MASQUERADE PART TWO Who: Everyone who bought a ticket! Where: Artemis Theatre, Diagon Alley When: 9:00 pm October 31 - 1:00 am November 1, 1979 What: A Masquerade Ball for the Foundation for the Promotion of Wizarding Society and Culture, hosted by the Malfoys
10:00 pm - The Malfoys make a short welcoming speech, thanking everyone for attending and discussing the aims they wish to further through this event- unity in the wizarding community, as well as the importance of giving back. The Foundation for the Promotion of Wizarding Society and Culture is brought up by Narcissa, along with all the good it has done (Women's Centers, Medical Drives, etc).
Hermann Baumgartner, director of the Viennese Wizarding Orchestra is introduced, and the orchestra begins to play.
Severus and Jacqueline He had no idea who he had danced with during the first dance. She had been pleasant and polite, and her mask and costume had been quite pretty. More importantly, Severus thought, she had been a good dancer, but he realised he couldn't just sit on the sidelines. In reality, Severus was hoping that if he could dance with a few people, he could then get his duties out of the way and then escape to a wall flower state, preferably with Demetrius or Aquila or, in a pinch, Barty or Regulus, although it seemed that both of them were attending with someone. Severus wondered vaguely at the state of the world when the two Death Eaters the year under him had escorts and he and his classmates did not, but then again, it wasn't as if there were anyone he could escort. He turned his thoughts away from the thoughts of more permanent relationship and looked instead for a possibility for a short term dance relationship. Spying a woman in a red dress nearby, he considered for a moment, but seeing no one else around her - a shame as the dress she was wearing was quite lovely - he moved forward.
"Miss, may I have the pleasure of the next dance," he bowed slightly as he moved into her line of sight. He felt somewhat absurd with the beard he'd charmed to complete the Zeus-like effect, but it did also make for a great costume, even if he was not used to it. He looked up to take in her red mask, and offered a hand slightly, if she would accept.
She had arrived only moments before with Ferdinand, who had promptly excused himself to find them some refreshment. Tonight, she was eternally grateful that he had asked her to accompany him and that she would not be made to dance attendence upon her lying and ungrateful sister--she would have been incredibly put out if she had been made to arrive with her parents while Julianne swanned around with her fiance and society women gossiped cruelly about why Jacqueline didn't have an escort behind their hands. Ferdinand could be annoying, but tonight, he was her savior. She knew her dress was quite lovely and her hair, upswept in a loose cignon, had taken hours of arrangement and staying charms to keep the short strands in place. She was determined to have a good evening, come hell or Gaius Travers.
The sound of a male voice brought her out of her reverie, and despite the costuming and the odd beard, there was something about the set of his visible features and the pallor of his skin that was familiar to her. She had an inkling who he might be, but was pleased to realize that he had no idea who she was. This masque business might be exciting after all. "But of course, sir."
Severus reached for her hand, thinking to himself one of the Wilkes perhaps. And if she were not with Regulus, as it appeared she was not, it was obviously Jacqueline. He gave her a smile as he led her out to the dance floor and wondered how on earth he had not recognised her.
"A lovely dress and mask," he said lightly, thinking to himself all of the things he needed to remember for dancing. He'd gone through the steps each evening this week just so he would remember from all of his learning in sixth year, but as it was not something he did frequently, it was somewhat unnerving to ask someone as well presented in society as Jacqueline, and had he realised it was her, he might not have - not because he did not like her, but rather because it would be easier to dance with someone he simply did not know and would not care if they thought him a fool. Not that he particularly cared if Jacqueline thought him a fool, he realised. After all, she was as utterly and completely out of his league as Astra, and not overly his type on top of that.
"Have you just arrived?" he added politely pondering questions he could ask her that would confirm her suspected identity.
She laid her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the floor, one hand resting lightly at his waist while the other stayed in his. As the music started, she found herself pleasantly surprised at his dancing; he wasn't born for it, of course, but it was clear he had practiced and that he was determined to make a good showing. That was rather endearing.
She was almost sure it was Severus, especially given the refinement of his manners paired with his clear nervousness. Someone who hadn't been raised in this environment would have to be on edge as he appeared to be, no matter how generally accepted he was. Her own feelings about Severus were mixed: he was intelligent, surely, and polite and well-mannered and clearly dedicated to the cause. Then, of course, he was a half-blood, which must automatically diminish him in her eyes. It was rather unfair that someone so worthy as he should be stained by his parentage, but it was the inevitable way of the world.
"Yes, with my parents."
Severus nodded, his hand on her waist, he guided her carefully, relaxing a bit as he made no obvious mistakes or errors. She was, natural and dancing with someone who knew what they were doing made his life that much simpler. The music was beautiful, and he was determined that she would enjoy the dance and he would do as well. "There are a number of people here," he said with a nod at the room. "I'm guessing that Narcissa will be quite pleased." He should have perhaps used Mrs Malfoy, but Narcissa had scolded him so many times for not using her first name, that he had been working on training himself to do otherwise. He hoped that Jacqueline would not find it impertinent, but then he supposed if Narcissa did not, why should Jacqueline worry?
He decided to take a risk and simply ask to confirm his suspicions, "And your sister?" It was not as if someone other than Jacqueline Wilkes could not have a sister, but he was certain enough of the voice to ask.
Since she had found herself scolded for using Narcissa's formal title as well, she was not offended by Severus' familiarity. Glancing around the ballroom, her eyes lingered on the couples who were dancing beautifully and skated unseeingly over those who were marring the otherwise lovely view with their clumsy steps. "I'm sure she is. It's a lovely event."
At his next question, she smiled, knowing that he had narrowed down her identity. Still, she could not help but muddle the issue further, at least for a little bit. "Yes, Jacqueline came with us. Isn't it lovely about her and Regulus?"
Severus was not confused enough for it to effect his dancing, but he was certainly confused by his partner's conversation. First off, he thought, it had been Julianne and Regulus, not Jacqueline - and he could not be dancing with Julianne, or he would have certainly recognised that. He had spent more time with Julianne of recent than he had of Jacqueline, not that he was about to admit to that to someone he was still fairly certain was Jacqueline. He raised an eyebrow, although it was not visible underneath his mask and moved her carefully between a pair of couples that seemed to think it was their obligation to squeeze Severus and his partner into the smallest space possible. The immediate danger of death by aphyxiation removed, he gave her another more serious look.
"Hmm, indeed. Have you been brewing any potions recently?" He asked lightly. He wasn't about to ask specifically about calming draught and give away Julianne's specific confidence, but the question would probably lead to what, which would perhaps help him decide for certain.
Her mind worked quickly, trying to remember if Julianne had mentioned anything about potions recently--of course, there was nothing for her to remember, for all the talk had been of weddings. Severus probably saw right through her little game, but she was determined to continue, as it amused her anyway. "Scads of Polyjuice, you know."
Severus couldn't help but smirk although it was probably mostly hidden by the bushy beard. "Ah, so you are planning on looking like someone else tonight. Let me guess, you are not who you appear to be at all, for you have used polyjuice this evening. You are likely, probably," he searched his mind for an unlikely individual. "Sirius Black, perhaps?" He raised an eyebrow. "Although he did have more a propensity for blowing up potions than for brewing them properly, so it seems unlikely he would have been able to accurately brew a potion as advanced as Polyjuice. Hmm, Of course it is also illegal, so you do risk the fact that I might be Ministry and turn you in for your obvious use of such a potion."
He swirled her around slightly, suddenly enjoying himself. Sev was certain it was Jacqueline. There were subtle differences between the twins, and Jacqueline was typically the more likely to be sardonic of the two. Julianne - as well as being near Regulus - would not have come up with such an easy response to the potion question, he did not think.
She swirled when he led her to, her dress twirling prettily around her ankles as she did. He certainly seemed to have relaxed since they started this dance. Still, she was unable to keep the look of absolute disgust off her face when he suggested she might be Sirius Black--of all the options, why did he go with the most repulsive. "Not even Sirius Black at his most deranged would dare to aspire to rejoin society in the guise of one of it's proper members." She regained her humour. "But no, I haven't used it yet. I'm saving it for when I get rather tired of wearing my sister's face around all day and want to see what it's like to have someone elses on."
Severus chuckled. "Well then, I shall leave you a hair, and you can try mine on when you get tired of your sisters. However, I think you'll find your sister's will receive a much better reception than mine will do." Severus wondered briefly why he hadn't danced more when the Christmas ball had happened at Hogwarts. He knew why, of course. He had been too upset over Lily going with Potter to consider dancing with any of the girls in his own house, but it was almost enjoyable. Particularly this way, where they were masked, and there was no societal stigma attached to one of them dancing with him, or vice versa. It was safe - perhaps safer than it would have been unmasked, where he would have been constantly worrying about Aquila or Marius reaction to his asking a pureblood girl to dance.
"Honestly though," he kept his tone light. "I would suggest collecting a hair from each individual you dance with. You could then perform a bit of a social experiment. See how you are treated as each individual in what is roughly the same scenario. I'm guessing it could be quite enlightening." Jacqueline had been a Ravenclaw, she would appreciate that concept. Severus wondered if it might not actually be a very good experiment for the purebloods to undergo. He wondered what they'd think if they were him for a day, or Lily Potter, or anyone that they would not have considered appropriate for their company.
She tilted her head, considering his proposition. The thought of spending the day as a boy unnerved her--she was uncomfortable enough with the male form as it was, she didn't need to go around wearing it for awhile. What if she had to use the bathroom? She would have to...touch herself in places she did not want to consider. The very thought was disgusting. "The problem is, I don't really fancy spending the day as a man, and I don't think Narcissa would take it well if I started dancing with women."
"It could be enlightening," Severus said lightly, although he decided it was safer not to dwell on such a statement. After all, this was a pureblood girl, not Demetrius, and although Severus was not convinced they were all the prudes that they pretended to be in public, he also did not want to get thrown out of the Masquerade and hunted down by pureblood Death Eater fathers because he had made crude commentary about gender switching to their daughters - although, if such a thing happened, he would just have to do what Agnes had suggested and go into hiding, which would make at least one part of his life somewhat simpler.
Still, it was not worth the risk. "I suppose you could steal a hair without dancing with them," he said, as if he were pondering this carefully. "Although dancing would make it quite a bit easier, and you are right I think, Narcissa would not approve."
"Is there a way for me to have another face entirely, a face no one else has ever had? It's quite dreary, always looking like another person--perhaps the solution is to look like no one at all." She changed the subject, not really wanting to dwell on the various ways she could steal hair from people. It was a little creepy. "After all, that Jacqueline is always going around trying to trick our poor friends into thinking she's me."
Severus gave a small nod, thinking it would be odd to have a twin. Someone who looked precisely like you, at least to the untrained eye, and whom people would be likely to mistake for you and you for them. There had been times he had wanted siblings growing up, but he was certain he never would have wanted an exact twin. With his luck his twin would have been popular and well liked, and not consistently tormented. "Not that I'm aware of," he said, keeping his tone light. "But then, there are hundreds of books on spells and charms I have not yet read. It is possible that a way exists, I have simply not discovered it yet." He thought it likely that the song would be moving towards its end and in preparation he began moving them towards the side of the floor again.
She followed his lead, though she was inwardly sad that their dance was ending. Every time she spoke to Severus, she was reminded precisely how much she enjoyed his company. She never tired of speaking to someone she considered her intellectual equal. "I'm sure you'll get through them eventually. If you come across something, be sure to let me know."
"I will," he said with a smile as the music came to an end. "Although I may have some difficulty tracking you down, even if I am a hundred, I shall certainly let you know."
He stepped back, and gave her a slight bow. "Thank you for the dance, Miss," he said politely. "Shall I escort you to the refreshment table or the powder room, or will you be quite all right here on your own?" It was probably, he realised, not quite proper etiquette, but then again, it wasn't quite second nature to him either. And Jacqueline did not seem likely to be the type who would string him up for not using precisely the proper phraseology.
She smirked at the thought of him leading her to the powder room. That would likely be rather uncomfortable for them both, him especially. "No thank you, Severus. I was going to go find my mother and report what an absolute gentleman you've been." She quirked her head, raising her eyebrows at him. She knew he would want no such thing, and he probably knew she was only kidding.
Severus raised an eyebrow behind his mask, before he realised she had to be joking. He hoped - as he had no inclination towards Mrs Wilkes thinking on him at all. He smiled then, and bowed once more. "I shall let you get to that then. Do give her my regards when you do, and I hope you have a pleasant evening."
Demetrius and Jacqueline Demetrius's eyes swept the floor impatiently. He knew he had to dance, now it was just a matter of finding someone to dance with. There were plenty of women to ask, that was for certain. So he decided to just ask the next unattended lady he saw. It seemed like a foolproof plan at the time, because at the very worst he would dance with someone he didn't know. At least that was the very worst he could think of at that moment, but he would come to realise there were much worse fates.
Of course he didn't consider that when he turned around to a short young blonde woman in a red dress. "May I have this dance?" he asked casually, actually he probably just sounded bored, but he didn't really care about the impression he was giving off.
She had stepped off the floor for a moment in order to catch her breath and find some refreshment, feeling unusually gay for a social occasion. It was not uncommon for the presence for so many people to send her into a more protective, darker mood, but something about this night had filled her with an odd sort of elation. Her sister was getting married and, for the moment at least, the pressure to do the same was off of her. She had just finished a glass of champagne when a man dressed all in black asked her to dance. There was something familiar about his mouth and chin, something that unsettled her, but she knew that it was out of the question for her to refuse an offer to dance. "But of course." She said, extending her hand.
He took the offered hand with a faint smirk (more of a grimace). He hated touching people. But he led her onto the dance floor, regardless of his own displeasure. Dancing was another thing he disliked. But not nearly as much as he hated smalltalk, which was what he should be engaging in because dancing in silence was awkward. Well he could simply ask the obvious and get it over with. He couldn't help but feel like he knew this girl, the hair looked familiar, what was exposed of the face, and other particular assets... His distracted himself from that train of thought. "So..."
"So?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She wondered if she had accidentally accepted an invitation to dance from someone of poor breeding, for surely no one who had been raised properly would start a conversation with a lady in that manner. Her steps were practiced and graceful, for dancing was something she enjoyed when she was in a mood such as this.
"That was somewhat of an indication for you to start a conversation about something menial or insignificant," he said flatly. "Because I happen to be terrible at smalltalk," he added as an afterthought, rolling his eyes. Any of his prior suspicions were wiped away, because this girl seemed to be somewhat daft.
Her brow furrowed, though her motions continued unaltered. "A lady never speaks first in a formal setting." She said, slowly and patiently, as if speaking to one who was rather slow developmentally.
"Which is why I spoke first," he contradicted impatiently. "With the hope it would prompt you to speak without having spoken first."
"Oh, pardon me. I had no idea that a one word grunt counted as a brilliant start to a conversation wherever it is that you're from." She said, frowning. He might not be recognizable, but the irritation she was feeling certainly was. "So, what do you think about the use of allegory in Beyond Good and Evil? Personally, I think it's essential for making the narrative accessible." If he was going to insist she pick the topic, he would have to pay the consequences.
"That would be Greece, by way of Canterbury," he sniped, exasperated already. Not many women could annoy him this badly this quickly. Of course her identity wasn't exactly an appealing mystery to solve anymore. "I don't think literature is quite a topic for a dance, it can go on too long and get far too heated." This, of course, was a cover. He had no idea what she was talking about and didn't care to find out.
Mulciber. Well, of course it was; her night had been going far too well to that point. "I highly doubt you could get heated about literature, Demmy."
"Oh, Jacqueline, lovely to see you," he said. Mystery solved. He sighed. "If you call me Demmy again, I will cut off your fingers." Of all people to end up dancing with. "I can get heated about anything, it's not hard to do."
"I highly doubt you could get within proximity, let alone accomplish the act." She said, her head quirking to the side. "Oh, I'm sorry. I should have differentiated being heated and defending a valid opinion."
"I'm a very talented man," he retorted nonchalantly. "I'm sure you could function well with just seven or so fingers." He couldn't help but laugh at her last comment. "Well the validity of any opinion is relative, isn't it?"
She snorted derisively at that, the thought of what her father would do to him if he did anything to diminish her marriage prospects incredibly amusing. "In general, yes." She eyed him. "You your particular? No."
"I'm a special case, that's touching." He resisted rolling his eyes again. "So have you danced with Gaius?"
At that moment, she found herself "accidentally" treading her heel on his foot. "Oh my goodness, Demmy darling, I'm so sorry to have been that clumsy!"
"Now what did I tell you about that nickname, young lady?" he said, wincing slightly. "Everyone has their moments of clumsiness, it's not a problem."
"That it's perfectly suited for one who would be cruel enough to bring up the relationship he himself ruined?"
"I didn't ruin a thing. You ruined it by letting your emotions run wild with you and , I was just honest with you."
"So, despite all evidence to the contrary demonstrating that you had no need to affirm the purity of my reputation with me, you still had to let me know that someone I had romantic feelings for had expressed doubts about me, despite the fact that you believed you had properly allayed them? There was absolutely no motivation to ruin whatever happiness I might have found simply because you're a vindictive person?"
"If I was a vindictive person, I would've lied to Gaius and told him you were a terrible harlot." He thought for a moment. "I'm a fan of honesty, and all I wanted was to confirm that you had kissed him, you were the one that wanted to further the conversation."
"It really is cute that you're trying to paint yourself as the innocent party here, Demmy," She spun away from him as the music reached a small crescendo, and in a moment was back "but I'm not fooled."
"Alas, my plot has been thwarted," he mock-lamented. "Yes, I did it with the hope that you would be a miserable old spinster for the rest of your lonely little life," he added sarcastically.
"And still alas, for I am neither lonely nor little, and I suspect that I shall be married and the mother of an heir to my dear husband before you've even begun to muster the courage to be as brave as I managed to be on an impulse."
"I highly doubt that, there are not that many eligible men left! You may be forced to go out of the country, or marry someone horribly older than you. Besides, I'm simply in no hurry to do anything so...large."
"Ah yes, and of course you are swimming in eligible women." She couldn't believe she had ever had him on her list of prospects; he was absolutely infuriating. "Well, I suppose that is the difference between you and I: my commitment to the Cause extends over every aspect of my life, not only that which I find most convenient."
"Just because I didn't get engaged the second I left Hogwarts doesn't make me less dedicated," he snapped irritably. "I'm taking my time, and there's not a thing wrong with doing so. Just because you want to settle down and start reproducing before you turn twenty doesn't make you better than me."
"It's not about what I want, it's about what's proper.." She tossed her head pridefully. "Anyway, there's no pride in taking your time until the one woman you do fancy does marry some aging roue from the Continent and you are left to father heirs upon Gertrude."
He tightened his grip on her hand reflexively. "It will be proper if I marry tomorrow or marry in two years, you'll never convince me otherwise. Your harping on my shortcomings is giving me a headache."
She refused to wince at his painful grip. "Perhaps I could contain myself if the field wasn't quite so ripe for the picking." She smiled her most pleasant smile. "And unless you intentionally separated Gaius and I so that you could win my affection, I would suggest you don't grip me quite so tightly."
"I wouldn't waste my effort on winning your affection," he sneered, loosening his grip.
"Yes, I do suppose you're too practical to aspire above the attainable."
"Don't fool yourself Jacqueline, I would only pursue you if I wished to underachieve."
She let the jab slide, twisting it instead to her rhetorical advantage. Jacq was far too practical to be overly concerned with the inter-purist class system. It's not as if there were an abundance of wombs around that allowed for being snobby. After all, Astra had landed a Lestrange. "Well, since you've proven so inadept at achieving, perhaps you should set your sights on underachievement."
"Well, I still wouldn't pursue you. See, even if I did want to underachieve, you're disgustingly infuriating."
"Disgustingly infuriating and I wouldn't give you the time of day. How embarassing is that?"
"Oh terribly humiliating, but since I wouldn't give you the time of day either, I'd say we're even."
"At least we can agree on our mutual dislike of each other." She said, giving another pretty turn that was in marked contrast to the acid in her tone.
"Naturally. It would be nonsensical to disagree with that."
"And at least you're a reasonably skilled dancer."
"I was taught well."
"Good to see at least one thing stuck."
"Plenty of things have stuck, dancing is just the most relevant right now."
"Well having seen your complete lack of good manners or chivalry, I'm going to have to assume you're an exceptional good seat."
"I'm exceptionally polite and chivalrous, I just am not towards you because you annoy me."
"That's good to hear, as the feeling is entirely mutual."
"Good to know."
The music reached it's final crescendo and there was a moment of silence as the orchestra began their next song. Taking the opportunity, she stepped back and sketched a beautiful curtsy. "Thank you, Demetrius. It's always a pleasure."
"No, really, it was my pleasure," he said with a tiny sarcastic bow. After a pause, he stalked off to find someone worth having a conversation with and possibly a drink. He wouldn't let her ruin his night, that was definite.
10:05 pm - 1:00 am - Dancing and food for everyone! The levels of excitement and noise show that this party will go down in history as the social event of the season.
The Order of the Phoenix lays their trap
Remus and Genevieve It was difficult not to notice the bright colours of the woman's costume, and Remus' eyes were drawn to her first as he scanned the crowd. He would have looked away, except for the fact that she looked familiar... and it was hard to mistake the colours and stripes of the French flag she was wearing. He couldn't be certain, but over the time span of the war, he had grown rather prejudice against the French. He approached the girl, hoping the lessons he had attended with the Order to try and trick everyone into thinking he was a purist would pay off now, and Remus offered his hand to her politely. "May I have the honour of a dance?" he asked, although now that he was close enough to speak to her, Remus noticed she seemed rather... drunk. He hoped this was true; maybe she might not notice if he made any mistakes in front of her, and he might be able to get her to spill information about Marius -- if he was at this dance... if only he knew what the Death Eater was wearing.
"As long as you are not Marius I would be happy to dance with you," she slurred with definite bitterness in her voice. English was becoming more and more difficult as the alcohol took hold of her, but she would be damned if she stood around with her brother all evening. Julian rolled his eyes through his mask and eyed Remus.
"Genevieve, behave," was all Julian bothered with, before stepping away, glad that someone else was occupying her time so he could finally have a chance for decent company.
Genevieve rolled her eyes back at her brother and even stuck out her tongue slightly, before gripping Remus's arm and pressing close to him in response to the demand that she behave. She didn't have to behave, and her brother couldn't make her, she thought to herself childishly. If Marius was going to ignore her and pay all of his attention to that uptight, virginal bint, then Genevieve would make quite certain she had someone to pay attention to her.
"Je suis desolee, monsieur. I forget the manners. Yes, it would please me to dance," she cooed, though their was a definite insinuation in her voice that said there were a great many things she was willing to do, and dancing was the least of them.
The names being dropped was good enough confirmation for Remus, although he was surprised to hear her speak of Marius so bitterly. He watched silently as the other man walked away before turning his attention back to Genevieve, surprised when she pressed herself up against him. Remus wasn't used to people doing that -- especially strangers -- and suddenly he was wondering if he was getting in way over his head. Still... if she was a close friend of Marius', then it was possible he could get a lot of information out of her, judging by how intoxicated she seemed to be. It was only one dance, after all, right? He could handle one dance. "It quite alright," Remus replied, attempting to sound sophisticated in his speech. Thankfully, he never was one for vulgarity in the first place, so it wasn't so difficult. Remus placed one hand on her waist, pushing her away just slightly to a respectable distance between them, and held her other hand in his free hand to begin dancing. "Sometimes I forget the manners, too," he admitted, attempting friendly conversation. "Forgive me for prying, but may I ask who this Marius is you spoke of?"
"Lestrange," she said immediately, the same bitterness overtaking her tone. "He would not be a schoolmate of yours if you went to Hogwarts. He is cruel to me," she added, pressing up against Remus again. The dance was a waltz, and though Genevieve's feet moved automatically with the music because of years of practise, she definitely needed Remus's support to stay completely upright. She leaned against him again, letting the hand she had on his shoulder move down his arm slowly. It was an unspoken invitation that could not be mistaken for anything else.
"I am over-warm," she whispered as she leaned up to speak in his ear. "I saw a lonesome hallway when I was looking for la toilette. Come with me," she said, tugging at him gently.
This was bad. This was very, very bad; Remus didn't think his life was in danger, but he certainly wished she would stop leaning against him like that, or sliding her hand down his arm. Weren't purists supposed to be modest? Of course, it figured, out of all the people Remus chose to try and dance with for information, he picked the one that wasn't. Ah, but still, the thought of getting a Lestrange behind bars -- even better, Marius Lestrange -- spurred him on to see what he could get out of her before she made him too uncomfortable. Merlin, he just hoped Marlene hadn't seen Genevieve hanging all over him like this. "Er, alright," he agreed reluctantly, following her as she tugged on his arm, walking out into the empty hallway. "I'm surprised that anyone could have such nerve to be cruel to a woman like you," Remus continued speaking, hoping to distract her. "The name Marius Lestrange does sound familiar, now; is he not getting married soon?"
If looks could kill, Remus would have dropped dead to the floor. Genevieve could not keep the look of scorn out of her eyes as she took the last three steps out into the hallway. As soon as he was through the door she slammed it shut.
"He is getting married, and I am to be a bridesmaid," she laughed angrily. "My whole life, I have wanted to walk down the aisle at his wedding, but I was supposed to be the bride!" She began muttering and swearing in rapid French, only to realise it wasn't doing her any good and she returned to English. "Am I not more learned, than Mademoiselle Avery? Do I not have a better family? I know I am more beautiful," she pouted as she stomped her foot. "And still, he is marrying that virgin pig," she said nastily. "And no doubt he will be knocking on my door before the honeymoon has ended. He already has one bastard in France, why not another?"
Before Remus could answer any of her rhetorical questions, she had pressed him against the wall. "I am more beautiful than Astra Avery, oui?" she asked, pulling at the fabric of his shirt to slip her hand beneath it at his waist.
Remus felt as if Christmas had come early. Sure, it wasn't really anything the Order could use, but to know that a purist -- a Lestrange had an illegitimate child? The wheels in his head were already turning, thinking of ways he might be able to use this bit of information against Marius. He wondered if the Averys knew about this at all... and what scandal Remus could stir up if they didn't. For a moment, he thought he might have difficulty holding back a grin, but he found it was much easier not to smile when Genevieve pressed him back against the wall, nearly jumping out of his skin when he felt her fingers slip underneath his tunic.
He laughed nervously, and gently attempted to guide her hands out from under his top. "Yes, you're very lovely. I am shocked that Marius would choose someone else when he could have you. Perhaps there is still time to convince him to leave with you?" Remus suggested, even though that from what he understood, getting out of arranged marriages wasn't as simple as that. "When is the wedding going to be?"
Genevieve was not used to men denying her affections, after all, even Marius tended to allow that much, and so when Remus began to guide her hands she misunderstood. It seemed to her he was intending for her to take things further, and she was more than willing to oblige. She allowed him to move her hands out from under his shirt, only to occupy them immediately with undoing his pants.
"It is his father," she said icily, her cool words completely disconnected from the heat of her hands. "It is England. France is not good enough for him anymore. I am not good enough for him anymore," she said, her voice wavering ever so slightly. The pain of that thought shot through her like a lightening bolt and to silence it she pressed her lips to his, forgetting his question about the wedding entirely. She was hurting and she needed to be numb, and this was as good a way as any to lose yourself.
Remus might have felt bad for her situation if it were anyone else other than Marius. Not marrying for love was baffling to him; he couldn't imagine marrying someone for any other reason than that. Of course, he didn't have the time to think about feeling bad, because suddenly her hands were trying to unzip his trousers and Remus nearly yelped in surprise. He attempted to pull away from her, but the wall pressed against his back stopped him, and he was trapped; then her lips were against his own, and Remus had to stop this immediately. Somehow. Without offending her, and still getting her to talk. He gripped her shoulders and pushed her back gently. "Someone -- someone could see us," Remus attempted to explain himself, trying to think of a way to get her back on the subject again.
Genevieve laughed, distracted and genuinely amused.
"That is half of the point, mon cheri," she cooed. "And it would not matter if my brother found us, because he would only be glad for me to not be distracting him from the pretty English girls the French men can not seem to resist!" she added, her voice going from gentle in the beginning to bitter again by the end. "But French girls have something to offer too. I will show you," she insisted.
She grabbed Remus's wrist gently and moved as if she were pushing him away, only to shift so that his hand grazed her cleavage and she let go so that it would be resting there.
"My hotel room is close. Only a block away, and I have it all to myself. If you do not want to be seen here, I will show you much there."
Remus' face turned red nearly the second after she placed his hand on her cleavage, and he quickly pulled his hand away from her chest, placing it on her waist instead. He decided to try a new tactic and ignore her offer altogether. Or maybe just refuse. Damn -- what would Sirius do in a situation like this? No; he didn't want to know what Sirius would do. "I'm sorry, I couldn't possibly -- you're far too beautiful, I'm hardly deserving of your attention," Remus said, attempting to lay on the flattery thick. "I'm sure that you could find someone better than Marius. Maybe you could even marry before their wedding and show them both up -- depending on how soon it is?" he said, hoping she would answer for him.
Genevieve laughed, but once again, he had managed to distract her. "Before December seventh?" she asked. "It is not likely. While her brother was in Fran--" Even drunk she remembered suddenly that Aquila's presence there was supposed to be a secret and she stopped speaking momentarily. Talking about her crush on him would be pointless anyway as most of England thought he was Death Eater.
"Non... It is not possible," she sighed, "though you are very sweet to admit you are not worthy of my attentions," she added with a small giggle. "As long as you do not resist because you only like silly English cows," she said, backing off of Remus, though still letting her hand rest on his arm. After all, he was wearing a mask and maybe he was ugly and didn't want to do anything that would force him to show her. It made sense in a sweet sort of way.
"Of course not. And, after having the honour of meeting you, how could I even think about English women now?" All this false flattery made Remus want to roll his eyes; he was glad he didn't have to say such things to Marlene. Hell, he was glad he didn't have to talk like this to anyone. Then again, if this were someone else, he thought his words would definitely sound too forward to be proper. But Genevieve was far from any proper lady, even for Remus' liking. Still... there was just one last bit of information Remus wanted to try getting out of her before moving on to dance with someone else. "Why don't I get you something to drink?" He offered, even though she certainly didn't need to drink anymore. "Just wait right here for me."
Remus didn't give her a chance to reply, slipping away (and pausing to zip up his fly and buckle up his belt when he remembered they were undone) to walk back into the main ballroom. He picked up two glasses of champagne, carrying them back out -- but before he was in Genevieve's sight again, he stopped to add a single drop of Veritaserum into the glass in his left hand when he was sure no one was watching him. With her under the influence of so much alcohol on top of the truth serum, Remus didn't think he would have any difficulty getting her to answer his questions now. He smiled when he approached her, offering her the glass in his left hand. "Here."
Genevieve was more than glad to wait for Remus to return. She didn't want to enter the main ballroom again only to see Marius with his pretty little fiancee, in their ridiculous matching costumes. She thought nothing of accepting the drink from a stranger when Remus returned. Clearly he was sensible above the other men she generally associated with, because he could see her value and worth. She took a long drink, and then another. She giggled as the bubbles made her feel heady and leaned against the wall, smiling at Remus.
"I like you," she drawled lightly. "You seem different. It's too bad you're probably ugly." Her hand flew over her mouth. "Oh my! I did not mean to say that outloud!" she laughed, scandalising even herself. Where had that come from?
Remus sipped at his own glass, drinking much slower than she was. He realised he wasn't quite sure how long it would take for the Veritaserum to take effect, but as it turned out, he didn't have to wait for too long. Remus nearly choked on his champagne, but he attempted to cover it up with a small laugh; he certainly hadn't expected that. At least now he knew the potion was working. "It's quite alright," Remus assured her with a friendly smile. He didn't want her to think he'd been offended and try to walk away just yet. "But I am honoured that you like me. Unfortunately, as it is a masquerade, I can't remove my mask so that you could judge how I really look for yourself."
He tried to think of a way to subtly ask where the wedding was being held so that it wouldn't seem too obvious, even if she was drugged with Veritaserum (and, for that matter, alcohol). Still, it didn't hurt to be careful. "Forgive me if this is too forward, but where is the wedding being held? If you'd like, it would be my honour to escort you. A woman as beautiful as yourself shouldn't have to go alone; although, I doubt you would have much difficulty finding someone else that you know to go with." Remus could hardly wait for the masquerade to be over; he never wanted to have to speak so properly again. Unfortunately, there was still much of the night left before he could leave.
"The Bellevue Hotel, in Lausanne, Switzerland," she replied automatically. "Oh... I'm not supposed to tell anyone that," she added quickly, unsure why she kept blurting things out. "I believe I have had too much to drink monsieur... your offer is very kind, but could you help me to a seat?" she asked. She suddenly felt very dizzy as the effect of the alcohol continued to mount.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realise it was meant to be a secret. I won't ask anymore questions." Besides, he had all the information he needed. Remus was tempted to be cruel, to leave Genevieve out here alone and go search for Marlene, but he decided not to. He couldn't predict how she would react, and it would be better just to take her to her seat. "I can do that." Remus offered his arm to her to hold on to, and he helped her walk back into the ballroom, leading her to the closest seat he could find so she didn't have to walk very far. "Just rest here, and I'll bring you some water," he said, and he walked away from her, although he had no intention of returning.
Rodolphus and Marlene Undue harassment from relatives was an occasion Dolph had no reason to feel surprise at, but that lack of surprise tended only to aggravate his irritation at the interference, not lessen it. At the moment, a paternal aunt was climbing quickly into his bad graces, for she'd not only interrupted him whilst reading a rather intriguing book, but interrupted it to inform him waspishly that he was supposed to ask women to dance. He'd thought Bellatrix's absence would preclude him from such social demands, but Eudora Lestrange would hear none of it, shooing him off toward the dance floor and yanking his book from his hands to put it back upon the table. He didn't bother objecting since he doubted dear Aunt Eudora would have any compunction with making a very public scene, even in the thick of their colleagues.
It was difficult to blend in with a crowd when he was at least half a foot taller than most of them - and a whole foot taller than the rest, but Dolph ambled off until he spotted someone standing alone and looking - if one could glean an expression from behind a mask - somewhat lost. Perhaps her date was out on the dance floor - he didn't care. If he could just get one dance over with he could go back to sitting down and being left alone for five seconds. A sort of sigh escaped his lips, and he stepped forward.
"May I have the pleasure of this dance?" He rather impressively managed to sound as if he was truly interested, rather than fulfilling some duty to propriety that his stupid sister seemed to find necessary.
Marlene had been waiting rather impatiently for Remus to finish... whatever it was he was trying to accomplish with Frenchy's slutty French friend, bracing herself to her spot near the wall to keep herself from running up and peeling the nasty skank away from her boyfriend. But if there was a reason behind it, if it was something for the Order, Marlene knew that she simply had to deal with it. Besides, she could spend this time trying to scope out other Death Eaters, trying to pick them out between the rest of the masked masses.
As it turned out, one came up to her instead. And Marlene wanted to pee herself knowing who it was.
She stopped cold in her spot, completely freezing up at the sound of Rodolphus Lestrange's voice. Oh god. Oh god he knew it was her and he was going to finish what he'd started the last time and was going to get revenge for what Sirius had done to Bellatrix and she was going to be sick. She glanced over to where she'd last spotted Remus... who had unfortunately disappeared to somewhere else on the dance floor with Genevieve. Wonderful. Looking back up at Rodolphus again -- Merlin was she thankful that they'd decided to use eye colour changing glamour charms -- she curtsied and nodded, taking a deep breath to force herself to calm down. She could do this. This could be their chance to get Rodolphus caught for being the murdering bastard he was. "Yes, of course," Marlene nodded, brushing her temporarily black hair back behind her ears and moving towards him. "My husband would hate for me to be bored while he humours a few of our friends, after all," she smiled, hoping that somewhere in his head that translated to "and if you even think about trying anything, bucko, my boyfriend will totally kick your arse."
Rodolphus nodded in a way he hoped made him look interested, completely oblivious to whatever explosion of nerves Marlene was having beneath her disguise. Offering an arm, he moved her out toward the dance floor in time for the orchestra to strike up a Viennese Waltz. Dances always seemed to skirt that fine line between impropriety and decorum, and he never felt entirely comfortable putting his hands on a woman who wasn't his wife. However, it would have been a bit rude of him to suggest they dance near each other, rather than together, so Rodolphus settled the edges of his fingers along Marlene's waist, another stretched out for her hand.
"He did not ask you to accompany him while humouring?" This was the worst part - the idle conversation. Luckily most women seemed content to rattle off small-talk to their heart's content.
So apparently one major benefit to wearing a dress with a corset is that it kept Marlene from being able to hyperventilate from nerves, and allowed her to make sure she was able to focus on keeping herself from shaking. Or tripping. Or saying the wrong thing. Or any of the other millions of things that she was perfectly capable of making go wrong. As soon as she got her bloody nerves under control, she'd be fine. Unfortunately, it wasn't as easy thing to accomplish when one was attempting to dance and carry on a boring, purist-appropriate conversation with the person who'd killed the majority of one's family. Reaching up (and up, and up) to his shoulders, Marlene let the edge of her fingers sit there lightly as she tried not to think about how incredibly awkward and terrifying this was. It was like being a firstie at a Hogwarts dance, only a million times worse.
"Well, not this time. A few of them came without dates, but didn't want to leave the masquerade without having gotten to dance with someone," she explained. It was getting a bit easier, the blatant lying about who she was and how she'd grown up and what she'd been doing at the dance thusfar. Now she just needed one of the Order members doing the pickpocketing to see them -- and how hard would that be ANYWAY, he had to be taller than most of the people there! -- so that they could get the Portkey on him, and everything would be all set. Right? Right.
Several clockwise turns later and Rodolphus was already growing immensely bored. It wasn't that his dance partner was particularly terrible - in fact, she was a nice dancer, if a little rough around the edges - but he couldn't abide attempting to exchange social pleasantries with complete strangers. It occurred to him to try to place her voice, for there was something very slightly off-kilter about the accent, but he couldn't quite bring himself to care enough to make an effort. Probably some fullblood or pure family from the corners of the family tree.
"That's very generous of him." Disinterest leaked through his tone despite his best efforts, and Rodolphus made no great effort to change the subject. He wished Bellatrix was here. At the very least because he'd have someone to dance with with whom he was actually comfortable, and at the most because he enjoyed her company. But she was at home, ill, demanding he show up for the sake of appearances. He was very close to damning the appearances, though he'd at least finish this dance first. No point in being rude to his partner.
"He's a very generous guy." Oh hell, did the purist call men guys? What would've been better? Bloke? Fellow? Man? Probably man. Oh Merlin, she'd blown it. He was going to realise that something was up. Marlene forced herself to stop panicking over her diction-slip, hoping he wasn't paying enough attention to catch something as small as that had been. It would have been even more generous if her "husband" would bloody find them and get her out of this situation, or if the song would end, or something. And where were the people with the portkeys?! They were missing a prime opportunity here. Marlene found herself wishing that they would have given the dancers some of the portkeys too, so she could just FLING the stupid thing at him and take off to the bathroom, but considering she was having a hard enough time dealing with simply reaching his shoulders, that would've been nearly impossible to handle. "Knowing him, he stopped off at the punch bowl for a moment. I would not be surprised."
"Mhm." Dear Lord, he was dancing with someone from the lower class. Resisting the urge to drop her on the floor and flee to his books, Rodolphus did another turn, fingers loosening perceptibly around her waist until he was practically guiding her with only his fingertips. It was a bit pathetic, he thought, the way that some people tried to pretend they were above their station; he'd been fooled by her dress, but he supposed anyone could have money. It was demeanour and education that separated the princes from the swine - and this girl... clearly not the former. "Perhaps you'd like to go join him." It wasn't really a question.
FUCK. Fuck fuck fuck shit fuck he'd CAUGHT IT, DAMMIT. It was ONE STUPID WORD and she'd completely blundered it all up. Wonderful. Good going, Marlene McKinnon, you failure. "Oh, I don't drink myself, but perhaps it would be best if I did find out where he's gone to," she agreed, scanning the room quickly for any sign of one of the pickpocketers, knowing his was possibly their last opportunity to get one of the portkeys on him (unless, by chance, he asked someone else in the Order to dance). Quietly resigning herself to the fact that it wasn't going to happen, Marlene brought her hands down and smoothed the front of her dress. "Thank you for the dance, sir," she said quietly, feeling sick to her stomach both over the fact that she'd screwed up and that she had to address bloody Rodolphus Lestrange like that so that she didn't mess up their stupid purist decorum again.
Remus and Marlene Marlene felt like she was going to be sick. She wandered away from where she'd danced with the man who'd tortured her, murdered her parents, catnapped the family pet in a daze, wringing her hands together as she moved to one of the seats lined up against the wall, not sure if she was about to cry or throw up. Possibly both. What if he'd known it was her, and not just some random girl with bad grammar. What if he was coming back with reinforcements? Not that he needed them, but...
At one point someone asked her to dance. She didn't hear them, and after a few moments the man walked away, probably convinced she was insane or deaf. She wasn't sure where Remus was, but she hoped that he was having better luck than she was.
It was unfortunate for Marlene that Remus had been otherwise preoccupied with Genevieve; he would have much rather been out on the dance floor and available to rescue Marlene from dancing with Rodolphus, had he known the situation she was in. After he finally managed to get away from Genevieve, leaving her sitting in a chair with the promise of bringing her some water and then never returning, he had moved away to the complete opposite side of the dance floor. It was here that he began to look for other women who could possibly be targets for tonight, only to spot Marlene instead, and judging by her posture, something seemed off. Remus made his way over to her, ignoring the other people for now to take the seat beside her. "Athena?"
Oh right, Athena was her tonight, that was right. It took a second for Marlene to remember this fact, although she recognised Remus's voice immediately. She felt a surge of relief fly through her as he sat down next to her and tried to calm herself down. It wouldn't do either of them any good for her to have a meltdown at the middle of the masquerade. "I think I fu- messed up," she whispered quietly enough so that only Remus would hear.
"Messed up? What happened?" Remus asked, keeping his voice just as quiet. He briefly considered asking her if she wanted to step outside to talk, but after a quick glance around, there didn't seem to be anyone close enough to overhear them talked so long as they kept their voices down. Besides that, the music would help drown them out as well.
"It's so stupid! I just said guy instead of man and he knew that something was wrong and I was faking and I don't know if he knew that I was me or if I was just some person who wasn't one of them and it was just one word and I want to go home, I'm not good at this and I'm going to screw everything up when everyone's worked so hard and... you smell like a french whore, what the hell," she finally looked up, distracted from her self-deprecating rambling.
"I -- what?" Remus blinked, taken off guard by the sudden change in topic. He could smell the French perfume too, of course, but he supposed he hadn't realised it was that strong (even if, at the time, he was amazing he hadn't gagged when she was so close to him earlier). "Don't worry about it. There are many people here who aren't like them; the masquerade is open to the public, so the chance of whoever you danced with guessing it was you is slim."
"It was Gigantor," she replied, the words barely audible even to herself.
"... you danced with him?" Remus asked, after taking a moment to register that, yes, Marlene had danced with Rodolphus Lestrange. "Why? There are other people who could have done it."
"He asked; I'm not allowed to say no because of those fuc-- dumb rules where girls aren't allowed to decline, and I didn't know where you were and I thought it would seem more suspicious if I did say no and I couldn't find Pepper or Emmeline or Alana in time and I'm so stupid; we maybe could've gotten him and ... did someone make out with your shirt?"
"You could've said no," Remus replied. "He would've been fully aware that not everyone here at the dance knew their rules about these parties. You could have gone to get someone else to dance with him after that, or at least described what he looked like to the others... what do you mean, make out with my shirt?"
Marlene opened her mouth to argue that no, no she couldn't have, that she had needed to try... only to shut it again, remaining silent. He was right, and now the chance they had at nabbing Lestrange was gone because she'd been so caught up in her thoughts and her panic that she hadn't thought things through. She sighed, her breath coming out heavy and shaken as she folded her arms across her middle, leaning forward and letting her hair fall in her face. "I- I thought that..."
That was as far as she got. She didn't know what she'd thought. Perhaps it'd been some twisted concoction about avenging her family and obtaining justice and righting wrongs. Not that whatever it had been mattered now. "You've uh, got lipstick all over you. If you wanted to go for the drag look you should've let me know. I could've helped."
"Drag... I wasn't --" it had actually taken Remus a moment to realise what Marlene meant, and he quickly tried to wipe the lipstick off with his hand. Shit. He should have stopped to look in a mirror; it didn't occur to him that she might have gotten lipstick on his face. He wasn't sure if he should try to explain himself or wait until she actually asked, but it was situations like these that Remus normally spent too much time trying to think of what to do next, anyway. "Um, did I get it all?" he asked, trying not to sound as guilty as he felt.
The reality of the situation really didn't occur to Marlene. The idea that Remus would've gotten assaulted by some mad french woman and her out-of-season lipstick seemed completely implausible to Marlene; no, it seemed much more likely that he had accidentally wandered into the ladies room and been attacked by purses and tubes of makeup. But. Considering Remus's face was turning the same shade of Ravishing Red that was on the collar of his costume and his cheek, Marlene had a feeling that maybe that wasn't the way things had gone down.
Although he probably would have been embarrassed as hell over that, too.
"Almost," she noted, considering licking her thumb for a second to rub it off. Deciding that was gross, she vanished the drink that'd been sitting in the goblet on the table next to her, filled it with water, and used that instead, wiping the rest of the smudge off his face. "All set."
Remus nearly breathed a sigh of relief when she didn't ask why, exactly, he had lipstick on his face. "Thank you," he said, hoping that this would never be spoken of again. Although, when he told the Order the information he managed to get... well, he would just have to hope she didn't put two and two together. Why did it matter so much, anyway? It wasn't as if he had done anything wrong. She had kissed him, so it wasn't his fault. "I suppose we should be getting back to the party, then," Remus suggested, standing up. "Will you be alright?" he asked, not wanting to leave her alone if she was still upset.
If Marlene would've known what Remus was thinking (and if she'd been in a better mood), she would have patted him on the head and told him it was cute that he thought that this was never going to come up again. But now was not the time. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Just kinda shaken up and pissed at myself," she explained, giving him a half smile. "I uh. I know I'm not supposed to ask, but since I've already blundered things up once tonight, would you like to dance?"
He smiled a little in return and said, "I would love to. I hope you don't mind if I skip curtsying, though. I'm afraid I never made it that far in the lessons." Remus offered his arm to her to lead her out onto the dance floor, glad that his first real dance was with someone he was comfortable with and knew he didn't have to put on a show for. He placed a hand on her waist once they joined the other dancers, guiding her across the floor in a slow dance. "I think I've gotten a little better at this since the last time we danced."
"You've gotten wonderful at this," she smiled at him, moving in closer and resting her head on his shoulder as they danced slowly across the floor (the shoulder that wasn't covered in whore paint, thank you very much). "And look, I'm not stepping on anyone's feet, or tripping down stairs, or knocking over waiters causing them to spill red wine onto rich ladies in white dresses... Maybe tonight isn't a total failure."
Remus was tempted to tease her and tell her the night was still young, but the last thing he wanted to do was make her nervous, especially so early on in the night. "You're doing very well. I'm glad we have time for at least one dance for ourselves. And once tonight is over, we can start to discuss the wedding." He wanted to tell her the date Sirius had suggested, but he didn't want to discuss that where people might overhear them talking. But they could talk about that tomorrow; for now, he was just going to enjoy this dance with his fiance.