Or should I say...

“Mother!” Lucius exclaimed, and it was with quite a struggle that he managed to keep his tones normal. He knew well that he would have to put up with Mafilda until he came into his inheritance - yes, he had other plans, after that, trust you me - but this was more than even one with his patience could tolerate.

Mafilda did not even look up. “Yes, Lucius?” she asked, very, very sweetly as she straightened up to her full height, and smoothed out the creases in her dress. Had to look the epitome of perfection she was, you know.

“You can not be serious," Lucius said, most irritably. "Really – Bellatrix and I, we are no match. We are good friends, I do not think you know, and I have good reason to believe that we will never be more than that.”

"What?" Mafila drew herself up, in quite a blaze of quick fury. "Do you mean to say that she has turned you down, already?"

Lucius raised a perfect eyebrow. "I do not understand," he said stiffly. "Why you would even consider such a possibility. I have no - never have had any - wish to ask her out. We would make a most incompatible pair. There is little that is common between us, and even less that we can agree upon -"

Mafilda Malfoy’s eyes went from sickly-sweet to pretty-casually-evil with swift and well-known ease, and she gave them a rather unnerving roll as she did not wait for him to finish, and cut through his train of words. “Do not be silly, Lucius. She will make the perfect wife. Have you seen the way she carries herself? Brilliant, just brilliant. Look at the other girls here – fidgeting midgets, it is a surprise they can tell their right hands from their lefts. They do not even know how to walk in a dress! She catches my fancy, Lucius – nobility and poise seem to speak of her!”

“But –” Lucius was now struggling with words, mostly because he was angry. “Mother, this can not be!” He managed to finally blurt out. “She is not my type. We are good friends, but you can not even imagine the disdain she would show if she were ever proposed by me.”

“Lucius, Lucius, I always thought you believed yourself to be a ladies’ man,” Mafilda said exasperatedly, eyeing his rather muscular arms with a rather evil smile. “Something ofa hottie." She waggled her eyebrows - to her son's utmost horror. My gosh, this is my MOTHER? - and went on, "She will not disdain anything once she falls in love with you.”

“She will not fall in love with me!” Lucius half-shouted at his parent, glad that there were no people nearby to overhear this conversation. “She is no doubt beautiful or noble or whatever else rubbish you believe her to be, but she is not the one for me. I know her too well - I can not try to seduce her!”

The raise in the pitch of his tones disturbed Mafilda. “There is no woman a bit of love can not change,” she returned haughtily but, the truth was, she was pretty sure now that she would lose this fight, if she did not come up, at once, with an argument that could floor him in one, silent moment.

“This is Bellatrix Black we are talking about, mother," Lucius snapped in anger. "The pride of the Blacks, their golden jewel.”

“Which is exactly why a match between the two of you would be just the thing!" Mafilda flared. His anger made her lose her own cool, and this irritated her. "Families as elite, as pure as ours, as the noble Malfoys, are few and far, in our World. She comes of the several that are at pars with ours. The match would be brilliant!”

“Mother –”

“Lucius!” Her tones were cold, like chilled steel, and when Mafilda Malfoy’s voice acquired the touch it had just transited into, Lucius knew you could no longer argue with her. She became like fire, ready to burn, ready to devastate - gently, kindly. “My decision is final. Bellatrix Black is, and will be, a future Malfoy.”

Lucius sealed his lips, his insides on fire with bottled-up rage.