There's no place like home [Open]

[lysandra malfoy]

Relatively few people have ever laid eyes on Malfoy manor, for all of its infamous prestige. This really is a shame, because as far as pureblood houses go it suits its inhabitants to a T.

Of course it’s ostentatiously large, with dark stone walls making the house look more like a fortress than a home. Overgrown gardens soften the feel, with ivy growing up the building like latticework and thickets of ferns and rosebushes growing wild around the property. It’s not a look that appeals to modernism, but whatever your taste level you would find yourself in agreement about the distinctly magical aura of the place.

Nobody can put their finger on exactly what that aura is, not in the same way that the Weasley’s gravity-defying house displays it, but suffice to say it evokes the same feeling that places like Hogsmeade are famous for. That being that you wouldn’t be surprised to see a pretty young lady wander out of it’s doors with a pointy wizard’s hat on her head.

Of course, since relatively few people ever see the place, there would be nobody for that young lady to surprise.

Stepping out of the foyer and into the crisp air of the morning, Lysandra Malfoy shrugged on a heavy black coat to cover a silken dress that, to be honest, was completely inappropriate for this time of the season. Mornings were always the most draining part of her day, and until she could leave Charis in the playroom for a few hours under the capable eye of a family house elf, her choice of clothing was determined by what happened to be clean, in reach, and able to be sacrificed to vomit if necessary. Honestly, who knew children still spit-up so much when they passed babyhood?

Sitting down at a wooden bench with the morning paper in her hands, she flicked over to the classifieds section with nary a glance at the social pages (and wasn’t she growing up?). Job hunting really wasn’t her thing, especially when she was so content with her lifestyle at the moment, but if it pleased her family for her to be employed then, well, she could give it a go.

Besides, it was a nice day today. It could just be the day she’d find something perfect.

[alexandria zabini]

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[lysandra malfoy]

[ooc || She’s actually outside at the moment mate.]

“Alexandria, If I haven’t heard about it before it makes the columns, I can assure you it’s not worth reading.” Lysandra replied with a drawl typical of the blue-blooded British. These days she probably wouldn’t know most of the boring drivel the gossip pages were allowed to report (because we all know the good stuff is kept quiet), but that didn’t mean she needed to highlight her isolation to Zabini. She shouldn’t call it isolation, really, not when she saw friends every day and went out every night, but after the freedom of her early twenties was cut short by Charis everyday life seemed stifling in comparison.

“I didn’t realize you were scheduled for a visit. My Father’s not available.” She muttered half distracted as she flicked through the thin pages of the paper in front of her, searching for something interesting to land on. “But if you’re here for Meredith, she may be in her rooms.”

Finally settling on a full-page spread about the Ministry’s latest project (funding for an Early Wizarding cultural center in London) she pretended to disregard Zabini entirely, trying to keep her curiosity internalized. Though she was never very good at not appearing to be thinking.

[alexandria zabini]

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[lysandra malfoy]

“I'm too busy with work…I have a job to attend tonight…”

Lysandra might have drifted apart from Zabini during their school years together (she being too much of a spoilt brat to notice and Alexandria being too cold-heartedly analytical to care), but even she knew the way Zabini’s mind worked. Nothing insignificant was dwelled on for long, and only the most interesting matters were worth the girl’s time.

Lysandra may not have been the brightest of the Malfoy litter, but even she realized that this…meeting with her Father must be significant in some way. And wasn’t that just typical? Another important job for another lovely young pureblood girl. But this time her Father hadn’t gone to Meredith above her. This time he’d simply replaced her altogether.

With a deep breath (a technique she’d mastered while suffering the frustration of learning to change a baby’s nappy), she calmed her frustrations and looked over at Zabini with what she hoped was a cool expression.

“I’m flattered,” she deadpanned, with just enough expression that it might pass for sincerity, “And I don’t know where he is. My apologies.”

Sometimes it was difficult, sitting beside more successful, more beautiful, more interesting people than herself. Especially so when the person beside her was a childhood friend, one she’d always have a competitive undercurrent with.

But it didn’t take much for Lysandra to remind herself just what she’d done for her family that nobody else had. She gave the Malfoy’s a whole new damn generation, and Charis was the only child in it. Her father couldn’t forget that. Zabini, no matter what her mysterious work may be, could never give her family what she had.

Content in her own importance, Lysandra stood from the bench and smiled a genuine smile at her old friend. “But far be it for me to let you leave without offering you a drink.”

[alexandria zabini]

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[lysandra malfoy]

Without conscious thought, a slight frown worked its way between Lysandra’s eyebrows. Not anger or aggression, really, simply a slightly annoyed confusion at being thrown from the usual social routine. After all, offering a drink was a polite gesture, made out of habit rather than thought. Much like she was taught to say “Fine thank you” when someone asked how she was doing. Zabini declining the offer was as jarring as if someone were to reply “As a matter of fact, I’m shite.”

“Oh. Sure.” She muttered, for a moment forgetting to speak properly in front of company as she wondered whether she had just been subtly insulted. “I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll let my Father know you came ‘round.”

For a moment she thought to offer to accompany her guest to the edge of the anti-apparation zone (another polite courtesy…pureblood families really practiced a lot of them), but in a moment of defiance she sat back down and flicked her newspaper over to the classifieds section with a huff. “Good day then. It was lovely to see you Alexandria.” She said loudly, wondering sarcastically what her father would think of her working as a barmaid at one of the local advertising pubs. Get a job, indeed.

[alexandria zabini]

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