Waiting | Lucius Malfoy

Chapter Thirty-Two | Arrangements

Mr Carlisle was a muggle. That was the initial thought that Guinevere drew when she met him at his office in Mayfair. A muggle, handling all of the Malfoy finances. She supposed that was perhaps due to the impartiality that muggles could hold in terms of money - something that the Malfoys would desperately require.

She'd arrived at his office at nine o'clock on the dot, with a young girl with kind eyes quickly taking her jacket and offering her a cup of tea. Lucius had been gone when she'd left the manor this morning, but Binky had informed her of the location of her meeting and helped her with getting ready - regardless of how many times she made it clear that she could dress herself.

Lucius was worried about her, she could tell. He'd clearly instructed Binky to be at her side from the moment she woke and no task was too minuscule for her to offer her assistance. It was interesting, Guinevere supposed, that Lucius hadn't attempted to do all of it himself, but then he wasn't there, was he? She wondered where he'd been off to so promptly in the morning.

"So, as I was saying Miss Grace, it would be a shame not to sell your flat. Prices in the area are on the rise, and it looks like you'd be bringing in quite the profit. The appraisal was extremely satisfactory." His words pulled Guinevere from her thoughts. When had someone managed to gain entry to her flat in order to value it? Unbelievable.

"I understand that, Mr Carlisle. But," Guinevere brought her hands to cross over her chest. "I'm afraid that Lucius has brought us together under a false pretence today. I have no intention of selling my flat."

"Oh? He seemed pretty adamant that you were intending to sell."

"No. He's mistaken." Mr Carlisle loosened his collar as she spoke, before straightening his maroon-coloured tie.

"Right. Well, unfortunately, I'm not too sure what I can do for you then, Miss Grace."

"There's actually something you can do for me," she replied, leaning forward in her chair.

All in all, it had been a successful meeting. Well, Lucius would believe it was a successful meeting which was the most important thing. As Guinevere apparated back to the Manor, she smiled to herself, before almost succumbing to the nausea of the travel method. Lucius was still out when she returned, but her assumption had been correct. She was now able to apparate within the Manor's grounds alone. An exciting development, to say the least.

She called for Binky, who appeared quickly, holding a spoon.

"Miss! Miss isn't supposed to be back for another hour. Master asked for soup to be ready for Miss returning. Soup isn't ready!" Binky blinked her kind eyes up at Guinevere, her little feet hopping in time with her words.

"It's alright, Binky. My meeting ended earlier than expected. That's not your fault. When is Lucius due home?"

"Not for another hour, Miss. Soup will be ready for then. Can I get you anything now? Soup? No! Soup isn't ready!" Binky began shaking erratically, swinging the soup spoon around aimlessly, clearly distraught. Guinevere quickly caught the spoon from Binky's hand and kneeled down in order to place her hands on the elf's shoulders.

"Binky! Listen to me! I'd like some tea. Could you get me some tea? That's all I'd like. Is that okay?" The elf looked up at her, eyes brimming with tears. Binky nodded and Guinevere nodded back. She removed her coat and placed it on the chair that sat in the corner of the bedroom. As she made her way to the bathroom, she called out to let Binky know that she'd like her tea served in the dining room.

Guinevere stared at herself in the mirror, taking in her appearance. She hadn't cut her hair in a while. It had completely slipped her mind. She'd always been a fan of the muggle way of hairdressing, so she reached into the drawer and picked up the scissors that lay in her reach. She grabbed a handful of hair, not taking much time to be precise - this method always seemed to work best. As blonde hair began to surround her feet, she looked up and realised she was distracted. She'd cut it shorter than she'd intended. It looked alright, nonetheless.

Taking her time, she made her way to the brown wooden wardrobe that sat to the left of the room, opening it and scanning through her clothes. She had so many garments now, ranging from ball gowns to tailored suits.

She'd never been one for finer clothes, so she tried to recall when her tastes had truly changed. Shutting the wardrobe, she instead went to the chest of drawers and pulled out her jeans. She slipped them on, enjoying the restrictive feeling they provided. She raked through t-shirts and jumpers, none of which felt right until she came across the Gryffindor jumper that she'd bought in her final year.

It was thicker grey cotton, with the Gryffindor emblem embroidered over the right breast. Many of her classmates had also owned these jumpers - but she'd never worn hers. She'd kept it as a memento of her time at Hogwarts, usually keeping it tucked away to run her hand over every so often when she was searching through her clothes. She pulled it over her head and brushed the fabric once it covered her torso, trying to ensure it hadn't gathered any lint through the stint in the drawers.

The dining room's fire was roaring when she entered and the table was set, ready for lunch. She sat in her usual chair, as Binky appeared with a tray with tea and biscuits.

"Someone is feeling nostalgic. The sale is complete, I presume?" Lucius called out to her from in front of the fireplace, causing her to almost keel over. She hadn't even noticed his presence. His sleeves were rolled up and he was shifting the embers liberally.

"Yes. Merlin, you frightened me. What are you doing?"

"Mr Parkinson owled me late last night to offer his services regarding our floo. He says that his daughter had stated that it needed a service and that he was happy to do it for no cost. Why would Miss Parkinson think that our floo was corrupted?" He'd left the poker by the fireplace and returned to the table, rolling down his sleeves and running a hand through his hair. Soot had caught in his blonde locks, but it didn't seem to bother him that his hands were dirty. Unusual.

"She caught me in Diagon Alley yesterday and I was too embarrassed to tell her that I had lost track of time. I made up a lie about the floo not working properly. Sorry," she shrugged, attempting to appear unbothered.

"That's fine. Regardless, I met with Mr Parkinson this morning and he's assured me that everything is in order. Was Miss Parkinson well?" Lucius took a seat at the chair across from her, picking up his napkin and placing it on his lap.

"Yes. We talked about the reunion actually, she was surprised I went. But she was pleased to see me in the dress from Mystic. Good advertising, I suppose." Lucius' jaw clicked and he cleared his throat.

"Excellent. You did look spectacular, so I'm glad others noticed. You deserve that." He picked up his soup spoon, his eyes falling to the bowl that had appeared in front of them both moments before. They ate their soup in silence.

"I cut my hair." She stated after a while.

"I can see that. Any particular reason?"

"I'm not sure. It just felt right."

Guinevere wanted to have it out with him, or at least tell him a fraction of what she was feeling. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that she didn't feel like herself and that she knew he'd been hiding things from her. But each sentence died in her throat, unsaid.

"While I remember, my dear. The owl delivered this as I arrived back at the Manor. I believe it's correspondence from the solicitor." Lucius handed her a faded parchment, his eyes diverting to the fire, which had fizzled out while they'd been eating.

With shaky hands, she removed the generic wax seal and unfolded the paper. It wasn't from Mr Carlisle. Lucius' attention was still elsewhere, so she was able to scan her eyes over the Edwardian style script several times before letting out a breath.

Guinevere,

Please meet me for dinner in Paris.

Narcissa