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Despite whatever it was that simmered between the two men, be it enmity, wounded pride, or a mix of both, the Lestranges had seen fit to invite the Blacks, and it was into Druella's hand that the owl dropped the elegantly presented invitation. Through a combination of threatening the despised gossip rag with a lawsuit if they did not retract that article, and keeping her distracted until the next three new issues were out, Cygnus had succeeded in keeping his wife thoroughly and blissfully unaware of the words that lay at the root of the rift between him and Gaultier, and so surprise registered on her alabaster features when, over breakfast, Cygnus said outright that they would not attend.

"Husband --"

"No."

His refusal was so absolute that Druella avoided the topic for the next several days, but she eventually returned to it, perhaps after discovering that her in-laws would be otherwise engaged and would not make it themselves. With the skill only a wife possesses, she wore Cygnus down, claiming that they were the only suitable Blacks who could be in attendance, and as Cygnus hadn't given her an actual reason, she simply could not comprehend why they would be so rude as to refuse.

And so it was a very unwilling Cygnus who led his wife into the grandeur of the Lestrange home. Once the invitation was presented and their cloaks taken away, they began the slow process of greeting everyone and anyone they saw as they made their way to their hosts. And it was a slow process indeed, as bejeweled wives seemed to have some unspoken agreement to all complement Druella on her pregnancy, while their husbands clapped Cygnus on the shoulder, winking as they inquired as to the name of the potential son. A forced smile became a permanent fixture on his expression, becoming thinner and still more unnatural as they finally approached the Lestranges.

Druella said something -- possibly directed at Sabine in her native French, but Cygnus wasn't listening, his attention having been directed to Gaultier. His was a quick study of the man, eyes that were ever so slightly narrowed picking up the nuances of emotion in the set of his features -- the bastard was smug-- and leveling with his darker stare for one long moment before he looked at Sabine.

In his sharp, clipped English, he said, "Congratulations."