Ball at Malfoy Manor
A grand ball in celebration of Abraxas Malfoy's birthday was underway at Malfoy Manor in Wiltshire, where chandeliers cast a golden glow over the marble floors, and the air shimmered with the low murmur of aristocratic conversation and the clinking of crystal goblets.
The great hall shimmered with golden candlelight, the flames reflecting off polished silver and jewel-studded goblets. The scent of roasted boar and honeyed cakes filled the air as the gathered purebloods reveled in laughter and song. At the head of the long oaken table, Lord Malfoy sat in his high-backed chair, a goblet of deep red wine in hand. The warmth of celebration softened his weathered face.
A hush fell over the nearby guests as a young girl stepped forward from the throng. Lady Wisteria Rosier, scarcely ten years old, moved with practiced grace. Rumors of her brilliance had long circulated in the pureblood circles, with accidental magic depicted at the age of one. Her gown of soft blue velvet brushed the rushes beneath her feet. His blonde hair was braided with silver thread, and a delicate chain of pearls adorned her brow.
She stopped before the lord’s table and, with the elegance expected of her station, bent into a perfect curtsy.
“Lord Malfoy,” she said, her voice clear yet sweet with youth. “On this most joyous eve, I offer my best wishes. May the years ahead bring you great fortune, unyielding strength, and wisdom as deep as the mountain roots.”
Lord Malfoy, a man unaccustomed to flattery from one so young, arched a bushy brow before a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. He set down his goblet and regarded her with something akin to amusement—and perhaps even respect.
“Well spoken, little lady,” he said, his deep voice carrying through the hall. “Mayhap your tongue is sharper than half the lords at this table.” A murmur of laughter followed his jest. “And what gift do you bring me, I wonder?”
With a small smile, she lifted two small vials, one filled with a silvery liquid and the other filled to the brim with a clear, viscous liquid.
“Unicorn Blood and Basilisk Venom,” she said. “A token of the friendship between our families.”
She handed the vials to Lord Malfoy who studied it for a moment, then gave a slow nod of approval.
“A fine gift indeed,” he rumbled.
Wisteria dipped into another curtsy, her bright eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of duty well performed.
As she stepped back, the music struck up once more, and the feast carried on, but for the briefest of moments, the Lord Malfoy looked upon the child heiress with something rare—genuine regard.
Wisteria pov:
She searched through the crowd hoping to see a familiar face. A familiar laugh made her stop in her tracks.
"Lucy," she says jumping on his back. Lucius turned to her a scowl already forming on his face.
"Do you have to call me that," he asked the same question he asked every time they met. She just nodded in affirmation. His scowl deepened.
"Are you not glad to see me," she said, placing her hand where her heart was, and doing her best impression of heartbreak. He snorted.
"Ah yes. How honored I am, that your grace decided to abandon her important obligations and grace us with her presence." She smiled.
"I see you have impressed my father." He must have noticed Abraxas's gaze on her. "Let me warn you, being in his good graces is no good thing."
Abraxas Malfoy. Everytime she looked at him, she could see right through him. Shrewd. Cunning. Greedy. A bad father. Harsh. And two-faced.
"Are you saying he might be considering a betrothal? But wasn't he trying to marry you to Bella last month?"
Lucius shuddered at the reminder.
"Total madness that was, let me tell you. Thankfully, grandmother talked him out of it. Marrying a Black is the most insane idea a man could have. Why would anyone subject themselves to that torture."
She just nodded. Even at ten, one thing every pureblood child knew was that the Blacks were not to be messed with. Lucius had learned his lesson the hard way, but once he had he won't forget it. She remembered how last year, Lady Black had scared him half to death. He had tried to sneak into Lord Black's study during a Ball and accidentally entered during a private meeting. Walburga Black was a terrifying woman, her father had always said so, and it took for her to see it in person to realize how true that was. 'Understatement of the Century' Rabastan had whispered equally terrified. Well Lord Black was no joke either. Lucius still avoided his eyes.
She looked at Lucius. She saw many of the same qualities she had for his father like cunning and shrewd. But there were also others. A good friend was one of them, smart was another. All in all, he was not his father. She was glad she had decided to befriend him 5 years back.
She spent the rest of the evening trying out every single dessert, while Rabastan and Lucius filled her in on all the latest gossip.
"What. She ran away with him." She gasped. "But wasn't Lady Bulstrode supposed to marry Heir Rowle? Did she run away with Lord Nott?"
"Isn't she half his age," she asked.
"Well to be exact she is 17 and he is 42," Rabastan replied.
Lucius made a 'tch' sound. "Everyone was talking about how the Bulstrode daughters got such good marriages, one with Heir Parkinson, one with Prewetts, and the last one in the Rowle's. With our numbers decreasing you know how hard that is. It's like marriages are a whole competition, and everyone is trying to reach the end faster. With this incident who knows if the engagements follow through or not."
Rabastan nodded. "You do know that there were talks to marry their youngest to me, don't you? My parents are second-guessing it."
Rabastan Lestrange: good brother, good friend, afraid of his parents, skilled at magic, capable of murder. She smiled at him and patted his back.
"I am so glad my family isn't rushing into such things." She said. It was a relief that both her parents and grandparents were not the type to rush into such matters or force her either.
Esther smiled. "My parents are very understanding as well. I think it's because ever since Aunt Eileen ran away 8 years ago, he had been terrified that I would do the same." Eileen Prince's eloping incident was still a sore subject in the circles. The Princes had been ashamed for 4 years, not daring to attend any events. And Esther had told only the three of them that her father still wrote a letter to his sister every month, but she had never replied.
Ever since she had been a child she could see through people. It's like she could see anyone's innermost self, their personality, traits, the reality of their soul. She had never once been wrong about anyone's character due to this. Only last year had she read of the Pharos Family and their 'eyes of truth' that her grandfather told her everything. She could see someone's soul, their innermost self, their desires, and their sins. It was a very useful ability to have, although it was a bit intrusive. She did not need to know that her grandfather and grandmother still engaged in their.... marital activities. And she had no desire to know that Cantankerus Nott II was bent and that his secretary and him engaged in more than just work. Poor Lady Bulstrode, to have a negligent husband whose only need of her was as a broodmare.
She looked at Esther. Her beautiful friend was so full of life. Her soul was bright, and shiny. Her aura was peach, full of hope and happiness. However it also had cracks in it. For she was terminally ill.
His sister's elopement was not the only reason Lord Prince allowed his daughter freedom. After losing his wife in childbirth, he had refused to take in another, and now spent every minute he had trying to cure the blood maledictus. The Notts specialized in the field and seemed to be the only hope of saving her, but Lord Nott had been as helpful as a eunuch in a pleasure-house.
It was of no use. She saw the truth. A Nott ancestor designed the curse after he lost a duel to a Prince and felt humiliated. The curse affected the brain, slowly rendering parts of it dead and eventually taking the person's life. The person's life would become a burden and they would be in agony till their eventual death. It was a very painful curse and one that had lain dormant for so long, but had now bloomed within her. Not even drinking Unicorn's blood could save her.
She could not tell this to Lord Prince though. She did not wish to crush his hopes, and deep down she wished there was a cure.