Mulciber Matchmaking Ⅱ

Waiting at the floo hearth is the handsome figure of Mulciber Sr. despite his years. The still somewhat golden hair is elegantly pulled back showcasing attractive features that caused many a witch's hearts to flutter and yearn for the tender affections of the proud pureblood. Dressed immaculately, and set to impress, he coolly peers at his firstborn, who had been cast off for his existence as that of a squib.

Mulciber Sr. suppresses a sneer, but his lips still lightly curl with a bit of disdain. "You are late," he crisply remarked to his firstborn.

"We both know that I am not," Peregrine matter-of-factly countered. "In fact, I am early," and gestured to the golden pocket watch that he had removed from his waistcoat. "There are still five minutes left until the hour."

Mulciber Sr. eyes flicker with some measure of approval, before turning to the floo hearth. "I elected to floo considering your lack of MAGIC," Mucliber Sr. said as though he had acted out of kindness rather than interest. "You may proceed first," he magnanimously gestured to the fireplace.

"Thank you for your consideration, Father," Peregrine drily said, before stepping forth up the mantelpiece and removing sparkling dust, Floo Powder. Tossing the sparling power into the hearth, the flames begin to roar and rise turning green. "Benedict Greengrass Manor," he said, before stepping into the flames and whirling away. The sensation was akin to being flushed down the drain with countless twists and turns as voices and faces appear only to instantly vanish.

By the time, Peregrine emerged he had been to feel a bit faint as he emerged into the exquisitely styled manor. Taking a moment to steady himself, Peregrine pressed a hand to lean against the mantel for a moment, before taking a deep breath and stepping back. His father would appear any moment, and he could not afford any show of weakness before him.

Straightening up, Peregrine turned away and began to take in the sight before him. The great hall was elegantly furnished in tasteful colors ranging from greens to earthy tones. The Persian carpet had exquisite gold thread embroidery that of hawks in flight. A subtle hint to the Veela heritage that this Greengrass branch possessed.

A soft cough garners Peregrine's attention pulling his gaze towards an older house elf with salt-peppered eyebrows. The male house elves face is lined with some wrinkles and deep honey-colored eyes. The male house elf's ears are bat-like with a tiny golden earing at the tip of one ear as a fashion statement. The house elf wears a silk white house elf tunic, a dark blue coat with embroidered golden hawks on the back, and a pair of comfortable, but fine leather sandals.

Before Peregrine can speak, the hearth roars behind him with green flames as the figure of Mulciber Sr. confidently emerged from the flames. With a faint murmur, the soot disappears from his person as he fixes his calculating gaze upon the house elf. "Elf, lead us," he ordered as he stepped forward to be led by the house elf.

"Jarrey leads the way for the Mulciber father and son," muttered the house elf with a proper bow before leading the way to the nearby parlor room where the Greengrass family awaits.

Peregrine follows closely after his father and the house elf as he studies the elegant home that had many decorations of golden hawks in flight and some French taste in décor. Not overly lavish, but tasteful in its décor with a hint of warmth. He did not have many memories of the Greengrass family, but he did recall meeting the beautiful, but elderly matriarch with hawk-like eyes in his childhood. There was something wild about her that did not resemble anything remotely akin to that of a witch, but then again, she was a Veela.

The tasteful cream-colored doors to the parlor door swing open as Jarrey bows to the Greengrass household that is already seated within the parlor. "Elder Mistress, Jarrey presents the Mulciber father and son," and steps aside with a flourish. Mulciber Sr. confidently enters the parlor room followed by Peregrine.

For there seated in the middle of the parlor room is a moon bright skinned elderly woman with bright, hypnotic hawk-like eyes, and white golden hair that fans out beautiful despite a lack of wind, the matriarch of this Greengrass branch, Ethel Greengrass. Sitting on her left side is her eldest grandson, Mordecai, a somewhat pudgy wizard with very short hair, but still as delicate looking as his younger brother. And seated on the matriarch's right side is her younger grandson, Benedict with light-colored floppy fair, warm hazel eyes, and delicate looking much like all the men of this Greengrass branch.

Sitting further back in a corner of the parlor are the two wives of both brothers, Phyllis and Constance. Phyllis, the wife of Mordecai is a good-looking middle-aged woman with a cleft chin. She eagerly flutters her fan in her hand as she was eager to tie one of her daughters to another pureblood family and member of the sacred 28 families, the Mulciber's. Surely, it would be her beloved daughter, Edna, since Rosie was a mere SQUIB.

Seated at her mother's side is the beautiful, but arrogant, and currently sullen-faced Edna. She had no desire whatsoever to marry a SQUIB! She had plenty of suitors and she would not marry beneath herself! If the SQUIB wanted to marry then let him marry her lesser sister, a SQUIB as well!

Seated next to Edna is the wife of Benedict, Constance, a rather young-looking French witch despite her age. Her golden hair is neatly pulled up from her fair features and bright cerulean-colored eyes. A gentle smile on her face as she patted the hand of the youngest daughter of her brother-in-law, Mordecai, Rosie.

The youngest girl, Rosie, was sweet and kind even with her condition of being a Squib. Constance herself adored the sweet girl as did her son and four daughters. She was not the only one as her husband, Benedict, and her great-mother-in-law were also fond of the girl. That is also, why her husband, Benedict had firmly declared he would be present at the betrothal proposal lest his elder brother sell of his youngest daughter like a piece of flesh. That and her great-grandmother-in-law would not permit it as well.

Constance squeezes Rosie's hand causing the pale faced girl to flash her a faint smile. Rosie attempts to smile at her Aunt Constance's efforts to cheer her up. However, she felt uneasy at today's meeting. Why only some time ago she had felt nothing but relief at learning that Damian Mulciber had perished. She still remembered with horror and dread that vile day when he had attempted to force himself upon her only to be saved by her dear cousin, Terry. A mischievous fiend at times, but he was always kind to her.

Rosie dearly cared for her cousin and she had been fraught with worry afterward, but Terry had promised her that nothing would come of it. She did not know what Terry said that day to Damian Mulciber, but indeed nothing had come of that horrible day. After all these years, she thought she would never marry and that was not a terrible thing. She thought she might make a fine governess someday and Terry would surely take her in once he married and had children. It was a fine plan for the future to have up until now.

Rosie raises her gaze and flinches slightly at seeing the figure standing behind the elder Mulciber. For a moment, her heart falters, before she recovers herself, this was not Damian, but Peregrine Mulciber. The two brothers certainly resembled each other, both handsome and golden-haired. However, unlike Damian, there was no cruelty visible on Peregrine's face.

A squib, they had said, Rosie recalled as she further calmed down and studied the younger Mulciber. Not much was known about him except that he was a self-made wizard, who was employed at Gringotts. He shouldn't be that bad, but then again, appearances can be deceiving. Uncertain, she tightened her grip on her aunt's hand and waited apprehensively for that was to be discussed. One way or another, she or her older sister's future would be decided that day.