Ferdinand "hates potted plants" Gibbon (the_archduke) wrote in blurred_lines, @ 2009-04-07 22:59:00 |
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It had been a lousy day at work. This was unusual, as now that the Death Eaters were in charge of the Ministry, most days at work were rather tolerable. Ferdinand had a position of power and could hand off things he did not wish to do to various lackeys (paperwork, for instance, he hated paperwork). He had made entirely certain that there was no greenery in his office, no matter what HR said, and overall, things had not been bad. But today had been one of those days with endless petty complaints, an owl from the Swedish Minister of Magic complaining about a missing Shortsnout, and one of the useless underlings had managed to light his desk on fire. It had not been a good day. In a fit of petulance, Ferdinand kicked the wall outside of his sister's room, banging his toe off of the molding. It didn't even leave a mark. "Bugger," he muttered. Always much more rewarding in your head, those sorts of actions. Mireille's day had not been as stressful as Ferdinand's in terms of work, most days she spent reading or working on her pet project. Currently it was planning Agatha's bridal shower and her wedding. A lot of the big work was mostly done, the dress and locations. Now it was simply little details and after helping with Jacqueline's and looking forward to her own, this planning wedding business was becoming a snap! Perhaps, she thought, she should go into being a wedding planner instead of a gallery curator, but art was her passion. She was in the middle of addressing envelopes for shower invitations on her desk when she heard someone mussing about in the corridor. Mireille stood and opened the door expecting to see a house-elf in need of a scolding, but was surprised to see her brother in a huff. With a patient smile Mireille raised her eyebrow and leaned against the doorway. "Now Ferdinand, I understand that you have a problem with certain inanimate objects, but I believe you are to use doors to enter rooms." Ferdinand's toe was throbbing, and he frowned. He disliked even the subtle reminder of his hatred of potted plants. When he found that girl, he would kill her, and painfully... And the fact that he so relished in the idea was a testament to how embarrassed he still was by the whole ordeal. Oh, yes, Ferdinand had killed, but it was always out of necessity, or reflex. Not out of the pure pleasure of ending someone else's life. But it wouldn't do to share these thoughts with Mireille -- they were hardly inappropriate for a woman to hear, even if they were best friends. The glowering look passed over his face and he was, once again, neutral in expression. "Stubbed my toe," he said simply. "How was your day?" He entered her bedroom, not bothering to ask for permission. Oh, the poor dear was in a mood. Mireille rolled her eyes behind his back (the only time she ever did that low class motion and always in the privacy of her own bedroom, usually in response to Ferdinand) and followed him back into the room. She normally kept her sitting area very tidy, but with all the wedding planning going on, her desk was overflowing with papers and there were samples and dozens of books on the floor, courtesy of her mother and wedding vendors. The settees were clear and she took her favorite position and raised her eyebrow at him. "I spent the day swimming in taffeta and silk, it was glorious," Mireille said in a droll tone, a hint of a smirk playing at her lips. She hadn't spent all day on that, but she hadn't found her dress yet and none of the styles and silhouettes were anything she and her mother could agree on. "Mother was in a peculiar mood, but clearly it wasn't as poor as yours is. Tell me, what has you in such a cranky state?" "Oh, work," Ferdinand said with a wave of his hand. It seemed unnecessary to trifle Mireille with these things. She did, after all, have a lot on her mind. Too many weddings, he thought bitterly. Of course, he was happy for his sister, glad that she would be wed to a decent gentleman, but did he really have to help out Agatha Chubb? It seemed a bit unnecessary. "The Swedish Minister's missing a Shortsnout, it's causing quite the uproar. But really, that's all very dull." After a slight pause, he added, "Not as dull as endless wedding preparations surely must be." It was said with the casual sort of indifference of a man who didn't understand how tiny details were so important to women in weddings. "He's lost his dragon?" Mireille said derisively, "How does one misplace a dragon. It's not as if he's gone for a walk about and no one knows when he'll return. I'm sorry you're stuck dealing with idiots." She did feel pity for Ferdinand, that was the problem of working with people outside of their group, one never knew who business would be conducted with and sadly, little people were needed even at the expense of patience from men like Ferdinand. Mireille huffed at his second statement and shook her head, "I will have you know I enjoy all this planning. Agatha is in dire need of help and friendship and who am I to deny this of her? Mister Snape holds a coveted position in the ranks and why should his wife have to fret over a wedding when she has us to rely on? It can only speak to the generosity and benevolence of the Gibbon family." Ferdinand snorted with laughter. The generosity and benevolence of the Gibbon family? Really? He sat himself down at Mireille's desk, glancing with vague interest at its contents, and then turning his interest back towards his sister. "I'm not sure I'd consider our family generous and benevolent," he told her. "Though considering some of our competition... perhaps we are." After all, when compared to the Blacks and the Lestranges, the Gibbons seemed very benevolent indeed. Julian didn't, after all, didn't have a habit of keeping Dark Objects in the house. "Agatha is a terribly awkward girl, isn't she?" he mused. "She seems easily spooked. Then again, if I were marrying Snape, perhaps I would be, too. Not, of course, that there's anything wrong with Snape. But for someone so young, he can be quite intimidating." "Well, then it's probably a good thing I'm doing this," Mireille shrugged lightly, "we should have that title. It's not a bad title, especially given some of the connotations other families have. We can be Saint Gibbons, patrons of weddings, fortunate half-bloods, and art. I wonder when you have your son, if you get to declare a family motto then? It's a very pureblood thing to do," Mireille nodded to herself. "Agatha is getting better. She is much better at speaking her mind and discussing things other than quidditch, but it is endearing to hear her speak about it at length. She is also not much older than he is, but I have a feeling she will quite hold her own. Though I do wish she would let me find her a different hairstyle, she needs something longer to be useful." She shifted slightly and pursed her lips as she regarded her brother. He was obviously in need of a distraction, perhaps he could be persuaded to enter a discussion about his prospects. "I have given a lot of thought to what you should name your heir. I think Artemis would be a good, strong name. Definitely a Ravenclaw." Ferdinand contemplated Agatha Chubb's hairstyle for a moment. He didn't remember it in good detail. Was it really that bad? He remembered it being short, and brown, but beyond that, he hadn't noticed very much at all. Then again, the same was true of most ladies he knew. Mireille's hair? Long, brown. Jacqueline's was short and blonde, the one thing that heavily distinguished her from her sister Julianne. Beyond that, he didn't give hair much thought. As a man, he thought he shouldn't have to. "I suppose our family motto could be Protectorus de meekus and halfbloodedus," he said with a wry grin. That Mireille was going out of her way to help Agatha was charming -- even if the girl was a halfblood. Some might have thought she wasn't worth the trouble, but Ferdinand quite disagreed. In order to be at the height of society, there had to be someone to look down on. "It doesn't have the same ring to it as Toujours pur, though, does it?" Not that the Gibbons could get away with such a claim. "As for names of an heir, I suspect my future wife will choose it, and as long as it's not something that ends in the letters -us, I won't have a problem with it." "I think I should be in charge of the motto. You can just pronounce it upon the world when your child is born, this way it won't sound stupid but you'll get all the credit," Mireille agreed, her grin matching Ferdinand's. She missed spending time with her brother like this. Sure, it was petty and slightly ungracious, but who else were they to speak these thoughts? In a perfect world they wouldn't even have the thoughts, but this was not a perfect world, so they had to make due with having them and speaking them in private. Mireille smirked triumphantly as Ferdinand brought up his future wife. "To have a son minus the name-us, you need a wife. It's certainly a shame that the Snapes will be married before I, but you as well. Have you made any efforts toward Hortense or Seraphina? Or have they lost your fancy already? I was looking at family connections earlier, to find people to invite to weddings, but also noted several women that would be appropriate for you to begin courting." If their mother had known that Ferdinand and Mireille were sitting alone in her room together, exchanging thinly-veiled insults in the cold, cruel way wherein nothing was said, but much was implied. The Saint Gibbons, patron saints of halfbloods, obviously an insult to those who looked down on them because of their pedigree, Ferdinand thought. Generous and benevolent, compared to our competition, a comment as to the cruelty that so ran rampant in pureblooded families. It doesn't have the same ring to it as toujours pur: the Black family is laughable, it is dead, and it is going down in flames. A faint smile tugged at Ferdinand's lips, a bitter sort of amusement at his own thoughts. The Blacks, he thought, would fall by the wayside, married to powerful families but nothing themselves, they had failed to produce an heir, failed to do the one thing that is most important to any family. They had failed in producing an heir not once, but twice -- five times if the useless girls that Cygnus and Druella had were to be counted. Even the Gibbons had an heir. Of course, these thoughts could never be voiced aloud, not even to Mireille, who likely would understand and share in his bitter happiness. The old times were fading away, and soon, a new era would dawn, with new families, and Ferdinand was fully prepared to make sure that his family was one of them. But that was not to be discussed with his sister. She obviously had marriage on her mind (as usually), so he returned to the dull topic at hand. "Did you have anyone specific in mind?" he asked. "Did I not just suggest Hortense and Seraphina? As loathe as I am to tie us to Gaius Travers, his sister is not terrible. She is also quite fetching and I find she is fitting for you." Mireille was not impressed with Ferdinand's utter lack of care in this matter. Just because he was the heir didn't mean much among their peers until he was married. "Thubana Lestrange is out of mourning this summer," she added maliciously, "now if you're quite done fooling around, this is a serious discussion. There is also the Bobbin family, I am not sure they are four generations of proper blood, but they certainly have several daughters who are yet to be wed and despite their nouveau riche status and certainly the core family that owns the store are not as tacky as some of their relatives. What are your thoughts, Ferdinand." Ferdinand considered Mireille's suggestions without real interest. Yes, yes. Hortense and Seraphina. The suggestions were starting to become tired. "I'm not sure that Hortense is interested in marriage. I've tried, without much success. As for Seraphina Travers..." His voice trailed off. He didn't know her well at all, though that had been true, he supposed, of Jacqueline Wilkes (now Macnair, as he often had to remind himself) not that long ago. She had been his best prospect. "Her brother is very dedicated to the Cause. He's taken on a job no one would relish in, and I must respect him for that. However, I do not know what he wants for his family, on a social level. Considering his dedication, probably something better than me." This was said with some bitterness. "The Bobbins, I suppose, could be looked into. I don't know very much of them. I was thinking it might be wise to begin looking elsewhere, anyway." "Well, she needs to be. Perhaps she has not shown her interest because you have not tried hard enough to gain her attention," Mireille said, feeling unforgiving right now. Ferdinand was not being helpful and he would have to suffer the consequences. "This is your overriding duty to our family Ferdinand. We are so very close. I do wish you would put as much effort into finding yourself a wife as I am. I believe their middle daughter is perhaps the least offensive of her family. Perhaps you should seek out more information about them. But truly, if there are only three viable options Ferdinand, what are you going to do? Rely on one of your superior's extended families? Perhaps Demetrius Mulciber may lend you a hand and a cousin." Ferdinand made a face that could only be described as one twisted with disgust, both that the idea of marrying anyone related to Demetrius Mulciber, and at the idea of Mulciber being his superior. "Mulciber is not my superior," he corrected her icily, even though this was not patently true. Demetrius was one step above him. One small, measly little step. "Though perhaps some of his Greek cousins would not be objectionable. I do, however, refuse outright marry someone French. I can't stand the idea of some woman teaching their yowling language to my children." Mireille expertly hid her grin at Ferdinand's face and stopped short of telling him that it would freeze like that. "I would have to disown you if you married someone French. And perhaps you should discuss this with Demetrius then, but I think an English bride would suit you better. Now, will I have to bother you further about this? Or should I just tell mother and have her focus on you for awhile to get a breather for myself?" With a grimace, Ferdinand turned his nose up at his sister. "I will mention something to Mulciber," he assured her, though in reality, he wasn't planning on doing it any time soon. That kind of a conversation would take some steeling of the nerves. "Or, perhaps, his father, as he actually has seniority. And you needn't bother Mother -- she does enough prying and scheming on her own." With a huff, he stood from the desk where he had been sitting and pushed his chair in. "I have business to attend to," he told her, though this was also not particularly true. "Enjoy your wedding preparations." "Soon. Perhaps so you can bring her to Severus' wedding. Maybe that is too soon, but do it before the end of April or I will talk to mother," Mireille said in a kind voice with a smile, but fully intended to make good on her threat. Ferdinand was key in this operation and he needed to get with the program and help participate. "Have fun with your business, Ferdinand. Please do call on me when you're feeling better." Of course Ferdinand understood his duty to his family. He knew that he would have to marry, but he didn't see why the whole matter was so entirely pressing. If his best prospect could be snatched up by a fifty-year-old bachelor, he could wait a bit before he married. Without another word (only a slight cough to acknowledge that he'd heard her), he exited her bedroom and stomped off to his own. There are some things money can't buy, and maturity (at least, where Mireille was concerned) was not one of them. |