MASQUERADE PART SEVEN 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 Marius Marlene was almost certain she'd spotted Marius Lestrange, mask or no mask, and she was absolutely determined not to let him weasel his way out of getting caught tonight. Especially not after the way she had failed epically when paired up with Rodolphus. The height was there, that overall air of snootiness was there, the damn French accent was there. It was good enough proof right there for Marlene, but as she didn't want to be the person accidentally responsible for someone innocent getting caught by the portkeys, she needed to be sure.
Frenchy seemed to be making a break for one of the doors, and Marlene sauntered along after him, staying far enough behind so that it wouldn't be obvious that she was stalking him, but close enough to where she wouldn't lose track. There was a nervous jolt in her stomach as it hit her that she'd be following someone who'd bloody kidnapped her in the past outside and away from the watchful eyes of the other Order members, but she tried to bury those nerves away and remember what they'd come here to do. There was no way he could possibly figure out it was her anyway. Marlene simply needed to not mess up this time.
It had been so long since Aquila and Astra had been allowed to see each other in public, and though he enjoyed their company immensely, Marius decided to give them a few moments alone. He didn't worry for her safety or honor when she was with her brother so this was the perfect time to sneak outside to smoke.
He had spent a great deal of time at the theatres in France, and this one was set up very much the same. You only needed to find a door that led to the outside and there would certainly be a place to smoke. He was correct in his assumption and he propped open the door with a piece of wood that was set to the side for exactly that purpose. Fishing his muggle cigarettes (they were French, and therefore acceptable in his mind) out of a pocket, he pulled off his mask and placed it on a picnic table that must be used for lunching outdoors during rehearsals. It didn't look too dirty, and so he sat down on top of it, placing his long legs on the bench casually. He enjoyed parties, but he was enough like his father that the quiet was preferable.
Marlene waited a few moments before following Marius through the door way, not wanting him to think he'd been followed outside, and that she'd just happened to need some air around the same time that he'd needed a cigarette. Counting down three....two... one... Marlene moved the piece of wood so that she could slip outside, shoving it back in place -- oh Merlin, because the last thing she needed was for the doorprop to slip and to be stuck out there with him -- and tried not to squeal in complete glee at her luck. He'd taken his mask off. There was no doubt whatsoever that it was Lestrange now, and the only issue she had to be sure to avoid was the immense desire to stomp up to him and punch him in the face. She had a slight feeling doing so would blow her cover though, unfortunately. "Oh excuse me, sir," Marlene apologised for interrupting his pursuits toward lung cancer. "Am I interrupting? I needed some air and did not realise that anyone else would be out here."
"Non, mademoiselle," he replied, inhaling deeply. "I enjoy company, though I do hope your escort will not assume the worst should he discover us alone," he added, with a slight smirk. He had no idea who he was speaking with, because not having gone to Hogwarts, his social circle consisted of the very tightknit group of young Death Eaters and hardly anyone else. Of course, that was the very same reason he was not afraid to be caught alone with a young woman. She wasn't the date of any of his friends (he did know that much) and no man in this place would be able to challenge him without several more wizards coming along to his defense. Not that he would need help, but it was never good to be over-confident.
"I apologize if you have come alone... It is of course not polite to make assumptions. I can not even make a guess to your identity as I attended Beauxbatons and am not familiar with the students from Hogwarts except for my family," he said conversationally. "Would you like a cigarette?" he asked, offering her the pack.
"Well, you were correct in your assumption, at least," Marlene informed him, moving toward the picnic table and leaning against the edge, keeping one hand where she could quickly grab for her wand if it proved necessary. Just in case. "He knows that at times I find myself... overwhelmed in large groups, but I would have hated to pull him away from his conversation to accompany me outside. He knows where I am; I believe that should be enough." Even if Remus didn't, Marlene hoped that the friendly veiled threat would be enough. "I am sure he would prefer me to be with company rather than alone, though. I will be safe with you, I should hope?"
"Do you mind terribly if I sit down?" she asked, already brushing off the picnic table in the spot next to him she planned on plopping her arse on once he agreed. After all, it would be terribly rude of him not to offer a lady a seat, after all. Hopefully. "And... yes, thank you for offering," she nodded, taking a cigarette from the pack.
A pause, as Marlene made herself bite back a smirk. "Are these French?"
"Not at all," he answered in response to her first question. He pulled off the outer cloak of his costume and laid it on the table beside him as a gentleman should do. He offered her his hand to help her with the step up as well. Good manners were important and there was something vaguely familiar about this girl. He supposed she could be any one of the large number of middle class girls that had gone to school with Astra and he'd spoken to briefly in Diagon Alley occasionally.
When she took the cigarette he pulled out his wand to light the tip for her.
"They are," he agreed, glad she hadn't asked if they were muggle. "I miss my grandparents home often and they remind me of a different time," he supplied. "But it is nice in England. I have made friends, and there is plenty of activity to keep me occupied."
Ugh, god, she was going to have to touch him, gross. Marlene forced herself to put away her hesitations and accepted Marius's hand with a smile, hopping up onto the table as gracefully as she could manage. She could handle this. Back straight, dress smoothed down, mask very much still in place -- things were going just as planned.
Remaining quiet as Marius spoke (which was coming across in Marlene's head as "blah blah le blah moi blah blah"), she busied herself with smoking the cigarette, feeling vaguely as if accepting the dirty thing fell under the same realm of childhood knowledge as "don't accept sweets from strangers. Especially French sweets." Luckily she did know how to smoke, though, even if Marlene didn't typically make a habit out of it. "Well, I am glad that you are beginning to feel home in England, sir. Oops! I mean Monsieur, my apologies," she added with an amused giggle, trying to hide the fact that she wanted to be sick. "I am sorry if I'm coming across offensive by not remembering the proper terminology; I've never been outside of England, myself." "That is not right! There is so much to see," he said, sounding very much like he was ready to take off any second now. "But you must try France first. There is no place more beautiful."
He took a long drag from his cigarette, and breathed out the smoke in a whispy line. "You do not need to worry about speaking French to me," he added. "This is my home now, and English no longer grates on my nerves as it did when I first moved home. I live with my father for the time being, though of course we will have a home of our own after the wedding. Are you engaged... I am sorry, I did not get your name?" he asked, prompting for one.
What was it with these people asking who she was? It kept happening and it entirely defeated the purpose of wearing the mask. Not, of course, that she had any intentions of being truthful about who she really was; that would be a disaster just waiting to happen. But there was an edge to Marius's voice that made Marlene feel as if he was planning on leaving any moment, which (for once) was the opposite of what she needed him to do. Marlene just had to figure out how to keep him talking.
"If the chance to ever go abroad arises, I will keep France right at the top of places to visit. Oh, and how rude of me! My name is Athena," she noted, figuring she'd hold off on the surname unless he inquired further. "And I'm sorry, I didn't get your name either."
Oho, and now the engagement thing had come up. For a brief fraction of a second Marlene froze, wondering if there was some way he could have figured out who she really was, and that she and Remus had gotten engaged. Deciding it was impossible for him to have figured it out, though, Marlene figured it would be easiest simply to inquire, "Why do you ask?"
"Marius, Marius Lestrange," he said, offering his own last name though she had not done the same. He noticed, but he assumed it was because her family was poor to lower middle class, and felt ashamed. A masquerade, after all, was a place where no one ought to be able to judge you without speaking to your first. He assumed it was likely thought up by women, no doubt, looking for husbands.
"I asked because I was going to ask you if you would care to honour me with a dance," he said, tilting his head to the door to indicate that the music that had stopped for a few minutes had resumed. "But since you are not given the option of declining on your own, I would wait until we were inside to do so, so your fiance could decline for you if you wished. To be perfectly honest, most of these rules seem absurd to me, but I would not wish to insult Narcissa by not following them exactly."
"It is a pleasure, Mr. Lestrange." It would be an even greater pleasure when his smarmy baby killing rump was spending the rest of its days in Azkaban. However, that time was hovering so close now. Marlene could be patient for once in her life as it was only a few more hours now until that amazingly glorious time.
"And I am, yes. Married, actually," she clarified, pushing her hair back behind her ears with a bashful sort of grin, actually dropping the act for a moment. There was no reason to keep it up -- even though she and Remus weren't married yet, they would be, and that thought alone thrilled her, despite the fact that she felt like it was turning her into a sap. "Are you with anyone?" she asked, realising that "Athena" wouldn't have known these things.
"I would not wish to decline anyway though, as you've been nothing but polite, and, well," she paused, gesturing with her cigarette, "I'm always grateful to those who are willing to endulge my terrible occasionally habits. I would love to dance... although I have to admit that I'm beginning to get a little bit cold," Marlene noted, feigning embarrassment. The dress had mostly sheer sleeves, for goodness sakes! It was a perfectly logical concern. "I will be married soon," he said. "Though I am ashamed to admit that I have been completely unhelpful with the planning. Astra seems to enjoy it though, so I hope she does not hold it against me.
"We could go inside," he offered, as he flicked his cigarette on the ground and then cast a spell to incinerate it so it wouldn't leave a mess. "When you are finished," he added, not wanting to be impolite and rush her. He strapped the mask back to his face.
"Astra of the Averies?" Marlene inquired innocently, finishing off her cigarette and twisting around to find an ashtray to stow the remnants in. Not finding one, she mimicked Marius's previous action, tossing the cigarette onto the ground and burning it to ashes, trying not to let herself think that with just one small flick of her wrist, that spell could've been eating away at Lestrange's hair. "I remember her and her brother from school, although I think they were a few years younger than I. How soon?"
Pushing herself off the table as daintily as she could -- and considering this was Marlene, it turned into more of a hop and a skid on the ground as she landed awkwardly on her heels, wobbling for a moment before regaining her balance -- she smoothed down her costume, double checked that her mask was still tight on her face, and waited for Marius to lead the way. "That would be nice, as long as you do not mind. I don't want you to feel like you're being forced to leave your little hideaway here."
"Not at all," he said, offering her his arm politely. There was something strange and oddly uncouth about her dismount from the table, and Marius quirked his head slightly. Middle class. And not the good sort of middle class either. Oh well, he'd slept with worse in school, no doubt, and it might give her something to tell her friends later. Women like this always seemed impressed by last names they would never be able to attain.
"Yes, she is Astra Avery for now. She and Aquila are close friends of the family," he added as he led her back through the door and kicked it closed behind him. It had been time to come inside anyway. He looked around for Astra and spotted her dancing with a costume he recognized so he was not concerned that she was currently missing him. "I do not know your spouse so you will have to lead the way," he said politely.
"Thank you, sir," she smiled up at him earnestly, taking his arm to help steady herself, using him as a prop to level herself. It seemed the proper pureblood girl thing to do, after all -- Merlin forbid a woman be able to stand up straight on her own without a man there to catch her. "I feel so clumsy; the cloak slid a little as I moved and... well, you witnessed; there's no reason to explain the details. I simply feel a little silly now. Your cloak, Mr. Lestrange?" she returned the cloak to him before they reentered the dance hall.
"That is lovely to hear," she nodded as he yammered on about the Averies, attempting to follow his gaze in case he was seeking them out. Hopefully the two siblings would have been near each other, and Marlene would be able to point Aquila out to Emmeline or Pepper as well. She looked about the ballroom, looking for one of the pickpocketers or for Remus. Marlene wasn't sure exactly what she'd tell Remus if she found him. ("Oh hi there! Look, I found Marius Lestrange; isn't that wonderful? You wouldn't mind if we cut a rug out on the dance floor, would you?") She didn't spot Remus anywhere in the near vacinity, but she was almost positive she saw Emmeline. Emmeline and her wonderful collection of portkeys that were going to finally get this bastard pulled off to the jailtime he'd been avoiding for months. "I... hmm; Simon was right here when I left. Perhaps he went to use the facilities before coming outside to get me."
"Well then, Mademoiselle, would you do me the honour of a dance? Seeing his wife with another man should bring him around, yes?" he asked, with a slight smirk. He held out his hand to the young woman and bowed slightly, as was polite in France. "I am more versed in French dances, but I can manage this one well," he promised, still sounding amused. After her clumsy dismount from the table, Marius was looking forward to seeing if this girl was as uncoordinated as it had seemed. Dances often bored him, and anything new promised to keep him entertained until he could find Astra again.
Unfortunately for Marius's amusement, Marlene had this dancing thing down. She curtsied (as she'd been taught was customary for these nancy purists to do before dancing), and took his hand, allowing him to lead her in the dance. "Well, you are doing absolutely fine at the moment," Marlene assured him with a slight smile, figuring he was probably hoping she'd trip up. Well too bad for you, Frenchy, she cackled in her head, continuing to hit every step without error. Apparently all that practising had worked out. "I am sure Simon will appear seething with jealousy at any moment." Glancing slightly to the side -- careful not to show any reaction -- while she didn't spy Remus, Marlene did see Emmeline. Showtime.
Planting the portkeys was becoming far more efficient as the night went on, Emmeline thought. Perhaps it was because everyone were getting on with the glasses of wine and bowls of punch; or maybe everyone were just getting more comfortable with the idea of mingling. She wound through the thicket of dancers, keeping an eye on the other Order members. Emmeline was navigating her way through a group of excitable old wizards dancing what looked like a jog when she spotted Marlene, who was dancing with a tall cloaked figure. She kept her eye on them and, not even a minute later, Marlene gave her the signal. Right. She must really dislike the man if she wanted to get away that quickly, Emmeline thought as she began rummaging through her pockets for a portkey. In her haste, she pricked herself on the finger with one of the spikes. Wincing, Emmeline took it out and began to make her way to Marlene. Purposeful strides. Yes, that should do it. She looked straight ahead of Marlene and her dancing partner as she walked past, calling, "Sally! John!" to two figures on the other end of the hall. With her other hand, Emmeline slipped the portkey into Marius' outer cloak as she brushed past him 'accidentally'.
Dorcas and Lucius Lucius was bored. Narcissa was circulating and he supposed he should do the same, but subtly letting his mask slip from his face now and again did not seem to make people come flooding toward him. Sure, he wasn't short of admirers -- admirers of the ball itself, admirers of his and Narcissa's outfits, admirers of his generosity in donations, admirers of him in general... they just weren't the sort of people he wanted to talk to. Not that it was possible to tell who his preferred acquaintances were with these masks, although he supposed that was the whole point of the evening. However, his reputation was somewhat tarnished and socialising with the muddied masses would make him look good. This evening had to be a success, after all. The thought of having to be nice to filth though... He would have fingered his wand if he could reach it. As it was, he fingered the wand of his sword (decorative only, unfortunately) instead.
Swallowing his pride and scanning the people in his immediate vicinity, his eyes rested on a young woman with dark hair, dressed in purple. Drawing himself up to his full height, he approached her, before offering his hand and bending his head slightly. "May I have the pleasure of this dance?"
Dorcas had been practising being a Proper Pureblooded Lady for weeks now, but she had to admit that she was still nervous about having to pretend to be one in front of all of these people who knew exactly how they should act. She was standing and gazing around the crowd, wondering if anyone was going to ask her to dance. She had expressly been told that the men do the asking -- which wasn't that strange, really, but it was still frustrating as no one had thus far been interested in her, let alone someone who might be a Death Eater.
It was her lucky moment, though, when Lucius walked up to her and asked her for a dance -- well, until she scanned his costume and realised who it was. She recognised it from his speech earlier in the evening. All of a sudden, there was a lump in her throat. What if he knew it was her? Would he be angry? Could he be angry at a place like this? She swallowed and forced a smile onto her face. She was glad she'd disguised her hair, at least. Her face was common-looking enough with her mask on that hadn't been necessary, but her dark locks were sure to throw off anyone who might suspect it was her simply by looking at her.
"I would be delighted," she said, putting her hand in his. Her faked accent sounded strange in her own ears, and she could only hope that it wouldn't sound as forced to him as it did to her.
Hoping that he hadn't just asked a mudblood to dance, Lucius twirled the woman onto the dancefloor and placed one hand on her hip. He was a decent dancer, a lack of natural rhythm was balanced out by years of practise at society events, and besides, this was a waltz. Not particularly hard. Half concentrating on not treading on her toes, Lucius focused the rest of his attention on trying to work out who she was, but there was only so many times you could peer into the eye holes on someone's masks without engaging them in conversation, and it was after a couple of minutes of steering her around the dancefloor that he decided maybe asking was the best way to gauge his mystery partner's identity.
"What a pleasant tune," he remarked politely. "I must say, the band seem to have fulfilled all our expectations tonight." A brief pause. "I must confess, I am having some trouble recognising everyone under their masks. Can you enlighten me with your name?"
In all of their training sessions, Dorcas had failed to realise just how hard this would be. It sounded like something that should be easy compared to dodging curses and that sort of thing -- just dance and chat. But she had only just learned how to waltz, and almost all of her concentration was going into not screwing that up. On top of that, Lucius Malfoy was touching her, which was making her feel uncomfortable to say the least. He didn't have any idea who she was (hopefully), but the idea that all he had to do was grab her neck and twist to be rid of one of his irritants was frightening. And then... what was she supposed to say? Looking up at Lucius through the holes of her mask as coyly as she could manage, she said, "Not all of us are as recognisable as you are, Mr Malfoy." She nearly forgot one of the steps as she said this -- and this was a waltz. Any contemplation of what to say next was replaced with a steady beat of one, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three... "You are Mr Malfoy, no? I believe I recognise your costume."
His chest swelled with just a tad of pride as she said his name (although he would hope everyone would recognise him after he was on stage at the start of the night) and this sense of self-satisfaction made Lucius overlook the fact that he still didn't know her identity. She wasn't dancing that badly, though, leading him to believe that she must have had attended some sort of event like this before. "You are correct," he told her amenably. "I suppose that means that both my wife and our tailor have done their jobs well -- hosts of these events should be recognisable, should they not?" In the act of smiling winningly at her, he missed a step, his foot landing squarely on her toe. Removing it immediately and counting in his head again to get back into the timing of the dance, he smiled again, apologetically. "I am ever so sorry," he said ruefully. In that moment, looking through the eye holes of her mask once more, he had a flash of recognition. But then it was gone again, leaving Lucius wondering where he knew her from. "I'm still having trouble placing you, I'm afraid," he confessed, "But something about you is terribly familiar. Did we attend Hogwarts together, by any chance?"
When Lucius stepped on her toe, Dorcas almost -- almost swore, quite certain that it had been her fault. Her mouth opened and she began to say "Fuck!" but quickly remembered that proper pureblooded young ladies did not say that word, under any circumstances, particularly when their toe had been stepped on in a dance. She replaced it with an almost-lady-like exclamation of "Fudge!" and smiled. Lucius Malfoy had never seen her smile -- it was less likely he would recognise that expression than a glare or a grimace. "I always find it's more effort than one would think -- dancing and discussion in tandem." She waited for him to regain his place in the music and followed him, glad that there was enough space between them that he wouldn't be able to feel her heart pounding.
"I thought that an aura of mystery was the point of a masq ball, isn't it, Mr Malfoy?" Dorcas's mind danced with her feet as she tried to think of a response to his question. "We were not close in school, no. I believe there were a number of years between us," she told him. And this was the truth, so it wasn't that hard to say. Trying to look in the general direction of his eyes (she couldn't actually make eye contact with him, that would just be too weird) and scan for one of the pickpocketers was difficult, so she looked down at her feet for a moment, as if making sure that she wasn't about to step on his toes again, and used the opportunity to look.
"It is less the multi-tasking and more a matter of practise, or lack thereof." The Malfoy sense of humour (or lack thereof(!)) struck again. Lucius dropped his gaze from her face and concentrated on the dancing, although the fact that she had still not revealed her identity was making him all the more curious. Part of him was enjoying trying to figure it out, trying to coax the information from her, but at the same time, knowing that this woman might turn out to be a mudblood made him feel dirty. Another glance at her face, or the part of her face that was visible from under the mask did not help. The flash of recognition did not come again, and he could not shake the feeling that he had imagined it. "I do hope I haven't hurt you," was his attempt to pick up the conversation again. "But you are a good dancer, I am only sorry that I can't quite meet your standard."
It was possibly fortunate for him then that the band finished playing the waltz at that point, and he broke off from her to join in the applause. The band went straight into a new song, this one much more jazzy and uptempo. Great. He turned back to her, half hoping that she would decline this dance. If there was one thing Lucius hated about society events, it was jazzy dancing.
Jazzy dancing, thankfully for Lucius, was far outside of Dorcas's skill level, so she graciously bowed out of the dance, letting go of his hand. She felt a strong, uncontrollable urge to take a hot shower to rid herself of any feeling after having been touched by him. Thankfully, she had seen Pepper nearby and caught his eye and signaled to him that she had confirmed a Death Eater identity out of the man she was dancing with. Not that it was really that difficult. So that he wouldn't become suspicious, she quickly trained her gaze back to Lucius for a moment. "You lead very gracefully, Mr Malfoy," she said. "It was my pleasure to share this dance with you." With that, she smiled as mysteriously as possible (thankfully, it wasn't hard to do with a mask on) and slid away from him into a swarm of people, praying to god that he wouldn't follow, leaving Pepper to do his job.
For what he hoped would be nearly the last time that night, Pepper was signaled to lay trap, and he repressed a small sigh as he once again left Jo's side to play his part. Impatience and bother, he reminded himself, were temporary, and hopefully the jail sentences they landed these people with wouldn't be. The man Dorcas had indicated looked suspiciously like Lucius Malfoy, and he allowed himself a smirk at the idea of bagging him - otherwise he might have questioned the intelligence behind it. Surely the host of the party wouldn't duck out for a bit of dark magic on the side... except that it was Halloween night, and it wasn't like they could put it off til later. And Lucius and Cissy were really, really annoying. Thus decided, he headed meanderingly over to where Lucius was talking to another masquegoer, looking smug and blond and receiving compliments on a lovely event. He resisted the urge to gag, waiting until the brief conversation was done so that no one would be paying special attention to Malfoy as the tall man in the musketeer costume brushed past him, hooking a portkey neatly onto his armor.
Andromeda and Hephaestus Andromeda was a mixture of emotions tonight. She couldn't help but feel a small tugging at her heart because she knew that somewhere in this room were her family members. She knew that she should not continue to dwell on them. She heard it from Sirius on a constant basis and knew that those thoughts would only cause her and her family harm, but she could not help it. A part of her hated herself for it. But, the thought that her two sisters, parents and cousin were here somewhere had her stomach in knots.
She could not afford to be like this because she had a job to do. Since she grew up in a Purist family, she was quite skilled in picking out other Purists, so she was one of the people who had to mingle around and find the targets.
To keep herself from being discovered from her family Andromeda had charmed hair hair into springy blond ringlets, her voice was also glamour charmed so it was a bit higher and had more of a French accent to it, since she was playing the role of a French Pureblood lady for the evening. Andromeda was dressed in a traditional purple masquerade costume for the evening. She had Ted come with her in an effort to calm her nerves about the whole thing. She had spent a long time coming up with a fake history and name for herself for the night. Her name for the night was Arielle Gibbon. She was a French Pureblood who was here with her husband. She had attended Beauxbatons, so that was why no one remembered her from school. She figured that even if there was not an Arielle Gibbon, by the time it was figured out, she would be gone, so it didn't really matter. Andromeda had mingled a bit and was now enjoying a glass of champagne as she studied everyone.
It'd taken more than a little convincing on Chloris' part before Hephaestus consented to attend the masquerade. His reasons for not attending were numerous, most of them centered on his wife: it was too early for her to participate in an event of such a grand scale; she wasn't completely at full strength; and -- this being a more frivolous concern, true, but one that he felt strongly about -- he didn't exactly enjoy masques, because where on God's green earth could the fun be had when he couldn't see his wife's face?
Nevertheless, Chloris' insistence held true and won him over. And so there he was, the Oberon to his wife's Titania, in the pale cyan and white dress robes that were the counterpart to her delicate pinks and purples, nursing a beverage in one hand, an ivory cane in the other. Aside from the obvious waltz or two with Chloris, he had not danced much -- nor would he. Reluctance was not quite the word to describe his non-enthusiasm for the event; it was more a tired sense of having seen and done this before.
He took another slow, sparse sip of his drink as he watched for his wife through the eyes of his mask.
Andromeda was on the look out for people who could be Purists and Purebloods. She she came from a Purist family, it was easier for her to try to spot them. Just look for the people with the expensive and lavish looking costumes. She spotted one person who had rather nice looking dress robes on and she could tell by the look of the fabric, that it was a high grade looking material.
She decided to go over and talk to the the person and see what happened. Even if he wasn't a potential target, she could get a good conversation out of the deal. So Andromeda gracefully made her way over to him. She reminded herself to sound and act like and uppity French Pureblood lady.
"Bonjour, Monsieur." Andromeda said in her perfectly accented soft French voice. She decided to start it off slow and see what happened. "Oh, sorry. I must remind myself that I am not in France anymore." She added in, trying to act as natural as she could.
It took a moment for the flawlessly accented words to break through his reverie, but then, as he registered the silky language against the background thrum of English, Hephaestus swung his gaze around to meet that of the costumed, masked lady who'd come to stand beside him. She sounded youthful enough -- heavens knew what she was doing loitering around talking to someone who so obviously preferred to stand away from the dancers. "There are worse places to confuse this with, I'd imagine," came his response, in a French that -- in accent, although certainly not in the ease in which he spoke it -- was less natural than hers.
Andromeda smiled softly back at Hephaestus, even though her smile was not noticeable with her purple mask on her face. At his remark she let out a delicate sounding chuckle and nodded. "I try to only frequent the more respectable places. I would say that this is respectable enough. Madam Malfoy's parties are always tres magnifique." She then took a small sip of her wine. "My name is Arielle Gibbon, pardon moi for not telling you before."
Gibbon, Gibbon. Did he recognize that name? A brief moment passed as he considered it; and then he inclined his head, the faintest note of wry amusement in his voice as he said, by way of introduction, "Oberon, as in, Titania. This is a masque, Mademoiselle...? The only pardon I ask is for the premature revelation of your identity! Are you certain I'm trustworthy enough not to reveal your name to the other guests?"
Andromeda tilted her head slightly to the side, a hidden smirk playing on her lips. She was finding enjoyment in talking to this man. He seemed aimeable enough so far. She gave a soft feminine chuckle at his remark. "I have no reason to want to hide who I am. I come from a good family and you may reveal my name to anyone you wish. Masque or not, I find it rather impolite to not introduce one self to others. Maybe you are the one who has something to hide from me." She asked him, finally starting to try to dig into him some and see what she could get out of him.
Hephaestus chuckled. "Only my true identity." After another lingering sip of his drink, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking that he, despite being very fond of dancing (dancing with his wife, that is; he could not find the tempo with anyone else -- his step was often too uneven for them, rendering them clumsier still), would be bloody well pleased to get this night over and done with, so he could sit down and enjoy what was left of the night in peace. Still, one couldn't be rude, especially to young ladies who preferred a chat with him than a dance.
"Well," he began, and a note of dry mischief slid into his tone. "On my honour, I will not reveal your identity to anyone, although you have given me permission to do so. As a lady of good breeding, you'll extend the same courtesy to me, yes, should I reveal myself?"
Andromeda was fully getting into her role as Arielle as she listened to him and hearing the mischievous tone in his voice as he spoke to her. She nodded in agreement, tilting her head slightly to the side, "Oh of course. You have my word." She told him, pretending to promise and feeling slightly bad that she would be breaking her promise, but it had to be done.
"A hefty insurance," came the reply, said not unsmilingly. "A pity you don't want to wait for the grand reveal -- but then there are others you'll be far more impressed with. Hephaestus Burke, then, at your service."
"Pity indeed, but I rather like to know the person I am speaking with. Puts me at ease knowing the name of the individual. Who knows who you could be? You could be some horrible werewolf or a filthy muggleborn!" Andromeda said in a serious tone and fake shuddered, as if the thought of a muggleborn or a werewolf brought shivers up her spine.
She knew immediately who he was right then. Growing up in a Purist family, you knew who they other fellow Purists were right away. "Well, it has been a pleasure speaking with you, Monsieur Burke. Your identity is safe with me." Now that she knew that he was a Purist she had to start to wrap this up. Her job was now nearing completion.
Well, that did make some sense (actually, it made a lot of sense considering everyone there was masked; he was suddenly thankful that children were not permitted to attend and that his boys were sound in asleep at home), and he nodded, finding himself a second later somewhat bemused by Arielle's sudden farewell. Ah, well, she had other people's identities to discover, he supposed, and dances to dance; he couldn't blame her for wanting to move on.
"And yours with me, Madame," he replied, dipping his head in a polite almost-bow. "Try not to unveil too many, else you'll be left disappointed by the end of the night!"
"Of course, Monsieur Burke. I would continue chatting, but I really should try to find my husband. I was trying to see if I spotted him when I started speaking with you. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the night. Maybe we will bump into each other again." She said, bowing her head slightly in a friendly goodbye greeting. She then caught eyes with Emmeline and once their eyes were locked, gave her the signal before she walked away. She felt a guilty pang when she knew what was going to happen to Hephaestus next. Andromeda tried to stuff that away since she knew what she was signing up for when she decided to come to this event.
She was drinking a glass of water when Emmeline caught Andromeda's eye. She nodded. The older woman was walking away and her dance partner was still standing there, politely bidding her farewell. Emmeline had a limited window of time so, with the glass of water still in one hand, she approached the man quietly, hoping that circumstances would not change. She was a few feet away from him then and she was holding her breath, afraid that the sound of her breathing would prompt the man to look behind him. Deftly slipping a spiky portkey into the man's pocket as she walked past, Emmeline sighed in relief. She did it inconspicuously enough, she hoped, and with any luck, the man wouldn't have noticed anything.
Andromeda and Hephaestus Andromeda was a mixture of emotions tonight. She couldn't help but feel a small tugging at her heart because she knew that somewhere in this room were her family members. She knew that she should not continue to dwell on them. She heard it from Sirius on a constant basis and knew that those thoughts would only cause her and her family harm, but she could not help it. A part of her hated herself for it. But, the thought that her two sisters, parents and cousin were here somewhere had her stomach in knots.
She could not afford to be like this because she had a job to do. Since she grew up in a Purist family, she was quite skilled in picking out other Purists, so she was one of the people who had to mingle around and find the targets.
To keep herself from being discovered from her family Andromeda had charmed hair hair into springy blond ringlets, her voice was also glamour charmed so it was a bit higher and had more of a French accent to it, since she was playing the role of a French Pureblood lady for the evening. Andromeda was dressed in a traditional purple masquerade costume for the evening. She had Ted come with her in an effort to calm her nerves about the whole thing. She had spent a long time coming up with a fake history and name for herself for the night. Her name for the night was Arielle Gibbon. She was a French Pureblood who was here with her husband. She had attended Beauxbatons, so that was why no one remembered her from school. She figured that even if there was not an Arielle Gibbon, by the time it was figured out, she would be gone, so it didn't really matter. Andromeda had mingled a bit and was now enjoying a glass of champagne as she studied everyone.
It'd taken more than a little convincing on Chloris' part before Hephaestus consented to attend the masquerade. His reasons for not attending were numerous, most of them centered on his wife: it was too early for her to participate in an event of such a grand scale; she wasn't completely at full strength; and -- this being a more frivolous concern, true, but one that he felt strongly about -- he didn't exactly enjoy masques, because where on God's green earth could the fun be had when he couldn't see his wife's face?
Nevertheless, Chloris' insistence held true and won him over. And so there he was, the Oberon to his wife's Titania, in the pale cyan and white dress robes that were the counterpart to her delicate pinks and purples, nursing a beverage in one hand, an ivory cane in the other. Aside from the obvious waltz or two with Chloris, he had not danced much -- nor would he. Reluctance was not quite the word to describe his non-enthusiasm for the event; it was more a tired sense of having seen and done this before.
He took another slow, sparse sip of his drink as he watched for his wife through the eyes of his mask.
Andromeda was on the look out for people who could be Purists and Purebloods. She she came from a Purist family, it was easier for her to try to spot them. Just look for the people with the expensive and lavish looking costumes. She spotted one person who had rather nice looking dress robes on and she could tell by the look of the fabric, that it was a high grade looking material.
She decided to go over and talk to the the person and see what happened. Even if he wasn't a potential target, she could get a good conversation out of the deal. So Andromeda gracefully made her way over to him. She reminded herself to sound and act like and uppity French Pureblood lady.
"Bonjour, Monsieur." Andromeda said in her perfectly accented soft French voice. She decided to start it off slow and see what happened. "Oh, sorry. I must remind myself that I am not in France anymore." She added in, trying to act as natural as she could.
It took a moment for the flawlessly accented words to break through his reverie, but then, as he registered the silky language against the background thrum of English, Hephaestus swung his gaze around to meet that of the costumed, masked lady who'd come to stand beside him. She sounded youthful enough -- heavens knew what she was doing loitering around talking to someone who so obviously preferred to stand away from the dancers. "There are worse places to confuse this with, I'd imagine," came his response, in a French that -- in accent, although certainly not in the ease in which he spoke it -- was less natural than hers.
Andromeda smiled softly back at Hephaestus, even though her smile was not noticeable with her purple mask on her face. At his remark she let out a delicate sounding chuckle and nodded. "I try to only frequent the more respectable places. I would say that this is respectable enough. Madam Malfoy's parties are always tres magnifique." She then took a small sip of her wine. "My name is Arielle Gibbon, pardon moi for not telling you before."
Gibbon, Gibbon. Did he recognize that name? A brief moment passed as he considered it; and then he inclined his head, the faintest note of wry amusement in his voice as he said, by way of introduction, "Oberon, as in, Titania. This is a masque, Mademoiselle...? The only pardon I ask is for the premature revelation of your identity! Are you certain I'm trustworthy enough not to reveal your name to the other guests?"
Andromeda tilted her head slightly to the side, a hidden smirk playing on her lips. She was finding enjoyment in talking to this man. He seemed aimeable enough so far. She gave a soft feminine chuckle at his remark. "I have no reason to want to hide who I am. I come from a good family and you may reveal my name to anyone you wish. Masque or not, I find it rather impolite to not introduce one self to others. Maybe you are the one who has something to hide from me." She asked him, finally starting to try to dig into him some and see what she could get out of him.
Hephaestus chuckled. "Only my true identity." After another lingering sip of his drink, he shifted his weight from foot to foot, thinking that he, despite being very fond of dancing (dancing with his wife, that is; he could not find the tempo with anyone else -- his step was often too uneven for them, rendering them clumsier still), would be bloody well pleased to get this night over and done with, so he could sit down and enjoy what was left of the night in peace. Still, one couldn't be rude, especially to young ladies who preferred a chat with him than a dance.
"Well," he began, and a note of dry mischief slid into his tone. "On my honour, I will not reveal your identity to anyone, although you have given me permission to do so. As a lady of good breeding, you'll extend the same courtesy to me, yes, should I reveal myself?"
Andromeda was fully getting into her role as Arielle as she listened to him and hearing the mischievous tone in his voice as he spoke to her. She nodded in agreement, tilting her head slightly to the side, "Oh of course. You have my word." She told him, pretending to promise and feeling slightly bad that she would be breaking her promise, but it had to be done.
"A hefty insurance," came the reply, said not unsmilingly. "A pity you don't want to wait for the grand reveal -- but then there are others you'll be far more impressed with. Hephaestus Burke, then, at your service."
"Pity indeed, but I rather like to know the person I am speaking with. Puts me at ease knowing the name of the individual. Who knows who you could be? You could be some horrible werewolf or a filthy muggleborn!" Andromeda said in a serious tone and fake shuddered, as if the thought of a muggleborn or a werewolf brought shivers up her spine.
She knew immediately who he was right then. Growing up in a Purist family, you knew who they other fellow Purists were right away. "Well, it has been a pleasure speaking with you, Monsieur Burke. Your identity is safe with me." Now that she knew that he was a Purist she had to start to wrap this up. Her job was now nearing completion.
Well, that did make some sense (actually, it made a lot of sense considering everyone there was masked; he was suddenly thankful that children were not permitted to attend and that his boys were sound in asleep at home), and he nodded, finding himself a second later somewhat bemused by Arielle's sudden farewell. Ah, well, she had other people's identities to discover, he supposed, and dances to dance; he couldn't blame her for wanting to move on.
"And yours with me, Madame," he replied, dipping his head in a polite almost-bow. "Try not to unveil too many, else you'll be left disappointed by the end of the night!"
"Of course, Monsieur Burke. I would continue chatting, but I really should try to find my husband. I was trying to see if I spotted him when I started speaking with you. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the night. Maybe we will bump into each other again." She said, bowing her head slightly in a friendly goodbye greeting. She then caught eyes with Emmeline and once their eyes were locked, gave her the signal before she walked away. She felt a guilty pang when she knew what was going to happen to Hephaestus next. Andromeda tried to stuff that away since she knew what she was signing up for when she decided to come to this event.
She was drinking a glass of water when Emmeline caught Andromeda's eye. She nodded. The older woman was walking away and her dance partner was still standing there, politely bidding her farewell. Emmeline had a limited window of time so, with the glass of water still in one hand, she approached the man quietly, hoping that circumstances would not change. She was a few feet away from him then and she was holding her breath, afraid that the sound of her breathing would prompt the man to look behind him. Deftly slipping a spiky portkey into the man's pocket as she walked past, Emmeline sighed in relief. She did it inconspicuously enough, she hoped, and with any luck, the man wouldn't have noticed anything.
Demetrius and Kate Kate Proudfoot had finished a dance with a gentleman who had been polite, if not overly chatty, and now she was standing to the side thinking that it was a good beginning to the evening. If she had that many decently friendly dances, she'd be perfectly content. She straightened her mask, and self-consciously tugged at the skirt of the dress she was wearing. It covered almost all of her scars, she thought, and the mask covered the rest so that she really did appear to be just like any other woman on the dance floor. It was the closest she was going to get to normality and maybe that was part of why she'd come to the masquerade despite half wanting to gather Pepper and Kingsley and Jo and maybe Florence and go out for drinks at a pub.
At any rate, she'd gotten at least one dance right off, and so she stood, wondering if she'd get another one of if she should make her way to the refreshment table. It seemed early to move to the refreshment table. She glanced in the general direction, and then turned back, watching for a potential dancing partner that she could make eyes at and be flirtatious towards.
Demetrius had been quite put-off of dancing by a recent encounter with Jacqueline Wilkes, and hadn't been very active throughout the night, other than a few words to friends and the sporadic dance. So now he was restless, and figured he should ask someone to dance, lest he look like an anti-social fool. His eyes fell on someone that (if he remembered correctly) Severus had mentioned dancing with earlier. "Miss Autumn", he had referred to her.
Well, he may as well dance with someone. So of course, Demetrius strode up in this most confident fashion he could manage and addressed her with an unusual briskness. "May I have this dance?" He extended a hand. Perfect manners. He hated dancing so much.
Kate turned and looked at the man in dark black and she gave him a smile, underneath her mask. "Oh, I'd be delighted," she said very honestly. And she really was. It was always a surprise to her when someone was actually interested in dancing with her, or going out with her or really interested at all.
"Thank you, sir," she gave him a gloved hand, and let him lead her onto the dance floor. She hadn't recognised his voice, so she supposed it was not likely that it was someone she worked with regularly at the Ministry or someone that had been in her year at school, although, he could have been a few years in any direction of her, she supposed.
"Are you enjoying yourself tonight?" he asked carefully. This was not someone he was familiar with at all, so he didn't feel comfortable with anything more than the most superficial smalltalk. This dance couldn't last too long, he'd really rather be talking with Severus or Aquila than dancing with another stranger.
Kate gave him another smile as he led her rather expertly, she thought. It was always easier for her to dance with someone that knew what they were doing than to try to stumble through with someone who truly did not, and she was pleased to find herself with the former.
"I have been," she said, taking his lead on the small talk. "The costumes are so delightful, and I keep seeing things and wondering where they even found the masks, they are so elegant! What about yourself?" She asked the question in return. "Have you had a pleasant evening?"
"It's been tolerable," he said evasively. "Fun at moments, dreadful at others," he elaborated, sighing. She followed well, he noted. And she didn't trod on feet. He had encountered a few ladies that did that, and it was rather uncomfortable, particularly when they were treading on the toes Barty had broken two months ago. He would attribute bad dancers to his excuse for not dancing as much as his mother would like, he noted to himself.
Kate couldn't help but smile at him, with a light laughter - not so much at him as at the words. "I suppose that's the truth of any party," she laughed lightly. "When I had my QuinceaƱera, there were many delightful moments, but there were a few that I have attempted to block from my memory forever. Sadly most of them involved boys, but I suppose that is the danger of being fifteen, isn't it then?"
Demetrius smirked vaguely. The danger of being fifteen was something he knew all about, that was for certain. "Fifteen can be quite the dangerous age," he said in a somewhat lower voice than before. He wouldn't elaborate on that, it would make him seem less...inconspicuous, and he quite enjoyed seeming like a Nice Young Man to strangers. "But I agree, there are always moments that you'd rather not have happened in any gathering."
"Certainly so," Kate said with a smile, "But surely you were quite a gentleman at fifteen, if not, you have mastered the art impeccably!" She was feeling at ease, although she still had no clue who the masked stranger was. She was quite certain it was not someone that she had spent much time with. "I would have never guessed you had an awkward bone in your body," she added a trifle flirtatiously.
What was it about the masks? They should have made her nervous, after all the Malfoy's were hosting the ball and she was certain the Black's at least were involved and Mrs Malfoy had been a Black before. There could be Death Eaters here, and they would never know, of course, but somehow the masks in this circumstance made her feel more at ease, as if it were all right to be herself for the first time since she'd left Hogwarts. It was nice really.
Should he lie and roll with the compliment? This was a tempting option, and her thinly veiled flirtation made him a little bit uncomfortable. He could always say 'no, I was a terror at fifteen...' and shake it off. Tempting. He was very deliberate with his comment, she could be some sort of law enforcement (they did hire women did they?).
"Not quite a gentlemen, no. I grew into that," he said. Vague comments. Don't return flirtations. Demetrius knew how to be careful when he really wanted to be. "But I don't believe I've ever been exceedingly awkward," he added.
"Well you have grown into it remarkably well," Kate said with a small laugh. "I should have never known that you were not born the perfect gentleman," she was flirting, but it was a safe flirting, she thought. She didn't know him, he didn't know her, and after the end of this dance they would probably never see each other again - or at least, it didn't seem likely. It occurred to her that Kate the Auror should probably be on duty, that during what was essentially a war time, she should always pay attention to the people she was around, to read things. But for the moment she shook such thoughts away as paranoia, and possibly even rude when your partner was such a gentleman. "You have fooled me completely," she said softly.
"That's good to know," he said in as pleasant a voice as he could manage. "My mother seems to be terribly proud of me, so I'd say you're right," he added, a bit smug. Perfect gentleman, he could do that. Quite easily, after all, he had been raised to be the perfect gentlemen. He just opted not to behave as such unless it was beneficial. Right now, the perfect gentleman act would benefit him getting out of this dance as cleanly as possible.
"Your mother has every right to be proud," she said with a smile. He must not be so old then, if he was willing to discuss his mother - on the other hand, she figured that he could not be too young either or he would be too embarrassed to admit such a thing. She was quiet for a moment, enjoying the music and the pleasure of dancing with someone who was competent. Perhaps she would go to the refreshment table after this, she thought. Take a dance off, for it would be dreadful after such a nice experience to end up with someone who was all four feet.
"Did she teach you to dance?" She asked as a matter of conversation.
"She did, as a matter of fact. When I was a child, she was quite intent on it," Demetrius said. "She taught me most things actually," he added as an afterthought, more to himself. This wasn't such a good topic to tread, family. But he couldn't look as though he was intentionally avoiding conversation either, as that was far more suspicious than a conversation about his mother.
"My mother moved away when I was young," Kate said thoughtfully. "She taught me a good number of things however." She missed her mother and her brother more than she really allowed herself to dwell on, but then she realised it was hardly a happy conversation for the dance and she smiled quickly. "She did not teach me to dance, sadly. I had to teach myself when I was older. Well, not really myself I suppose. I had assistance there as well." Several of the boys in her house had helped her in that regard. "Mothers are wonderful things though."
What else was appropriate for conversation she wondered. "Have you had a chance to go by the refreshment table yet?" Food seemed like an extremely dull thing to talk about, but if one was small talking.
"No, not quite yet. I expect I'll collect my companions and head in that direction later in the evening," he said. Where was Severus? He allowed himself to take his eyes away from his dancing partner and he looked around for any sign of his friends. No sign. "Have you had any of the refreshments? I expect they're excellent."
"I haven't yet," she said with a smile. "I expect they are as well. I sincerely doubt that Mrs Malfoy would provide anything but the best for her guests, and it is for such a good cause after all." The former statement came out almost through gritted teeth, but she smiled as if she had absolutely no opinion on the Malfoy's. She had no idea whom she was talking to and she saw no reason to suggest otherwise. Just because she thought it was likely that the Malfoy's were involved with this Death Eater business, didn't mean that anyone else would and certainly Lucius Malfoy had gone out of his way to suggest otherwise. "I will have to check them out in a bit. A few dances in, it might be time for a breather."
"Mrs. Malfoy only provides the best for her events," he agreed. Naturally he wasn't the Malfoys biggest fan, but they were a good family and he no reason to imply otherwise to anyone. "Naturally, dancing can take quite a bit out of a person," he continued blandly. He loathed smalltalk so much sometimes. He would have to find Severus after this. Or wash his hands. Though Severus seemed more favourable in such a situation. He could easily wait and shower at home. He had to play normal.
"It really can; I do think it is the best exercise however. Certainly more fun than some things people can do." Kate noticed that it seemed the music was ending. And she just gave him a smile under her mask. She didn't particularly expect a second dance, although he was certainly one of the better partners she'd had during the evening and she would have enjoyed a second dance. Still, he might have an escort, or someone else he should be paying attention to. Perhaps she would see if Kingsley or one of the other DMLE members were around so that she could beg a dance. She was fairly certain none of them would get caught up on ceremony.
"It's better exercise than I've had in a while, that's rather certain," Demetrius said lamely. The music was dying down, so naturally Demetrius saw that as his grand escape from dancing for a while. He needed something to drink. As the music died, he smiled falsely and released her, attempting not to see too enthused to be done. "It was a pleasure dancing with you," he said politely. "But I've someone I need to find," he added, pausing for a second and then turning and walking away.