MASQUERADE PART THREE 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
Gaius and Jacqueline After her rather unpleasant dance with Demetrius, Jacqueline had left the floor once again, in need of another drink to cool her temper. She was about half-way through her second glass of champagne when her reason returned and she realized that skirting the line of intoxication was probably not the best way for her to act at an event such as this. Just because any common riff raff could attend didn't mean she should act like them. With a sigh, she set her flute down and smoothed back an imaginary loose lock of hair, though it remained as perfectly styled in a relaxed up sweep as it had been when she arrived. Pressing a cool hand against her warmed cheek, she took another deep breath and calmed, suddenly determined to let someone such as Demetrius Mulciber to ruin her perfectly lovely mood on this perfectly lovely evening.
From across the room, Gaius was making his way toward the champagne. He wasn't accustomed to large debacles and this was proving to be one of the most socially awkward evenings of his life. He knew many of the people and could speak easily enough to them, but something about being surrounded by people in fancy costumes and not always being able to tell who he was speaking to was very disarming.
When he saw Jacqueline standing near the table, he paused. He almost decided to turn and walk away, reasoning that he would simply get a drink later and avoid an encounter that might make his entire night officially awkward. But he was thirsty and no girl was going to keep him from doing what he wanted to do. So he set his jaw and walked straight over to the table, acting like he hadn't noticed her standing there.
She might not have recognized him in his black attire and mask if it weren't for the distinct stockiness of his build, and those wide shoulders that no one else she knew who could afford so finely tailored clothes possessed. For a brief moment, she rolled her eyes skyward, as if wondering what whichever spiteful god was tormenting her this evening might throw in her path next. Then she looked back at him, her eyes catching his for a brief moment before looking away. If he wanted a drink, that was all well and good, but the earth would swallow her whole before she initiated conversation with him again. Nervously, her hand moved to her waist, fingering the delicate fabric roses there, as she prayed to be intercepted by her sister or Regulus.
Taking a flute from the table, Gaius waited until he was sure that she was looking in another direction before letting himself look at her. It took him only a moment to decide that she looked very pretty in her red dress and her hair swept back. It had probably taken her hours to get ready, he thought to himself. It occurred to him that it might actually be Julianne that he was looking at and not Jacqueline, in which case it might seem very rude for him not to say something, even though he knew her even less than her sister.
It took him another few long, awkward moments to muster the courage to say something. Clearing his throat, he leaned a little closer to ask, "What are you supposed to be?" before turning to stand next to her, pretending that he was more interested in what everyone else was doing than actually hearing her answer.
Oh damn, now he was talking to her. Steeling herself, she turned her head in his direction, trying very hard not to look him in the eye again. His dismissal of her earlier that month had hurt her deeply, and the feeling had only been exacerbated in the interim by Demetrius' constant taunting. Her fingers picked more furiously at the embellishment under her bust before she realized that it was most indelicate for a lady to appear so outwardly vexed and mastered herself, letting her hand drop to her side.
Really, he looked quite handsome in his costume, despite it's plainness. She was rather surprised he didn't have a trail of less-moralistic women following him around the floor. "An imp." She answered simply, her eyes still fixed below his mouth demurely.
"You don't look very much like an imp," he said, determinedly not looking at her. As far as he was concerned, her answer confirmed that it was Jacqueline and not her sister - given the way they'd left things off a few weeks earlier, he'd expected a cold reception. "The imps I've seen look more like rodents."
"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint." She replied, stopping herself from adding an "again." Despite her best efforts and her usual tight grip on her emotions, there was a barely detectable raw edge in her voice. If their paths had crossed earlier in the evening rather than after her dance with Demetrius, she probably would have had better control of herself and the situation.
She found herself wishing that she had decided to finish that second glass of champagne--liquid courage would have served her just then.
As it was, Gaius had finished his glass of champagne and was seriously considering taking another for himself just then. "It's nothing to be sorry about," he said, somewhat sheepishly. "I just meant that you don't look like a rodent. It's a good thing." You look nice. But he wasn't at a point where he wanted to actually say that to her. Not yet, at least.
She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well, uh. Thank you, then." Unconsciously, her fingers brushed along her hair again, a nervous gesture. If it had been loose she probably would have run her hand through it.
"You're welcome," he answered, relenting and trading his empty glass in for a full one. Now he was at the awkward juncture where he had no idea what to say to her. He could simply leave and go find some one else to talk to or he could stay and attempt small talk or he could even apologise - not that he felt like he'd done anything wrong but it might relieve some of the tension between them. Unfortunately, Gaius was not one for swallowing his pride on any pretense, so he cleared his throat and folded his arms across his chest, spouting the first empty question that came to mind. "So, how are you?"
Her eyes met his then in a moment of curiosity; why did he insist on this pretense of small talk when he had made it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with her? She wondered if she should relieve him of any obligation he might feel to engage her simply because she was standing alone. "I'm well, having a lovely time. How are you?"
"Well. Also having a lovely time," he said. "You never asked what I was supposed to be." Normally he would have grinned at her or shown some sign that he was only fooling, but he was a little too stricken to do much of anything besides stand up straight and wait for a good opportunity to leave, since he doubted that this conversation would end well in the direction that it was going.
The edge of childishness in that question, the desire to reveal his costumes secret meaning was so charming that, despite herself, she found herself smiling. A pause, then she looked him over dramatically. "A highwayman?"
"What's that?" He glanced down at her, brows furrowed.
"A robber? One who holds up and robs carriages?"
"Oh," he said, taking a moment to process what she'd said. He supposed he could pass for something like that, but it hadn't been his intention. "No, I am not a highwayman."
She tried for a simpler concept this time, smiling a bit as his endearing denseness. "Pirate?"
He laughed shortly and shook his head. "No, I am not a thief of any kind."
"Are you...um, you in black clothing and a mask?"
"Yes, that is exactly what I am," he said with a small smirk. Even if Jacqueline could be more frustrating than many of the people he'd met in the past, there were times when he appreciated her wit. "How did you guess?"
"I think I know you at least well enough to figure out how your mind works." She said, returning his smirk.
"If I didn't know you, I'd think that was kind of strange," he said, looking at her with a blunt expression.
She cocked an eyebrow behind her mask. What a queer statement. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It would be an invasion of my mind's personal space," he said, knowing that this was a stupid conversation on his part, but it was better than discussing certain other things that he was dreading might come up.
She blinked, cocking her head to the side. "You are so odd." She said, bewildered, before she could stop herself.
"Says the girl who reads everything that some mental dead guys say." He raised his eyebrows at her, hoping that she would understand that he was only teasing and not actually insulting her. It seemed as though he might be walking a thin line, depending on how she reacted to him, even though things seemed to be going well enough.
"Says the boy who couldn't be arsed to figure out those mental dead guys." She said, smiling despite herself. Unbidden, she was remembering what it was about Gaius she had found the most attractive: his plain-spoken nature, his simpleness, his teasing and, at least when he was around her in person, his eagerness to please.
"They made my head hurt," he said. "I don't think there's any shame in not wanting to hurt myself trying to figure out what they actually mean. I mean, if they meant to say, 'don't be an arrogant sow', why couldn't they have simply said that?" He shrugged, indicating that he had given up wondering about it when he'd given up reading about them.
A tender smile, and her hand moved to rest on his arm before she stopped herself. "I think you can be forgiven, given that you only attempted them to please a girl."
"Well, even that didn't work," he said, not without a bitter edge to his voice.
"That's not true." She replied, quietly.
"Could have fooled me," he said with a shrug before occupying himself with consuming what was left in his champagne flute.
"Gaius, I..." she trailed off, frowning. Demetrius had made her promise that she wouldn't tell Gaius what he had told her, but her anger over it had caused such a deep rift between them. This time, her hand did come to rest lightly on his upper arm, the set of her mouth earnest. "I was very pleased."
His gaze snapped immediately down to where her hand had touched him. Before he even heard her words, he glanced around to make sure that no one had been watching them. Since what had happened between them in Diagon, he'd become far more aware of how things might look to others. Slowly, he moved his arm away, hoping that she wouldn't really notice. "Well, if you say so."
She did notice, and her hand dropped away from him, her eyes darting away from his before he could see how hurt she was. "Yes, well."
"Well," he said and then paused. She made him nervous and that was something that he both liked and disliked about being in her presence - while being nervous wasn't exactly a new feeling, this variety of nervousness was fairly unfamiliar. He had simply no idea how to act around a woman, particularly one who was far more intelligent than he was.
"Look," he began and then stopped himself. He sighed and shifted and glanced around - anything he could do to stall having to actually say something he wasn't completely sure if he wanted to say. Finally, he decided to ignore his reservations and hope that she wouldn't be offended. "Do you want to dance?"
She raised her eyes again, brow furrowed behind her mask as she stopped herself from replying sarcastically and getting into another fight. He looked sincere, but the part of her that was still tender from his rejection sought an ulterior motive. Biting her lip, she forced herself to take the risk. "Well, yes. I mean, if you'd like to...still."
"Well, I asked, didn't I?" He probably sounded a bit more harsher than he'd intended, but he didn't want to seem as though he'd been waiting all evening to ask her or anything she might think was 'adorable' or otherwise unmanly.
"Well, it's not the first time you've done so, is it?" She replied, equally toned. Despite his preferences, she still found him rather adorable. He was very clearly out of his element around her. "I was just making sure you meant it this time." She tried to keep her voice light, to show she was merely teasing.
"I mean it," he said, preventing himself from addressing the first thing she'd said. There was no point in starting an argument - unless she started it first, in which case, he would only defend himself, but it wasn't really an appropriate setting for such things, so he resolved that he would try not to say anything else that might be upsetting. Of course, a dance was a long time to be in such close proximity to some one who seemed to know exactly which buttons to press, and keeping the peace might be easier said than done.
"I hoped so." She replied, her voice soft again. She wasn't interested in pushing his buttons tonight; it was lovely enough that they were managing to speak civilly, and that he had asked her to dance. Despite herself, she was beginning to feel the stirrings of her attraction to him--she wasn't entirely certain whether or not this was a good thing.
When the previous song ended, she held out her hand for him to take so that he could lead her to the floor. She had decided, for the next few minutes at least, to be perfectly submissive.
Gaius took her hand and led her to a clear area on the dance floor where he turned to face her, holding his hands in the appropriate positions. Fortunately, dancing was one of the things his mother had insisted he learn before she died. He wasn't entirely confident - it had been a long time since he'd ever had to use his little knowledge of formal dancing, but he hoped that it would come back to him quickly.
The hand in his remained there while the other came to rest on his shoulder, perhaps less lightly than it would have on another man. Still, her steps followed his gracefully, and she let him lead her without hesitation. In truth, she was a bit muddled to have him this close to her, with the feel of the fabric of his shirt under her hand, even if they were in a room full of people.
He also felt uneasy being so close to her. He couldn't deny that he fancied her on some level and had to admit to himself that she looked even better than 'nice' this evening - she was beautiful. But he tried not to focus too much on that, lest he lose count and step on her foot or something as disastrous.
"What do people talk about when they dance?" he asked, trying to distract himself.
"Politics, religion, money." She said, smiling up at him as she named the three most taboo topics in polite society. Making a joke was a lot more comfortable for her than focusing on the relative proximity of their mouths to one another at this point--she would have her arm torn off by a Hypogryff before she kissed him first again.
He laughed a little and stopped abruptly, almost having missed a step. "Sorry," he said, grinning after he'd regained his footing. "I thought this was supposed to be a fun evening."
She smiled brightly, unable to hide her pleasure at having made him laugh. "Why, are you having fun?"
"No, I am," he said, "but I'm not sure how much fun I'd be having if I had to talk about politics, religion or money."
"You're having fun with me? I suppose miracles are possible." She said, smiling at him again. The hand that was joined with his moved slightly, as if she had meant to squeeze it but had decided against it.
His gaze flickered over their hands but he decided against mentioning it. He was probably imagining things. "Do your dead men say that miracles are possible?"
"Many of them do, yes." She gave him another smile before casting her eyes downward again, trying very hard to appear as demure and non-threatening as possible.
"Then maybe it's true," he said, looking over her shoulder to make sure they wouldn't run into another couple of costume-clad dancers. The masks made it a little harder to see.
She let a few moments pass in silence, simply following his lead as her steps moved in time to the music. Her head was full of thoughts she didn't quite want to acknowledge, and it was like a cacophony in her brain. Finally, she exhaled, trying to push all the negativity out of her, then raised her eyes to meet his again. "Gaius, I...I'm sorry about what happened."
He lowered his eyes to meet her gaze, trying to gauge the level of seriousness in what she was saying. After a moment, he sighed and moved his head to look down between them but, realizing what was there, he quickly looked back up at her. "I'm sorry, too," he said quickly, his neck growing steadily redder at the reminder that he was dancing with a woman.
She flushed at that too, though she knew that it had been inadvertent. She knew the dress displayed her...assets to their best advantage while still remaining within the lines of modesty, but she hadn't expected them to be admired from that short of a distance. "I've missed you." She confessed, realizing there was really no need for feigning discretion once he had practically put his head between her breasts.
Swallowing harshly, Gaius continued to stare at a point over her shoulder. Jacqueline made him feel conflicted - she wasn't at all what he was looking for in a girl or even what he needed but there was something he liked about her and drew him to her. His mother would have said that it was 'sinful lust talking' and she may have been right, but Gaius, too, knew what was best for him.
"I've missed you, as well," he said, meeting her gaze.
This time, she didn't drop her eyes. Her lips pulled into a shy half-smile, a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest. She didn't know what she was meant to do or say just then, only certain that she was very, very pleased.
"Why don't we make an agreement," he began, "to get along from now on?"
"I think I can manage that."
"Good," he said, smiling at her from behind his mask. "I think that will make things much easier."
She met his smile in kind. "Oh? What sort of things?" She asked, her voice teasing and curious. She honestly had no idea whether he simply intended to be friendly or if he wished to renew their bizarre, pseudo-flirtation
His expression wavered from the nervousness induced by her question but he managed to maintain the smile, though it was not without an edge of hesitation. Speaking to girls was never as easy or straightforward as speaking to most of his male peers. "You know," he said lamely. "Talking and things."
"Things?" She asked, hiding a smirk. It really was funny that he considered it difficult to speak to her, when she would have appreciated him being a bit more straightforward with her in general.
"Interacting," he said. "Just in general."
"In general, of course." The wicked part of her wanted to continue to goad him, wanted to probe him for weaknesses until he simply told her how he was feeling, but she had learned the lesson that such directness didn't exactly sit well with him.
He nodded in confirmation before clearing his throat, searching for something else to say. Each time he felt as though he was finally getting his conversational footing, she had to go and deflate him. Knowing that she was cleverer than he was and that she seemed able to see through most of what he said to what he was actually thinking made it hard to sustain any amount of boldness he was able to conjure in her presence.
"So...why an imp?" He was grasping at straws and hoped she wouldn't notice, although he was fairly certain that she would.
His question brought a smile to her face, but not at his expense. "Oddly enough, when I went shopping with Anzhelina I went mad for the design of this dress and decided to simply construct a costume around it--I was feeling a bit devilish so an imp seemed appropriate. Then tonight I find out that my sister, who has been keeping her costume a secret, has dressed as an angel. How funny is that?"
He laughed, though it was a bit more restrained that he had been before. He wondered why she had been feeling devilish, but would not ask. He wasn't sure that he would like the answer - sadly, he still had his doubts about her. "You're sure you didn't plan that out?" he asked teasingly.
"Very sure. The twin thing, it's odd. Julianne and I end up doing the complete opposite of each other without realizing it just as often as we end up doing the same thing."
"It must have been nice growing up with a twin," he said.
She nodded. "It was. When we were younger, we used to rely on each other for everything--we did all the normal twin things, had our own language, switched places, the lot of it. But we were always different, and it's really started to become apparent lately."
"How so?" he asked, cocking his head slightly to one side as he looked at her. He wasn't surprised to hear her say that they were different, but he was curious as to what had happened lately that had made it apparent.
"She reacts to things emotionally where I try to act logically. I think she can be too soft-hearted and she thinks I can be too calculating." And we both consider the other to be a hypocrit.
He nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it doesn't get much more opposite than that."
"Not really, no." She moved the hand on his shoulder absently, readjusting. "Though now, of course, that she's getting married, it matters less."
He raised his eyebrows at her. "Why would that change anything?"
"Well, she'll be leaving soon."
"Oh," he said. Of course. "You be looking forward to it." He knew that he'd be anxious if his sister ever finally left. Although, he would probably miss having her around to perform the womanly duties in the house, since he and his father were completely useless when it came to anything domestic.
Her brow furrowed, her expression registering surprise. "No...I'd...I'd miss her. I'm going to miss her."
He considered her expression for a moment, unsure how to respond. "Well, aside from that..."
"Aside from what?"
"Missing her," he said, though hesitantly, as though it were obvious.
"I don't really know. I suppose it will be my turn after that."
He nodded but said nothing. It wasn't a topic he wished to discuss further, given whatever had happened - or almost happened - between them. Instead he focused on the dance, straightening his back and standing at his full height as he switched up the steps, smirking in the meantime at the prospect of catching Jacqueline off guard.
She blinked, hesitating as she nearly stumbled. There was really no reason for him to switch the steps mid-dance unless he was trying to make her miss her footing, but she didn't say anything about it, and at the next beat she was back to following him gracefully.
Furrowing his brows, the smirk disappeared from his face. For her not to have said anything at all must have meant that she was upset and Gaius was bad enough at talking to women, let alone a woman who was upset. "Um," he said, clearing his throat. "Are you all right?"
Another look of surprise. "Of course, why wouldn't I be?" She asked, her tone genuinely confused. She had thought his deliberate misstep had been just another move in their elaborate game of dominance--it was nothing to get upset over.
"I don't know," he said with a shrug. He wasn't going to push her into talking about anything, particularly since if he did try to and there really wasn't anything wrong, he would feel pretty stupid. "Never mind."
Now it was her turn to feel awful for the dejected look on his face. "Gaius..." She said, her voice little more than a whisper.
"What?" he asked, adjusting his hand on her hip.
Her eyes dropped to where his hand met her body, almost wanting to frown at the frustration she didn't understand that she was feeling. Was it really possible she was so affected by him and he remained cool? It was almost unthinkable. She looked back up at him, unsure what to say. Did he really not know how she felt?
"Are you sure you're alright?" He fixed her with a doubtful look, concerned with the way she'd gone quiet in the last few minutes. Sometimes he'd given anything to be a mind-reader.
If he had been a mind-reader, he likely would have been scandalized. Well, at least then he'd know that these thoughts were new to her, and stop with his silly puritanical doubt of her purity. "Yes, of course. I just..." she pressed her lips together, thinking. "...like dancing with you." She finished lamely.
"I like dancing with you too," he said with a relieved half-laugh. He doubted that was all that was on her mind but at the same time, kind of wished that it was - it would be simpler than some other explanation.
And here she was at an impasse. Her dominant nature wanted to kiss him and damn the consequences, but there was no way that would end well for either of them. If she wanted their relationship to continue and flourish, she would have to be as demure and chaste as she could possibly be. That seemed to be the only way to get his attention. Lowering her eyes from his, she found herself murmuring "O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?" in a voice so soft he might have missed it.
"What was that?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her half accusingly and half inquisitively.
She looked up again, eyes half hidden in her mask. "The song is ending."
"So it is," he said, deciding just to let her previous question go without any further comment. He slowed down the steps and slowly dropped his arms. "Thank you for the dance."
She stepped back from him, making a graceful curtsy, one hand holding her skirt to the side as she bowed her head to him--a show of obedience. "You honour me, Gaius."
At the same time, he offered her a small bow. "I'm glad we had this conversation."
She straightened but kept her head slightly bowed, eyes downcast. "I am as well."
He stood up straight glanced around the large room awkwardly. It was about time for another drink at this point. "Well, enjoy the rest of your evening."
It took a lot of willpower not to smirk. He was uncomfortable whens he was assertive and even more so when she was demure. "You as well," she said, then her eyes met his with a hint of a secretive smile. "Gaius."
"Miss Wilkes," he returned, not noticing anything abnormal about the way she'd said his name. With that, he turned and slowly departed in the direction of the champagne. He was proud of himself for having gotten through that without making too much of a fool of himself but there were still more opportunities waiting him.
Aquila and Veronica She was having a wonderful time. Any chance to be active and continually moving was a happy time for Veronica (except running away from Muggles with guns). She had no reason to decline dances because she ought to look as though she needed to rest, and so she was accepting everyone that offered, unless their demeanor made her wonder if they really were a proper person for her to dance with. She had managed to figure out Demetrius (he was easy) as well as several other friends, but she hadn't found everyone out. Still, the night was young.
Her throat was dry and so she reached out to grab a goblet of something from a passing staff, but the staff moved faster than she did, and so instead of wrapping her fingers around the glass, her hand hit the shoulder of a man nearby.
"Goodness! I'm ever so sorry," she said, gasping and taking a step back. She was lucky she hadn't hit the goblet and spilt it on him.
It was very strange to be here among so many people and be unknown among them. That lady he just danced with had no idea who he was and that he was on the run from the law. It was both isolating and empowering, and he decided his costume choice had been apt. He dressed simply in dark blue, but his mask was an ornate jester mask. He was playing the part of the fool this evening.
He was jolted out of his brief pause when a young lady whom he thought he recognised the voice of bumped into him on her way to getting a drink. He blinked at her and smiled, and his mask smiled with him. "It's nothing to worry about," he told her, and as the server walked briskly away, he waved his wand and a goblet came floating off of his tray and into Aquila's waiting hand. He offered it to her.
"Thank you, that was very kind," Veronica said, taking the goblet happily and smiling, her lips visible under her blue and silver mask. She took a sip of it and eyed the masked man, squinting just a little as though she would suddenly know the identity of the person in front of her. "All this dancing has me rather thirsty." She paused. "I do hope that you are able to drink through that mask, because I cannot imagine that you would find it very easy to participate in all that this masquerade offers if you could not stop for refreshment without betraying who you are."
He laughed softly. "It would be very difficult. Thankfully, despite it being a full mask, I altered it magically so that it could allow me to be heard and to drink. Tricky little spells." He watched her for a moment, struck by the familiarity of her but unable to place it. He waited for more hints. "Have you figured anyone out yet?" he asked.
"How clever of you!" Veronica said, beaming. "I chose to go for something simpler, I'm afraid, but I didn't want to chance that I wouldn't be able to speak with those I danced with. I would seem like such a quiet, unfriendly person, I'd think." She knew she had heard the voice, but what did that signify? She had made many friends at Hogwarts. Veronica took a step closer, and tried to get a good look into the eyes of the man, wondering if he was hinting that he in fact knew her.
"Several," she admitted. "But not as many as I had hoped." She had promised Aquila that she would find him and not reveal him, but she hadn't had much luck there. Hopefully he had not gotten sick during the last few days. "As for yourself, sir?"
"Well, you're probably doing much better at it than I am," Aquila said, though he wasn't sure it was true. He had been carefully examining the throng of masked individuals and thought he had at least a few pegged based on simple observation and eavesdropping. Those he got an odd feeling about, he didn't speak to. He simply couldn't risk it. Aquila knew how to feel people out; it was what he was good at. This young lady struck him as rather unthreatening, and he relaxed. He still couldn't figure out just who it was, though. He pursed his lips.
"Have you come with anyone? Your brother, perhaps?"
"Well, no, although he is here. Mr. Travers asked me at the last moment, really, and -- Oh, dear. I gave myself away so very easily just now, didn't I? But I'm sure you had already known." Veronica laughed softly, assuming that the masked man had realized who she was. She touched one of her gloved fingers to her chin. "I am rather sure that I must already know you, and thought so even before you mentioned my brother..." She looked up at him. He didn't have the body language of Gaius and wasn't nearly stock enough to be him. Certainly he was too tall for Regulus.
Not everyone at the masquerade wore a full mask like this, and so that certainly was a mark in favor of him being Aquila.
He thought for a moment. Who had Gaius come with? Aquila could not remember. He considered for a moment. This young lady was cheerful and friendly, spoke properly if quickly, and she was rather muscular. He hadn't spent very much time with Veronica Parkinson lately, but she had always been upbeat and much more built than most of the women of her year - she had even played Quidditch at one point. And she had a brother. He decided to take a bit of a chance.
"I don't suppose anyone's dressed as Jane Eyre for this masquerade. It is, after all, a Muggle book and I wouldn't want anyone getting silly ideas in their head."
"You guessed very well," she said, feeling a bit silly to have given herself away if he hadn't already known who she was.
Veronica couldn't help but laugh, even if it wasn't very loud, when he mentioned Jane Eyre. "Oh, so it is you," she said. She lifted the goblet a bit in a motion of victory. "I was beginning to think so, but I wasn't certain. Your mask is dreadfully useful, I dare say, and perfectly concealing. If you hadn't given yourself away I never would have known." She considered for a moment. "It is just a Muggle book, although it is a tremendously good one, and nobody wants to be a plain governess for a masquerade." She paused for a moment to take a sip of the drink he had acquired for her. "I don't suppose you have finished it already?"
"I haven't finished it quite yet. I'm halfway through." Aquila smiled. His gaze went toward the polished dance floor as the song ended and a new one began. He turned, all thought of the Muggle book lost temporarily. "If your brother or Gaius wouldn't mind, I'd fancy a dance with you. Will you do me the honour?" He raised his arms slightly.
"I do hope that you enjoy it completely and utterly," she said, smiling brightly. Veronica was always happy to dance, as anything that involved moving made her extremely happy. She knew that while she wasn't the most polished hostess, she was an exceptional dancer, and so she gladly took Aquila's arm. "I'm certain they wouldn't, I believe Mr. Travers is dancing with Jacqueline at the moment."
Pleased, Aquila lead her into the dance floor and began the moderate dance that would allow them to have conversation as well as enjoy moving together. "Have you started on any new books?" he asked. It seemed an easy enough topic, and it was certainly one he was used to maneuvering. After all, his best friend had been Severus for so many years, and his co-prefect Corbina Lestrange. Certainly it wasn't easy to offend a woman if you were speaking to her about books.
"Oh, certainly," said Veronica, smiling into his eyes. "I have begun another one of Charlotte Bronte's. It is called Shirley, and is more cheerful than Jane Eyre. If you do like the conclusion of Jane Eyre, I would be happy to send that one to you, as well." She moved easily, following his lead and doing the right step.
"Now, I might be making a nuisance of myself," she said, her tone still light, "But I do hope that you have taken care of that awful draft you spoke of. Although you aren't sneezing..." Her voice trailed off.
Aquila blinked once, then couldn't help but laugh, but it was one only of sheer surprise and not malice. "You remembered the draft? I'd forgotten about it completely .... only as it's so warm in here. I prefer not to think about irritating things like drafts at a masquerade." He grinned. "I appreciate your concern. I'll get it taken care of yet. You needn't fear catching a cold." He guided her gently and confidently in the dance for a few moments.
"Are you looking forward to winter?"
"Of course I remembered," said Veronica. "And, goodness, you really ought to take care of it." She shook her head at him, in playful disdain. "I think I should speak to your sister about you." She had already, of course. But he didn't need to know that. "It's the duty of a sister to take care of her unmarried brother, no matter how old and able they are."
She laughed gently. "Of course, you are right. We really ought to not speak of it here. This evening has been so very pleaseant, hasn't it?" She leaned in closer to him. "I hope that you are having a wonderful evening in society, as you do deserve it. I trust that you've danced with your sister? I believe I figured her out; her costume is lovely."
Aquila smiled bittersweetly. "Astra has another man to take care of, although I would hope she feels that both of us take care of her and not the other way around! You are hurting my pride!" His voice was soft and filled with laughter.
He was silent for a moment. "It has been lovely." He wouldn't admit that he'd gotten a strange sense of something awry, something out of place about people at the masquerade. He wouldn't worry Veronica. He would simply keep his eye out.... though it was hard to do that when he was holding conversation with a vibrant young lady. "And I've stolen her away from Marius twice now. I feel it might be unfair to ask for more and keep her from everyone else, thought of course until she is married, it's still my right!"
"Oh dear!" said Veronica, giving an over the top gasp. "I have broken the most ancient creed of sisterhood. We are to never let on that we are truly the ones taking care of our dear brothers, and not the only way around." She let out a quiet giggle. "But really, sisters do depend very much on their brothers. I don't know what I'd do without Prior. I would live with him, if I could, but I would hate to be a bother to my sister-in-law."
"She must have been very happy to be stolen away by you." Veronica twirled with the music. "And the wedding happens so soon! I cannot wait for it. I am very excited to leave England, even if it is for a very short time. And are you looking forward to it, or do you wish the days were longer?"
"Your secret is safe with me," Aquila chuckled. "No one shall know that it was you. I will pretend I came up with it on my own." He lead her to spin slightly then returned her to himself, his hand lightly on her waist and gripping her hand.
"I was always fond of winter, although it is not nearly so beautiful outside of Hogwarts, and now that I'm grown I have less opportunity to sled down hills and other such boyish nonsense." He grinned. "Although now that I'm in exile, I might see if I can indulge in foolishness. At least I know that when I have children, I'll have an excuse."
The song came to an end, and they stopped. He bowed slightly. "It was lovely to dance with you."
Veronica was pleased with Aquila's skill at dancing. He and Gaius were both skilled at the task, but she found conversation much easier with himm. As he brought up Hogwarts she couldn't help but smile, remembering her own days in Scotland. She missed flying around the school on her broom in winter when she could get away, and romping about the snow without her parents watching her. She was able to spend some time being silly out around the manor with Louis, but he tired much faster than she did and she was often afraid he'd catch cold.
"I do miss the snowball fights," she said, forgetting for a moment that it might be very unladylike to say so. She bit her lip and then just let out a soft laugh. "But don't tell my mother. I wasn't supposed to take part in them. I was a very stubborn child." She smiled at him. "I think you ought to take every advantage your situation affords. No one would ever be disappointed in you for doing so." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "Your children would be very happy to have a father willing to romp about with them, I'm certain."
Thank you, sir," Veronica said, careful to never speak his name. She curtsied to him. "The pleasure was all mine, I'm sure." She could see Gaius edging closer to them, and knew that she needed to return to her escort. Veronica gave Aquila one last wave, and then the billowing crowd had removed her from his sight.
Rodolphus and Josephine Jo, despite her light-heartedness, had kept her eye on Rodolphus's obvious form throughout the evening. He had seemed a shade more subdued, perhaps given some of the personal 'tragedy' (for Bellatrix Lestrange's near death was cause for celebration in her book) he had recently faced. And as he so disgustedly - for she could practically see it dripping from his fingertips - handed his parter off, she swept by Pepper and took up the space vacated by the other woman.
From behind her mask she couldn't help but give a feral, predatorial grin that seemed to only magnify the ample curves hidden behind the small silk organza cloak. A brief curtsey (practised into perfection) as she swept her hand over the dance floor.
A brooding, string-heavy sonata filled the ballroom with its melancholy aura. "Shall we dance?" she asked with no pretence in disguising her voice or her accent.
Rodolphus, for his part, was recovering from his dance; it was not the physical contact that repulsed him so greatly (for though he viewed the lower classes as generally dirty and unclean, he was not so histrionic as his female relatives who shrieked and fainted at the idea of being touched by a mixed blood) but his own lack of judgement in choosing a partner who (upon hindsight) was so clearly unsuitable.
But now the senses that had failed him were functioning perfectly, and in the heartbeat that followed this new intrusion, Rodolphus had identified his partner before she'd even opened her garish lips. Josephine. His own hand devoured her gesturing palm and he pulled her close - so insignificantly beyond the bounds of propriety that they played the only witnesses to such an outrage.
"You may."
His voice was but a low rumble between them - intimate, conspiratorial almost, and as he stepped into line with the orchestral melody, his thumb pressed sharply into the soft expanse of flesh between Jo's thumb and forefinger; possessive, demanding.
With merely a blink, she allowed herself to be gathered into Rodolphus's arms, her own hand grasping a fistful of the rich fabric adorning his chest. Tendons popped as her knuckles whitened beneath the close grasp and she stepped in, brazenly defying his code of decorum. A fine sheen of irridescent gloss glittered over her curving lips.
" ... what shall you do, Monsieur, watch?"
Despite Josephine's complete disregard for virtue (of which Rodolphus was quite sure she had none, given the brazen display her costume provided him), he did not draw away. Though quite certain he would get shocked looks from those of his sister's ilk, there were very few who would dare comment upon his, of all people's, decorum and formality - even if there were areas in which both were lacking. Instead he dragged her into step. And back. And to the left, before answering.
"Lead you, of course."
And she, unceremoniously, dug her heel into his toe.
"Oops."
The grimace swept across only his lips - a pained but mocking sort of smile - and Rodolphus responded easily, fingers tightening around her hips until his thumb ground deeply into the bone that hid beneath ample curves - and with a commanding push, forced her back several inches.
"If you cannot play nicely, Josephine, I shall have to keep you at arm's length." He tutted.
A low hiss slid out from between her teeth as she stepped in to his punishing grasp.
"Oh yes," she replied, tilting her chin upward until her long, unbound hair streamed in a single cascade down her back. "Perhaps I shall simper, play to the sympathies of terrified people and then do murder while their back is turned. I hear that's how it's done in Norfolk."
The dance changed abruptly, and Rodolphus turned, steps quickening as the music grew livelier. It was on the amusing side - a great giant of a man being so light upon his feet; but his grasp was tighter than ever, and as he pulled Josephine deeply against him so that he could forcibly dip her down to the floor, he brought his face in very close, until he could feel her cheap perfume in every pore and the heat of his breath spilled across her lips.
"Have I ever struck you as the sort of man who simpers?"
And like any feral animal within the jaws of its predator, she bared her teeth, considering, with his face so close, if she could bite him and draw blood. Or, as she decided, smoothed her lips in an arc across his cheek.
"If it suits your purposes."
A broad hand spilled lower against her back, the barest flex of muscles required to put her upright again. Though the shimmer of feminine lips left impressed upon his cheek would not lend him any mercy from his more judgmental relatives, Rodolphus supposed he could always claim Genevieve Chevalier as his partner; her indiscretions had made her an openly viable scapegoat for many men among their social circle - and she'd only been here a few hours.
"Fortunately, there are far more interesting things that suit my purposes at the moment."
Some form of coy smile bowed her lips as the tips of her fingers played stacatto on the nape of his neck.
"Such as?"
A step, and the tight grip upon Josephine's palm was released temporarily as he turned her beneath his arm.
"Making your beau nervous."
The smile that lurked below the lower edges of his mask was revealed in his voice - an insidious thread of amusement uncharacteristic of its owner. Rodolphus turned her again so that she was facing Pepper - and then back again.
One finely arched eyebrow was hidden beneath the contour of her mask as she caught Pepper's gaze and pursed her lips - "He knows that I can take care of myself more than adequately. I don't need male handlers unlike certain other females."
"Oh?" More amusement as he pulled her in - tighter still. "He simply likes to watch, then?"
"Just as much as you like to bleed," she replied, insinuating herself into the long angles of his body, using the leverage to make them spin lazily, as a unit.
"With you it is always such a pleasure," he countered lowly - in tone and movement, and pressed himself forward until she was forced backward by bulk alone.
Smirking, she allowed herself to be physically pushed across the floor, eyes flitting from Rodolphus to Pepper and back again. "Where's your wife?"
"Taking leave of the social dramatics." Amusement leaked from his voice, however, and left it hard, wrong. "Were I more sensible, I would have joined her."
The offer to polyjuice herself into Bellatrix's body sprang half-formed to the backs of her lips but she staved it off by swallowing, gazing up at him in some kind of wonderment. These Purists were complicated, if anything. But especially him.
"And missed dancing with your favourite Mudblood."
The very edge of his jaw flexed, and though Rodolphus answered upon the very next step, there was a sort of pause - enough for a single, treacherous thought.
"My very favourite."
That felt like victory. With a swelling of breath, she took a chance on her status and smirked, letting the tips of her fingers pinion into his shoulder like claws.
"Is that why you're keeping me alive?"
His arm pressed deeper into her back, and Rodolphus had forgotten Pepper, for whom he'd been putting on quite the show. He forgot the other dancers, interest in this predatorial dance far outweighing the surrounding furore. The instinctive response was to suggest Josephine refrain from flattering herself - but it was not quite true, and her acknowledgment of his power was a sweet wine, impossible to resist and dangerously intoxicating. Curling a few tendrils of her hair around the edges of his fingers in a possessive impulse, he swept her through a few more steps.
"Yes." A sharp syllable - honest in its very bluntness.
There was some erotic climax to this possession, as part of an ownership (only she held the secret power, ready to wield it, to bring about his timely demise) that felt secure even in its deadliest form.
For some reason he cared? How could that be - enough blood has passed between them, enough circumstance to birth some ill-gotten tenderness? She didn't want to think about it - she wanted to exploit it.
A breath. She rose to her toes, sliding up his body to press her lips to his ear. "Good. I'm just getting started."
Rodolphus blinked; he felt foggy, and in a sudden, sharp moment of sureness, he decided that this - this moment, this interaction - had overstepped its bounds. He enjoyed the occasional indulgence in Josephine's corruption, regardless of the direction of the decay, but the moment he displayed profound weakness - and he did believe that her appeal was weakness - he knew the indulgence was finished.
Heart pounding, Rodolphus pushed Jo back to her heels, separating them with more than the appropriate space. "Thank you for the dance." A stiff, practised answer and no more.
And she dropped a bow in kind, her triumphant face hidden behind the recesses of her blessed mask. She had found Rodolphus Lestrange's weakness and wonder of wonders, it lay within her power to exploit.
Turning upon her heel, she stalked back through some of the revellers who were still dancing to stand beyond the crowd, where the cool night air could soothe her burning skin to a more appropriate level.
Marius and Severus Severus stood along the wall, watching the costumes and masks swirl past. He'd danced with two different women, and was tired of making small talk. Oh, Jacqueline had been nice enough. She was intelligent and well read, and he appreciated that about her, so that had not been a bad dance, but the other woman he'd been unable to guess her identity and had been thankful that manners did not dictate a large amount of conversation with a partner. The weather and favourite costumes exhausted, they had fallen into an awkward - at least to Severus - silence until the dance had ended. The silence had given Severus plenty of reason to remember why he loathed dancing, and to wonder why he had come in the first place. As well as to be thankful for an instant to Demetrius' gifted ticket; At least he had not wasted his own valuable income on the evening.
His back to the wall, he kept his eyes on the people around him. He'd managed to figure out a charm that would alert him to something left on his clothing, but he thought it best to be wary as Peter's information had been vague and Aberforth's had been vaguer still, and Severus did not wish to find out the hard way what it was they had been trying to warn him about. His eyes scanned the crowd and it was a moment before he realised that subconsciously he'd been looking for the 'night sky', as Narcissa had put it. He furrowed his brow underneath his mask and wondered if he should pass that information onto Abe. It would hurt Astra, probably, but Severus almost didn't care. He decided he would think about it. The evening was far from over and there was still time. He scanned the crowd once more. The Lestranges, at least, were easy enough to pick out, there were so few people as tall as they were and Severus wondered if Demetrius had asked Corbina yet. He would have to go and be persistent at him again. After Rabastan's post and Mr Lestrange's discussion of entrails, Severus wondered if Demetrius might lose his nerve, yet as his friend had promised to ask, Severus was going to make certain that he did so.
As the music started again, he leaned back against the wall wondering if maybe he should go and get something to drink. She had to be here, didn't she? But he wasn't seeing her, and beyond that he wondered why he was even looking. After his blow up with Aquila a few days before, he wondered if it were even remotely wise.
Marius had left Astra in the capable hands of his brother as he headed toward the drinks. He spotted the costume that fit the description of Severus, and the body language of the person behind the costume certainly fit as well. He detoured from his destination and leaned against the wall next to the younger man. Though he had noticed that they did not seem to be on friendly terms anymore, it didn't keep him from wishing to bestow some kindness on him. After all, Marius had been in much this same position before himself.
"You may ask her to dance if you wish," he said, not delaying the conversation with small talk first. "I would not disapprove."
There was no need to explain that he was referring to Astra, since Corbina would be the only other option, and that was simply ridiculous.
Severus saw Marius approaching out of the corner of his eye and knew that it had to be him. And although Astra was not at his side the costume fit what Narcissa had said and what Astra had mentioned during their previous conversations. As Marius approached him specifically Severus couldn't help but groan internally. He had no desire to speak with the other man at all and the thought that Marius, knowing what he knew - and Severus was certain he knew - would wish to converse with him was absurd. Thus when Marius spoke, Severus was stunned into silence for a moment.
He glanced at him quickly, and then just as quickly looked away, his gaze on the moving whirl of masked figures, although his eyes were not seeing them. What the bloody hell was Lestrange playing at?
"I'm sorry?" He finally said, more to buy himself time to figure out what the hell to say to the other man. Who went around and told the man your fiancee had been in love with that he should ask her to dance? Was this some French thing Severus had no idea about?
"You look unhappy," Marius said plainly. "Not many would know your costume, and Aquila can not protest if I have said it is fine with me. I trust Astra completely, and you as well. You would have to know that if you touched my bride inappropriately my father would grind your bones into ash and have you baked into a pie," he added, laughing as he said it because it was both joking and true.
"And so it is no problem to me if you want to ask her. I believe that she misses your friendship, and I do not want Astra to be unhappy. She is always very understanding of anything that has to do with me," he said, scanning the room for her. "There she is," he said, nodding in her direction. She was lovely, even from this distance, even with the mask, she carried herself with a careful grace, and Marius almost felt guilty for dangling such an enticing thing in front of a man who could not have her... but still, if it were him, he would have loved to have one last dance with Isabelle, and so he did not retract his offer.
Severus followed Marius' gaze and wondered how he had been unable to see her before. With Marius' costume beside him, it seemed absurd that he should have missed Astra, whose costume was a perfect counterpart to Lestrange's. And it was obviously her as well. He swallowed, setting his jaw with frustration. If things had been different. If she had chosen him, he knew their costumes would not have been so perfectly aligned. His costume was nowhere near as elegantly designed as theirs, and he would not have been able to offer her that. And that, at least, had nothing to do with his blood. It was just the reality of being Severus Snape, after all.
He moistened his lips, still uncertain what to say to Marius. I hate you, hardly seemed like the appropriate response, but it was at least partially truthful. Thank you seemed equally absurd, for what was he thanking him for any way? It was not as if Astra would not dance with men other than Marius tonight, and Severus did not precisely need his permission to ask her for a dance. He finally pulled his eyes away from Astra and turned dark eyes onto Marius, trying to read the other man through the costume and the mask, but it was almost impossible to do.
"I do not wish her to be unhappy either," he said truthfully. And after a brief pause he asked, "Do you wish she were someone else?" The question was blunt, and direct. The last time he and Marius had spoken, Severus had pretended he had no idea what Marius was speaking about. At this point in time, Severus knew they both had at least a fair idea of the other's desires. There were some things it was rather pointless to pretend about.
"I did at first," Marius answered. He'd already told Astra that much, so it wasn't anything particularly bad to admit. "But Astra is more than even I would have hoped for," he said. "Though perhaps I should not say so much. It can not be an easy thing for you to hear me speak of her that way. If your concern is if I want to marry her and will treat her well, then the answer is yes. I had a poor reputation in France, and it was of my own doing, but none of those women cared for their own virtue. I was not doing anything wrong."
Marius stopped for a moment to think of how to phrase this.
"It would be wrong to mistreat Astra or be frivolous with her feelings. I care for her, and I care that she is happy. I can not be certain that I care for her as much as you do, but I love her in a way, and we both hope that grows into a pleasant marriage. I have witnessed first hand how lonely a cold marriage can be. It is what caused all of the trouble in France in the first place."
The answer didn't really help, Severus realised. He wasn't certain what he'd been expecting after all. Another reason to really hate Marius? Vindication that Lestrange didn't care for Astra and would treat her poorly? He turned his gaze back out to the crowd, his arms sliding over his chest in what was really very little more than a defensive posture. He fucking hated his life.
"Yeah," he said, carefully avoiding Marius' gaze as he did so. He'd lost more than Astra with this arrangement. He'd lost Aquila too, and more than that he'd lost the feeling that he belonged somewhere and perhaps that was more painful than the other losses. "I know I have no right to," his words were quiet, but there was a steely edge in his voice. "I know that I'm beneath you, and I'm beneath her. But if I ever find out you've fucked around on her; that you've hurt her - that won't mean a whole lot to me."
He boosted himself off of the wall, standing up more straight than he normally did and he turned to Marius. "I want her to be happy. That's all I ever wanted." It was not entirely the truth, or maybe it was. Maybe Severus' visions of what would make Astra happy had just included himself as part of that scenario. Maybe the truly painful part was that she might be happy without him. That happiness was a possibility for her, where it seemed so elusive for him. And maybe that was what made every comment about her wedding so painful for him to read. She did seem happy, but he wasn't a part of it and never would be. He nodded curtly at Lestrange and turned his back on him. He would ask Astra for a dance; it would probably be the only chance he ever got to do so.
Emmeline and Cadmus Wilkes, Pepper Georgina always seemed to have that quizzical look on her face. This was Cadmus Wilkes' first thought as a blonde girl in a carnival clown mask tottered past, apparently absorbed in scouting for dance partners. He couldn't help but be reminded of her once in a while. He could hardly be blamed, surely. Cadmus rubbed his eyes and glanced out at the dance floor, his gaze sweeping here and there for a sign of the twins before spotting them. A sad smile played on his lips, glad that this display of emotionality was obscured by his mask. Jacqueline and Julianne were all he had now and he would, in time, learn to live with that but he had to permit himself to slip into moments of sentimentality for the daughter he lost. Excusing himself from his wife, who glanced up curiously at him before continuing in her observation of the twins' progress, Cadmus followed the girl in the red dress and the odd mask.
"Young lady?" he asked, offering an arm, "Would you indulge me in a dance?" Half-expecting the young woman to scuttle off, afraid of him being a lecherous old man, Cadmus was pleasantly surprised to hear her accept.
They exchanged pleasantries while they started dancing, and he expressed his wishes for the woman to have many more dances afterwards. He could hear her laugh in a somewhat sad manner, as if dismissing the idea entirely. Cadmus found this odd. "You do not like balls much?" he asked politely, steering them easily around the dance floor.
"I do," the girl replied then hesitated for a moment, "It has been a while since I've attended one to be honest and I can't say that I've missed them very much." At least she was honest, Cadmus thought, and he smiled wryly.
"My daughter, my late daughter I should say," his voice faltered a little at this, "She disliked these things. She never said anything of course, but she always looked so strained when she was attending them."
The young woman was quiet for a while and it seemed as if she was lost in her own thoughts as he were in his. It was more than a few minutes later before she spoke. "I am sorry about your daughter," she said, with no hint of ill-disguised curiosity and Cadmus didn't doubt that she was genuine in her statement.
"It has been two months," he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper, "It still hasn't quite sunk in that she is gone. Georgina was a good child." The young woman's head jerked up at the sound of his daughter's name and Cadmus wondered if she was one of his daughter's acquaintances at school. "Did you know her?"
"... No," the woman replied slowly, "I think she was a couple of years below me at Hogwarts. I'm sure she was darling."
"She was," Cadmus said nodding gravely, "But I hope she did not die in vain."
"How do you mean?" the woman's voice was sharper now but he disregarded that.
"She died protecting a cause, I only hope that it was worth it."
"I see."
They didn't say anything after that and before he knew it, Cadmus was back in his seat next to his wife.
Without his knowledge, though, Cadmus carried more with him on his return than at his departure. Emmeline's signal had been quick and Pepper's response prompt, and he was quite confident that the man had been too lost in thought to notice one out of the many people who walked past him as he left the dance floor. Certainly he did not even look up when Pepper slipped him the portkey, not even realising that he was condemning the father of the girl he'd once kidnapped and tortured - or he might have found it ironic.