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[12 Sep 2009|07:19pm] |
PRIVATE
I should probably start looking into finding a wife; the looks my mother gives me when I chance upon her writing seating charts and flower orders for Charlotte's wedding say as much.
FATHER
Do you think the Dark Lord will summon us soon? Us as a collective, I mean. It seems these days that the Lestranges know more than any of us. I tire of it. It is fortunate that Charlotte is to marry Rabastan.
END WARDS
Autumn is in the air, which pleases me. It is the best season, in my opinion. The social calendar is proof enough of that.
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[06 Sep 2009|05:38pm] |
I remember when Charlotte and I were younger how we had a pact concerning dinner parties; these sort of childish fancies always seem so very important when one is ten years old. It went like this: each would discuss the food item he or she loathed beyond loathing, and, should the food be served, the other would eat it. It was as severe as an Unbreakable Vow, upholding one's promise, because reneging upon it would ensure silent treatment for an entire month. I spent a good deal of my childhood years scarfing down anything of Charlotte's that was covered in gravy—she always fretted beforehand that we'd get caught and our mother would force her to eat moutains of gravy-ladened food as payment for bad table manners—but we never did get caught, mostly because of our excellent skills in diversion. Charlotte, to her credit, ate enough cauliflower to sink a ship on my behalf.
I think the most fascinating tidbit about this entire exchange was the fact that I, too, was not fond of half the things she decided she simply could not down without retching, and she felt the same way about my choices. You see, upon arriving at the the party, Charlotte and I would find some way to coax the dinner menu from one of the resident house elves so we could determine very quickly which food the other would take. The fact of the matter is that each of us did this for the other, without hesitation.
In later years, the pair of us would begin simply eating the food Delia disliked because she is the youngest and older siblings must perform these duties for reasons unknown. Every now and again I find myself wishing a hostess will present a dinner service devoted entirely to gravy and cauliflower so that Charlotte and I can relive old times. I daresay we have both developed a taste for either, but it is fun to remember.
I am sure, however, that everything served tonight at the Malfoys' will be quite to our liking. Indeed, one may catch us eating off the other's plate (the horror, my mother would box our ears, even now, in our mid-twenties) for entirely different reasons!
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[29 Aug 2009|06:59pm] |
private
They had better serve Longbottom baby canapes at this bloody gala to keep my family's name from the bleeding Prophet and Benjy Fucking Fenwick's quill.
end wards
I use the Prophet to line my owl's cage. It goes without saying that the kidnap of an innocent infant is reprehensible, and while I am not familiarly acqainted with the Longbottoms, I would like to express, on behalf of my family, that our thoughts are and have been with you throughout these trying times.
I would also like to take this time to express regret for every death or every unfortunate situation that has affected every single citizen of Wizarding Britain to date, for that is apparently what the Prophet expects of me.
I find it intriquing that the finger of blame is pointed at the general populace rather than the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement, which exists to fix these sorts of problems. Clearly this is a running theme in the Prophet, a publication which refrained from reporting in any considerable detail regarding the events befalling St. Mungo's except in incendiary and radical editorials. I subscribe for facts, not paltry accusations.
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[18 Aug 2009|10:45pm] |
private to his father
Forgive me for sounding petulant or ill-informed, but why was it necessary to blow up half of your hospital so Bellatrix and Rodolphus could snatch up an infant? Did the Dark Lord order this?
More importantly, why isn't it dead yet? Are they planning to raise it as their own?
private
For the love of Salazar, these old bloated peacocks are so completely ineffectual it makes my head spin. All of this over a baby. A baby. A live baby, at that! If I didn't know better I'd say Bellatrix were losing her touch. I'll give her a week to kill the wretched thing before I say anything more.
Why in Merlin's name wasn't I told about this? There can only be two reasons: it wasn't authorised by the Dark Lord, and Bellatrix and Rodolphus are acting of their own accord, or my father didn't want me involved. Either way I can't help but be offended; but I'll keep this close to the chest. Perhaps their indiscretion is of use to our Lord yet, upon which I will heartily consent. On the other hand, if he is angry, I can hardly be held accountable. I was sleeping, and the mark did not burn.
end wards
The situation at Mungo's is a ghastly one indeed. All those innocent people killed and injured.
My heartfelt condolences to all who have lost friends or family.
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[10 Aug 2009|08:05pm] |
I've returned from Saudi Arabia on business with Gringotts which had me out of the country for the better part of the month. I'm afraid my sisters are miffed they couldn't come along for a visit, but as my hours were sporadic and we've no contacts in the country, it would have been an inappropriate arrangement, namely because they would have been bored to death.
I brought back reams of silk for the both of them and a few trinkets I'm sure they'll fight over. I've missed them.
( hexed private to Royden Rosier. )
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