Despite the party in his room beforehand, Theodore was almost entirely sober. Between Zach's little episode of drinking for practically three days straight - which, thankfully, didn't seem likely to happen again - and the prospect of having to dance in front of the Dark Lord, he hadn't felt much like drinking. Which wasn't to say that he was sulking or not having a good time, no; he was smiling, feeling the last of his very small buzz from his one drink wearing off just in time to dance.
The one surprise of the night was his father's absence. Theodore hadn't spoken to his father in a while, long before he'd gotten in trouble, and he knew that this sort of event wasn't the type of thing his father would attend, given a choice. He'd assumed that with the Dark Lord present, though, his father would make an appearance. Apparently not.
Theodore wasn't going to worry about it. He was calm and reserved by nature, and politeness came easily to him. He wasn't the best dancer there by any stretch of the imagination, but he was passable, and he wasn't stepping on Vera's toes.