Sanctimonia Vincet Semper

Lucius Abraxas Malfoy Slytherin Alumni. Malfoy Heir. Ministry Official. Death Eater. "Sham'st thou to show thy dangerous brow by night, when evils are most free?" -- Shakespeare

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

antonin-whoisleft‌:

“I’m sure you’d never try to invite such a thing, Lucius,” Antonin replied smoothly, pointedly ignoring the eye roll in favor of a slight tilt to his head, a small amused smile on his lips while he peered at the other man. “I simply think the safer road to take is one of careful quiet while the news is still boiling over. You don’t have to take my advice, by any means, but you never know who might be listening.” Plenty of people were happy about the news, obviously, and just as many politely (ridiculously, in Antonin’s opinion) offended by it: but if there ever came a time to worry about one’s extracurricular vigilante activities being found out, Antonin surely didn’t want to be known as someone loudly, in public, condoning a decision some people saw as a harbinger of things to come for other so-called marginalized communities.

Not that there was reason to worry about being found out. Just better to quietly revel in the Ministry’s good decision, for once.

“Absolutely tiresome,” he agreed, with a quiet laugh. This was veering far more into proper conversation territory, as far as he was concerned. “Hardly surprising, though, when the Ministry makes itself so open to the public. I believe some rumors had started to filter out well before the news was published, that upstart St. Culpo possibly having something to do with it, so she could get a handle on it being her campaign platform. At least from what I’ve been hearing.” 

Gossip was more his speed, especially the Ministry of Magic kind.

“I will be, I’m quite a fan.” Antonin said, nodding along. There was no doubt Norwood would get one of the seats - they were all working tirelessly to ensure that, some Death Eaters harder than others - but it still looked good to participate in the lead-up nonetheless. “Might even do a bit of grassroots campaigning for her, depending on my schedule.” He lifted his tea cup up, taking a slow sip, reveling in the knowledge that the two men were sporting identical tattoos beneath their finely tailored robes, enjoying a quiet (expensive) lunch in broad daylight. “I’ve got the Wizengamot in my sights, you know; not for a while, of course, but I do love seeing all the excitement around it. Tragic, of course, the circumstances, but still.”

Antonin didn’t sound particularly affected by the tragic circumstances, not with the smirk on his lips, but a bit of lip service never did one any harm: again, who knew who might be casually listening in on a conversation between two powerful men?

       Occasionally, Lucius reflected, it was difficult to remember that he shouldn’t like Antonin Dolohov. They shared a great many views, responsibilities, and allegiances, and it was hard to deny that he was charismatic enough to make conversation not feel like a chore. It was frustrating, considering the pettier parts of Lucius’ personality were jealous of all the man had accomplished, and his place among the Death Eaters. Had it not been for that, Lucius may have actually been able to relax into the exchange of ideas. 

      “I’ll enjoy seeing St. Culpo’s face when it becomes clear she’s not earned a seat,” he said, chuckling at the thought. “She’s certainly attempted to use the media to her advantage, but she doesn’t seem to be very good at it, does she? His own media ventures had been far more successful, once the indomitable Ms. Skeeter had been brought around to the right way of thinking. “And I find her tolerance for dark creatures rather -- disturbing. She has managed to amass a bit of a following, however.” Not enough of one to worry Lucius, not really, but it was certainly something to keep an eye on. If he had it his way, this election would be over with tomorrow, so they could all move on with their lives. But there was still a ways to go, and he needed to keep abreast of all potential issues. The family name was, after all, riding on the outcome of this election. 

    “There will also be an event at the Malfoy estate, after the debate,” Lucius said with no small amount of pride. “They’re insisting on holding the main event at a ... less than reputable establishment, so we will be celebrating Ms. Norwood’s success in a less public fashion. I’m certain your name will find it’s way to an invitation.” As Abraxas was enamored of the Dolohov family and in charge of the guest list, Lucius was more than certain, but that hardly needed to be voiced. “Have you heard what they’re planning? The Manic Pixie? Can you imagine? Hardly the place for an integral political debate -- it makes you wonder who is allowing such decisions. Raffles should hardly be permitted to injure the integrity of an event.”

     Of course Antonin would have a Wizengamot seat in his sights. The man had always had lofty aspirations, just as Lucius himself, though they tended in different directions. Antonin wanted political power; Lucius cared little for that sort of thing, and simply wanted influence, in the general sense. “When the time comes, you can count on my vote,” he promised, and the words weren’t taken lightly. A fellow Death Eater on the council would be a victory for all of them, and Lucius knew that Antonin was better suited to the task than most anyone. Despite the fact that acknowledging that fact made him feel rather ill. “Perhaps by then, society will have had a change of heart, and the issues addressed will be far more logical.”

[whoisleft-lucius]

condescension and canapes || @evanrosier-wil

       The event after the debate at Malfoy Manor was, in a word, perfect. Abraxas had overseen the guest list and left Lucius to work out many of the other details, and with his meticulous care, the home had been turned into the perfect locale for Tara Norwood’s campaign supporters. There were hors d'oeuvres being passed by men in crisp black uniforms, tasteful decor, and plenty of alcohol to get loose tongues wagging. Drunkenness was irritating, and always made Lucius sneer, but he wasn’t fool enough to pass up such a prime opportunity to gather what information he could from the circle of wizarding society that had gathered there tonight. 

       Dressed impeccably swirling black robes, Lucius spent the first half of the evening making polite smalltalk, walking and chatting with Narcissa Black -- that was by far his favorite part, if he was being honest with himself -- and pouring drinks to hand to important people with a gracious smile. He was in his element; though, after a few hours, the same old thing grew rather monotonous, especially as some of the guests began to drink far too much and could no longer hold a reasonable conversation. 

     “Excuse me,” Lucius murmured to his current conversation partner when he could no longer take the enthusiastic, asinine ramblings about “maybe that Dark Lord fella ought to run for the Council!” He appreciated the support for his Lord, of course, but really. It was all far too much. 

      When he was free of the irritating man, Lucius swept around the bar and poured himself a drink, careful to keep the alcohol content low, despite what he might prefer. Loose tongues were something he wanted to benefit from - not suffer from himself. Sharp eyes picked Evan Rosier out of the crowd while he savored the bitter taste of wine on his tongue, noting that the younger man seemed just as disdainful of the crowd as he felt. He was still at Hogwarts, if Lucius remembered correctly, but was expected to join his father amongst the Dark Lord’s ranks in short order. Curious about the truth of such gossip, Lucius picked his way through the crowd, giving polite but cool replies to anyone who spoke to him, and nodded toward Evan. 

     “Enjoying yourself?” he asked, one eyebrow arched in an almost teasing manner. “I saw one of the Fawley daughters attempting to corner you; your evasion was rather masterful.” Lucius had to give credit where credit was due -- the Fawley sisters were distinctly unattractive, vexing women who believed their only chance at living well was by securing a wealthy husband. Lucius had fallen prey to the machinations of the eldest soon after leaving Hogwarts, and had been forced to spend an entire evening with her at the dinner. Naturally, he was far more careful now. 

[narcissa-whoisleft-blog]

Pas de Duex | Narcissa & Lucius

[whoisleft-lucius]

narcissa-whoisleft‌:

In the oddest of ways, the mixture of voices coming from the main room of Malfoy Manor called to Narcissa; in a way it was an invitation to start a dance she knew far too well and enjoyed partaking in far too much. A simple smile was all she needed to gift those around her to find partners in her dance, simple works of agreement were enough to keep the dance going. Perhaps it was mundane for those who were simply there because of familial duties but for Narcissa, who was partly there because of familial duties, it broke the routine she had fallen into at Hogwarts. 

Departing from one group and melting herself into another occurred with ease, adding to new conversations was even easier. In the end it was always the same with subtle differences added to create the illusion of new conversations. Most nights it would have been enough to keep her entertained and excited to hear about the occurrences outside of Hogwarts but as Narcissa stepped away from another small group with a promise to return, she found a sense of restlessness accompanying her. She should have been happy to simply be out of the castle, she should have been content with the company that had been offered to her but much like others in her family, she craved more. 

“Hiding from the crowds, Lucius?” Narcissa teased as she rounded the corner of a hallway and saw the other. The smile lining her lips was slightly different than that she had freely given away earlier, “I don’t blame you, the lack of awareness tends to grow the later it gets. Although, I doubt that occurs with you.” While her words had been meant to simply be a compliment, they carried with them an observation she had made years ago. She doubted he would notice.  

Straying away from the party hadn’t at all been her intention but as Narcissa stepped closer towards Lucius, she found herself searching for an opportunity to simply get away. “Would you care to join me for a walk? I’ll let you lead the way if you say yes.” Narcissa teased once more before taking a step towards a hallway she hoped would lead out into the gardens. 

@whoisleft-lucius​

       Hosting parties and galas was one of the more enjoyable tasks on Lucius’ long to-do list. It gave him a chance to dress with more attention to detail, and spend an evening showing off his family home and grounds which were, obviously, quite exceptional. It helped that this particular event was hosted in honor of  Tara Norwood, the soon-to-be newest member of the Wizengamot -- at least if Lucius had anything to say about it. That meant that all of the guests present were his sort of people, and there was less need for artifice and more opportunity for candor. 

      Another of the better parts of the evening was the presence of one Narcissa Black. Like every lady in attendance, she was dressed spectacularly, and her blonde hair caught the torchlight in a way that made it difficult for Lucius to divert his attention to anyone else who wanted to talk to him. As the hour grew later, he grew more and more irritated with the demands on his time; the men his father invited were all fully intoxicated, now, and their judgement was rather impaired. Lucius had no patience for such frivolities, so when he noticed Narcissa slipping away, he found himself following -- though he was not entirely sure why. 

    “I’m not hiding, exactly,” he answered, the hint of genuine amusement flickering around the corners of his lips. “Though I would rather no one else found me, so perhaps I am.” The hall they were in would take them to the staircase, Lucius noted, and considered inviting Narcissa to escape the drunken nonsense with him, but ultimately refrained. “I’m not one for this sort of ... celebration,” he agreed with a short inclination of his head, the curl of his lip nothing but disdainful. “I’ve learned that loose lips rarely lead to anything positive.” 

    Lucius stepped a bit closer to Narcissa, allowing himself to look at her for a moment in careful appreciation before speaking. “I would remiss if I didn’t tell you how lovely you look tonight, Narcissa. I confess that I’ve been a bit distracted by your presence this evening. I nearly called the Minister’s niece by the wrong name, you know!” A faux pas in any circle, for sure, but Lucius was diligent with details. That mistake had been mortifying. “I know why I am avoiding the ball room -- is there a reason you are lurking in side hallways?” 

    The invitation to join the young woman on a walk was a welcome surprise, and Lucius smiled and bowed slightly, the simple gesture performed with an added flourish. “I would be honored,” he told her, and stepped back, opening a set of nearly-hidden double doors. “It’s a lovely evening outside; might I suggest we stroll through the gardens?” 

[whoisleft-lucius]

mutually beneficial

[whoisleft-lucius]

gossipgirl-rita‌:

Rita noticed Mr. Malfoy taking in the office, and thought privately that it was a shame they couldn’t have spoken at her own, pristine desk. It was a much more suitable environment for shop talk, but much less private, and without the comforts of her boss’s office. Ah well – it had been his idea, anyway.

She simply shrugged at his insistence that he didn’t drink in the middle of the day. The dismissal of pleasantries didn’t bother her, but she would’ve preferred a little tongue-loosening, courtesy of Barnabas’s stash of firewhiskey. But as he continued, she realized this wasn’t exactly a gossip type of meeting. This would be something very different. Something new. Something a bit more serious than she was used to… Perfect.

“Of course I’m familiar, this is a major political event. I’d have to be an idiot not to be following it.” If he knew of her, surely he knew she wasn’t an idiot. Particularly as a journalist – even a gossip columnist. Political campaigns were a veritable smorgasbord of gossip and illicit activity, which would be making her a very busy women, very soon.

Sooner than she’d expected, it would seem. As Mr. Malfoy finished speaking, she leaned back in her chair, considering. The articles themselves, she had no issue with – that was something she would’ve been doing anyway, true or not. Rumors needed no proof or concrete source. It made them very easy to fabricate, and made it very difficult for Rita to get into any kind of trouble for it. But it seemed that Mr. Malfoy was suggesting an arrangement which would be beneficial for him, and do very little for her. Notoriety, she could get, she didn’t necessarily need him for it – nor would she get it from him, unless he wanted her to list him as a source, which would be entirely counterproductive to his purposes. No, she needed to get something else out of this.

“Well. I must say, Mr. Malfoy, this is not at all what I expected. As I’m sure you know, the Daily Prophet is a fine, upstanding publication that would never intentionally publish something that we knew for a fact to be untrue. I’m afraid I must insist that when you have this polling information, and facts about the other candidates, sent to me, you ensure they are nothing less than what you believe to be absolutely true. I haven’t much time for fact-checking, of course, I’m sure you understand me.” If you don’t, you’re not nearly the Slytherin I thought you were. “On the other hand… you said you were funding Ms. Norwood’s campaign? How interesting. If there were a hypothetical situation in which I were to publish articles assisting her, would that not fall under a campaign strategy? Food for thought. Anyway, I would dearly love to help you, but I’m afraid I’m not permitted by my editors to publish anything particularly… salacious. If someone were to have a discussion with them about releasing me from any such constraints, I would find it much easier to assist you, but unfortunately, I’m unaware of anyone with that kind of influence. So since we currently are not at an agreement, I must ask again. What can you do for me, Mr. Malfoy?”

If he didn’t want pleasantries, she’d lay it all out on the table. She’d get what she wanted from this, or Mr. Malfoy would find himself facing a number of articles about what a terrible person and candidate Tara Norwood was.

     Well, the woman certainly had courage, Lucius could give her that. However, attempts at blackmail were hardly something he was unprepared for. After all, he was a Malfoy. He lived on the line between perfect, upstanding member of society and Death Eater, and balanced the two perfectly. One reporter with more ambition than sense was hardly reason for him to waver. “Honestly, Ms. Skeeter, I’m disappointed. The research I did on you said you were intelligent. You say you are not an idiot, yet here you are, attempting to threaten a Malfoy.” He clicked his tongue in exaggerated disappointment, and flicked a piece of imaginary lint from the shoulder of his immaculate robes. 

    Cool eyes skimmed over her face as Lucius matched her stare-for-stare. “Write whatever you like. A ten page tell-all of utter nonsense about Tara Norwood, if that’s what you’re of a mind to write. It will be read, gossiped about, and disregarded, just as every other piece of silly gossip you’ve printed. In case you’d forgotten, I have actual information that I’m willing to share, and the weight of my family name tends to add a certain . . . assurance, to many of the society wizards reading your paper in the morning. If you don’t want what I have to offer, I’ll take it elsewhere.” A smirk formed on his lips. “I’m already quite well acquainted with Mr. Sinclair. I’m sure he’d love the opportunity.” The idea, of course, was ridiculously laughable, but Lucius appreciated irony.

     “A man of my social standing in the community spends a great deal of time talking to people, and being given opportunities to listen,” Lucius continued, and cocked his head to one side, appraising and challenging all in one slow once-over. “For instance, are you aware that Leland Talbot was once the subject of an investigation regarding the torture of one of his suspects?” The explanation was smooth and bland, as unaffected as though Lucius was discussing the weather. “And then, rather mysteriously, the investigation simply ... vanished, as if it had never existed in the first place. Quite odd, wouldn’t you say?” Every word was true. One of the few Death Eaters on the Auror force had been privy to the information, and had been drunk in Lucius’ company too many times to retain many secrets. “If you’re as good as you seem to think you are, I’m certain you can get your hands on some of the old paperwork as evidence, if you require it.” Not that Lucius had ever seen any of Rita’s articles with cited sources, but still. This had been mean to be a good faith effort.

    “I shall let you have that one without any guarantees. Anything more, I’m afraid, will cost you your word that we’ve an agreement.” 

    How many galleons would it take to have this woman fired and discredited, Lucius wondered idly, if this did not pan out the way he intended? The Malfoy family had never taken much interest in the press, aside from making certain headlines disappear, so their influence was not quite as present at the Prophet as Lucius would have liked. Even so, he was sure it was doable. Everyone had a price, and he was fortunate enough to have the funds to find it. It would far easier, though, if Ms. Skeeter was simply willing to play the game.      

[bellatrix-whoisleft]

anything you can do, i can do better || lucius & bellatrix

[whoisleft-lucius]

bellatrix-whoisleft‌:

Bellatrix always left these sessions positively buzzing. All of her nerves felt like they were on fire from the moment she passed through those doors and for hours after she left. It wasn’t just because of the brutal spell damage she took during the one-on-ones with the Dark Lord, either. He might not pull curses, but it drove her harder. It made her better. She could take the worst of it, and patching herself up at home was a sacrifice she was willing to make.

She raised her fingers up to her jawline and they came away stained red. Unsurprising, but even the pain was numb—she’d felt worse, there was worse tonight, sometimes those that left physical marks were the—she raised her wand through the thoughts, silently casting a charm to force it to clot and remove the blood. She’d deal with the mark later when she had a mirror and salves to ensure it wouldn’t scar. For now, it filled her with a thrill of its own. She wanted to see it. 

A smile graced her lips for a moment when she checked it again. Pride, even though he’d landed a blow. Several, but she had returned some. Spells were introduced beyond her imagination, and she could feel the thrum of dark magic through her veins. It felt familiar; it felt right. Some talked about it plaguing them, but they were weak. They did not understand the magic in the same way.

Her eyes, having drifted shut for a reverential moment, snapped open at the sound of footsteps. They lacked the grace of her master and were from the wrong direction. She would have felt the rush of the door anyway, and her guard went up quickly, aware there was a chance she’d been seen but putting on a face that dared Lucius to bring it up.

There were worse people. Not many, but at least, she knew she could take him.

“Malfoy,” she greeted coolly. “Is it not late for you? I’m sure you have that pesky day job to report to bright and early.” She would still be awake—she might even wind up at the Magical Archives herself. This ran deeper than sleep. The edge cut into all aspects of her life. 

@whoisleft-lucius

       By nature, Lucius was an incredibly competitive person. His every decision was made in an effort to be at the top of every list, and his decisions within the Death Eaters were no different. The Dark Lord had selected him, granted him an important position within his forces, and there was no question that Lucius was pleased -- but there were still people, both men and women, above him in the ranks. One of those people, the one who rankled the most, was Bellatrix Black. She did not see the necessity in maintaining a public facade, as Lucius did, and held great disdain for his position within the Ministry, no matter how useful it maybe for their cause. 

      Naturally, Lucius loathed her. There was an undercurrent of respect in their interactions, though; he couldn’t help but be impressed by her ruthless nature and aptitude for the Dark Arts. Lucius suspected that there was at least some appreciation for what he did for their people, as well, as the two of them were able to work together well, when it was required of them. Not that any of that was ever something either of them would verbalize. None of that meant, however, that he wanted to spend any time in her company. When she appeared, bleeding, he frowned -- had she been out terrorizing muggleborns? He was under the impression that was his jurisdiction, yet, what other explanation was there if not dueling?

    “I come when the Dark Lord summons, as you well know,” Lucius returned Bellatrix’s subtle slight toward his day job coolly, his politician’s mask firmly in place. “I would have thought your fiancee would object to all the time you’re spending away from home. . . though, I suppose when one is marrying someone such as yourself, he might be grateful for the respite.” In actuality, Lucius was uncertain why he’d been summoned. Usually, the names of people the Dark Lord wanted taken out where sent to him -- actually standing in their leader’s presence was rare. Lucius had never particularly minded that; he wouldn’t admit to fear, but nor would he pretend he was comfortable while alone with Voldemort. 

     “Dare I ask what you’re doing here? And bleeding, no less? Have you forgotten basic healing charms?” Lucius’ tone was bored as he spoke, though his eyes belied the mask as they darted between Bellatrix and the room behind her. What was going on here? And why did he have a sneaking suspicion he wouldn’t like the answer to his own question?

@bellatrix-whoisleft​

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

vince-whoisleft‌:

“Civility, me? I’m not the one referring to a group of afflicted people as monsters in broad daylight, my man.” Vince snorted, rolling his eyes for good measure. He’d love nothing more than to wipe that haughty, smug look off Malfoy’s face: getting into a real fight over lunch was, perhaps, a bit frowned upon when he was technically still on the clock. He’d have to settle for his second most satisfying kind of altercation - verbal. “There we go, saying the quiet part proper loud,” Vince said, leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes as if relishing the words from the other man’s lips. “Got something against muggles, Malfoy? I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

“One can hardly put a price on peace of mind, that’s beautiful.” Vince chuckled, shaking his head gently; he tapped the open notebook on his table thoughtfully, as if deciding if Malfoy’s hate speech turned political soundbite was worth jotting down. It wasn’t. “You’re quite right about that, especially as someone who doesn’t have to worry about price in the first place. What’s daddy getting out of this, what’s she doing for him? You?” He winked at Lucius, dramatically, luxuriating in being nothing but an annoyance in the man’s day. What else could he hope to be? Revolutions always started small, anyway.

“It’s good to see you getting so involved in politics, though, Luc,” it was a ridiculous nickname, a prolonged sort of Looshe made all the more inappropriately whimsical by Vince’s accent. “I reckon it gets boring hating people different from you quietly and to yourself, at least now you’re getting out and about a bit.” Vince crossed his legs beneath his table, letting his head fall lightly to the side as he fixed Lucius with the same bright-eyes and sharp smile, completely tense despite the rest of his outward reactions. “How’s the Educational Office? Any exciting news?”

       “Somehow, I believe you’ll find that the vast majority of wizarding society would agree with me in that statement,” Lucius responded disinterestedly, sipping at his tea. Vince was so easily riled that the doing had nearly lost its entertainment value -- nearly. “And I’m quite certain you are aware of my views, and hardly need further elucidation. If you do, please feel free to avail yourself of the numerous interviews myself and my father have given. They are public record, after all. And research should be the cornerstone of any journalistic endeavor, should it not? Otherwise, one’s articles may be regarded, as, well ... utter nonsense, I’m afraid.” Lucius sipped again at his tea, one blonde eyebrow arched in silent, subtle challenge. “But you would have more knowledge of that than I.” 

     The suggestion that Lucius and Tara Norwood were sharing a bed was enough to make him laugh outright, a short, condescending snicker. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Broadcasting that she and I are ... what, having some sort of torrid affair in order to fulfill her political ambitions? It does make an exciting story, doesn’t it? An excellent byline. How unfortunate that you’ve plagiarized the plot from a romance novel. I’m certain there would be a lawsuit if you attempted to capitalize upon it.” With a tilt of his head, Lucius directed the entire force of his gaze upon Vince, maintaining the smug expression more out of spite than any true sentiment. “As for what we get out of it, I’ve already told you. Peace of mind. The assurance that Tara would aid the Wizengamot in leading things the proper way. That is all we ask for, in return for our generous donations. We Malfoys are nothing if not philanthropists, after all.” 

      It was utter nonsense, but it was the line fed to those who asked questions. Sinclair, who knew damned well that it was nonsense, would know he was being handled, but that was half of the fun. “As for the Educational Office, I’m afraid that excitement is not exactly what we are known for. Integral, of course, but nothing that would interest a journalist of your interests. Aren’t weddings and divorces more your speciality? I would be happy to set up an interview with my dear friend Rudolphus so he can wax poetic about the shape of his fiance’s eyebrow, if you like.” 

      The engagement between the eldest Black sister and the heir of the Lestrange fortune was one supported by all in the correct circles, and had already garnered a fair amount of publicity. Lucius could not possibly care less one way or the other -- romantic entanglements bored him, unless he was involved, and gossip was a necessary evil that he did his best to entertain only when necessary. But in matters like this, his knowledge was rather useful in needling the other man. 

[justiceleague]

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

geraldine-whoisleft‌:

Days that Geraldine had to open the shop were never her best. She preferred her late nights balanced by late mornings—not evenly, mind you, she put twice as many hours in the evenings now that she was being allowed in the shop after hours again. She’d spent weeks taking said shift to get more time and never gotten used to it, and when Garrick asked her to come in today, well, it left her looking noticeably disheveled—and not in her usual relatively deliberate way—and without lunch.

She’d flipped the sign and intended on heading back, but ten minutes to scarf down a cup of soup wouldn’t end her. She’d settled in with her book, but the rare moment of peace was so immediately interrupted Geraldine almost didn’t realize she was being talked to. She didn’t interrupt him but carefully arranged her features into a pleasant neutrality.

“My apologies, sir, I’m not sure what legislation you’re talking about,” Geraldine said. She was still in customer service mode which normally would make her cringe and drop the act a little, but it was a strange blessing right now. She wasn’t uneducated on the matter by any means, and the man in front came with a degree of recognition, and he made his stance clear so quickly that she was glad she had that requisite politeness to draw on.

She was dreading the explanation that was sure to come. He looked like old money; his political views spoke of it. No matter how she tried to keep her distance, there were families like the Malfoys no one seemed to be able to escape. If not for that dread, she likely would have kept her mouth shut. “I had a rough morning. It didn’t leave much time for settling in with the paper and coffee, if you’re willing to share.”

    The woman next to him was lovely, and Lucius’ smile widened fractionally at the realization. “I applaud your manners, but ‘sir’ is hardly necessary,” Lucius told the woman graciously, turning in his chair to better face her. “And I’m happy to share the paper, if you’d like.” He passed it across the small table and into her hands. “And I’m sure the lack of caffeine can also be remedied.” The witch manning the counter looked up at that, and Lucius caught her eye, nodding once. A moment later, a steaming mug floated into place in front of his seat mate. It paid to invest in cafes; the service was always excellent. 

    “Ah, how rude of me. I am Lucius Malfoy.” Holding out one thin, pale hand to shake, the man smiled again, though this time the expression was more polite than genuine. “I recognize you from out and about, but I’m afraid I cannot for the life of me remember your name.” Charm was an effort; Lucius was good at manners and polite chit-chat, but he tended to lose patience quickly with the artifice unless he was benefiting in some way. 

     Since the original topic of discussion had been politics, Lucius pointed at the headlines, his free hand lifting his tea to his lips to sip. After a moment of quiet, he continued, “Basically, the Ministry is attempting to ascertain that werewolves have far less freedom than they have enjoyed until now -- they are hoping that in doing so, we will avoid any more unfortunate incidences, like the attacks at the Ministry last year.” Used to being the authority on most things, Lucius rattled off the information like had sat in on the Wizengamot meetings himself, which was, of course, not true. He’d heard of the laws when the rest of wizarding society had, but it never hurt to make it seem like one was ahead of the game. In his mind, it ultimately would lead to Lucius being ahead. The power of positive thinking, or some such nonsense. 

     “May I ask who you plan to vote in the special election? I promise I will refrain from lecturing, if we’ve differing viewpoints.” Lucius wasn’t being entirely truthful, in that respect, but he didn’t view his arguments as lecturing, precisely. More like educating, and it was for the woman’s own good. After all, Tara was sure to win at least one of the three open seats, so it was best to come around to her way of thinking now, before her reforms came as a shock. The question served another purpose, as well -- he was curious as to where this woman’s allegiance lie, when it came to political matters in general. Was she smart enough to believe the Dark Lord’s ideals? Was she, possibly, a new recruit for the Death Eaters? Or another bleeding heart who believed in welcoming anyone into wizarding society? Facts were important, and Lucius wanted them.

[whoisleft-lucius]

a chance encounter

[whoisleft-lucius]

narcissa-whoisleft‌:

Initially Hogsmead weekends had been days that Narcissa would wish arrived faster and much more frequent than they did. They had been the days that saw her spend hours with sisters that found different friend groups within their common group; they were days where she had allowed herself to relax slightly and enjoy days outside of a castle that only searched for her wrongs. Yet, as she grew and her interests adventured into places that made her want more privacy than allowed, Hogsmead weekends had begun to serve a different purpose. With a castle nearly empty of older year students and the younger years knowing better than to question her, it was all too easy for Narcissa to find time to simply paint.  

It would have been completely normal for her to stay behind while others made the trek down into the Wizarding village but a miscalculation in how much paint she had left pushed Narcissa to walk among those headed into the Wizarding village. Cozy would have been the word she would have associated with Hogsmead during her first few visits but as she began to surround herself with it, convenient was much better suited. After all, who would question her purchase of ‘tea’ assortments from Madame Puddifoot’s? It should have been like most visits but it wasn’t.

Lucius Malfoy wasn’t someone that could easily be dismissed but he wasn’t a person that would have been expected to be at Hogsmead. Carrying the Malfoy name had assured more time was spent with him than with someone of a lesser name — although that didn’t mean he was always her first choice for companionship. “Formalities out here, Mr. Malfoy? And here I thought we knew each other well enough to go by our first names. Unless you were looking for my sister, Miss Black is also around here I suppose.” Of course it was a bit of a lie, they knew each other as well as they needed to — or at least that’s how she knew him. With a smile accompanying the light tease, Narcissa momentarily did find herself wondering if he was in fact looking for Andromeda. 

“It is quite a delight. Although, it’s more of a delight to see you here with us. Are you here on Ministry business?” She questioned just before moving out of the way of another student and smiling back up at the other. Had it been any other trip, perhaps Narcissa wouldn’t have minded the invitation of an escort. A lie would have been easy to feed to the other but with it came the possibility of questions. So with a smile still decorating her lips, Narcissa carefully took hold of Lucius’ elbow and began to lead the way towards the tea shop. 

“How have you been?” A common question that often left her at parties and found itself used with those she hardly knew. Of course Lucius wouldn’t know that and she would make sure it would stay that way.   

      Lucius surprised himself by smiling at Narcissa’s small tease; the expression itself wasn’t shocking, but more the unplanned nature of it. In almost every social situation, Lucius had analyzed the other person and planned his comments and reactions in advance to be sure everything went smoothly. Narcissa Black, however, had always managed to put a wrinkle in that carefully cultivated persona, and had since they were children, forced together at the dinner table during one society engagement after another.  He didn’t understand it, but Lucius didn’t hate it, either. In fact, he found he rather enjoyed the way that that Narcissa’s secretive smiles made him feel.

     “I assure you, I have absolutely no desire to search out your sister,” the man informed Narcissa dryly, the smile still lingering on his lips. The genuine nature of his good humor made him look his age, for once, rather than the older, poised persona he maintained at all costs. At that moment, those who didn’t know him might have mistaken him for being approachable. “I cannot think why I would want to, when I’ve already gained your company?”  Lucius’ rivalry with Bellatrix Black was well-known amongst the Death Eaters, but he sorely doubted that Narcissa knew anything about it. He didn’t even know what she knew of Bellatrix’s involvement in the Death Eaters; perhaps he could use this time together to find out. He had no doubt that Narcissa would be supportive of the Dark Lord’s plans, but it never hurt to be cautious. 

      “Yes, unfortunately. The Education Office sent me to conduct a census, of sorts,” Lucius explained, taking care not to bore her with the details. “It isn’t technically my responsibility, but one does what one must.” The hand at his elbow was small and warm, but belied a strength that Lucius appreciated. Narcissa may seem small and fragile, but like her sister, there was a fire beneath the surface that could easily overwhelm a man. She was far from helpless. “May I ask where we’re going?” Following her lead was easy enough, but if Narcissa was headed somewhere Lucius truly wanted to avoid, he needed to find an excuse to break away. 

        The polite question, for some reason, set Lucius’ teeth on edge. Until that point, the conversation had felt honest, which was a rarity in his world. Now they were backsliding into polite society manners. “I’ve been quite well, thank you. Busy, and glad of it. And yourself?” he responded by rote, sighing inwardly at the mundane chatter. Then, surprising himself again, Lucius disrupted the well-used script and added, “Is your father still determined to marry you off to every eligible pureblooded male who walks through your door, or have you managed to put him off, now that your sister is engaged?” The question bordered on rude, but Lucius was genuinely curious -- after all, his father was quite determined to do the same with every woman they met at society functions. Sometimes, it was a reassurance to have someone who understood the frustration to talk to. 

[whoisleft-lucius]

mutually beneficial

[whoisleft-lucius]

gossipgirl-rita‌:

Many people seemed to have some sort of set schedule with their jobs, Rita had noticed. They went in at the same time every day, went home at the same time, did their work and left with no fuss. The life of a reporter was far less structured, which suited her absolutely perfectly. Part of her job was to go to parties, so if she was in late, it made no difference. She’d been working. If she didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment, no one thought twice about her staying late, since the offices were constantly buzzing with people getting the papers printed and ready for delivery. Yes, her schedule suited her just fine.

It was unusual, however, for her to have unexpected guests at work. Partly because she didn’t consider herself as a person having many friends who would drop by for a chat or to have lunch, but equally because security usually notified her of anyone who’d come in to yell at her for an article. She often saw them anyway, if only to see if they would accidentally confirm the stories or give her more to publish, but she at least knew about them.

So it was a bit of a surprise to look up from the parchment on her desk to see the swirling robes of Lucius Malfoy. She kept her face carefully blank of that surprise – it wouldn’t do to let him think he had the upper hand.

“Yes, of course, Mr. Malfoy, it would be nearly impossible not to know who you are.” The bit about mutual importance caught her attention well enough, so she smiled and stood from her desk to lead him away. “I believe Mr. Cuffe has gone for the day; I’m sure he won’t mind if we borrow his office for a moment.”

As she walked, not glancing back to see if he followed, she pondered. Clearly he wanted something, and had come to her directly to get it. This could be it – if she played the game right, the Malfoys were powerful enough that they could elevate her position within the paper. She might finally throw off the shackles of censorship she currently struggled under. She might finally be taken seriously. She just had to play this exactly correctly.

Her boss’s office was, indeed, empty, thankfully. The door was open as well, which she took as tacit permission to waltz right in and seat herself at the large chair behind his desk. It would be more than her job to look through his things, but she couldn’t resist the passive power move.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, Mr. Malfoy,” she offered as if it were her office to invite him to. One day it will be, she promised herself. “Would you like to exchange pleasantries, perhaps have a drink? Or would you rather get straight to why you’ve come to see me?”

      Lucius, ever the gentleman in public, held the door of the office for the reporter, then made sure it was closed firmly behind him. He wished there was a possibility of a muffling spell around the room, but there were too many eyes in the Prophet’s offices -- too many people who might recognize him and find it suspicious that he was in a closed, silenced room with a reporter. Lucius did not want to have to clean anything up -- he was too meticulous to allow anything to go wrong. Or, so he hoped. 

      Cool eyes surveyed the small office with barely-concealed disdain. There were piles of papers stacked haphazardly on the desk, and dust littered the grungy windowsill. If there was anything Lucius hated more than incompetence, it was an inability to clean one’s own mess. His own tiny office in the Education Office was, like his bedroom, pristine, despite not having a house elf around to take care of it. Honestly, housekeeping charms were hardly difficult -- 

     He’d gotten off task. “I have no use for pleasantries, and I do not drink in the middle of the day,” Lucius responded crisply, standing stiffly upright in the center of the room. with his cloak still tight about his shoulders. “I’ll get straight to the point then, shall I? I’ve heard of your ambitions, Ms. Skeeter, and I believe that you and I could come to a mutually beneficial arrangement. I’m sure you have been following the campaigns for the Wizengamot seats?” If she was no idiot, she would be. Every journalist in wizarding society would be following the elections, whether they wrote for a gossip rag or an actual newspaper. That was what everyone wanted to hear about, just now. And that was why Lucius wanted to make sure they were hearing the right things. This was a pivotal point for wizarding society, and Lucius would do everything necessary to be sure it was pivotal for the correct reasons. 

    “My father and I are funding Tara Norwood’s campaign. As a result, I am actively involved, and have certain . . . information on the other candidates. I will give you this information, and it will give you further notoriety, which is, I believe, what you desire. In return, everything you write will favor Ms. Norwood, and will claim that she is ahead in the polls.” Perception was everything. Lucius knew that better than most. If people believed something, it mattered little if it was actually true or not. And that was what he was banking on. Well, that and Rita Skeeter’s own desire for notoriety outweighing her scruples, but he felt the latter was a secure bet.

[undomielle]

House Pride + empowering quote: House Slytherin “ falling in love with yourself first doesn’t make you vain or selfish, it makes you indestructible”

[nauseadaily]

Smooth and smiling faces everywhere, but ruin in their eyes.

Jean-Paul Sartre (via nauseadaily)

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

vince-whoisleft‌:

The bistro was not Vince’s establishment of choice, nor was he the bistro’s management’s choice of patron. He was taking a wild guess at that, sure, but judging by the rest of the people populating the place he figured it was a safe enough assumption.

It was well enough known by him, thanks to a proper bit of snooping around, that the restaurant was a popular spot for elite sort of folks, which meant it was a great lunch spot if he wanted to try and keep an ear out for a bit of gossip. Which he always wanted to do. It was an oversight that he took the first empty table without realizing who was already seated nearby; his eyes were busy tracking the rest of the patrons, noting which members of the Ministry’s elite were currently sipping lunchtime wine. A voice snapped him out of his study, but it only took half a second to place it; and even less time to fix an appropriately contentious look on his face as he turned.

“What was that, Malfoy?” Vince asked brightly; one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into a slight sneer, eyes shining. The thing was that Vince had absolutely nothing but contempt for the handsome man sitting beside him, and the other think was that that was no secret. “Spouting hate speech in the middle of the day? Bit early for that, innit? Even the Wizengamot didn’t refer to them as monsters, but I suppose the bar can always go lower.” Here was Vince Sinclair, hackles raised in the span of two seconds. “How much money is Abraxas funneling to Norwood’s campaign, anyway? You want to give me the scoop on that one?” 

       A small smirk formed on Lucius’ lips as the man sitting next to him reacted in a predictable manner. He may not have been paying much attention to his seat-mate in the bistro initially, but he recovered quickly, attempting to turn the situation in his favor. At the very least, riling Vince Sinclair was always amusing, and after a mind-numbing morning, Lucius was direly in need of some entertainment. He did, however, make a note to have a stern chat with the owners of the establishment about which sorts of people were welcome clients, and which were not. 

      “I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to employ some modicum of civility?” he drawled in return, his only response to the challenging expression on Sinclair’s face a lifted eyebrow and a haughty expression. “Honestly, Mr. Sinclair, one would think you were raised in a barn. Or amongst muggles.” Lucius paused and widened his eyes dramatically. “Oh. That does explain it, doesn’t it?” 

      “As for press releases, well, I’m quite certain we’ve already given one on our support to Ms. Norwood’s campaign. After all, one can hardly put a price on peace of mind.” It was an answer that he’d planned in advance; plenty of people wanted to know how much money was behind Tara’s bid for the seat, and both Lucius and Abraxas knew better than to give a straight answer. Not that either of the Malfoy men were known for their easy cooperation with the press. Sinclair was a bit more persistent than the average paparazzi, though, and for good reason . . . even if he didn’t remember what that reason was. The thought made satisfaction curl in the pit of Lucius’ stomach, and he sipped smugly at his tea.

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

antonin-whoisleft‌:

“Absolutely,” Antonin replied easily, not startled by the sudden conversation initiation - or, if he was, he was adept at masking it. He was adept at masking most things, and the sudden appearance of Lucius Malfoy at the bistro his family had a hand in pulling the strings behind was hardly cause for concern. 

He was seated at a small table, happy to lean back a bit and let his ankle rest on the knee of his other leg; he was an excellent lounger, when given the opportunity, and the quiet environment the bistro provided him was a godsend. The Leaky had always been an option, sure, but that was for people who didn’t have the sickles to drop on a proper lunch here or there, and the crowd at this restaurant was far more his speed.

Not to mention the fellow Death Eater he was now chatting to, but that was just for them to know.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Lucius, my friend,” Antonin murmured, finally lifting his eyes from his cup of tea to land on the other man; they’d been dorm mates, classmates for seven years, and now partners in righteous crime. He didn’t mind being overly casual with him, nor a bit warning. “Not that I don’t think you only get the right sort of people in here, but you never know who might sit down beside you next. That sort of talk is bound to get you into a few arguments, is all I’m saying.” A firm believer in playing his cards close to his chest; and being able to gently chide a Malfoy never hurt, either. “But you’re quite right, I’m surprised more people aren’t treating this as the good news that it is. I’ve already seen picketers inside the Atrium, for Merlin’s sake.”

“She’s got my vote,” he said mildly, well aware that Norwood was fully backed by the Malfoy family - and all that entailed. “You’ll be at her fundraiser gala, I presume?”

      Inwardly, Lucius sighed at himself; if he was going to initiate conversation with someone during his quiet lunch, he could have at least chosen someone who hadn’t already thoroughly bought into the same beliefs. Outwardly, his expression remained as placid as ever. He had an exponential amount of practice at masking fury and contempt behind benign expressions, and this situation hardly even rated a challenge. Besides, Dolohov was -- regrettably -- already aware of most of Lucius’ darker secrets as another of the Dark Lord’s followers.  He saw little reason to pretend otherwise. 

    The warning had Lucius rolling his eyes even as it was still being uttered, dropping a bit of his pretense for Antonin. The two of them were on the same side, and knew each other probably better than either would care to admit. And besides, no one else in the bistro was in hearing range; this was a quiet luncheon place, and Lucius preferred it that way. “Argue in public? Me? Come now, Antonin. Surely you know me better than that,” the fairer man chortled, leaning back with an air of faux indifference. He refused to be chastised by Dolohov on such trivialities. The entire wizarding world already knew which side the Malfoys stood on when it came to the Wizengamot elections -- he hardy thought putting voice to the sentiment would come as a shock to anyone. 

   One blonde eyebrow rose at the mention of picketers, and cool disdain swept Lucius’ features unhindered. “My, my,” he muttered. “It must be so very tiresome to be a bleeding heart, wouldn’t you say? The news hasn’t even been public knowledge for long, and there are protests already?” He tended to avoid the Atrium already, when at all possible, and now apparently had double the reason to do so. “Someone should remind them of their place.”

    Galas were the sort of environment that Lucius thrived in. An excuse to dress impeccably and call attention to himself outside the norm, plenty of like-minded people to impress, and weaker-minded fools to sway. Politics and the Dark Arts were both subjects taught to him at his father’s knee, and the punishment of not learning had been severe. As a result, Lucius was exceptionally good at both. Politics, however, had the benefit of being something Lucius could practice in public, and he’d grown quite adept at handling the subtleties and nuances of rhetoric. “Of course!” he said, a bit more enthused now. “Tara is a dear friend of the family, as I’m certain you know, and it would be terribly rude of me not to attend. Will you be joining the festivities, as well?” 

[xenophilios]

hp aesthetic

↳ lucius malfoy

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

gideonthesoldier‌:

“It is,” Gideon said simply, proud to confirm his name. He wasn’t much disconcerted to be remembered. So much of what he did on a daily basis went into being remembered; it didn’t hurt the cause to come from a loud, outspoken and generally energetic family. Even if the one remembering him was Lucius Malfoy in a wave of smug glory, Gideon didn’t think he could ever be ashamed to be noted as a Prewett. 

“They aren’t really doing any of that, though,” he added, with a wrinkle of his nose. Again, his eyes wandered over to the newspaper in the other man’s hands. Gideon had a great memory, both a blessing to him and a curse on others. He was positive he hadn’t misremembered any details of the original article, but maybe more information had followed. He was a curious creature. Even if the news turned his stomach, he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop reading along. 

“Only asking them to turn themselves in and voluntarily cut off benefits, sort of? They still aren’t lifting a finger to actually do anything other than cause suffering. If anything, they’re just driving these people further away from the government. Where’s the incentive to even show up?” Gid shook his head, because he was familiar with things being ‘all for show’. He pointed it out, in no fewer words. “It’s all an act. Good publicity. It’s shameful.”

Gideon’s brow knit together, and he regarded Lucius with an expression that could be confused for amusement - but it was just the face he put on when he was thinking very hard. “She’s not…letting them out onto the streets,” he said, throwing in a light laugh to keep the mood light, as if they were two old friends discussing something more pleasant over better teas. “Just identifying different levels of crime that don’t warrant exposure to Dementors, and offering support services to actually rehabilitate people. Surely that’s the point of incarceration in the first place - rehabilitation?” 

He tilted his head to one side, posing his question as if he really wanted to know the answer. In actuality, he wasn’t so sure. “Is everything really that black and white for you?”

     Arguing in public was not something a Malfoy was meant to do -- Lucius could only imagine the headlines were some fool with a QuickNotes quill to wander past at the right moment. He was hardly ill-equipped to discuss such things with the facts on his side, but he also knew that wizards who allowed weak emotions such as empathy to guide their words and actions were rather lost causes when it came to issues such as this. Even if the other man did come from a pureblooded family. “On the contrary,” Lucius said graciously, flicking a tiny piece of lint dismissively from the shoulder of his robe. “There are plenty of shades of grey in different issues -- but I’ve yet to read a single article about the benefits of having a werewolf in one’s society, and plenty about the detriment.”

   Gideon was evidently more intelligent than he looked. Lucius hid a knowing smile behind his tea cup and took a moment to consider his reply, refusing to give too much of what he knew away. Knowing something that others didn’t was always a treat for Lucius, and having the opportunity to lord it over them was additional entertainment -- but this was not a secret that could yet be revealed. “But what reason would they have to act in such a way?” he asked, raising one carefully groomed eyebrow. “It will be easy enough to see if they didn’t mean it when nothing changes. If it is a lie, it’s an idiotic one.” Pushing the werewolves away from current government was, as far as Lucius understood, part of the Dark Lord’s plan. The less welcome they were in current wizarding society, the more they would want change, when the Dark Lord was ready to reveal himself. And while they were monsters, they were also more strength for his numbers. Lucius wasn’t exactly privy to such delicate plans, of course, but he was intelligent enough to put the pieces together -- hopefully in the correct order. 

   Lucius tilted his head to one side, for the first time genuinely considering what the other man had said regarding incarceration and rehabilitation. In all honestly, he didn’t particularly care about the prisoners in Azkaban, nor those who were careless enough to allow themselves to be put there. If one was cautious, and meticulous, crimes were not difficult to hide -- or at least disconnect oneself from. Lucius should know. “If that were truly the point of Azkaban,” Lucius drawled, “I sincerely doubt dementors would be permitted to exist there. Don’t most prisoners go mad within the first year of their sentences? Unless your candidate plans on removing the only guards, I’m afraid rehabilitation is rather impossible.”

[whoisleft-lucius]

a change for the better || open

[whoisleft-lucius]

marya-whoisleft‌:

Marya had a similar decision-making process for choosing this restaurant for lunch. Hers was a little less harsh towards more casual establishments like the Leaky Cauldron, she would like to think, but she also wanted to be in certain company to properly show off her new outfit to people who would actually appreciate it. Specifically, appreciate just how much money it cost her.

She had arrived almost a half hour late, which was pretty normal for her especially when she got too caught up on a shopping spree. But she still beat her friend there, which was also normal for Penelope. She took a seat at an open table while she waited, but especially without her son at her side, she didn’t have anything on hand to distract her. Marya didn’t do well when her mind wasn’t occupied.

So she was all too happy to engage with the first person to talk to her. “Oh, I don’t really keep up much with the news.” She never had much of an interest, seeing as none of it seemed to impact her own life too directly. Of course, she scoured the gossip section every day. And, as much as she wouldn’t admit it, she did skim the other sections for any news that might be relevant to her husband. Anything that could offer a hint to the answers to questions she couldn’t ask Tyler. “I did see something about the new legislation, but I don’t know any details. What did they change again? New rules about where they are allowed to live or something of the sort?”

        Lucius was silent for a moment, ostensibly to dab at the corner of his mouth with his napkin, though truly, he was using the time to size up the woman who had perched at the table next to him. His eyes moved over her outfit appreciatively -- he had learned very young that women who dressed that way wanted others to notice. “Ah, Mrs. Warrington,” Lucius drawled, once he was ready. “What a pleasant surprise. You look lovely today, as always. May I ask what brings you to Diagon Alley? And without Tyler?” 

     Marya Warrington was a familiar face from years of society functions, as was her husband, who was also a member of the Dark Lord’s following. He did not loathe the sight of her, and would go as far as saying he actually liked her, though he wasn’t sure discussing politics would help continue that feeling. “I see. I'm certain the news can be distressing, but I find that is better to be educated than unprepared.” Lucius loved to read the news, lately -- it was gratifying to see the Dark Lord’s work being noted, especially now that Lucius himself was taking a more active role. There was nothing wrong with taking pride in one’s work, after all. 

    “Ah. The legislation is rather exhaustive. It requires registration for all werewolves currently living, as well as takes back funding from programs meant to assist them, I believe. Though why we had such programs in the first place is anyone’s guess.” The mere idea made Lucius sneer; the existence of such programs was a clear sign that the current Ministry needed reformation. “Additionally, dark creatures no longer have employment security.” Again, the blonde found it difficult to imagine anyone continuing to employ a witch or wizard who consistently missed work on the full moon -- surely, employers were more discerning than that? If not, he was tempted to say they deserved what they got.

     “You’re an intelligent woman, Ms. Warrington. Surely, you see the necessity for such laws?” Flattery, with a subtly placed insinuation that to believe otherwise would make the woman foolish. Lucius was a master of double-talk; he’d learned from his father, who had born the same title for Lucius’ entire life. It was a necessary skill when one dabbled in politics or pureblooded society, and the Malfoys were an integral part of both. “I certainly do, as does my family -- we’re endorsing Ms. Norwood for the Wizengamot election to be sure it is put into practice. Permanently.”