years her junior! Not that Father would ever have agreed, but it does make one appreciate the twists of fate.

[alt_regulus]

There's nothing like a bit of scandal to brighten the day.

So what did the little 'sport' do at his sister's engagement party?

[alt_narcissa]

I've a feeling I ought not go into details, since it could harm the young man's reputation when he arrives next year ... but it involved the celebratory cake, a well-positioned Filibuster's firework and not a little bit of cleaning up.

(Luckily, we were near the back. I don't know if Enola will ever get that particularly lurid shade of pink frosting out of her robes, no matter how many times she scourgifies it.)

[alt_crouch_jr]

It's not really a party until someone explodes the cake.

[alt_crouch_jr]

I'm sending you a subscription to Word Has It. It will keep you entertained when you've got back to corridor sitting at Buckingham--and it will spare you these embarrassing gaps in your knowledge.

[alt_crouch_jr]

Setting aside retributory hexes, then, is there anything you want that could be sent or passed through the Floo to you?

Is that allowed?

[alt_regulus]

What is gossip good for if not for going into the sort of details that would spoil a young man's reputation? That's the only reason to bother!

I'm glad there was at least the one bright spot in the day--and none on your robes by the end of it. Well played, cousin.

[alt_regulus]

Good of you, but I'm sure you needn't bother.

I can always come round to yours if I need to catch up with the scandalmongers. I didn't like to mention it, but since you've brought it up, you seem to have developed quite a serious thing for the tattler rags. Are you sure it's a healthy interest? I hear it can be habit forming.

[alt_regulus]

Well, if you were so inclined, I wouldn't say no to a tin of ginger biscuits and a glass of that 50-year whiskey of yours. Not to have together, mind you, but Mother hates ginger and we haven't had any decent drink in this house in ages--possibly since I finished off the last of Father's stock sometime in 1980.

Of course, I'll be pleased if you'd just do something about the biscuits. I don't really expect your pity to stretch as far as the whiskey.

[alt_crouch_jr]

It's purely professional research, I assure you.

[alt_narcissa]

There I am sure Maurice Scroops would agree with you. His father ('father'?) however, possibly has a different opinion. It was quite a large cake.

[alt_crouch_jr]

Merlin.

Can you get to the fire, then? I don't expect your Mother would let you have the whiskey, and I'm not going to pass it through just to watch her pour it in the grate.

[alt_crouch_jr]

Maurice Scroops sounds like a young man worth watching. If it could be managed properly, a disposition like that might hold promise one day.

[alt_narcissa]

Word Has It? Surely you're joking? You don't actually set any store by the dreadful things Ramora Rathbone invents to sell her rag?

I had no idea your hidden depths were so shallow, Barty dear.

[alt_pansy]

I'm glad you're writing again, Pirate.

Very.

[alt_narcissa]

Spoken like one whose reputation has been utterly shattered.

But to Barty's question - is there anything else you would like? If you're going to be kept under house confinement, you might as well have the comforts of ... well, not home, unless we say my home, but let us call it the comforts of genteel living.

[alt_crouch_jr]

You'd be surprised how often there's a useful shard amongst the rubbish. We read yours, too, of course, but I assumed Regulus already takes it but just hasn't paid due attention to the columns.

[alt_regulus]

Yes. Good point.

Mother's retired, so there shouldn't be any bother.

[alt_regulus]

Let me think on it over this glass of extremely heartening whiskey. Perhaps over night.

Honestly, there's not much one needs, staying here. Comfort isn't really one of the categories.

[alt_regulus]

Thank you for your letters, Pansy. I did appreciate them. I'm afraid your godfather has been right all along, though. It would be best for you if you weren't associated with me. The connection can't do you good.

[alt_pansy]

and I got your package. I've already started reading the book, and it's really nift so far, so thank you.

[alt_pansy]

well, it's a bit late for that, isn't it?

I meant what I said, you know.

[alt_narcissa]

Witch Weekly's society column at least has the advantage of being composed entirely of accurate information, rather than outright libel. I am truly sorry if your duties up to now have included panning through that collection of fool's gold for any nugget of the truth.

But the one you really ought to take, if you're serious about following that sort of thing, is Night Owl. It's uncanny how Mercurius Mulcter obtains his information.

Regulus' acquaintance Bobolis does a fair job in Londinarium, as well.

[alt_narcissa]

Yes, I see you've prevailed upon Barty for his best.

Dearest cousin, ought you to be drinking, however? Not that I would deny you in anything like so dramatic a manner as your mother, but is it really the best thing for you, right now?

[alt_pansy]

and what would be best for me is if you didn't do that again.

ever.

[alt_regulus]

Oh, you mistake him, cousin. He takes ALL of them, from In the Soup and Whirl to Witch Weekly and Enterpriser's Watchlist.

Londinarium has turned out rather well, I'll grant you.

[alt_narcissa]

Oh, well done, Regulus. For Merlin's sake ....

You know I have great affection for you, but you never fail to disappoint, cousin.

[alt_narcissa]

Oh, now, that's taking professional obsession much too far. I understand the theory - what is in one is liable to be exaggerated or even wholly false, but what is in three or four may be closer to the mark - but ALL of them seems unnecessary.

Well, I suppose it's lucky he has an entire wing of Marlborough he can fill with them. One wonders his elf does not stagger under the pile of periodicals littering the mat each morning!

(Meanwhile, I've just had an owl from Mulcter telling me he's already received six owls with new subscription requests and at least two dozen requests in his journal. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before Ramora tries to extract her payment in revenge for my comment last night.)

[alt_regulus]

What would you have had me do?

Ignore her? Lie to her 'to spare her feelings'?

Or the opposite? Should I have told her more roundly what it's meant to me, corresponding with her?

Or would you have had me make promises I may not be able to keep?

I suspect you'd have had the same reaction whatever I'd said. I'm sorry to disappoint--either of you--but it seems inevitable.

[alt_regulus]

I'm glad you did. I always thought old Percy had it right, striking out for his mysterious destination and never looking back.

[alt_narcissa]

It's not surprising that stopping after the first sentence did not occur to you. If nothing else, that would have left well enough alone.

Martyrdom does not suit anyone, least of all you.

[alt_pansy]

NO. he DIDN'T.

Because he left behind a lot of people.

People that cared for him a lot.

And they never got to say goodbye.

I'm so angry and so sad and I just can't believe you're gone and that's the last thing you'll ever say to me ever and it hurts so badly I just can't even hardly breathe