It was difficult to cut an imposing figure towards someone who was several years his senior and in a mildly more prestigious career within the Ministry than he was, but Tiberius was determined to do so all the same. He didn't really know how his father might have handled things, had he been alive and available when Tatiana was ready to debut and wed, but Tiberius was still trying to fill his shoes as best he could. He wanted to ensure an advantageous match for his sister, of course, but more than that he wanted Mr. Macmillan to know that Tatiana was and would always be a Lestrange, even if her last name changed. He wanted him to understand — not explicitly, of course, but understand all the same — that if he ever did anything to hurt, insult, or humble his sister, he would be facing Tiberius' wrath. He wanted Mr. Macmillan to be afraid of him, ultimately — that was the only way he thought he could protect his sister when she ventured off into the unknown of Mr. Macmillan's household.

To assume that the burden of looking out for Tatiana's interests rested solely on his shoulders, however, would have been to grossly underestimate her. She had, of course, been much more intimately acquainted with the man and his character than Tiberius had been or would ever be, and she had apparently determined him suitable enough. The questions that she had sent him before the meeting were tucked into his breast pocket and he planned to deliver her a full report. Unlike most women her age, Tiberius trusted his sister entirely to decide the path of her future happiness.

He arrived exactly on time and took the offered hand in a crisp, businesslike shake. "I hope I've not kept you waiting," he said coolly, but he in fact hoped very much that Mr. Macmillan had been waiting a long while.