Narcissa

Jan. 2nd, 2010 09:43 pm
alt_regulus: (Black)
Have you heard anything either from the solicitor or from St Mungo's? Mother is of the wild opinion that they mean to classify the death as the first pureblood case of this muggle scourge or whatever it is they've determined to call the infernal thing.

I've done my best to reassure her, but as you know, my word has little currency these days. And then there's the likelihood that I may be called at any moment either to Buckingham or elsewhere. I expect to be kept on a very short lead until Our Lord's business has been resolved to His satisfaction. As you know, He is currently far from satisfied.

All of which is likely to leave Mother less than satisfied, and I'm afraid the brunt of that will fall on you and Druella. I wish I could see an alternative.
alt_regulus: (Contrast)
So, what am I to do?

I would far rather be chasing here and there with no time to think of anything beyond your deadline, than sitting here with so little to do but think.

You laugh.

So what have I done? Well, let's see. Today.

Bought The Prophet, milk, tea, biscuits, two potatoes, bread, and a cauliflower. Oh, yes, and butter. 1 galleon. Change.

Returned with parcels. Made tea.

Took tea and Prophet, sat out on steps. Read. Front page: MLE arrest Devonshire grandmother of thirty-seven as smuggling mastermind (cousin mentioned and brother). Wynne-Masters family move into lovely, refurbished New London home; more pictures, page three. St Mungo's report rise in birthrate over past six months (see feature article, Family Fortunes section, within). Within: Commerce (triumphs and trials, various articles).

Rain commenced. Retreated inside. More tea.

Moved stool by window. Watched. Nothing of note.

Continued paper. Keeping the Peace (public house curfews reaffirmed; calm in the camps continues; murder, mayhem investigated in several localities); Family Fortunes ('One Family's Gratitude for Repopulation Rewards Programme'); Social Whirl (parties, weddings, engagements, births, obituaries); Hearth and Home (recipes; housekeeping tips); My Prophet (classified adverts, astrologer's advice). Back page: weather, puzzles, Buckingham Week (a busy schedule ahead for you, I see).

More tea, moved stool to table. Found quill and ink. Worked puzzles. Failed.
    12D (7 letters). Alchemist's aid.
    43A (14 letters). Transport in Transvaal.
    65D (17 letters). Tourists's trouble. (Could be a phrase?)
Lunch: finished leftover bacon barley soup. Watched out window: umbrellas rush by. One red, remainder black.

Out to stationers, where bought ink, parchment, wax, blotter. 2 galleons. Change. Apples from stall. 2 sickles. No change. Met no one promising.

Returned. Tracked in muck. Cleaned floor, shoes.

Room dim and no candles.

Out to local chandlers. Listened to advice. Listened to weather. Listened to gossip. Tutted interestedly at second cousin's second daughter mixed up in dodgy ritual. Returned to advice. Selected beeswax. Standard weight. Alchemist's dozen. 3 galleons. Change.

Returned. Lit candle and cast brightening charm.

Letters. Mother. Mother. Mother. Cousin. School chum. Lover. You laugh.

Twisted firestarters. Laid fire. Lit it.

Letters. Mother. Mother.

Burned.

Mother.

Summoned elf. Sent it with letter to Mother. Rain continued.

Tuned wireless. Sorted clippings. Watched out window until dark.

Made tea. Cauliflower cheese. Toast. Ate. Missed elf.

It's a much better cook than I am.

How am I to accomplish what you've asked? I should chat up the neighbours, I suppose. There's a young woman who pushes a pram up and down the street in the middle of the day (when it is not spitting down rain). When I spoke with her--on Tuesday--she asked if I had children. Then she asked if I worked at nights or was it a day off for me. The conversation was brief. What was I supposed to learn from her? Whatever it was, I did not. Or not yet. Perhaps she will tell me more another time, but I suspect she's not a promising lead. Still, maybe she knows something. Maybe she doesn't even know she knows.

Was I really meant for this line of work?

You're not laughing, are you?
alt_regulus: (Resigned)
It is a strange and distracting thing, the giving and taking of life. Almost to an annoying degree, one could propose. I dare say it distracted me for eleven years, and even more acutely these last few weeks when the life in question was my own.

It probably shouldn't concern us living as much as it does, considering the universe is more than a little flip about the whole ordeal.

But He is never flip. His methods are never random. It took a rather sharp reminder for me to realise, finally, that life is the Lord's to give and to take away. The weak may question it, even run from it, but our doubt will never change it. Our doubt or our actions.

I see clearly now. His mercies fall where He wills them to fall. And tonight they have fallen on me.

Most of me, anyway.


Narcissa, would you be a dear and visit me at my mother's? She is still screaming, but I expect the tone to take an affectionate turn within the hour. Followed shortly by at least a week of injured silence. Any time will be fine.

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