Aberdeen, having excused herself from her conversation with Moira Randall and Michael Styx, decided she was attracting little enough attention is a sea of strangers to pull her enchanted notebook from her evening bag. She knew a message from her husband Luke was waiting for her in it, and though it probably wasn't imperative for her to read it right away, she didn't like to take the chance. She also didn't like to 'check her messages' in company; apart from anything else it struck her as impolite.

As it happened, she didn't have worried about Luke. The message on the notepaper read, I just texted to say I love you. Then I remembered that mobile phones don't work in St. Mungo's. So I'm writing it in a magic notebook instead. I love you. Hope you're coping with the socialising okay. Just let me know if you want me to come and get you. Oh, and also, I love you. Did I mention that?

Aberdeen smiled a little at her husband's odd sense of humour. But something about him telling her he loved her made her... sad, somehow. Was she just imagining it, or did he feel like he had to reaffirm that more often these days? She shook her head ever so slightly to banish the thought (Occlumency training, Aberdeen, remember to keep yourself in check) and fished a pen out of her clutch to scribble a reply.

You poor, misguided fool. Her hand hovered over the paper for a moment before she added, No need to come and get me. Don't leave the house, okay? It was stupid. She knew it was stupid. He left the house most days to go to work. He spent time with his friends and family.  But with Robin gone, and now Dreogan... She just wanted Luke safe. She hated worrying so much, right up until she remembered what Styx had mentioned earlier. It's a full moon tonight, she wrote quickly, and instantly felt more justified in her fretting. Rogue werewolves were a legitimate concern.

It was with considerable relief that Aberdeen tucked the notebook away and started scanning the crowd for a waiter like she had said she would. She also found that she was looking out for anyone else she might know. Specifically anyone from Level Two. Granted, she had spotted Vivian Callen earlier, but she didn't know the woman especially well. What she wouldn't give for a friendly face right now, like Pratt or Radley or Adon. She'd even be willing to make small talk with Trevelyan. The more time wore on, the more Aberdeen missed the MLE, and those with whom she used to work were her closest link to it.

Well, she wasn't have much luck finding any roving hors d'oeuvres, but she finally managed to spy the buffet table, and breathed a small sigh of relief. A little oasis of nibbles in the vast desert of mingling. Aberdeen made her way to the array of finger food with the deftness of someone who had been trained to slip through crowds unnoticed with ease. (Which, in fact, she had.) And not a moment too soon, it seemed; the instant she had reached the table, her stomach started to growl.

'Oh! Beg your pardon,' she said to the person she'd appeared next to, before her eyes fell on the selection of party tidbits. 'Oh, yes. They have sausage rolls. I hate to be a stereotypical Scot, but you can't beat something wrapped in pastry.' Aberdeen armed herself with a serviette before helping herself. 'I wonder who they got to cater? They've done an amazing job.'

Aisling had excused herself from Tarron's company for just a moment, something which she hoped would not leave him swarmed by dignitaries the moment he was out of sight. The fuss of this season was starting to leave her a little tired. Not to mention the two small, energetic young figures waiting at home. She rather hoped they had had enough of parties.

And then there was a young woman beside her, saying something about sausage rolls. Aisling couldn't help but smile, and stepped to the side to allow her easier access to them. "They do look rather delicious, but I have had to resign myself to not trying everything."

Her own plate held small samples of a half-dozen dishes, most of which appeared rather light. "I cannot say that I know who did the catering, though I expect that Ms. St. James is quite aware of the best among them." Aisling hadn't attended many of her parties, but Dolly seemed to put them on often enough to have a particularly honed sense of running them.

Aberdeen spared the dark-haired witch who had answered her a smiling glance before biting into what was undoubtedly going to turn into her dinner. A contented hum escaped her. 'Oh yes,' she said one her mouth was empty again. 'She really seems to know what she's about when it comes to these fancy dos, doesn't she?' She instinctively gave the magically enhanced room a sweeping glance. Thank Murphy it had been St. James's name that had been brought up, and not O Morain's. Aberdeen could disguise her discomfort around the pureblood debutante but if at all possible she preferred to avoid talking about her at all. 'It's almost enough to make me feel bad for not having read her books.' Almost. The exploits of high-society school girls really wasn't Aberdeen's cup of tea.

Setting her sausage roll carefully in her napkin, Aberdeen gave the witch standing next to her a better look. She had to hand it to her, she matched the lovely black-and-white look of the transformed tea room excellently. 'Oh! I've seen you at the Ministry, haven't I? Muggleworthy Excuses?' A memory for faces had been crucial in Aberdeen's prior line of work. Not to mention you couldn't work anywhere muggle-related in the Ministry without at least a passing familiarity with the Excuse Committee. 'Aberdeen Spencer, Muggle Affairs.' She covertly checked to make sure her gloved hand was free of pastry crumbs before offering it to the elegantly-clad witch to shake.

It was, Aisling had to admit, pleasant to be at a more casual party. Dolly's books and sausage rolls were much lighter fare for conversation that many other topics. "I'd expect that attending here would mean far more than your reading habits to our lovely hostesses." Her own habits with books could be described as eclectic-or Ravenclaw. There was a reason that Moonmoth Hall held so many bookshelves.

"Muggleworthy Excuses, yes. Aisling Knight."  She took the other woman's hand with a smile, and gave it a gentle shake. "A pleasure to meet you." Work seemed, for the moment, a dreadful topic to speak of-particularly with the matter of Dreogan's kidnapping so recent.

"Is there a particular sort of book you prefer to read then, if I may ask?" The question was offered with a warm, easy tone. Just a touch curious, but not near enough to be intrusive. "I've always had such a weakness for old ones, myself."

Knight; Aberdeen recognised the name as one of the better-known pureblood families. Callum Knight, she recalled, was a fairly recent addition to the Falmouth Falcons. And then there was Tarron Knight, who headed up the Wizengamot. (Aberdeen wondered briefly what it said about her the she thought of Quidditch first and the courtroom second.) But Aisling Knight didn't seem to exude the self-important airs that some high-society types did, which came as a relief. Between her, and Moira Randall and Michael Styx, Aberdeen decided that she had been lucky with her small-talk companions thus far.

'Pleasure's all mine,' she replied automatically, but she found that she meant it. 'I've got to admit, I've actually got a soft spot for crime fiction. Mostly muggle stuff, since that's what I grew up with. Agatha Christie, Arthur Conan Doyle, P.D. James; you know them?' Aberdeen didn't want to assume Knight knew muggle literature just because she worked for Muggleworthy Excuses, and likewise she didn't want to assume she didn't just because she had a pureblood surname. 'I always loved trying to see if I could figure out whodunnit before it was revealed. So, what about you?' She smiled genially. 'Any old ones in particular that you go for?'

Aisling took a step back from the buffet to allow those who were still collecting food easier access. She was at this event less to eat than to talk and offer social (and financial) support. "My sister reads some of those. Particularly Agatha Christie. I've only read a few, though I do believe there's still some which she gave me on the bookshelves at home. Being slowly encroached upon by Tarron's ever-increasing collection of tomes on law, I expect." A quick chuckle at her own image, and she spread her hands apart a bit to indicate an expanse of books.

"Not that I'm any better. I have a whole shelf full of old grimoires and such that I keep meaning to go through, and it seems to be growing swifter than I can progress with it." Then the vaguely embarrassed shake of her head. That ancient Divination tome she'd picked up had certainly contributed to the issue, among others. "The Arithmancy ones are first on the list, and I have not yet even made it through them."

And just a bit of a self-disparaging smile. "Perhaps I'd be better served attempting to make it through the crime fiction."

After managing to deliberately get his son lost in the midst of the crowd taking up most of the space, Mordecai headed to the buffet table to examine this evening's offers. When Lydia had heard about the party she immediately announced that dinner would only be for herself and encouraged the two to go and eat at the party. The two men had silently exchanged glances at this, but it was that or cook for themselves. They hadn't had much of an option when the woman of the house had made up her mind.

As his gaze travelled along the length of the buffet table, it also took in the appearances of the people present. He could recognise so many faces. But the closest one - ah, Aisling.

He paused in his walking when he was level with her. She was speaking to someone else, but Mordecai had been brought up to be polite. "Good evening, Aisling," he said in a level tone. "I didn't expect to see you here, although come to think of it there's no reason why it should be a surprise."

Married to Tarron Knight, Aberdeen made a mental note. With a sister who reads Agatha Christie. Probably not a pureblood, then. Not that it should matter. Aberdeen simply found herself making these deductions automatically, and quickly wrenched herself back to the subject of books, reminding herself that she was meant to be socialising, not studying. 'A good whodunnit is a great distraction, I find, but then I'm biased towards them, so I would say that.' She offered a self-effacing grin to match Knight's.

'And maybe I'm also biased by the fact that one of my best friends used to be a librarian,' she added, only a flicker of her eyes betraying her concern for her friend Akiva due to the abduction of her husband, 'but having a pile of informative books to work through sounds like a pretty good predicament to be in. At least if you're a Ravenclaw,' she said with a wink. She didn't take the defining aspects of the Hogwarts houses too terribly seriously, but that didn't mean she couldn't banter a little about them.

Aberdeen's train of thought pulled swiftly into a station at the arrival of a distinguished looking gentleman. She quickly recognised him as one of the department heads, and it seemed like he already knew Knight. She turned back to the buffet to gather some more sustenance onto a plate and to give the two space to say their hellos before she followed the other woman's lead and moved away to let others at the table. She nodded her head politely in her own greeting to Hollingbury. 'Aberdeen Spencer. How're you this evening?'

"It would seem a better predicament if I thought I had a chance of working through them. But it rather outpaces me these days." Aisling ducked out of the way of another party goer who had filled their plate rather too full and was attempting to balance it while moving through the crowd.

Her pendant swung just slightly with the movement, catching on the fabric of her dress than slipping loose. "Though I cannot protest too much at being such a blatant example of my house." That was something she allowed herself to hold a bit of pride in.

Mordecai Hollingbury was not quite the sort which Aisling had expected to see there-though certainly not an unwelcome one. "Mr. Hollingbury. It's good to see you again." She gave him a small curtsey. "We were just discussing our usual reading habits. Do join us." The more casual nature of the event was no reason to misplace her manners-or to cling too tightly to them.

Mordecai nodded back to Aberdeen; he had only seen her from time to time but had never actually spoken to her until now. "Doing well. I've just arrived, actually, but better to be fashionably late than never come at all." He gave her a quick, but warm, smile.

"Mr. Hollingbury. It's good to see you again." He turned around just in time to catch Aisling curtsey; he raised his eyebrows in surprise at this gesture. Surely he wasn't that old? He certainly wasn't that distinguished - well, in his opinion.

"We were just discussing our usual reading habits. Do join us."

Ah, books. After having spent weeks with folders and paper, non-law reading material was like a drink of cold, fresh water in a desert. "Don't mind me if I do join in," he said, casually leaning against the buffet table and picking up a plate. "And do carry on, I'm interested. It's not often I get to discuss fiction with colleagues."