the trial ; d.m

16

29th January 2003

Geneva waits vacantly in the drawing room, perched upon one of the sofas, and grips onto her wine glass in anticipation as they await the arrival of their guests for the evening.

She glances over at Theodore who is sitting across the room, eyes scanning today's addition of The Daily Prophet. A vague benign feeling rushes through her as she spectates him and she thinks for a moment that she senses his own discomfort in the company they are awaiting.

Her attention is caught by Malfoy who strolls into the room to pour himself a drink, having just finished his last. He takes a mouthful of his whisky, then takes a moment to survey the room, appearing rather unsettled.

"Did someone die? It's awfully quiet in here." He strolls over across the floor and positions himself on the seat beside Geneva. He turns to her and says, "You look as if you've been petrified."

"This is what peace looks like, Malfoy," Theo returns without glancing up from his paper.

"Bloody hell, I wouldn't wanna enter your heaven if this is what peace looks like to you."

He sits back, crossing one leg over the other, spreading himself out beside her probably to make her feel even more uncomfortable than she already does.

"What time are our old chums arriving?" he asks, an air of humour in his tone. She can tell he's slightly drunk in the way he's unusually more playful than normal.

"Seven," Geneva replies. "Behave yourself, will you?"

"I always behave, Riddle."

"Why do you still call her that?" Theo asks suddenly, peering up from the newspaper. He doesn't sound irritated. He sounds genuinely interested, though there may be a hint of confrontation. But Theo is never one to be confrontational.

Malfoy just stares at him, appearing rather confused. Caught off guard by the question.

"What d'you mean?"

"Why do you still call Gen that– Riddle?"

He says nothing. It doesn't matter.

"Because it bugs me," she replies for him, finishing off her glass of wine and standing from the sofa to relieve herself of this odd moment.

"And that is how I've always known her," he affirms.

Theo nods and glances back down to his paper.

Before exiting the room, Geneva throws Malfoy a quizzical glance but he ignores this and swallows down another gulp of whiskey. The air is unusually tense and she feels far from figuring out why.

She's about to head down to the wine cellar when the doorbell chimes and a few seconds later hears the array of voices coming from the foyer. She ignores the irritable dread which is brewing within her gut and forces on her elegant façade, embodying Lady of the Manor.

"Geneva," Pansy Parkinson greets, offering a gracious smile as she kisses her cheeks. "You look divine."

"As do you," Geneva returns, amazed by Pansy's effort of dress choice. She's clad in a verdant green slip gown with an open slit in the leg and appears completely unchanged since the last time they met. Perhaps except for the caramelised tint of tan in her skin that evidently reveals they've just returned from a lavish trip abroad.

Her arm is wrapped around Blaise's, lingering onto him with propriety and affection.

"Theo, you have a lovely home. It's a shame we haven't visited sooner," Pansy strolls forwards, detaching herself from Blaise and passing her scarf and coat to Bigsby.