The Spellfull Sixties

Chapter Sixteen: Christmassy

Grey London snow gathered thickly at the street edges of Grimmauld place, pooling through basement fences and grasping onto icy door steps. Muggles in large scarves and coats greeted their neighbours as dogs were walked and shopping was brought into warm hallways lined with Christmas decorations.  At that most joyus time of the year No.12 Grimmauld place looked darker and more miserable than ever, dimmed into the shadows by bright lights and green wreaths on welcoming front doors. Through the well polished windows and black, ornate curtains, an afternoon tea was served in the parlour. The parlour was a room ordaned with a great family mural, displaying the faces of those loved, loathed and lost. It winded around like a great branch, surrounding those sitting stiffly at the diamond shaped tea table in the centre of the room as they were served pumpkin tea by a rickety old House-elf that seemed one hundered years past his prime. His eyes twitched and hand shook as he tipped a steel teapot. 

In the largest seat at the table was the ghostly pale, blue eyed and thick black haired Walburga in her dark purple robe from another magical age. She tapped her nail dissaprovingly on a wine glass every time the creatures shaking became too violent to be presentable. Beside her promiscuosley posed Druella in a smart bright pink dress with a thick belt and black gloves that she rested on the table. Above her well groomed hair was a round hat that wobbled every time she shot a smile across the table. Abraxas, in his neat work coat, raised an eyebrow at her from the opposite side of the table, sat beside Mr Weasley who had already begun tucking in on some sage cakes and 'Dragon bread', known for its spice, and sometimes a tendency to cause the eater to spurt flames from their lips. The last member of the merry meeting was Alphard black in a long coat and old scarf that his elder sister seemed to scorn more than Druella's dress. 

The bloody red liquid in her glass slipped over her cherry black lips as she indulged in the uncomfortable silence, before deciding the converse with her guests. "Druella, dear". The woman snapped her eyes away from Abraxas. He had been suffocating under her gaze. "What on earth are you wearing?". 

"What do you mean?", she inspected her dress. 

"You look like a Fwooper". Alphard snorted. "Do not laugh- you look homeless".

"-And you look as terrifyingly unpleasant as ever dear sister", retorted Alphard, taking a bite out of a sage cake. He then frowned, pulling a hard stem from his lips, quickly hiding it under a table cloth after spotting the house elf who had served them give him a startled look. His ears twitched in the direction of the first of many severed house elf heads that lined the stairwell outside. His sister was a rather unpleasant employer.

"Well I was pleasantly surprise to have been invited to lunch", then started Abraxas, sucking up to Walburga as she continued to dissarpove of her relatives' garments. The woman gave him a grunt in response, placing down her glass before snapping her fingers. The elf refilled it from a floating decanter "Seeing as this seems to be a family affair". 

"I was suprised to see that Septimus was willing to join us", she stated, glancing up at Weasley, "He does not have the habit of accepting invitations". 

Weasley seemed a little frightened for a moment, before wiping his mouth with a napkin. "I was surprised to be invited. But it is good to see you are well Walburga...", he then carefully inspected the array of people at the table. There was Alphard, the known trouble maker - Druella, the last choice, but only woman who was willing to put up with Cygnus' 'ungentlemanly habits'  - Abraxas, who'd been trying to weasle his way into the Black family circle for years, and then him , the member of the family who never usually showed up to 'family events' but had felt forced to do so after Abraxas had loudly informed him of his invitation. He'd quickly decided that it was best not to make an enemy of Walburga and her rare 'good nature'. "Why was I invited?", he inquired gingerly.