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Set shortly after my last one (early 1980s).
This was harder than usual to cut down from the starting point of 262 words. I've posted 100 words at malfoy100, but I felt I had to lose so many of the nuances that I'm putting this 187-word version here.
I'm amazed by people who can turn out a fic in 30 minutes: just to edit one of these can take an hour or more!
A Happy New Year to all acquaintances, auld and new. :-)
Lest Auld Acquaintance be Recalled
“Another ‘No’,” snarled Lucius. “Now even the Parkinsons think they’re too good for us!”
Narcissa frowned. She should not have been surprised at Lucius’ frustration, but she found that she was. Hers had hardened to bleak resignation long ago. Had Lucius really believed his release would be a Portkey to instant rehabilitation, as if her two years of social isolation had never been?
“Do you want to cancel the party?” she asked.
“Do you think we should?”
The note of anguish in his voice twisted her heart: his pain was so much more difficult to bear than her own. How dare their so-called friends brush them off!
Not that she blamed them, not really. She had been born to this delicate dance of power and propriety: she would have done the same. Some friendships she regretted, others she did not – but such feelings were irrelevant.
“No,” she said. “Fewer guests means we can be more lavish – we just style it an exclusive soiree. Next time, everyone who matters will be begging us for an invitation.”
And perhaps she could look forward to the New Year after all…
This was harder than usual to cut down from the starting point of 262 words. I've posted 100 words at malfoy100, but I felt I had to lose so many of the nuances that I'm putting this 187-word version here.
I'm amazed by people who can turn out a fic in 30 minutes: just to edit one of these can take an hour or more!
A Happy New Year to all acquaintances, auld and new. :-)
“Another ‘No’,” snarled Lucius. “Now even the Parkinsons think they’re too good for us!”
Narcissa frowned. She should not have been surprised at Lucius’ frustration, but she found that she was. Hers had hardened to bleak resignation long ago. Had Lucius really believed his release would be a Portkey to instant rehabilitation, as if her two years of social isolation had never been?
“Do you want to cancel the party?” she asked.
“Do you think we should?”
The note of anguish in his voice twisted her heart: his pain was so much more difficult to bear than her own. How dare their so-called friends brush them off!
Not that she blamed them, not really. She had been born to this delicate dance of power and propriety: she would have done the same. Some friendships she regretted, others she did not – but such feelings were irrelevant.
“No,” she said. “Fewer guests means we can be more lavish – we just style it an exclusive soiree. Next time, everyone who matters will be begging us for an invitation.”
And perhaps she could look forward to the New Year after all…
