ladylycorine:
Oh Marcus looked keen – or was she just projecting onto him the only reaction that made sense to her? Narcissa knew she needed to be cautious about that sort of thing; one never knew how half-bloods were going to jump, and it wasn’t as though she had spent any great lengths of time with people of that sort to have acquired the experience necessary to gauge their reactions correctly…but he looked keen.
He sounded it, too, throwing out tidbits of information and gushing with compliments: proving his worth, proving his gratitude. Maybe it was just obedience, an oversized House Elf waiting for orders. Cissy tried to temper her reaction, to not let her own eagerness run away with her…but oh she thought she could taste the eagerness wafting off of him in waves.
She took another sip of her bubbling gillywater, as though it might clear her palette.
“Aren’t you just darling,” she said with a broad, beaming smile. His own smile seemed thin and bleak suddenly, shadowed despite the glow of the flowers – or was she imagining that? Likely it was just nerves, she decided; he had made his pitch to his master, and now he was waiting to see how it would be received. Anyone would be nervous. It was no different from how she or Lucius would have reacted after making some offer to the Dark Lord – how they would still react, albeit now more from fear of discover than worries of being thought inadequate; the Dark Lord had proved how little he truly valued their contributions now and there was no more need for nerves at being thought lacking, was there?
Nott’s ascension proved that as well as anything – but with Marcus’s oh-so-heartfelt help that might yet be turned to the Malfoys’ advantage, too. And if she could use it as a pretext to draw Marcus closer, maybe to her personal advantage as well…
“Lucius and I would be delighted to offer whatever small assistance we can, of course – to you and Alexander. Facilitating a smooth working environment can only be to everyone’s benefit, and my husband and I would consider it not just our duty but our privilege to help…in whatever way we can,” she added with a pointed arch of one eyebrow – a silent acknowledgement that they were talking about Silent Dagger business, and not just ordinary Ministry networking. Then she softened her expression and said, as though that were the explanation for Marcus’s nerves, “You needn’t have any fear of Alexander. I’ve heard he can be intimidating to his subordinates–” a tinkling laugh, as though the idea of finding Nott intimidating were utterly unfathomable; as though she and Lucius would never let anyone consider themselves subordinate to the man no matter how prestigious were the Dark Lord’s appointments “–but I assure you, he’s harmless.”
She said that last part quite loudly, enjoying the thought that she might undermine his reputation as a strict and unforgiving taskmaster before he even took up his place on the Wizengamot, all under the guise of reassuring a nervous underling. It was hard to restrain her wicked, giddy grin – and perhaps that was what carried her into such delicate territory as to make her next suggestion: “I’m sure Alexander is quite ensconced in well-wishers and sycophants already, but Florence is sure to be in a more approachable position…I don’t believe the two of you have been introduced yet, have you?”
The very idea of introducing someone like Marcus McKinnon to Florence Nott would have been laughable under ordinary circumstances – but he was going to be working for her husband soon. Wouldn’t it be helpful if they got to know each other first?
Stepping through the wards that protected the grounds, Marcus was instantly submerged in distractions; the fear he wore like a cloak, the lights, the trappings, the food. But he had come here for a reason--for many reasons, in fact. To support his now-superior at the Wizengamot Office. To make himself useful. To prove he was worth the air he breathed; that killing him would have been a mistake. There was only one way to do that and it wasn’t by bickering with James Potter or flirting with Gabriel, though it had been... fun? More confusing. If it even counted as flirting.
To make such introductions. Subtly, Marcus’ glanced the crowd in a half-hearted attempt to locate Alexander Nott’s wife. It would have been a bold move, approaching Florence Nott himself, not that Marcus wouldn’t have considered it. As an administrator, however, Marcus was practically part of the furnishings, or an accessory like the pocket-watch he’d seen Diggle wandering around with that hollered at him anytime he was late. Marcus was accustomed to only being acknowledged at the office when a member of the Wizengamot required a body to order around or remind them of their schedule. Any introduction he initiated between himself and people like Florence Nott had to be done delicately, or he’d blow his only shot at making a strong first impression.
“We haven’t,” he said. Florence was nowhere to be seen, but the party continued inside the manor and as of yet, Marcus hadn’t managed to gain entry. That invitation hadn’t been extended to him. Yet. Next time, perhaps. Marcus was working on it. “I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”
Marcus suspected they both knew why. If it wasn’t for Narcissa, he would still be washing dishes in between cigarette breaks in some dingy backalley chip shop. The chances of running into a Nott there weren’t necessarily next to none--he’d met Regulus Black in a similar environment, after all--but they weren’t exactly high either. “But it would be a shame if honour was given only to her husband when this is a promotion that will affect the whole family. The Wizengamot keep long hours at the office. Some trials last days. She’ll receive more than a few owls from me during her husband’s career, I’m sure of it.”
Marcus kept his tone even, but his heart had started beating faster the moment Narcissa mentioned an introduction with the witch. This was an assignment, or close enough. It started in his chest, spreading through his limbs, the rush of knowing he was about to carry out a small step in a bigger plan. Here was the patronage Marcus hungered for. It started with introductions, a job at the Ministry. The ability to pay his fucking bills. Was there anything more desirable than that? How far would it take him?
It was addictive, being a Silent Dagger. Without it, Marcus was restless. Which was why his heart sank when Rabastan Lestrange appeared at Narcissa’s side, lightly placing his hand on her shoulder, eyes shifting to Marcus, heavy with scorn. Anger flared up in Marcus, momentarily seeing himself through Lestrange’s eyes, some lowly Death Eater leeching off people more important than him. And the worst part was that Lestrange wouldn’t be wrong. It was only Marcus’ complete lack of arrogance and undo confidence that prevented him from wanting to leech them dry.
He just wanted enough to live.
