nigella burke. (nigellas) wrote in cultureic, @ 2016-06-18 18:35:00 |
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Entry tags: | nigella burke, ulysses burke |
WHO: Ulysses and Nigella Burke
WHAT: Dinner with the Burkes
WHERE: Knockturn
WHEN: Last night, Friday 17th June
WARNINGS: None!
Nigella clutched a bottle of wine in her hand, the results of ten minutes spent staring at a wine selection, reading labels like she understood them. She never had quite got the hang of wine: she didn’t taste the oak notes, or the grass flavours, or the different kind of berries. Long ago, she’d picked brands out: middle of the range, not too expensive, nice enough, didn’t tend to draw many remarks from people. However, that was for public consumption. Burke family dinners were different — it didn’t matter if she bought a disgusting wine. No one was going to judge her. Then again, in her family, what was there to judge? She was humming to herself as she breezed into the apartment, setting the bottle of wine down on the table with a loud plonk. “Helloooo,” she said, cheerfully. “What’s on the menu? Not ostrich, please. I’ve already had that today.” Ulysses came around the corner with his nose in a book - something in Mermish - though he quickly set it aside and beamed when he saw it was Nigella. “Where did you have ostrich? I haven’t found anywhere good to have that as of late. I think the woman who runs that place your mother and I like got in a spat with her supplier,” he said conversationally. “We’re having alligator, actually. The elf makes great alligator - Mittens, where are you? Put yourself to use and get Nigella a drink, will you?” The elf - who was currently hard at work putting supper together - poked her head out of the kitchen, then headed over to stare wide-eyed at Nigella until she requested something. Nigella smiled at the elf, rhyming off a cocktail she’d been craving and the elf disappeared in the blink of an eye. Ulysses, meanwhile, went on. “How are you, darling? How’s work?” “Work is work,” Nigella said, lifting a shoulder. She scrunched her nose up as she flung herself into a seat. “Although incidentally that’s where I had ostrich. They had a really fun buffet spread out today: it almost made up for Lena rabbiting on about bloody Andromeda Tonks and Rabastan Lestrange.” Mittens chose that moment to reappear, a garishly bright cocktail in hand. Nigella smiled at the sight of it and grasped at it as if it was a holy item, taking a long sip. The sugar might spoil the alligator, she thought distantly, and then decided that it would be fine. She’d have some of the wine to cleanse her palate. Looking at her father over the top of the glass, she said, “I suppose your work hasn’t stopped talking about it either.” Ulysses resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Andromeda Tonks. Instead, he just smiled and sipped his own drink. “I haven’t heard much, to be honest - and I’m not just saying that. I’m pretty sure most people are simply surprised she lasted this long.” He shrugged as if he were referring to someone cheating on a diet rather than a young mother losing her life. She’d been given ample chances to turn her life around - more than most would - but in the end, she made the bed that she now lay in. What’s done was done, and for now, it was on to more important things. “How was the buffet? No-one poisoned? What else is new in your life? Adventure? Romance?” “I think we were all surprised,” Nigella said, staring down into her glass for a moment. Her mouth twisted mirthlessly and she wished she had a straw. For a second, she contemplated sending Mittens on a mission for one and then changed her mind. She wanted it purely to stab at the ice in the cocktail, to make her feel better. Andromeda Tonks had had it coming. That didn’t mean she was thrilled about it. Brushing hair out of her eyes, she mentally shook herself and smiled at Ulysses, grasping at the chance to not think about it. “Do you think that I could poison some of them?” she wondered, propping an elbow onto the table. “Only they’re quite annoying. And as I’m very boring, it’d give me a chance to spice my life up.” It was Nigella’s words, not talking about the act itself, that gave him pause. For a moment, he looked guilty, but didn’t dwell on it - he’d made his own bed long ago too, and he was resigned to lie in it. He returned her smile. “You could, but that would be illegal,” Ulysses joked. “You’re not boring - you’re the only one on that show with any common sense. And you’re doing something interesting. At least you’re not some prim socialite who does nothing with your life. That said, I can get you poison, if that’s what you really want.” He shrugged so nonchalantly that it was hard to tell if he was kidding or not. A laugh escaped from her, loudly erupting into the room. She’d always laughed louder, made more noise, than it looked like she was able to and this time was no different. Her hand went to her mouth to try and contain the noise, but it didn’t quite work. “I can’t really imagine me being a prim socialite,” she said, somewhat archly, glancing around the Burke home. “I’ve never been prim a day in my life.”” She took another drink as she considered the offer of poison and then shrugged it away. “And I’ve never been a murderer!” It was only a slight dig. Ulysses chose to overlook it. He took another, longer sip of his drink. “You’re doing amazingly despite it all, and I’m very proud,” he said, and he genuinely meant it. Nigella - and his other daughters, too - had done exceptionally, even despite - and in spite of - their father being a fuck-up. They deserved more credit than they got, really. He opted to move on. “Well. I think we all ought to rent a cottage before summer’s up. Get away from work for a bit. Do things a normal family does, like barbecue and get sunburned, or whatever. I bet I could get us all a deal on something nice on the seaside.” he suggested. “You could?” Nigella said, interest sparking. She leaned forward, a smile flickering across her face as she thought about how much she would love a holiday. Sand, sea, sun (to an extent: she didn’t put too much stock in English weather). “Where? Because I can practically smell the barbecue already.” “Hmmm… Cornwall? Dorset? Any suggestions? I’m open to anything,” he said, sounding remarkably normal when he wasn’t plotting murder and other less-nefarious crimes. “Or we could all get a portkey somewhere sunnier. That would be nice, wouldn’t it?” “I’m dying to visit Italy, actually!” she said, eyes lighting up at the thought. “And mum would love it! There’s so much shopping. And pasta.” “Italy! Now there’s an idea. Your mother would love it. There’s something for everyone there. I’ll book us a key,” Ulysses said with a smile. It was a great idea, really. It would be nice to get away for a bit, leave all of this behind. “How soon can you book time off?” “Ugh.” Nigella drummed her fingers against the tablet, considering. “We aren’t allowed to overlap on the show — apparently focus groups say people get bored if it’s not the usual rotation knocking around, for the most part. The dumb mudblood lover has 10 days off coming up at the end of June. So probably start of July? Mid July? What do you reckon? Then you can help me find a cursed Italian object for her!” Ulysses rolled his eyes at the mention of his daughter’s idiot co-worker. “Either or. We’ll get her a nice souvenir to teach her a lesson about inconveniencing us. I’ll have time.” At that moment, Winnifred walked in, carrying a bottle of champagne and some tarts. Ulysses greeted her with a peck on the cheek. “Did you catch that? Get ready for spaghetti. The Burkes are going to Italy!” |