MASQUERADE PART FOUR 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
Marlene and Aeneas, Emmeline It wasn't often that Remus let himself appear freaked out by something around Marlene, and Marlene wasn't exactly hoping it would begin to be a reoccurring thing. And, if all things went according to plan, it wouldn't be. Remus had gone white as a sheet at the sound of the man Marlene was tailing's voice, mumbling something about "that time his stomach hurt" and needing to walk away for a bit. Marlene had gotten Remus situated near the wall -- telling him to sit down and that she'd be right back -- and was off after the man, torn between being freaked out and pissed as all hell. She knew what it was like to recognise someone's voice like that after a fight, and if she'd interpreted what Remus had said correctly, if that man had been the one who'd hurt Remus during the fight at Hogwarts, Marlene was going to make sure he regretted it.
Spotting him again near the snack table, Marlene paused for a moment to calm the nervous flips her stomach was doing and approached his side, pouring herself a cup of punch. "If I may be so bold, sir," she began, wracking her brain for something to begin a conversation with, "the biscuits are absolutely amazing if you are interested in something sweet."
Ugh. Marlene would be happy when this night was over. She could not keep up talking like this.
Aeneas Nott had been having as much of a good time as he likely could be having with Mudbloods and common folk around though he was resigned to accept the evening as just another social obligation he had to fulfill. While he had previously alluded to his wife that he did not wish to attend, he knew all along that he would undoubtedly be there. At least with a costume mask he could easily avoid eye contact and therefore avoid speaking to those he didn't wish to.
Well, he could avoid speaking to them most of the time. There were certain times, of course, when people decided to offer their unwanted opinions on the biscuits, and one of those times was right now. "Oh?" he asked sharply, turning to face the girl speaking to him. She had dark hair and her green eyes peeked out from behind her mask, contrasting nicely with her blue dress. Well, he would humour her. "Are they now?"
"Absolutely, although I wouldn't expect anything less from Mrs. Malfoy. I would highly recommend them," Marlene assured him, smiling casually as she took another sip of her punch, attempting to remain calm as they spoke. Clawing at the bastard's face and screeching about how he'd nearly killed her fiancé wouldn't do her any good, nor would it help accomplish what the Order was at the Masquerade to do. "Not, of course, that I fancy spending the entire night informing everyone who passes by as to what the hors d'oeuvres table has to offer. I suspect that would get dull quite quickly." She scanned the dance floor for Emmeline, hoping she was hovering near by so that she wouldn't have to spend much time making chitchat with the nasty old fart. "Are you enjoying yourself tonight, sir?" Marlene, personally, would've enjoyed the night more if she could've gotten away with tossing her drink in his face, but she supposed she would have to deal with that.
"Well enough," Aeneas replied curtly. He didn't quite know why this girl was speaking with him, or who she was, and really, the sooner he could get home and away from all these commoners pretending to be rich the better. "And who are you again?" he asked, certain he didn't know her but in the off-chance that he had been introduced before (since, admittedly, it may not have been too uncommon for him to not pay much attention when introduced), he simply implied that he may have forgotten.
"But telling you that would defeat the point of wearing masks!" Marlene smiled earnestly, then changed her mind a moment later. She hadn't gone through all the trouble of making up a very detailed alias not to be able to use it. "But it is awfully difficult to carry on conversations with those whose names you are not aware of. I'm Athena Bletchley," she "introduced" herself, curtsying in acknowledgment. "And yourself, sir?"
"Aeneas Nott." He felt no real need to hide his identity as he, for one, was not worried in the least with the Malfoy's extensive security and secondly, well, the whole mask thing was rather trite in his opinion. Aside from that, she was a Bletchley. They were pure and well enough respected, even though he could not remember having heard of her before. Not that he could often even remember the Wilkes' twins' names - it didn't matter too much until they married, and the only reason he had known the other Wilkes girl was because she had actually received the Mark.
He took a biscuit to appease her, since it would not do to be rude. Perhaps he had met her before, he mused as he took a bite, looking her up and down. An attractive figure, no doubt, and he knew he could not get away with not dancing for the entire night. "I do apologise for not asking for any more recommendations," he gruffed, "but I daresay I did not leave room after dining this evening. Would a dance suffice instead?"
It took Marlene a moment to realise what he'd said that his first name actually was. She was well aware that the purists sometimes had extraordinarily stupid and strange names, but she doubted that any of them would actually be cruel enough to name after a part of the nether regions. ...Not that the name wouldn't've have been appropriate, given the fact that the nasty old pervert had seriously just looked her up and down. Between that and what he had done to Remus at Hogwarts...
Well. He'd pay for that later. "That's quite all right. I'm not sure what else I would recommend anyway," she explained with a slight smile, passing her nearly empty punch cup off to one of the waiters. "A dance would be nice, though." Marlene nodded, allowing him to lead her to the dance floor and trying not to shudder at the prospect of having to get that close to the geezer when he kept eyeing her cleavage.
His biscuit forgotten, left on the table where the waiters were sure to clean it up, Aeneas and "Athena" were soon on the dance floor. She was no Mudblood to be kept at arm's length, so one hand rested on the curves of her waist while the other held hers, the two perhaps only a palm's width away. The music played and they danced, Aeneas pursing his lips as he tried to think of something to say. Conversing with young women was not his strongest point, save perhaps his wife.
"It is truly nice to see the community come together peacefully after these last few months of turmoil," he finally settled on. "Though I daresay some of those of lesser blood may not entirely... understand the concept of a proper dance such as this." He nodded toward a tall black man dressed as a rather ridiculous yellow flower. "Disgraceful."
Ugh, he smelled like old person. It was both nauseating and kind of scary to be this close to the person who'd almost murdered Remus, and she tried to block out the fact that his gaze kept travelling down past her eyes and towards her chest. Marlene briefly wished that she would have worn higher heels, but scratched that thought in an instant, as she probably would have killed herself before she and Remus had even left the flat.
"Well, we can't expect everyone to be able to have their costumes custom-made," she smiled a little bit sassily, trying not to wince over uncomfortable she was with this conversation. Alright Marlene, just pretend that you're Narcy, she mentally coached herself as she followed Nott's nod, raising an eyebrow at Kingsley's costume. "Oh my," she giggled, hoping that it came across as an "I'm so much better than you" laugh rather than "oh my lord, Kingsley is hilarious" laugh. "I'm still unsure as to what Mrs. Malfoy's intent was in opening this up to the entire public. Do you have any ideas?"
Plenty of ideas had run through Aeneas' head in the few weeks leading up to the Masquerade regarding Narcissa's reasons behind opening this event up to the public, and while he would ultimately settle on a want for attention each time, he would never speak that reason aloud to anyone but perhaps his wife. "I would perhaps attribute that to the Masquerade's main goal - a fund raising event. While my family and numerous others of our status have already donated greatly to the Foundation, this event reaches out to a much broader audience."
"That makes sense to me," Marlene nodded, far more satisfied by mention of "others of our status" than anything he had to say about fundraising and all that mumbo jumbo. It was working. He thought that she was one of them, which was... nervewracking, frankly, but it meant that Marlene had an in, and that was exciting. Glancing casually around the ballroom -- actually looking for any sign of Emmeline -- she scoped out the other costumes and dancers, allowing Nott to lead her in the dance. "Although I wish that perhaps the tickets had maybe been a little more... hard to come by. More expensive, perhaps," she added, figuring that was a good way to explain things. She leaned in closer, lowering her voice a little. "I believe that man right there?" she nodded towards some random person she hadn't seen before, but whose costume appeared to be storebought, "I believe I witnessed him dipping the same end of his vegtables into the dip on the table multiple times, rather than just taking some onto a plate for himself."
Ugh. How appalling. "Disgraceful," he muttered, sneering in the direction of the man whom Marlene had pointed out. "But I have always found it in my best interest just to ignore those types of people." Truth be told, Aeneas Nott was not the type to spend too much time talking down about the lower classes. The occasional word here or there or perhaps a large SPPPP protest, yes, but to spend countless hours discussing how bothersome the lower class was got old. Gossip was a female institution and Aeneas had always tired of it rather quickly.
"I will try better to ignore them in the future," Marlene agreed with him, spotting Emmeline hovering a little ways away from where the two were dancing. Catching Emmeline's eye and giving her the signal, she turned her attention back to Nott, trying to think of ways to keep him properly distracted while Emmeline worked her pickpocketting magic. It likely would not go well if she discussed the topic she really wanted to discuss, which was how ridiculous of a first name the bastard had. "Although, at least, I'll know to avoid the dip," she laughed lightly instead.
Emmeline had lost Marlene and her quary a few times while the dance went on. It was difficult to keep track of a pair when so many others continued to buffet her out of the way. Managing to find a small gap in the crowd overlooking the dancefloor, Emmeline caught Marlene's eyes and nodded. She scanned the route to where the pair were standing and briefly calculated how best to go about planting the Portkey. It was crowded, which was expected. That posed both a positive and a negative: there are enough people around to distract the target but there's too many people to witness it if all goes wrong. Steeling herself, Emmeline moved back into the crowd, slowly making her way through the pairs of dancers and feigning drunkeness. As she got to about a few feet away from Nott and Marlene, she tripped herself and fell flat on the floor. Groaning audibly, Emmeline reached up and clutched at Nott's robes. "M'sorry, m'sorry," she mumbled as she grasped the front of the man's robes, carefully dropping the small Portkey into his inside pocket. Hopefully, the spikes wouldn't get to him. "Oof," Emmeline straightened up and dusted the man's robes unnecessarily, "My mistake, too much drink, know?"
Aeneas was very close to almost enjoying himself when he felt a pull on the back of his robes. He dropped his arms from "Athena" and spun around, grabbing the wrist of the figure harshly. Now having time to look her over, he found an apparently drunk blonde witch in a volto pagliaccio mask trying to stand next to him. "You'd best watch yourself, girl," he hissed, furious, gripping her wrist tighter. "And you'd best thank Merlin you hadn't spilled on these robes as I'm sure they cost more than you make in a year." He released her wrist, disgusted and glaring at her. "You may go now."
She snatched her wrist from Nott, although Emmeline had to wrestle her hand from his grip for a while before freeing herself. "Said m'sorry, yeah? No need to get all uppity," she slurred, assuming the defensive even though she wanted more than anything to walk away. Drunk people didn't just walk away from fights, right? "I dunno why I'm wasting time wi' you, anyway," Emmeline began to stagger back into the crowd, "Youse a wanker."
He said nothing in reply but stared off at her a moment before she was lost among the dancers. He turned back to "Athena." "I'm quite sorry about that," he grunted, "but I doubt she will bother us again." He did not make any move to continue dancing with her but instead took a small step backward. "I also must apologise, but it seems I am no longer in the mood for dancing." He bowed to her. "Thank you most sincerely," he finished, sounding insincere, "for the dance."
Marlene felt a quick jolt twist up in her stomach, trying to keep from visibly panicking as Nott grabbed at Emmeline. "Athena" wouldn't panic over the well-being of some drunken fool, but Marlene honestly wasn't sure if Aeneas would hold back from doing something to Emmeline despite being in public in the middle of a party. Emmeline had managed to keep her cool and her character throughout the ordeal though, and Marlene owed it to her to do the same. "It is quite all right; I believe I wish to sit the next song out after that as well," she replied, glaring irritatedly into the crowd Emmy had disappeared into. "Thank you as well," she curtsied in farewell, "It was my pleasure." You nasty old pervert, she added silently, giving him a smile in farewell before wandering in the opposite direction.
Eva and Ben Leoben had been feeling rather interested in his glass of punch for the last few minutes. Tonight was supposed to be fun. Not that the prospect of fun had much bearing on his decision to buy a ticket and attend. Narcissa was hosting. That alone had made his decision.
So his Comica mask wasn't quite portraying how he felt like now. He was bored and the sheer volume of people who were quite obviously lower class made him exceedingly uncomfortable. He was very glad he'd remembered to wear gloves. Salazar forbid that he'd actually have to have direct contact with any of them. Fortunately, most people seemed preoccupied with the people they had actually come with, and there were no unattended ladies in his general vicinity.
"You should not push people," Eva snarled at some uncouth masked hedonist, trampling around the fringes of the dance floor before using her wand to force him sideways. Muttering audibly about how they should have made the event invitation-only, she made her way to the refreshments table, fully determined to douse some of her anger with a relatively potent drink before she could yell at someone and cause a scene. Alecto was not in sight, which was disappointing since Eva would have enjoyed standing by a corner and making pointed barbs at everyone who passed by. Even Walden was busy. And, of course, she had managed to have her mother sit with the other Pureblood ladies at the start of the night.
Eva took a cup and tried to drink from it. Only to find her mask in the way. Cursing, she pushed it halfway off her face before taking a sip.
Ben's attention was caught by a mask that looked suspiciously like the counterpart of the one he happened to be wearing. And looking about as cheery as any Tragica. And heading toward him.
Or... the drinks, rather. Leoben attempted to appear disinterested, hands folded neatly in his lap until the woman nudged her mask away to drink. And then he could hardly help but stare. Evangaline Macnair. Was here. And... they matched. Sort of. Rather, they were almost complete opposites. Ben was wearing a very light shade of brown trimmed with bronze to compliment the mask. And yes, now that she was closer, he realized it was the exact counterpart, the one he'd left when he'd purchased his mask.
He took only a moment of thought before deciding what to do. Back on his feet, Ben slowly approached her and then offered his gloved hand. He held her eyes in much the same way he always did as he spoke. And he made no attempt to disguise his voice. "May I have this dance?"
The music had changed and she was about to stalk off to the other side of the room when something caught the corner of her eyes. And before Eva could take a step, there it was. Really, it was difficult not to know it was Leoben Yaxley. They did have to spend that rather forced period of time during dinner at Walden's a few weeks ago. Eva almost choked on her drink and barely managed to push her mask back into position before speaking. The odds whether Ben recognised her were rather high but she was stubborn enough to not admit defeat then and there.
Eva cleared her throat and said, "Pardon monsieur, mais mes pieds font mal." Her accent obviously needed quite a lot of work but, in her defense, her French tutor had had countless headaches trying to make her even touch her text books.
Leoben was unimpressed, and even with a mask, his disappointment was rather obvious. He withdrew his hand and stood up the slightest bit straighter. Fine, if she didn't want to dance with him. Instead, he motioned toward the chair he'd abandoned. When he spoke again, there was a certain amount of stiffness... and his accent was perfect. Another one of those things that his Grandfather had done so well. "Peut-être vous voudriez vous asseoir, plutôt?"
Trouble. That was what she was in and Eva, while callous and unobservant, saw it immediately. She was suddenly quite glad for the mask since her cheeks had flushed in embarrassment as she struggled to decipher Ben's reply. Something about sitting, wasn't it? Eva forced herself to refrain from slamming her glass on the table. Her mother was sitting somewhere, looking over the proceedings. She would not have Sophia take her aside later to tell her that she had behaved "atrociously". She stifled a groan.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake," Eva snapped, "Fine." She snatched the hand that Ben had offered then retracted and practically (in her opinion, anyway) dragged him to the thicket of dancers.
Ben followed her (as if he had a choice) and as soon as they were properly onto the dance floor, he rested his free hand on her waist and carefully threaded his fingers through hers. He led her easily through the first few steps of the waltz, inwardly thanking his grandparents for insisting that he learn basic ball room dances.
The barest ghost of a smirk was sitting on his lips for a moment before he said softly, "Your accent needs work, Ms. Macnair."
She glared at him through her mask as she felt blood rush to her face. Eva was really, really glad for this obstruction at least. She posture was rigid for a while, especially when she was aware of his hand on her waist, but then she realised how silly she was being and she slackened a little, moving easily with the music. "I never did say I was adept at that language," Eva sniffed, mostly in mock disdain, "Perhaps I should have just stuck with Gobbledegook, I'm getting quite good at it."
Not completely oblivious to the look she was giving him (it went with the mask, after all), Ben fell quiet until she had finished speaking again. He hadn't meant to make her angry or embarrassed. "Most likely," he agreed after a beat. "I don't speak a word of it." He was silent again for a moment, moving deftly with the music before deciding to throw a bit of caution to the winds. "But you could hardly be mistaken for a goblin."
Eva was on the verge of saying, "Well, obviously, I'm a little taller than a goblin." but managed to stop herself in time. It was a compliment. Of sorts. She fell instantly quiet, mulling over this thought. Eva was beginning to become a little disconnected to what she was doing then. She was aware that she was still dancing with him, of course, but she became quite unaware of what step of the dance came next, which had her shuffle her feet a little, trying to match the pace of the music. Eva winced, "Sorry."
Ben too, was rather quiet as his compliment hung in the air. Perhaps it would have been better to say nothing. Besides, he hadn't even asked Walden and it wasn't quite proper to be having more than small talk whilst they danced. But he was pulled out of his thoughts by the pressure of her foot on his, eliciting the smallest of grimaces from him. Luckily, it was mostly covered by his mask. Thank Merlin. "Quite all right," he answered, guiding her back into step. Maybe this was better, pretending he hadn't said anything.
She cleared her throat as they both grew steadily quieter. Eva wanted to say something equally complimentary without sounding too enthusiastic but she failed (and failed again) at trying to come up with anything. Admittedly, her mother did do a good job selecting a dress for the occasion and despite Eva protesting rather violently against wearing it, managed to cajole Sophia into letting her wear her choice of mask. So perhaps she did look nice. Maybe. He looked quite... nice, of course. Eva could not deny that but she was too pigheaded to admit it out loud. "Nice mask," she said instead, rolling her eyes slightly.
Ben raised a brow behind his mask, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Likewise," he said with a similar roll of the eyes. His choice of mask had been rather spontaneous. Halloween always had seemed to be about pretending to be someone else for a night. And Ben wasn't exactly the most optimisitc and cheery man one was likely to come across.
She actually smiled at his answer, although it was a self-deprecating sort of smile. "I meant to discourage dance partners. I know that most people prefer to ask women who have dressed up as faeries, or cats, or whatever else is in vogue at this time," Eva shrugged, "It was working quite well." Until you asked, was the unspoken thought. If she were more honest with herself, she would have allowed herself to feel pleased with the fact that Ben did ask her.
"I trust that you've been enjoying yourself?" Eva asked, happy to keep the conversation going now that her moment of embarrassment was slowly wearing off.
He glanced idly at the women around them, not to look but rather to take a quick survey of the costumes. It lasted perhaps two seconds before he turned his eyes back to her. "They all look the same," he said finally. "It's all very common. But I suppose that's what happens when these sorts of things are open to the public." A twinge of disgust edged it's way into his voice as a sparsely dressed woman danced by them. He really wasn't sure why Narcissa had decided to break the invite-only tradition. The commoners certainly couldn't handle themselves properly at an event of this caliber.
"To an extent, I suppose," Ben answered truthfully. "I could do without the masks, actually. It makes it exceedingly difficult to read people."
She couldn't help but smile in a self-satisfied way when Ben answered and nodded in assent. "I don't think that they understand what a 'dress code' means really," Eva said, refusing to look at the spectacle that continued to prance around by them. It really was quite ridiculous how people seemed to think that mere costumes and flimsy masks gave them license to make complete and utter fools of themselves. "Nevertheless, I believe it helps the... general public think that they are welcome into the community," she said, looking directly at Ben once more, "It builds up a secondary level of followers." While Eva didn't always admire the Dark Lord's tactics, she had to admit that this particular move was excellent.
"The masks have their drawbacks, yes," Eva nodded towards the drinks table, "For one thing, it was a little obstructive whilst I was trying to drink."
"Yes, you'd think they'd have a bit of pride in themselves. Or that they would at least pretend that they did," he cautiously eyed the atrocity as it danced away. "But, perhaps you're correct. I'm sure some people will make fond memories out of this."
Ben followed her gaze just in time for the song to end in a flourish. "Do you want another try at that?" A smile played at his lips, a light tease but nothing meant to be taken offensively. He was basically asking her if she wanted something to drink, after all.
She stared at him for a moment, gauging whether or not he was being completely serious about the question. It was only polite to accept the offer, of course, but Eva would not let him go through with the charade if he was only humouring her. But then again, she had been a little rude to him previously and she had stepped on his foot... and Ben was still there. So perhaps she should give him more merit. "Why not," Eva finally said, returning the amused smile.
"Excellent," Ben answered with a more genuine smile and offered his arm to her. He led her easily to the table and after a second, remembered what she'd been drinking before they'd gone to dance. Filling her glass, Ben glanced sideways at her. Would she have to take her mask off to drink again? It was certainly a bit awkward, but keeping them on was doable. Mostly.
Ben handed her glass to her and filled another for himself. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked finally. "I mean, as much as it's possible to enjoy yourself at a masquerade that you obviously don't want to be at."
Eva stared into her glass for a moment or two before answering. It was not necessarily a difficult question but it gave way to other questions. "It is... tolerable," she answered thoughtfully, glancing over at the direction where she knew her mother was stationed. "My mother prefers if I engage in social gatherings once in a while. Walden as well, if she can persuade him." She smirked before nudging her mask off half of her face again and taking a small sip of her drink. "She is under the impression that she won't live to see grandchildren," Eva laughed, a little darkly.
Ben followed her gaze for a second before turning his attention back to her. Grandchildren. That was certainly a dangerous topic of conversation. Especially now.
He pulled his mask up a bit, looking quite serious under the laughing mask he'd been wearing. "Perhaps... she misses having children in the house," he said after a long pause. "I think my mother often wishes the same." He fell quiet and occupied himself with taking a sip from his glass. He felt suddenly uncharacteristically fidgety.
Children. In the house. Eva bit her tongue to keep her from asking why someone would miss having children in the house. She looked at her mother again and those thoughts dissipated quite rapidly when she realised that with her father gone (even though he really wasn't at home often) and with both her and Walden living away from home... it must be difficult. Evangeline felt her stomach squirm guiltily as she looked back at Ben. "That may be the case, I suppose," she said, taking another drink, "I try to follow her instructions when I can. She means well." Eva raised an eyebrow, becoming a little amused at their topic of conversation. It was not one of her favourite subjects, to be quite honest, but it was a little entertaining to see how other people reacted to the questions.
"I feel somewhat left behind sometimes," she continued, a small smile creeping at the corners of her lips, "What with the recent arrival of Ms Avery's wedding invitations. Only nineteen!" Eva shook her head in mock disbelief, almost grinning now. "But then, I think about how difficult it must have been to choose the colour scheme."
Ben snickered and rolled his eyes. No, he wasn't a big fan of all the to-do put up for weddings and, well... masquerades. He also was rather at a loss at how to respond to her feeling 'left behind'. He was the same age and just as unattached. Granted, his parents weren't pushing him to marry, but he knew in the back of his head that his Grandfather would and regardless of that, it was his duty.
"Marriage is.. very final," he answered after a long pause. "It's... not popular in our culture to marry someone you like or love. I suppose the philosophy is that you tolerate them first and then learn to love. Or not." He gave a shrug. "Guidelines and rules for who you can marry is one thing, but I think you should be able to do more than tolerate them before it's decided that you're spending your life with them." Ben held her gaze for a long moment before turning back to his drink, quiet and thoughtful.
Eva's grin faltered as she listened to Ben's rather serious reply. It was a little unnerving especially coupled with the eye contact. She stifled the urge to run away really, really fast and hide somewhere far, far away (preferably under a rock) where he would not be able to look at her as if he was reading her thoughts. "Interesting point," Eva said quickly before hastening to drink as well, stalling for the moment to talk. "Hm."
She stared at the table for a moment, not really sure what to say next. Eva could feel her eyebrows knitting together in concentration, which was somewhat unnecessary since she was merely staring into space. Or at Ben's hand (but really, that just happened to be adjacent to the space she was staring at). "Some individuals," Eva began, her throat uncharacteristically tight, "Some women in our society are not given the choice in such matters. I really don't think the marital structures are yet even between males and females, no matter how far we've progressed." She wondered how many deals Walden had to wheedle her out of when their father was still alive. Eva sighed and said, "But of course, ensuring that we protect our guidelines to social interaction means that it is also helping to conserve our culture." It was a complicated debate. She blinked and glanced at Ben, wondering if she had said too much on the matter.
"No, it isn't, is it?" he mused softly, mostly in response to the lack of equality between men and women in their society. "It's just... pushed upon you. I suppose it's simply the way things are done. It's how it's always been done and it works, so why bother to change it? We are... a grand society, really. Is it worth it to risk that for the happiness of one woman? I suppose that's why people like Lucius and Narcissa are so lucky. Everything fell into place for them. It's very rare." He once again fell quiet, careful to look somewhere else this time, lest his eyes betray him.
"Yes, I suppose that it is really up to luck," she said, her voice tinged with both amusement (amused disbelief?) and irritation. Evangeline straightened up and sipped the rest of her drink, trying to delay the moment of speech. She wanted to slap him upside the head but her mother was only across the hall and Narcissa would murder her if she caused a fuss (and out of this, of all things). Instead, Eva crossed her arms again and edged a little further away from the table. It seemed to work for a minute or so, but then the silence between them and Ben's refusal to look at her when he's speaking was enough to make her think violence thoughts once more. "I need space," Eva gestured around them, her expression distinctly uncomfortable beneath the mask, "I'll be back in a while." With that she turned and made towards the exit towards the outer hall.
Ben opened his mouth to protest and then closed it, giving a vague wave of his head and sliding his mask back over his face. He shouldn't have said so much. He did, in fact, let her go, once again standing idly alone while he finished his drink. He spotted her on one of the balconies above, but kept his distance for another couple minutes before he put his empty glass down and followed her out of the hall.
As he climbed the stairs and walked down the hall, Ben pulled his mask off, glad to be away from the commoners for the moment. And if he was honest, away from any prying eyes - including her mother. Merlin.
He paused a few feet away from her, unsure of how welcome his presense was. "Are you... well?" he asked hesitantly, a hint of concern in his voice and eyes.
One of the chairs received a kicking before she hit her toe and Eva ended up cursing at the blasted seat instead. As she pushed her way through the crowd of excitable people, she wondered where the conversation reached such a unfavourable turning point but her annoyance overrode any thinking space dedicated to logic just then. Eva fumed silently, glad that she managed to find one of the balconies unoccupied. Tradition. She glared out at the crowd below, wondering how many of them had given up their freedom of choice for the sake of duty. Walden was right, in that respect then, and she was quite glad that her older brother would not dare foist her unto someone. Oh, well. Spinsterhood was not so bad really.
Eva had only began winding down her temper when she heard someone enter the balcony. And she groaned quite audibly when she recognised that it was him. "I'm fine," Evangeline snapped, not bothering to turn to look at him, but then her restraint gave way. Turning around to look at him, she stood up, "You know what? I am not fine. I am so far beyond fine that I would say that I am extremely annoyed. I don't know what you're trying to communicate, Yaxley." Eva waved a hand as if a fly was irritating her. "I do not know what you mean by being agreeable and then talking to me about--I don't know, things. And then I start to think that, OH, LET ME THINK, maybe you might be a tad less stupid than most men I know and now you just turned around and prove me all wrong."
She took a deep breath. And began again. "Is this a joke to you? Was it something planned? I AM NOT A DIVERSION, I am sorry to say. I have no time for people like you to make me think about certain topics that I have managed to avoid thinking about for a long time. And I certainly have less time for young men who think that they have the priviledge to control women as if they're nothing but goddamned puppets. Because contrary to what many people might believe, women think. You absolute idiot."
Leoben blinked at her outrage, standing stone still as she yelled at him. He didn't even know where to begin to argue back, or if he should even bother. Nothing was planned. This was not a joke. He didn't think she was an object. He hadn't meant to cause any degree of anger or discomfort. Especially not this. A diversion? What was she talking about?
Oh, but there it was. Finally, something he could agree with. An easy accusation. Ben closed the distance between them, fighting the ball of nerves in his stomach. They were alone. Together. And she was so....
"Yes, I have been," he said softly before leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of her mouth. He didn't linger for more than a second and a half, fully expecting her to hex him through the wall and out of the building for that.
She turned deathly quiet when Ben kissed her. It was somewhat difficult to think when he was in such close proximity and that Eva could actually feel where his lips brushed against on side of her mouth. She wanted to push him back and yell at him some more but now she was just confused. She was supposed to be angry at him. (And she still was, mind.) But he kissed her. Eva furrowed her brows, completely determined to clear up what just happened. "What?" was all that came out of her mouth during the first try at speech. She cleared her throat and glared determinedly at him. "What. Was. That?"
...Well that wasn't what he'd been expecting. For a rare moment in his life, Ben didn't have the faintest idea of what to say. This was a mistake. He shouldn't have followed. He shouldn't have asked her to dance. Oh, for Merlin's sake, he shouldn't have come to this bloody masquerade to begin with!
"I..um... I'm sorry," he sputtered, taking two steps back. "I shouldn't ha--.. I'm sorry," he said again more tightly and then quickly turned on a heel and started away from her.
Ben you stupid prat, Grandfather would kill you. And you'll be lucky if Walden doesn't! Stupid! Idiot!
Such were his thoughts as he hurried away from her.
"OH, no you don't," Eva snapped, pulling Ben's arm back. He was not going to just head off on his way without telling her what just happened then. It was relatively difficult for her to force him to look at her but by sheer force of will, Eva managed to at least have them standing face-to-face. What was he doing running off anyway? She looked closely at Ben's face and realised that he was slightly panicked. This confused her even more. "What are you thinking?" Eva demanded, stomping her foot irritably. She tried shaking him, but all that did was make him sway a little and that certainly was not the effect she was going for.
"Ugh," Eva slackened her grip and pressed her fingertips to her temples, breathing deeply. This was a decision. And this decision would have repercussions. She looked up at Ben and she lifted her hands, which were shaking somewhat, to touch either side of his face. Then Eva kissed him.
Nothing coherent would leave his lips just now. After thirty seconds of trying to form an explanation and getting nothing but unintelligible syllable, Ben just stopped trying and fell dead quiet. Echoes of STUPID! were still running around in his head, even as she tried to shake him. He had no acceptable response for her. Maybe Walden would appear and kill him now before he had to provide one. No, that would be all too convenient. He was stuck.
That was, anyway, until he felt her fingers on his face, quickly followed by her lips on his. Leoben blinked, his stomach flipping over twice in his abdomen before he returned her kiss as carefully as he could. It wasn't exactly something he was well practised at - he had never been one to take very much interest in girls until his last couple years of school. And school was so long ago now.
When he broke away, he looked slightly more comfortable, but as unsure and nervous as ever. Ben cleared his throat before almost whispering, "Is, um... is this...okay?"
It was nice. Perhaps there was a more appropriate description other than "nice" but, frankly, Eva didn't really care to find a different word to describe the kiss. (She also managed to repress the tiny voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like Narcissa's which said, "I told you so.") Eva thought Ben was about to push her off at one point but when he began to kiss her back, it felt as if everything fell into place. He was kissing her back. And Eva did not feel any compulsion to hex, maim or otherwise destroy him. On the contrary, she did not feel any compulsion to let go of Ben for quite a while.
When they did break apart and when he asked the question, she could not help but feel a little sheepish about what she had just done. Eva could feel her beck growing hotter as blood rushed back up to her face. "Er - yes, it's... good," she muttered, trying to break eye contact but clearly not making too much of an effort to do so. "I - uh, was I?" Eva suddenly felt the urge to bury herself. "What I mean is, did I - er - do that right?"
Ben felt a smile pull at his lips, almost completely on it's own. He couldn't have suppressed it if he'd tried. Not that he had any urge to hide it. "Yes," he answered without a second of hesitation. "You did." He felt an odd mischievous pull in his head and without really bothering to think about it, Ben pressed another kiss to her lips. Brief, but sign enough that he did in fact, approve of this.
He pulled away a few inches, absently biting his bottom lip. A moment passed before he motioned vaguely downward, toward the dance below them. "Um.. maybe we should... go back down. Your mother... might be wondering..."
Normally, Evangeline would have ridiculed herself for simply staring at someone, but at that moment it felt as if it was the most natural thing to do. She also wouldn't have approved of the idiotic grin on her face but she didn't have the heart to tell herself that she was being a moron. "That sounds sensible," Eva managed to say before untangling her hands from Ben's neck and straightening up, a small smile undisguised on her face. She held out her hand for him to take and then pulled him outside of the small cloister, into the chattering crowd of people who continued on their own business, unaware of why Eva had a smirk firmly on her face and why she was dragging Ben back downstairs unto the dance floor.
Corbina and Aaron Aaron had been expecting this masquerade thing to be a bit of fun, a chance to see the muckity-mucks of wizarding society parading around in costumes, maybe get a bit of free food out of the bargain. The bloke he'd stolen the costume and ticket from had decent taste, at least -- a proper black suit instead of those robes the wizards insisted on wearing, and a nice, simple half-face mask in dark crimson, the colour of drying blood -- so he didn't have to feel like a magnificent pouf, prancing about in feathers and silks and the sort of getups women wore, not men.
Spotting a slightly familiar face, Aaron smiled to himself. Here was one girl worth dancing with. Corbina Lestrange had more guts than the other pureblood women put together. Collecting what he remembered of good manners and a "proper" accent, he made his way across the room to her, executing a neat bow.
"My lady. Might I request the pleasure of a dance?"
Whereas Aaron had recognised Aaron straight off, Corbina would not have known who Aaron was even without the mask. She had never actually come in face-to-face contact with any of the members of the dark army (as if her brothers would allow such a thing to happen), and while she didn't mind what they did or talking with them over the journals, she preferred having that barrier of ink and parchment between them.
Not that she would have been afraid, or disgusted, if she had in fact known that Aaron was Aaron, of course.
Glancing up at Rabastan and rolling her eyes to see that he was distracted by flirting with another masked young lady, she returned her attention to the man who had asked for a dance. He was well dressed, had been polite, and was taller than her. She saw no reason to refuse. "Of course, sir," she answered, curtsying and offering her hand for Aaron to lead her to the dance floor.
One of the girls Aaron had gone out with when he was younger, before he'd met Tabby, had insisted on dragging him to dancing lessons; as a result, he wasn't nearly as out of place on the dance floor as he might otherwise have been. He held Corbina's hand lightly, thankful for the gloves he'd stolen that would mask the roughness of his hands; nobody would believe a proper wizard would have those, and for this little game to work, she needed to believe he was a proper wizard, at least for a while.
"How are you enjoying your evening?" he asked, pitching his voice low and light, with none of his usual growl in it.
"It has been entertaining," Corbina replied, moving one hand up to rest on his shoulder as they began to dance, cutting between other couples on the dance floor who hadn't realised that it was impolite to hold an unmoving conversation while others were trying to waltz. "It's somewhat fun to watch those who don't have much rhythm dance. Do be careful -- there's a woman in a yellow dress with a bird mask who I believe thinks that one is supposed to step on their partner's feet."
"I'll be certain to give her a wide berth," Aaron said, letting a smile tug at the corners of his lips as he settled his hands, one light at her waist, one holding hers. This playing at proper manners was entertaining, at least, and she had a pretty voice. Not that he'd consider anything; he had Tabby, and there was never anyone else. He didn't need anyone else. But for tonight, he could have fun. "A warning for a warning; the fellow wearing the silver fox mask seems to be letting his hands wander where they shouldn't."
"Oh really?" she asked, laughing a little at the thought of someone trying to get away with that with her. "I'm almost tempted to seek out Mr. Silver Fox, if only to watch the utter coniption that my brothers would have upon catching a glimpse of wandering hands. But tonight is not intended to end messily, so I suppose I will heed your warning. Thank you," she grinned, honestly sounding thankful. Chancers were that Mr. Roaving Hands was a mudblood, and she was not interested in having the night end in nightmares.
"Those of us with the manners to do so should look out for the fairer members of our society," Aaron told her, his smile brightening. Sure, he felt like he was a character in one of those stupid Elizabethan novels his sister used to read, but it was amusing. "And I'm fairly certain our hostess would be very annoyed with us if we allowed the night to end in an argument. She's gone to such trouble to make it a memorable occasion, but I don't think that's the sort of memorable she's after."
"Doubtful. Narcissa has gone through so much setting this up; I'd hate to see it spoiled on account of bloodshed," Corbina laughed, hoping that the person she was dancing with wasn't secretly one of those sorts who believed her family to be involved with the death eaters. Not that they weren't, but... The way that Corbina saw it, she assumed that her casual manner of speaking on it would throw off suspicion rather than induce it, as those who were actually involved would likely avoid the subject entirely in mixed company.
Then again, she was wearing a mask. He might not've known who she was at all. "And how has the night been treating you thusfar, sir?"
"And we would so hate for Narcissa to be distressed," he said lightly. "And it has been... an experience. I haven't had the chance to be amongst such company for some time. I'd almost forgotten how lovely English high society can be after a long absence."
There. That should pique her curiosity a little.
And pique her curiosity it did. Yes, Corbina had spent quite a bit of time throughout the night making small talk with those who she did not recognise when masked, but it was intriuging to find she was dancing with someone who she actually might not have reason to know outside of the masquerade. "Is that so? How long have you been abroad? And to where?" she inquired, wondering if that would give her some clue as to his identity.
"Some years now," Aaron told her, blithely making up information that might suit a well-to-do wizard of certain ambitions. "Family contacts require maintaining, after all; it's my duty to see that our connections don't lapse due to neglect. I've mostly been abroad in western Europe; I spent a few rather pleasant years in Switzerland most recently."
"Switzerland, really? I hear that the country is lovely," she replied, wondering it perhaps the "connections" he was referring to perhaps had connections to their cause, such as Rodolphus and Walden's recent trip to Norway. Not that she had any intention of asking him that straight up; she wasn't a fool. But it was curious nonetheless. Nor did she plan on disclosing that it was to be the site of Marius and Astra's wedding to a stranger. "Is what they say about their chocolate true?"
"My sister certainly think so," Aaron said with a laugh. "It has a certain different quality to what you find in stores here. I'm afraid it's impossible to explain; you have to taste it to know what I mean."
"Well, maybe someday I will be able to try it," she nodded, allowing her to continue leading her about the floor in the dance. While Corbina might have had a nice voice, it ran in her family not to use it often. While she could continue to chatter on for a short while, eventually -- like right now -- she would fall quiet again, contemplating her situation. She also wondered if her brothers or nephew had noticed she'd been stolen away for a dance. Not that she minded of course (the change of scenery was nice) but she wanted to be prepared if she would be forced to answer questions upon her return to her chair.
"I'll hope so for you," he said, inclining his head slightly. It seemed the right thing to say. Letting his smile turn slightly mischeivous as the dance ended, he drew back slightly and bowed, before adding, "it was an honour, my lady Lestrange," and melting back into the crowd.
It was a calculated risk; she might not have been Corbina. But a dark-haired girl that tall? She fit the description. And if she wasn't, well, no harm had been done.
There were times in which Corbina's height tended to spoil things which were intended to be anonymous. This was one of those times. Thinking nothing of it (beyond watching with a bit of confusion as he melted away into the other dancers), Corbina called "thank you, sir," into the crowd and returned to her seat, her confusion masked by a mix of her terminally stoic expression. And the mask, of course.
Meaghan and Regulus Just moments before, Regulus had parted with Julianne to make rounds about the dance floor -- she had need for the ladies room, aherm, and he supposed he should see to his feigned interest in the rest of the world while she was already gone. He was never particularly enthused about dancing, much less was he particularly enthused about dancing with anyone who was not Julianne, but even on the vague and revolting chance he might accidentally bump elbows with a filthy Muggle(born), there were rules and expectations of propriety, and he was never one to shun propriety. When he spotted an unattached female not far away and heard the next song begin, Regulus sighed, straightened his shoulders, and approached with a rather typical sullenness. What difference did it make if he could not tell who the majority of the people were, either way? He doubted he'd recognise most even without masks.
"Good evening," he said with a small, politely measured bow. He was careful to not look too terribly nauseated at the idea of having no clue who he might be readying to dance with, but he supposed he could survive a single song before migrating back to Julianne and the rest of his friends. Julianne had seemed unsettled, and he did not much like being separated when she had expressed concern, but he would simply have to make do. "Would you care to dance?" he asked, wondering vaguely if she was aware that declining was not actually an option as his eyes swiftly attempted to scan the crowd. His mask was an unfortunate obstruction, however, and he saw no familiar costumes right away, so he supposed the were lost in the crowds...
Caradoc had just released her to make a circuit of the room to get his bearings, and she had just downed her first glass of alcohol-free alcohol, so the night was young. Her stomach was a warzone, her guts twisted with chagrin at being forced to be in the same room as murderers and hypocrites, none of whom she could recognize behind their masks. At least she had an eye for quality, and could pick out the most expensive of frippery and guess from there who was at least a potential enemy. She was about to go for her second glass when she heard a voice pipe up beside her.
Turning, Meaghan cocked an eyebrow at the slim, short man--no, boy--who was requesting a dance. He had very pretty manners but didn't seem terribly enthusiastic about the prospect of leading her around the floor, but she knew better than to refuse. At least she felt relatively safe behind her mask, though the eyes behind the mask would be unmistakable to anyone who knew her. Damn, she wished she hadn't had to appear as herself at this thing--she would have been much more comfortable as a brown-eyed blonde than the girl with her distinctive colouring. "Why, of course, sir." She replied, nodding her head in a sketch of ladylike deference and offering her hand to him. She wasn't miles taller than him but could still clearly see the top of his head, which was a bit funny. His costume, she could see, was quite expensive and well-made, and his tone was cultured. A potential target, if she could ferret out a clue to his identity. Then again, the only Death Eater she knew with this build and coloring was one she wasn't particularly interested in being the person responsible for apprehending.
Regulus held out his hand to take hers with a small nod of acknowledgment. Even if it was not the most unfailingly exciting thing, upholding social niceties with strangers, he at least had such posh and prim dances beaten so firmly into his mind that it would not be a difficult or thoughtful process. He tried not to look too outwardly vexed that she was not shorter than him (a not-too-uncommon concern when many ladies donned heals), but he refused to show anything but the stoic lack of acknowledgment on the issue, as he felt was essential. There was nothing wrong with him, after all, and certainly not his height, so with perfectly erect posture and a careful grace, the dance began as he once again he fell into his comfortable state of silence.
She would have abstained from pointing out to him, had he voiced that thought aloud, that she was wearing flat sandals on this particular evening. Her left hand came to rest on his shoulder lightly while her right met his, matching his steps with surprising grace despite her lack of formal training on the subject of dance. It paid to be athletic, something these Pureblood girls seemed to know nothing about. It was if they never did anything more than step out into the sun under wide bonnets and take leisurely strolls from their doors to their verandas. Not a terribly exciting way to go about life. "Are you, um, enjoying yourself this evening?" She asked, not really wanting to talk but knowing she was sort of required to. "It is going well enough," he responded as they slipped past another couple, expertly and easily avoiding any collision. She was not a complete and utter pain to dance with – a great relief, as he did not wish to endure an individual completely devoid of skill – and despite the lowered expectations one must have when dealing with the masses of uncultured witches and wizards mixing with those of higher birth, he found no aspect to mentally (though never verbally, at such an event) criticize just yet. Neutrality remained painted on his face.
"A great deal of work has been put into the preparation for tonight, after all. And you? Are you enjoying yourself?" came his ever-polite response.
"I am, yes. It's really quite a lovely venue. Mrs. Malfoy has excellent taste." She nearly choked on the words as they came out, her brain screaming in protest at paying compliments to Narcissa fucking Malfoy, but she forced herself to say them. If he was a potential target, he had to be at his ease. She tempered her accent when she spoke to him, keeping her brogue to a distant trill over her vowels. She knew how this sort perceived regional accents, the arrogant bastards. "So many lovely costumes."
"She certainly does," Regulus responded, feeling a more (subtly more, but more all the same) amiable mood settle over his dry sullenness at the praise of his cousin. He knew how hard she had worked to arrange the benefit and...whatever it was, exactly, that women did to set up social events. Either way, the stranger was suddenly less offensive in his mind upon approving of Narcissa, even if he would prefer the company of his friends. It was increasingly less painful than expected, at the very least. "It is a wonderful opportunity for everyone to dress exceedingly well and be entertained for an evening -- and the benefits pulled from the event are certainly a positive thing." He hadn't any idea if his partner was part of the Foundation, but to speak well of it would either praise a member of the Foundation or promote it for his cousin's sake, so it was not as if there was a truly wrong answer.
"Yes, it really is quite clever how she manages to use glittering social engagements to further the aims of the Foundation." Quite clever to waste money on a show-offy waste of time for a waste of an organization. She wondered how to ferret a possible clue to the young man's identity out of him, though he seemed to only be able to skim the topics of social-niceties and the like. "It's really rather mysterious, though--everyone going about in masks."
"The masks are certainly an interesting element," he responded as they slipped past another couple. "I cannot say I enjoy the concept of the unknown, typically, but there are sometimes exceptions to the rules."
"And is this one such exception?"
"A masquerade is a more acceptable case of the unknown," came the easy explanation, "because it is organised and everyone is on equal footing as far as their uncertainty -- at least in the cases excluding friends." It would be particularly nice if there was some blood signification...but thinking about that potential would only sour his mood once again.
She nodded. "Well, of course." A feigned look of chagrin passed over her face as they waltzed past a particularly amorous looking couple. "However, I do hope that the anonymity doesn't give way to people believeing they have being given license to engage in lascivious behavoir."
Regulus gave an approving nod, appreciative of the element of propriety being upheld, even from a stranger. How comforting that there were no crashes or uproars to upset the beautiful balance of the masquerade's air. He had been uncertain if the plebeians could handle such an event. "I hope so, as well. Momentary anonymity does not excuse inappropriate behaviour."
One wondered if Regulus would feel the same way later, when Meaghan stumbled about in a feigned drunken stupor. "I couldn't agree more."
"I imagine Cissa would not allow such a thing to carry on, nor would Lucius, or any of the security, I imagine," he said with a little crinkle of his nose, "That helps greatly in keeping uncouth beahviour under control."
She cocked her eyebrow imperceptibly. Cissa.. "I imagine so. Do you know our hosts well?"
Regulus pressed his lips together; quite honestly, he felt the question was a touch too personal for an anonymous masquerade event, but he did not think there was much left to the song, so enduring a moment longer would not be unbearable, even with a presumptuous question. It was not as though it particularly mattered, either way. He was not ashamed of any bit of his family, much less his highly successful and socially flourishing cousin. "Yes, I do."
Well, damn. She didn't think the nickname had been an uncouth slip but rather a revelation. Suddenly, this dance couldn't end fast enough for her; there was no way she was going to bring the fury of Sirius Black down on her head by signalling to one of the pickpockets to put a portkey on him. "How lovely."
"I am certainly inclined to think so." When, just moments later, the song came to an end, Regulus stepped back and gave a polite bow, mind already flittering to where he might find Julianne -- or Barty or Severus, Demetrius, or Aquila.
"Thank you for the wonderful dance." She said, her tone not properly enthused for her flowery words.
"Likewise," he responded in a polite but matching tone before disappearing into the crowd once again.