Coiled (Book 1 of 2)

On Our Behalf

Malfoy Manor.

July, 1978.

"Hello Evan Rosier."

"... You've got to be joking."

Rolling his eyes and laughing sharply at this, Mulciber swings one leg casually down and over the edge of the large wooden table he's perched himself on. And as has become his habit since they've graduated, Mulciber wears a full suit.

Completely ridiculous ...

Evan's thoughts on the suit, though he doesn't bother saying that aloud. 

Perhaps even more infuriating to him is the knowledge, plain as day to anyone with seeing eyes, that Mulciber wears the hell out of any suit he puts on. This one's all black save for a handsome grey vest and a white pocket square. It's a bespoke suit - naturally - one designed to fit him perfectly.

Shutting the door to the small private study behind him, Evan stares darkly at Mulciber before finally sighing and stepping forward, "It's already 26 degrees out, Henry."

And it's still quite early in the day.

"So?"

"So we'll see how you feel about your fashion choices later."

It's true, the heat and humidity of the warm July day is already thick in the air, and this afternoon might easily send temperatures just shy of 30 degrees.

Shrugging dismissively, Mulciber takes a few seconds to fuss idly with his tie. Then, he runs his fingers slowly down his lapels, a gesture intended purely to irritate Evan further, "Summer heat or not, I'll look great throughout it all. As will you, though I see you've opted for a decidedly more casual look, haven't you?"

At this, Evan glances down and scans his own outfit choice. Where Mulciber's gone dark, he's gone light. Beige coloured trousers, a lightweight cotton linen blend. And a plain, neatly pressed white button down shirt, one he's left the top two buttons open on. Where Mulciber's gone over-the-top formal, Evan's gone unnecessarily relaxed. He's even cuffed his sleeves halfway up his forearms. And no tie, no jacket. No frills. 

And yet he looks absolutely amazing all the same.

Mulciber's thought, though he doesn't actually say as much.

Not yet. 

Let it build.

Walking slowly forward, Evan holds Mulciber's penetrating gaze, "I'm here. I'm ready to work for the cause. I spared everyone the unnecessary pomp. In its place, you'll find only my complete devotion and focus."

Except not. But I need you to think that.

I need everyone to think that.

The corners of Mulciber's mouth turn upwards and form a teasing, knowing smile, "Is that why you're so late, Evaaaan?"

Stiffening at this, Evan comes to a stop and stares back at him before shaking his head, "Actually ... I was held up this morning by a family matter."

Not true.

A blatant lie.

Because I was in the kitchen, happily lost with ...

"... Corresponding with Daddy?"

"Mmm."

Let him think that.

"Everything alright?"

"Oh yes. The usual tedious sort of affairs. Tending to the family estate. You know the sort of matter well."

"And what of mother? How is the ever reclusive Mrs. Rosier?"