The Dolohov girl was back. If Elijah Krum was to be honest, he certainly preferred her naked and silent than he did dressed and badgering. Yet he humoured her, content to listen to her gripes and testy complaints over a few fingers of Firewhisky and a few pastries that he’d had Millie order from a renowned baker’s somewhere in London though he didn’t recall the name. The sweets were pleasant enough and so too was the company if he fixed his eyes on her breasts and not her face and her ugly mouth spewing all its vitriol. If he’d cared to, he would’ve painted her. It was a pity, then, that he didn’t.
The Krum man’s saviour from the dry, bore of a woman came in the form of the Minister who cocked his head around the door and said something that, once it was closed again, left said woman giggly and professing to be utterly confused. While indeed, Elijah found himself sharing the sentiment, he did not let her into that small fact and merely stared at her with a satirical sneer before glibly retorting that: “No, I doubt you would.”
With that said, he left her to stew on his words and pick through what it was he said as she fought to ascertain the true meaning of his hardly forgiving tone.
Elijah swept out of his chair and reached to right the royal blue, filigree embroidered robes though more out of habit than true necessity. He caught sight of his reflection in the mirror mounted on the wall opposite his desk above the chaise lounge and swept his hand over the top of his hair, smoothing down any jutting locks that flicked this way and that. He sighed heavily before dropping his hand and placing it absently on the shoulder of the Dolohov beside him.
“I suggest you run home to Tobias, Jacquetta.” He soothed, tucking a lock of her dark hair streaked with honey behind her ear. His smile was oddly soothing to her but his eyes betrayed him.
Jacquetta Dolohov rose from her chair, and curled her fingers around the robes of the man before her, her fierce eyes boring into her own. She rolled her lips against each other for a moment before releasing him and stalking past, out through the door without another word said. Truly, it satisfied Elijah to have it her way. At least it would be a few days before she’d return, bemoaning her husband’s Death Eater spiel and his incessant demands upon her to hurry up and give him a son.
Perversely amusing though it was to him, Elijah had a feeling he’d have more luck giving her a son than Tobias ever would and would be content to amuse her with one if that was what it took. Still, life went on as it always did and as ever there was always something else.
There was always something Elijah stood to profit from and Thaor was it. He just wasn’t sure how yet.
Elijah entered a moment or two after Robert, letting the door close with a click behind him. He pursed his lips together and eyed Thaor with the customary air of suspicion that was poorly feigned. There was a slightly more predatory look in Elijah’s eye that was quite a bit more cleverly masked, almost indistinguishable amongst the myriad of other emotions swilling around in his eyes. No, he was sure there was something he stood to gain when it came to Thaor - as in all things he seemed to deal in now.
The question that remained was a simple one: what, exactly?