riddlelog | nothing you say will release you [Open]

The Ministry

It's not the most unreasonable appointment, Lucius thinks as he eyes his new desk for a moment. He's smart, he's organized, Central had still been under control of one of the few department heads who weren't unswervingly loyal to the cause. That doesn't mean he doesn't know this is a kind of punishment for the, ah, lackadaisical performance since he'd joined the Ministry proper. The department of paper trails, he thinks, before he flops into the chair and leans his elbow on the desk. Still, he'll make the best of it. He's already gotten the assistants running to bring him reports of the current interdepartmental communication practices. He's already got the mid-level bureaucrats simpering to get in his good books.

They don't yet know that he doesn't really have any good books to get into, he thinks as he crosses one ankle over his opposite knee, his black robes spilling down the back of the chair. His finger taps a rhythm as he looks at anyone who comes into his office with raised brows.

"And you're here for...?"

It's not like Central is the DMLE, or the DMAC. It's not even Mysteries. There's an extremely limited number of reasons to be in the office of the chief bureaucrat.

Malfoy Manor

Central isn't the only vaguely unpleasant pill he's swallowed today; Lucius knows an order when he hears one, even over M.I.A.V.I., even in the mild and politic tones of the MFM. And so when he leaves the Ministry for the day - several hours later than normal, and after a pleasant interlude with Chande - Lucius doesn't take the floo to Lestrange Manor, as has been his wont for some time. No, it's home he goes, to Malfoy Manor. He doesn't let the irritation show on his face until he's there and settled in in the main sitting room. Alone, for the moment, though he's well aware that it's not likely to long be the case. He's there as a glorified babysitter, after all, and whoever enters the manor next will get a level look - whether it's Scorpius, Albus, or a friend or colleague.

"So I should tell the elves there's more for dinner, then."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[ the british ministry of magic has always made petia feel like a foreigner despite her dual citizenship and her family ties here. it is one of the many reasons why she chose to work outside of its walls. she doesn't belong in this government, only a passerby in its midst. ever since her arrival back in london a little over a year ago, she has kept herself hidden from the magical community, focusing most of her attention on her careers and spending time primarily with her father and elektra.

however, with the introduction of the time deviants registration department, petia feels it is due time for her to formally announce her official return to the british wizarding society after her year-long mourning period over fedorov's death. she plans to make a public post once she has resettled into her country estate.

since last month, she has been away on another curse-breaker assignment in france. she would like nothing more than to be within the comfort of her own home. unfortunately, she has to stop by the ministry first and it is why she is here now, late into the evening with several baggage floating behind her.

she has just finished her business and she plans to visit one particular person before she apparates to her estate. it is a long overdue social call and, with the news of his recent promotion to head of central department, she feels a congratulation is in order. besides, it's along the way.

heels clicking on the marble floor, petia wears a pair of black stilettos along with her attire of a black shirt beneath a brown leather jacket and tight navy blue jeans. her long brown hair has been released from its usual ponytail. coming to an abrupt stop at the entrance to the office of one lucius malfoy, she gives two sound rapt on the frame of the open doorway before she leans against it with an amused smile and folded arms. ]

Why, Lucius, [ her tone is a cool, enticing drawl, a signature to her near irredeemable namesake as a vile temptress. ] you look perfectly at home here.

[ If there's one thing that he never expected to irritate, Lucius is thinking as he stares blandly at a sheaf of parchment just dropped on his desk by one of the mid-level Central managers, it's simpering and sucking up. He'd taken it for granted back in school, after all, and some of these...people are just picking up where they left off. Too much time with Bellatrix and Rodolphus, he thinks, in departments where it's a little less overt when it's still there.

Perhaps it's that influence that has that gaze remaining bland and unimpressed when he first looks up. Or maybe it's that the voice doesn't entirely register, not until he pairs it with the face. It's been a while, after all, since he and Petia were in the same place at the same time. When she'd dutifully married Sheridan Wallace, he'd left for Norway. When she returned to Russia and ultimately married Fedorov, he was staying near Wiltshire. And, of course, he thinks, there was many a society hostess leery of putting him and Petia ~~Parkinson~~ ~~Wallace~~ ~~Fedorov~~ Parkinson in a ballroom together.

He might...regress.

In any case, it only takes a moment for his expression to warm with a smile. It's only a little sardonic. ]

Really, darling? But I haven't redecorated at all.

nothing you say will release you [Open]

The Ministry

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