And the Butchery Begins (Blacks)

[Barnabas Malfoy]

Barnabas Malfoy appeared abruptly in the fireplace of Blacks, a servant immediately stepping forward with a brush in hand, lightly scraping away whatever soot clung to his robes. Striding, despite his evident limp and cane, he gave the doorman a curt nod and stepped from the outer chamber. The Supreme Mugwump rarely visited Blacks anymore, only for meetings he wished to arrange from public eye, but today was different; no formal summons were issued from his office to political backers and no record was kept of his whereabouts by his secretary. He was on his own time, today, but work was definitely on the mind.

Swaggering to the private chamber he arranged to occupy, the Malfoy was pleased to find that the club gifted him, free of charge, enough whiskey for a life-time and a fresh copy of the evening Daily Prophet. Barnabas situated himself comfortably in one of two plump, dark leather armchairs and summoned a cigarette from his robe-pocket. The grandfather clock sang out a tune, the Malfoy's brow raising as he read the latest headlines.

@"Lucius Lestrange"

  

[Lucius Lestrange]

There were few men that Lucius genuinely considered friends. Macnair was dead now, in fact, which just left him with Carrow and Malfoy. Thus, when the latter had asked to meet at the club, Lucius had needed only to ensure he would not first have to move another appointment before agreeing, arranging for his carriage to drop him off outside of the club’s London entrance.

Swiftly—for had it been any other way, there would have been words to the club’s manager—Lucius was shown to one of the club’s more private parlours, already occupied by a frankly cozy-looking Barnabas Malfoy.

“If I am interrupting you, do just say the word and I shall depart at once,” Lucius remarked wryly from the doorway, eyebrows raised. Not at all seriously, of course, for while he respected the older man a great deal, that respect had never translated into deference. Bar Josephina Flint, a terrifying specimen for all that she was a woman, Lucius Lestrange was not likely to defer to anyone.

  

[Barnabas Malfoy]

He bowed the copy of the Prophet he held in his hands, peering over it with his usual constipated face at Lucius as he arrived. 

"I suspect if I told you to leave you wouldn't," the Malfoy quipped, sitting straight in cozy chair before folding the paper over arm, standing to offer his friend a handshake and reusming his spot. "Good to see you, Lucius." The older man's smile twitched at the edges smugly— Lucius Lestrange was an admirable man, and if Barnabas were of another constitution, he might have feared him. 

"It's amazing the effects a simple editorial can do," he drawled with a slight chuckle, handing the folded copy of the Prophet over to the Lestrange, Barnabas' face proudly displayed on the front. "Don't you say?"

@"Lucius Lestrange"

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   Odira Potter

[Lucius Lestrange]

Content warning for brief racist language, yo.

Lucius moved to take a seat as he responded.

“It was a bold article, but hardly one that is remotely incorrect,” the wizard answered. “I daresay that Minister Urqaurt’s days were numbered already, and I’ll eat my hat if you’ve not cut them substantially.”

It was about time, too. They needed a more traditional body behind the Minister’s death, not one that cavorted with halfbloods and Negros and thought whores could be reformed into their social equals. Off the top of his head, Lucius could name a dozen men—and even a woman, his wife—who would be infinitely better suited to the honour and responsibility of the post.

Oops >.> @'Barnabas Malfoy'

  

[Barnabas Malfoy]

"I'll wear that feat proudly on my sleeve when time comes for him to vacate that bloody office," Barnabas mused from pursed lips, his heavy lids sinking as he looked at the editorial, his own, Roman-like face staring back at him with a familiar, smug grin tugged across his face; in that moment he thought he looked dreadfully like his father.

"But, in the meanwhile, spare your hat, Lucius. I daresay it won't be too appetising; how about a dinner after I've managed to elect myself Minister?" the Malfoy said rather bluntly. Lucius Lestrange was perhaps his strongest and most formidable ally and friend; to dance around the subject of the conversation would have made him look more like an idiot than anything. "Of course, I do hope you'll vote for me."

@"Odira Potter" @"Lucius Lestrange"