why don't we make it rain like we used to

[amourpropre]

Who: Lucius Malfoy (Sr) and Severus Snape β
What: Picking up some shopping, as you do, and chance of civil conversation.
Where: Severus' apothecary in Sobek Croix
When: Sssslightly backdated?

He arrives when the store is near closing, the sun reaching for the horizon as the clock ticks inevitably towards six. It's to avoid people in general, even if the only people that Lucius finds sharing the same space with to be remotely awkward would be his fellow wizards, both from his time and otherwise. He wasn't lying, however, about what ingredients he was having difficulty obtaining.

He wasn't lying about needing them either.

Sweeping inside, he pauses to both look around as well as loosen his coat a little against the change of temperature, as haggard as anyone has left him but still dressed in expensively cut wools and cottons and satin linings, shoes polished.

Comments

[subtlescience]

There isn't an immediate response. There is nothing left to pack away, no more indications he can give to Lucius that this is not a conversation he wishes to have. So he finally resigns himself to it and mulls over a reply which might at least be adequate.

Severus isn't quite sure where he stands with his old friend, but there is something about the way Lucius keeps pushing which suggests 'friendship' itself is not yet out of the question - and he could use an ally or two. The problem is, he's not sure where the other man is going with this.

"No," he replies at last. "It does not surprise me that you would cease to engage in any activity which holds no benefit for you or your family."

[amourpropre]

It's a good place to start, Lucius thinks. A clear and definite page to share. There is, maybe, a small satisfaction that the conversation is within his control, because he imagines he reads uncertainty in the somewhat stilted reply he receives, accurate to the syllable in the same way legal documents are. The corner of his mouth curls in a pitiless sort of smirk that fades by the time he is talking again.

He continues to ignore the coat folded on the counter top.

"And so you would have either of us pretend the last twenty years went differently, or pretend you're simply a shop keeper and I, a customer? Anything else being a waste of time."

Offended, maybe, at the dismissal, but the sharpness is gone from his voice, and there is no indignant bluster. The drawl is quite usual, at least.

[subtlescience]

He could respond with the reminder that he should similarly not be expected to behave in any way which doesn't benefit his family. He could also suggest it is Lucius who is acting the victim, when, in fact, Severus acted to protect the Malfoys regardless of his own politics. It occurs to him to say these things.

But he still doesn't know what Lucius is after with this conversation. Perhaps conversation for the sake of it. So he treads carefully.

"You have good reason to want me dead. Similarly, you have good reason to forgive me." That is the closest you will get to an apology, Lucius. Make good use of it. "I am making no assumptions. At this moment, I am treating you as a customer because that is precisely what you are. That is the dynamic you initiated. I would not presume to behave as though you wished to be amicable simply because we engaged in a business transaction."

A beat. "And duelling customers is bad for business."

[amourpropre]

"Only if you win."

The quip is sort of. Out of his mouth before he can think twice about being so amiable, managing at least to keep it to a mutter. With the money handed over, Lucius then takes the packed items for himself, movement brisk and matter of fact. Whatever he is seeking to obtain, it is becoming more difficult to work for than he would like it to be.

But that was always going to be the case. "It is the dynamic you are upholding, Severus," he corrects. "I presume it has something to do with your Muggle wife. For the record, I don't care." Which is not utterly true; but how he cares, how he minds it, has little to do with black and white prejudice. "I should let you go," indicates he didn't quite miss the signals urging his departure, whether it be because of Lucius himself or the hour he chose.

[subtlescience]

The only indication Severus gives to suggest he found humour in Lucius's reply is a slight raise of his eyebrows. No laughter; just the barest suggestion of a retort in his expression: And you think I won't?

It's gone almost immediately, however, at the mention of Martha. All levity sapped from the conversation because he's either not fool enough or too paranoid to think Lucius is truly going to let it lie at that. But the other man does have one fair point: this dynamic is the one he'll uphold. He doesn't know where to move next. Where the traps lie.

Neither of them are open enough to outright say what they want, but Lucius doesn't have a want pointed at his throat. That's...something. So he offers something. "For the record, she has nothing to do with how I treat you."

[amourpropre]

Lucius pauses there, attempting to read any lie in Severus' expression and tone, but ultimately finds nothing sufficient to challenge. So, he takes up his cane and purchases, because if anything, he at least got what he officially came for. Sleeping dreamlessly for ten hours is going to be fun.

There's a silver lining for everything.

"Well, if you ever felt moved to enlighten me further, you know how to find me," he says in the moment before he will be making for the exit.