white peacocks [emilius]

[cynthia montague]

baby i thought that we had something

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compared to him i'm next to nothing[/font][/right][/color]

Pretty home they had, the Malfoys.
They were hosting a banquet again, one of those parties for the elite only. Cynthia's parents weren't as impossible as they'd been before, they seemed to accept her more for every year, but she still had to go on those get-together's every now and then. Now was one of those occasions, it was a big thing. All the best names were invited and as her mother still wouldn't give up on trying to find her a fiancé, this was a buffet. Of course Edna had bring her daughter with her.
And Cynthia didn't really have the heart to say no, she hadn't had any contact with her parents for weeks, and it was months since they'd last seen each other. She figured that it couldn't really be that bad anyway, she could sacrifice a few hours for small-talking.

But it had turned out that it was quite bad, after all. The preparations was as picked from her nightmares. Mum had insisted on buying some new clothes, she wouldn't allow her daughter to be seen in the same dress twice, not with all the important people paying attention. Her mother was harsh, shopping with her was the opposite of a confidence boost, but after lots of burned out shop assistants and compromising, they found a strapless, knee-length, flowy black satin dress that they could agree on. Edna was disappointed, but Cynthia had refused even trying on the gowns. Then there was hair and make up, down under the magnifying lens, Edna wasn't happy at all, she was throwing a tantrum about split ends and lack of lustre. But Cynthia loved her mum, so she tried hard to keep her face calm and apologetic.

A couple of painful hours later, they had arrived at Malfoy Manor. She was expected to introduce herself to everyone, smile and be pretty, and she did her mother that favour, for a while. It hadn't been pleasurable at all, and she wasn't going to shake one more hand that evening, no. She'd left the hall and the important people and gone upstairs instead. Now she was sitting on a sofa in one of the uncountable corridors of the building, absently looking at the portraits on the wall while sipping on a glass of champagne. She wanted to pull out the hair pins, go home and slip out of the formal dress.

She remembered hide and seek with the other pureblood kids. It had been rare that the Malfoy heir himself had wanted to play with them, he preferred his room and fancy toys better -well they were all material children-, but even though he frowned, it had always brought Cynthia up when the authority forced him to say hi. Sometimes the little girl had even gotten him to smile. But that though could be discussed, if she amused him or if he actually liked her company. It felt like so long ago. It was, but not in time. It was so far from reality, in this life, Emilius had forgotten about her, and Cynthia had forgotten about him.
Well obviously not, but for the record.

[emilus malfoy]

“I expect you there at seven, dear”
“I’m meeting a friend, tell Father I will be at the next…dinner.”
“There will be some lovely, eligible ladies in attendance tonight.”
“Mother, I have-“
“Emilus I’ve spoken to your father already, you will be attending tonight, Don’t bother arguing.”
With a heavy sigh the young man merely nodded and watched as his mother left The Hog’s Head with a smug smile toying at her lips. Dionne Malfoy was a slender, tall woman. Her hair was almost white and her eyes were like baby blue pools of crystal. Of course, Emilus admired his mother for the grace she held herself with but he did not care for the tedious banquets and constant dinner parties. Most evenings he managed to evade the festivities, yet Dionne had come down personally to ask him rather than send the invitation – he couldn’t quite say no to her sometimes and it wasn’t great, having your mother still knowing little tricks to get her own way after so many years.

So when seven p.m came around, Emilus felt exhausted already as he disapparated from his own little flat in London to his parent’s large white mansion-estate. He had always been proud of where he came from, happy to show his home off to acquaintances and such. His father and his father’s friends were all in the traditional dress-robes, whereas Emilus much preferred to wear muggle suits – it was just so much more convenient at times however his father expected dress-robes so he wore a new set of grey, traditional robes, they weren’t quite his thing though they seemed to bring some life to his eyes. Every so often his mother would send sly glances from down the table toward him; checking that he was at least making polite conversation. It was like being a child again – no doubt she would have something to say about his lack of communication skills. Emilus didn’t care for people much, they bored him and got in the way of things – also they weren’t to be trusted; it was to tiresome keeping track of people and what they said and done. Emilus’s circle of friends was incredibly tight – he trusted very few people. His father taught him that one.

Even after dinner while Emilus stood with his father and business associates, all he wanted was a proper drink, a girl and a little fun. Not to be stood with dull men conversing over fickle points and drinking some sort of dry, berry wine... As a child he’d always want to be part of the adults conversations, now he wished he were back in his old room getting peace from the other guests. Even when he was young, the other children meant nothing to him and every bi-monthly dinner party or social event his parents organised – Emilus would play by himself. It was a natural thing.

When the subject turned to one of the associates sons getting engaged, Emilus slipped away unnoticed and tried to avoid his mother while he headed to the only unoccupied area in the house. Nobody managed to see him climb the staircase quickly and dart through one of the corridors heading toward his old playroom. As sad as it was, Emilus was convinced he’d hidden a bottle of fire whiskey in there after his fourteenth birthday when his parents organised some sort of party for him during the holidays and he knew nobody aside from his family there. It wasn’t exactly the best birthday he’d had.

While he continued along the corridor, he pulled a cigarette which he had kept up his sleeve as a reminder to himself that if he managed to survive dinner – it would be his reward after. Emilus put the cigarette in his mouth and used his wand to light it, inhaling deeply and almost smiling to himself. It was the hit you got from your first inhale of every cigarette; it was almost as good as sex, but clearly sex was better. He paid no mind to the paintings that haunted the walls of the corridor – he’d seen them so many times that it really wasn’t worth looking at them anymore – and stopped only when he saw a young woman ahead of him. She looked familiar, though Emilus had been forced to meet so many people at the wretched social events, he often lost track of who he was talking to. “You shouldn’t be here.” He stood in front of her while she sat on of the smaller sofas lining the corridor, the young woman looked familiar but he couldn’t put a name to the face. Emilus didn’t care who she was or why she was even there but he didn’t want to be rude. “I think you should go down with the other guests.” Then it clicked. It was Cynthia Montague, the little reject…it had been quite a while since Emilus had seen her. She had changed a little, but not enough so that he did not recognise her.

[cynthia montague]

Cynthia heard the steps before even bothering to check who it was, she'd prefer it if the person, whoever it was would just walk past her without any courtesies. But he stopped in front of her, and she immediately recognized him, it was Emilius, painfully many years older than the cute one in her thoughts a few seconds ago, sadly it was still the same boy.
When he pointed it out, she realized that good manners definitely didn't mean sneaking around in someone's house, but she wouldn't call it sneaking, she just needed to get away. Cynthia took another sip of her champagne before glancing up at him again. They hadn't talked for years, a few more seconds of silence wouldn't make any difference. "Are you really going to force me?" She asked him dully. To any other host, she would have apologized and hurried down, but even though she respected Emilius, pleasing him wasn't worth her own suffering.

She had never expected him to accept her as a Ravenclaw, but it had hurt her, that he ignored her greetings, pretending that she wasn't existing. Okay, so it was a horrible thing to do, being sorted into any other house than Slytherin, but he could have nodded, the Malfoy kid had been different before Hogwarts. He didn't nod, and she was cut off from everyone she'd appreciated. She was bitter, it wasn't true that she was over it, still upset about that the fact that a talking hat thought that she was more intelligent than sly, that something like that would make her filthy in his eyes, in their eyes. She didn't feel like being nice and kind and polite, not now. And her mother had given up her dreams about a Cynthia Malfoy long ago, so it wasn't like her attitude now would be killing her mum tonight.

[emilus malfoy]

He raised an eyebrow, almost smiling and shook his head. Cocky little cow, speaking to him like that? Emilus wasn't mad but he was impressed - everything was slowly coming back to him and he could remember avoiding her in the corridors at school, pretending she just didn't exist. Cynthia was a reflection of what could have been himself, the damn sorting hat had almost destroyed Emilus's life. Nobody expected her to be anything less than Slytherin, and it was the same for Emilus but even then; he escaped while she didn't. He resented her for proving his worst fears. It hadn't been her fault and he pretty much forgot about her after fifth year. He got over watching his nightmare played in front of him everyday for five years - Emilus was good at repressing memories he wanted to forget.

"Obviously I could force you if I wanted to, but I cannot blame you for wanting to escape those dreary people downstairs." He shrugged and glanced down at her, if he had been her then he'd have just gone home. Gone to another party, one that wasn't full of demented, middle-aged women still trying to matchmake for their eldest unmarried children. It was ridiculous for them to stick their noses in when their children were adults but Emilus had come to deal with his mother, as much as he refused to admit it to people he did admire her. His mother had been particularly interested in the Montague daughter, until she went and became a Ravenclaw then she tried to find her son another potential wife. He didn't want to think about marriage until he was at least thirty; what was the point in being young if you were tied down to the same woman for the rest of your life?

He took another draw of his cigarette and sat down on the same sofa, a few years ago he'd never have done this but his parents wanted him to socialise with their world, so he was doing just that. Emilus couldn't help but stare at the glass in her hand, there was a dry ache for alcohol in the back of his throat but she didn't seem to have what the ache needed. Firewhiskey was calling him, yet he didn't want to summon it too soon. The girl could bore him and Emilus didn't want to drink with a boring young woman - it wasn't what he wanted. Not tonight anyway. " Why are you up here anyway?" His voice was low, uninterested and sounded terribly bored but he couldn't help it; his tone hadn't changed in the past few hours and it didn't look like it was going to anytime soon.

[cynthia montague]

"No, you can't" Cynthia agreed. It surprised her that he seemed to think, that he wasn't telling her to be a respectable woman and stop drinking and go impress old people. Since first year, she'd never expected him to have own standings, standards, opinions, beliefs. She wanted to snap at him 'Oh now you can talk, now you can look at me', but she didn't. She still liked him as much as she had when she was just a little girl. The only difference was that it was all soaked in hurt and disappointment. "Yeah, well, as you know, your family is hosting a party" She started, "And believe it or not, people forget about Hogwarts, that hat was outdated centuries ago." She had to, she had the right to blame him. He couldn't know what it had felt like. "I'm still one of the best looking, easily most intelligent, worthy young women around. Mum wished that I'd married long ago, but I don't. So I went up here to avoid pathetic young men and their mothers" She stated.

Cynthia drank some more of the champagne. It was nice, she'd have to agree, getting some form of acceptance from him. But it felt so fake and obnoxious in a way, that they were small-talking. Cynthia had been raised as a Montague, as a Slytherin, and a Malfoy could pull out those traits in her. He'd hurt her, and he hadn't had the right to. He hadn't deserved her feelings like that. "Don't you want to find yourself some pretty wife?" She asked him, returning his question. It hit her, that maybe he already had one. She couldn't help but glancing at his hands, looking for a ring. She didn't know why she even bothered.

[emilus malfoy]

Now, Emilus wasn't one to usually pass up the chance to be alone with a a woman, especially a good looking one but he was used to those stupid little bimbos, as much as he hated them he had to admit they were fun for a night. Though he knew Cynthia was for from stupid so he was almost looking forward to what she had on offer. "Yes, but even so you should still be down there..." He shrugged and slid his arm around to hang over the back of the seat, watching her closely. "I am well aware my family is throwing a party yes, but it doesn't mean that little girls should be bitter about a silly piece of talking material." he smirked then, enjoying her little rant. To be truthfyl he hadn't expected her to have mentioned it though, he didn't expect any less of her. "Well I'll agree with you there iif you don't mind me saying I think you're stunning." He lowered his voice slightly, a smile playing on his lips. He wasn't lying, but he knew she wasn't interested. "Not all of those young men downstairs are pathetic you know..."

Emilus really wanted that Firewhiskey, while he watched her raise the glass to her lips and drink the foul tasting liquid, a dry ache in his throat for a glass of something proper. It was like his father would constantly say, when drinking it has to be something strong and potent. The champagne his mother had been serving up was disgusting. "A wife? Hardly. Witches are good for one thing and once you've got it you don't need them. I don't like re-using things again and again. Becomes quite tedious, wouldn't you agree?" He couldn't help but get a little angry, he'd had the same conversation with his parents numerous times before hand and it was starting to irritate him. There was an awkward, pregnant pause before Emilus started talking again. "You'd think or parents would have given up by now, wouldn't you?"

[cynthia montague]

"I don't mind" Cynthia said with a smug smile, "Such a jerk" she thought. Her sensible Ravenclaw side wanted to kick his ass so bad, but as implied, that part was a mere half of her. "I must say that the least pathetic one of them is upstairs now" she said, taking her eyes off of him. Once he looked at her, gave her attention, it was easier to act as if he didn't matter.

She smirked at his words, and the somewhat upset tone to them. Apparently they were more alike than she'd thought. But she wouldn't admit it, so she decided against letting him know that she had the same view on wizards. These parties were the few times of the year that she made an effort to be somewhat proper. "Your life must become terribly boring when you've worn them all out" Cynthia commented, still not looking at him, "What then, trying out some tight and young pretty wizards? I heard that the Lestrange boy's still available" she teased.

His words kind of made her melt. It was obvious that he wasn't more content with the situation than she was, and that was... pretty much not at all. She took one more sip of the champagne and sighed. "I'd wish, but no" she shrugged, "I'm starting to believe that I'd have to marry a muggle and claim true love to get them to give up".
"And even you should know me good enough to know that that'll never happen". Yeah, doomed to matchmaking, eh?