Date: 26th July Location: Diagon Alley, London Characters: NPC seperatist Demas Forkwith and Narcissa Malfoy Rating: G
Demas Forkwith did not seem out of place amongst the shoppers of Diagon Alley. Occasionally his gaze would shift to the side as he kept track of 'the mark'. In his case Narcissa Malfoy, who they had kept a casual eye upon during her trips to London. Mrs Malfoy was the wife of Lucius Malfoy; one of the servants who had been faithful to the Dark Lord, and had taken his own life before suffering he indignity of dying at the hands of the eternally ignorant Ministry.
Demas was in this early thirties, a home-schooled wizard who had drifted from job to job, never finding satisfaction in his work. His father complained that he was simply lazy, but Demas knew that he had a purpose - though it wasn't one he cared to explain to his father - and that purpose had never seemed clearer than now. The calls to arms, the late night missions that caused a panic in the cold light of day. They'd even discussed marking themselves in he manner of the late Mr Malfoy's former crowd.
He took a few steps after Narcissa paused, taking a slow paced turn back towards Quality Quidditch Supplies. As he moved towards her his heart thudded, his practiced words suddenly seemed insufficient for this task. "Mrs Malfoy" he said in a rush of breath.
She turned swiftly, not often getting stopped in the streets. It was a youngish wizard, wholly unknown to her, and therefore instantly setting her on her guard. "Yes?" she asked, with crisp, forbidding clarity: Narcissa didn't invite conversation from strangers, and she knew how to be quelling without ever technically stepping into being rude.
"Firstly may I express my deepest sympathies for the loss of your husband," he began, feeling somewhat intimidated though determined to convey the message he had been sent to convey.
"You may," she replied, "though you're a little after the fact." Who was he? A Death Eater she'd never known? He looked too young to have been involved the first time round ... no, he was probably someone interested in talking to her for other reasons.
Demas bowed shallowly, a hand against his chest. Whilst he was a very serious young man, he was also quite naive of tone or subtext. Her words were took for their simplest meaning. Straightened again, he turned slightly in towards her "I represent a group of wizards dedicated to preserving the memory of your late husband. We seek to preserve the rights of Wizards to rule themselves. As a widow to these causes, I am sure you will appreciate our plight." Close up, Mrs Malfoy seemed taller than before. He resisted the urge to step backwards.
She wasn't that tall compared to a man - five foot eight and in two-and-a-half inch heels - but Narcissa had never appeared short. She had too much poise, too confident a bearing. Right now, that bearing had acquired a rather haughty disdain. Preserving Lucius' memory? Warning bells immediately clamoured. Whether sincere or not - and she didn't put it past the Ministry to try and trick her, especially with the antics reported in the papers - he wasn't the kind of person she wanted to associate herself with. Demas' answer was a chilly silence, telling him to explain himself further, or walk away.
His hands found each other for comfort, wringing together in an attempt to make up for the silence that had descended. Demas had never been to school, but he suspected this was the sort of feeling one had before facing the Headmaster. "I - that is we, hope that you will support our cause, and of course we would be more than grateful for your intellectual input Mrs Malfoy..."
It was a warm day, but Narcissa's frosty expression suggested a nasty winter. "I have no sympathy for your cause," she told him with quiet clarity. She was trying to choose her words carefully, not wanting to pass herself off as in favour of the Ministry's monkeying around but absolutely not about to incriminate herself in any way.
Though he had expected that she would be pleased, it had occurred to him that she might be afraid. "Perhaps I haven't explained myself too well," he smiled apologetically "we're continuing the work your husband did. We're going to put an end to the Minsitry's idiocy."
"The work my husband did earned himself the sentence of a Dementor's Kiss, and nearly the same for myself and my son," she retorted in a hiss, starting to become offended by his presumption. "If your group are those scrawling pictures and throwing stones then I suggest you stop."
Demas did take a step back this time, caught off guard by her words "I'm very sorry if I have offended you, Mrs Malfoy. If we might meet again, in private then-"
"No," she said instantly. "How dare you? I would have to be an idiot to associate myself with a group like yours, and even if I could be so foolish, your actions only mock and dishonour people like my husband." Riled now, Narcissa started to turn away. The man certainly seemed stupid enough to be in the Ministry's employ, but spy or not she didn't want to talk to him any longer.
To continue would obviously offend her further. Clearly the poor woman was still filled with grief. It was quite understandable really. He supposed they would have to try harder with the son, who would surely relish the chance to avenge his father's unjust death. He turned and slipped back into the crowd.
Narcissa suddenly turned back. She didn't know the man's name, and wasn't about to just shout out, "Wait!" but if he turned back and met her gaze she would speak to him. She had one last thing to say.
Demas glanced back, wondering if perhaps he should stop her again. What if, in her grief, she spoke to the Ministry?
There he was. Narcissa strode swiftly towards him. "Don't approach me again," she warned in a low voice. "And don't even think of going near my son, or I will turn you in. People like you are a disgrace."
His eyes widened and Demas nodded hurriedly, intimidated. He turned and hurried away quickly this time, losing himself in the crowd.
She watched him go, and tried to soothe her ruffled feathers by heading for Fortescue's. Odious man. She should have got his name, just in case.