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Molly enjoyed the foie gras but wasn’t fond of the tense atmosphere.
“I must ask: what is going on?”
Lucius’s drawl caused Narcissa and Arthur to exchange a knowing glance.
Molly was also in the dark. She picked up the correct spoon for her soup and frowned as Arthur grabbed the wrong one. Lucius looked aghast. Not for the first time, Molly was pleased she was born a Prewett.
“Dears, please tell us why we are here.”
Draco sipped his firewhisky. “We have an announcement. We are in love and are getting married.”
Silence.
Molly’s son took Draco’s hand, turning crimson, and muttered, “I mean…we were going to announce it more delicately. But yeah. What he said.”
Observing Arthur and Narcissa’s smug grins, Molly felt perturbed.
She wasn’t the only one.
“Deception! In my own home!”
“Technically, I live with Ron now.”
“What!”
“Traitors. My wife and son.”
Twenty minutes later, Molly exited after an epic rant. Reaching the floo, she saw Lucius draining a firewhisky bottle.
Molly seized the liquor and drank.
“Why didn’t they tell us?”
“I don’t know. But I plan on sending them all howlers.”
Lucius smiled slowly. “I’ll get the parchment.”