Title: MISTER&missus
Description: to the penitence ball
Description: to the penitence ball
casablanca - December 31, 2007 02:17 AM (GMT)
Parties, parties.. so many bleedin' parties.
It was thatmost wonderful time of the year, after all, and parties were very highly regarded,
almost necessary if you were a link in the massive chain that was pureblood society.
And if you didn't show up to one.. well, you were a chink in that chain.
Nobody enjoys a chink.
It was that
almost necessary if you were a link in the massive chain that was pureblood society.
And if you didn't show up to one.. well, you were a chink in that chain.
Nobody enjoys a chink.
- "It's the fifth party we've been to tonight, Sylvia, my fucking feet are about to fall off," Magnus put bluntly as they stepped out of ther midnight black carriage, pulled by seemingly invisiblle and equally as colourful (or lack thereof) Arabian horses. Daddy's gift to his favourite daughter, of course.
Sylvia rolled her eyes, brushing the non-existant dust off her fox fur shawl. He was vulgar, yes. He was still her fiancé, yes. But he cleaned up damn well, didn't he? She threaded her left arm through his right, pulling him just close enough to her to give the appearance of a happy couple, one whose relationship had nary the amount of complications that theirs truly did.
"Just try to behave, Magnus darling," she chided, forcing a smile through her deep red lips, "And for Merlin's sake, don't swear in front of the Crouches," her voice became sharper, but her smile came easier. "Mister Crouch may die prematurely of an aneurysm."
Magnus smirked back. "You know, some days, I truly feel as if I'm in love with you."
Sylvia snorted. "Don't take the acting too far, Humphrey."
Oh, now wasn't this lovely? A blindingly lit Christmas tree in the foyer immediately drew Sylvia's attention away from the Crouch family's hideous choice of wallpaper. It wasn't long before she was greeted by a familiar sight - really, the Blacks and the Malfoys always seemed to stay within thirty feet of each other. It was like the opposite of a restraining order.
"Oh look darling, it's the Bulstrodes,"
"Now just wait, Walburga, Miss Macnair's ring is exceptionally small for her likings, isn't it?"
"You're too right, Abraxas."
"Happy holidays to you too, Walburga dearest," Sylvia exposed her brilliant white teeth along with all of the other brilliant whte smiles that were presented to her. Her fiancé then very appropriately took Walburga's married hand (Sylvia couldn't help but notice) and kissed it; perhaps for a little longer than he should have.
"Now now Magnus, my lips are the sole privvy to my fair wife's hand," Orion intervened smoothly, his eyes sliding towards Sylvia, "You look lovely this evening Sylvia," he quipped, a smirk on his face, "But I will spare you the honor of my slobber,"
"Well isn't this charming? I feel like Helen of Troy," Walburga exclaimed, taking her husband's arm. "Let's keep moving, shall we, darling?"
Veronique Malfoy, at the sight of one of the none-too-popular-with-the-ladies-but-very-much-so-with-the-gents Lecavalier sisters, the younger one in particular, then pulled her husband's face to herself and gave him a most marvelous - but most unheard of in public - kiss.
"Absolutey disgusting, non?" Juliette turned to her husband, Marius Burke, her nose scrunched, but in a very cute way. "Some people just 'ave no sense of 'ow to be'ave in public," she glared daggers towards the Malfoys, clearly still not over the man's betrothal decision.
"I, uh.. suppose so," Marius forced out, staring at his wife longingly. Merlin, she was even beautiful when she was disgusted. Suddenly she was pulled from her husband's side by her sister, who looked positively crossed. What so ever did perfect little Juliette do this time?
"You are going to stay away from my husband tonight, do you understand? He's having a hard enough time with the rest of his family present at this function."
Juliette smirked.
"I can't promise anything, ma soeur. Just keep your eye on 'im, oui?"
Her sister scowled back at her, but her expression quickly changed as one of the Crouch girls walked by.
"A lovely party, Ariadne. Simply splendid."
"Oh yes yes, direct your thanks to my mother." The blonde smiled in a rush, "Have you seen my sister, Atalanta, by any chance?"
"She's safe," a voice assured, as none other than Tom Riddle joined the party, materializing out of nowhere, it seemed. "For now, at least," he jested, a charming smile creeping across his face. "But she explicitly reminded me to pass this onto you," he slipped a note into her palm, before nodding towards the Lecavalier girls and strolling effortlessly away.
Ariadne glanced at the note; her heart almost jumped out of her chest. She folded it carefully as she walked down the hallway, entering a room to the left, where a well-dressed man sat at the piano, playing an exquisite rendition of Rondo Alla Turka, which was cut short at her entrance.
"That's Barty's piano." Was the only thing that came to her mind at that instant.
"I know. I'm surprised he has yet to find me butchering poor Mozart."
"Oh, nonsense."
They stood in silence for a moment.
"Let's do it," he exclaimed, exasperated, "Let's run now."
They stared at each other, lost in time and space. Luckily their intense gazes were broken when a very young, dark-haired lad burst through one of the adjoining doors to the room, with a blonde's legs wrapped around his waist.
"Oh, dear." Judas began to apologize, breathing heavily, "So sorry to bother you. Put an occupied sign on the door next time," he retreated back to the other room, his girl giggling.
Ariadne stared after them. Unbelievable.
"Did your sister not make an appearance?"
"Oh, no. She's here, which is why I'm here. Uninvited, at least. That is certainly her husband, but that is certainly not my sister..."
Parties.
Parties parties parties.
Lies, jealousy, betrayal, lust.
Holidays aren't just for celebration and merriment anymore.
Parties parties parties.
Lies, jealousy, betrayal, lust.
Holidays aren't just for celebration and merriment anymore.