P: Antonin1 - Blog Posts
antonin-whoisleft:
“I am Antonin,” he agreed, a charming smile on his lips and his curiosity deeply piqued. There was something about the woman - nerves, maybe, but he couldn’t imagine this was her first foray into actually dealing with one of her superiors. In the Death Eater hierarchy, of course, though Antonin had no problem considering himself her superior in other ways even from just the brief introduction. “Lovely to meet you finally. You’re doing some incredibly helpful work, I’ve been told.”
Antonin leaned against the archway, hearing the clinking sounds of a few new drinks being poured from down the hall; but his attention was on the newcomer. He liked to size people up, especially ones he might potentially be working with more closely moving forward. His eyebrows shot up, blinking in mild confusion as she continued.
“You’re here now, aren’t you?” He asked, intrigued by her perceived negative demeanor of the place. “If Lucius really demanded halfbloods weren’t allowed in his mansion I’m sure we’d have sent you somewhere else to meet up, yes? As long as you’re not a mudblood or a blood traitor you’re more than welcome to tour the dusty old place. You not being allowed in the meetings is more to do with rank than anything else, Baddock, and sure - your blood status might be a hindrance, but it clearly hasn’t deterred some of our more persistent comrades.” He smiled again, disarming and casual, swishing the contents of his glass around. “You’re not missing much by forgoing the tour, though. Not a fan of the aesthetic, myself, but Lucius and I have always clashed a bit on taste.”
They clashed on plenty of other things, too; but taste was easiest to joke about with a newcomer.
“I’d love that,” he said, warm and friendly and still, as always, watching with that thoughtfully intense look on his face. He saw her eyes flicker down to his glass, heard the self-deprecation in her comment; she could be someone he could use, certainly. Either a lack of self-confidence or simply a sense of loss of place - easily usable. That was promising. “They’ve got a couple house elves wandering around, would you like a drink? They really do have some incredible scotch on hand. Might make going through the paperwork a bit more enticing, no?
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Antonin certainly could be charming, Harper would give him that. With mixed feelings, and despite her best efforts, she blushed at his praise of her and her work; mentally cataloging it. “Well, thank you” she replied with a pleasant smile of her own, before pausing in thought. “Based on the limited amount I’ve seen, it’s… not exactly how I would decorate,” she finished with a slight smirk. However, the idea of exploring the manor did entice her; she figured it came with the territory of growing up wandering around hotels.
Harper was sure that Antonin was trying to get a read on her, while she tried to do the same of him. She quickly got the impression that her initial instinct to approach with respect and an attitude of ‘knowing her place’ wouldn’t necessarily get her anywhere with him. In fact, it probably made her look unsure of herself. Which, in fairness, she was. Though she did generally attempt to use that to her advantage; Her knack for self-preservation led her to prefer being underestimated, especially in any situation where she wasn’t ready to show her hand.
But having a nice drink and taking someone through her work? That was a situation that Harper could proudly thrive in, and she allowed that confidence to flow through her. She sat down on the couch, elegantly crossing her legs as she spoke, “A drink would be lovely. And it does indeed make paperwork a more enjoyable experience” she agreed. She looked towards the doorway, pleased when a house elf appeared moments later. “Scotch please,” she requested, motioning towards Antonin’s drink.
As the house elf disappeared to fetch her drink, Harper gestured for Antonin to take the spot next to her on the couch. Opening her bag, she withdrew a neatly organized folder of notes and paperwork, and slid it onto the table. “So here I have copies of recent records I’ve worked on so the information matches up. I also have some new proposals for travel covers and itineraries”
She paused as she noticed the house elf reappear, her drink in hand. Saying a quick thank you, she took a sip of the beverage, savoring it. “That really is quite good”
antonin-whoisleft:
Antonin kept his mouth shut when he heard the grand doors of Malfoy Manor open and close from the parlor down the hall. He didn’t not like being there, though that had nothing to do with the manor so much as it had to do with Malfoy himself. The pair of them had never quite gotten along, too similar in their ambitions and dissimilar in their means of achieving their goals; but Antonin was nothing if not a loyal member of Lord Voldemort’s army, and he went where he was told to go.
Besides, getting to enjoy a glass of hideously expensive scotch while he waited for his contact to arrive was a bonus. The Malfoy house elf had scampered up to him with it, one ice cube perfectly chilled inside, and he’d been left to his own devices while some of his comrades went over their own mission plans a few doors down.
It was a respectable place to call a safe house, that much was for sure. As long as they all staggered their exits, disapparating or floo or otherwise, it was nearly impossible to draw attention to the place. It was too out in the open, too obvious, too… belonging to a powerful family. It really was perfect.
The doors opening was a sign as good as any that his contact had arrived; she would be the only one using the doors that day, most likely. Malfoy had arranged some ridiculous measures for anyone not pureblood to enter his house, he was sure it would be abandoned once it was clear having their few halfblood comrades walking up visibly to his manor might cause a bit of a curious stare from anyone looking too hard.
“Harper Baddock, yes?” He asked, voice smooth and welcoming, standing now in the doorway and watching the woman with his curious, perhaps a bit unsettling, large green eyes. “Lovely room, isn’t it? Lot of blondes, though.”
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“Indeed” Harper replied, matching the smoothness of Antonin’s tone, answering his questions and comment in one word. While she wanted to make a wise-crack about what would happen should a Malfoy child be anything but blonde, Harper knew this was certainly not the place, and was still unsure enough about the company to do so. “You must be Antonin,” she stated, rather than asked, with a slight lift of her chin.
Antonin, she had already gathered, was a young man with an edge; Death Eater associations and beliefs aside. There was something about him that wrenched her stomach a bit, but she could not yet put a finger on what it was. Large eyes often gave an innocent appearance, but in Antonin’s case, the trait that came to Harper’s mind was snake-like. She hoped that she could charm him enough to end up at least on his neutral-to-positive side.
“I’d ask what else is going on around here, maybe even try to get the grand tour… but I doubt that I’d be shown or told much, or that it would even be well-received” Harper quipped, though internally unsure how much of her comment was actually in jest. She moved to focus on the business matters before she could dwell too much on her own words.
“Obviously, I have all the paperwork I was to bring. I’m sure you’ll find everything in order. I can take you through it, if you’d like,” Harper continued, gesturing to the couch and table towards the center of the room. “Or we could just chat…” she offered tentatively. “I guess getting the short end of the stick and having to meet with me isn’t so bad, considering you get a nice drink out of it,” she remarked, her eyes flicking from his face to the glass in his hand.
Started in Beautiful Rooms // Harper and Antonin
Approaching the Malfoy Malfoy Manor simultaneously comforted Harper while also setting her on edge. It oozed elegance and class, along with mystery and foreboding; just her type. She was intrigued by it, and to some extent, that worried her. Less so than it had in the past, but there was still a dull, nagging concern in the back of her mind.
“How did I get here?” she sometimes asked herself, flashing through memories of the intense and turbulent series of events that led to her current arrangement. She stopped herself before she could get too far. Wrong time, wrong place. She had a job to do and an image to uphold.
Many of the BDK hotels were large and sophisticated, and Harper had no problem walking into those with an air of confidence and ownership, but here? Here she felt dwarfed. Sometimes she even felt that the perfectly manicured shrubbery hissed at her presence. None of this was helped by the fact that, unlike most of the Death Eaters, Harper was not allowed to apparate into the manor. She knew why that was; because she was a half-blood. It didn’t matter that she was smarter than most of them, and perhaps more talented, to boot. According to them, she was lesser. Momentarily clenching her hands into fists and looking down at her shoes, she took a deep breath and tried to channel the attitude she could usually put on so well, before lifting her head and venturing forward up the walkway to the manor’s ornate front door.
Upon reaching it, Harper hesitated. Was she to knock? Was she to ring the bell? She doubted it was in her best interest to just walk in, though that was what she would prefer to do. Attempting to gain some control over the situation, she gave two raps on the door, paused a second, and tested the handle, discovering the door was unlocked.
Harper was acutely aware, as she crossed the threshold, that the door being unlocked was no coincidence. And although there was no one in sight, she instinctively knew that she was being watched. Perhaps someone wanted to observe how she behaved when she thought she was alone, or perhaps it was just another demeaning tactic. Adjusting her bag on her shoulder, she entered the room to her right. It appeared to be a sitting room (likely one of many), with portraits adorning the walls. Intrigued, Harper began to examine them, beginning with the one closest to the door, intending to make her way from there to the other side. She was only a couple of pictures in when she sensed a presence at the doorway, and looked over her shoulder to see who it was.
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