2010 had arrived, and even if Edwin felt he'd barely recovered from the St Mungo's event on new years eve, he was here for the opera, and Ira Almasy's invitation.

The Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes wandered through the floor area, a glass of red wine in hand, stopping every now and then to shake hands and greet friends and acquaintances warmly.

"Good evening, how lovely to see you. What a fantastic dress - congratulations on the news - I heard - see you back in the office..." It was becoming so well rehearsed and oiled it was almost a little fake. A quiet night, or so he anticipated. He did so awfully like something to spice up something like this. A good, magical catastrophe, or even a little one would make his night.

He turned on his heel and came face to face with someone unexpectedly...

Evie's robes, dripping with the beading and lace she adored so much, had a certain satin-like sheen to them, and her hair was pulled back into a rare up-do. Her fairies were doing a beautiful job adorning her braided bun, their glistening wings mimicking the sheen of her robes. She felt exquisite. If all she'd done tonight was get dressed up and leave the house, that would have been enough for her, but she still had the performance itself to look forward to.  Aunt Ophelia had allowed Evelyn to accompany her to the opera tonight as her guest, and she could not have been more pleased. Who didn't want to dress up, experience culture, and get some private time with her favorite auntie all at once?  Tonight felt special, and as soon as she stepped into the room, which was just as dressed up as she was, she could feel the excitement flooding her veins and spreading outward. She tilted her chin upward to admire the pretty charmwork, taking in the sight of the impossible snowflakes drifting and vanishing, drifting and vanishing. The music was delightful, too, and she couldn't help but take it inside of her and hold it there, walking in time with the song.

Of course, when you're staring at the ceiling and walking along obliviously in time to music, it's more than possible to end up somewhere unexpectedly. She hadn't meant to drift, but it had happened – her legs had taken her without her consent, and although she didn't wander so far that she'd bumped into anybody, she had definitely gotten close enough to pop someone's personal bubble. Her aunt had stopped to say hello to someone, and when Evie finally looked up, she realized just how far she'd traveled from her aunt's side. She didn't imagine Aunt Opie would be surprised. Evelyn wandered – it was her way. Usually it was intentional, however. She blinked up at the man whose space she'd inadvertently invaded, her expression mostly stoic, and a bit jarred. She took a few steps back. She may have been feeling one with the universe, but she understood personal space. Should she apologize? Well, she hadn't done anything. No, then. Instead she flashed him a coy smile, which was there one second, gone the next.

“You can tell a room is really glorious in its own right when all of the resources in the world are available and the decorations are still intentionally understated. See how it sparkles without a touch of glitter? That's beauty,” Evie spoke softly. Well, she felt she'd explained herself sufficiently. “That's how I came to be standing here. I was admiring. It wasn't intentional,” she added, glancing around the space, which was filled with people and despite its size, a tad claustrophobic. “And I seem to have lost my auntie.”   

The Minister of Magic arrived and everyone took note.  Her robes flowed in cream, pink, and orange, and a stiff high collar framed her black natural locks.  Thick round black glasses perched at the end of her nose, and she smiled a beautiful white smile as she nodded and greeted and moved in the room.

The opera!  This was not the first time that Persepolis had gleaned an invitation to the famed Winter Opera from patron of the arts Ira Almasy, but it was the first time as Madam Minister, the first time in a private box.  But she knew better - this wasn't relaxation.  This was part of the job.  There were no such thing as private moments any longer.  Every word she spoke, every move she made would be noted by someone. 

And she liked it.  It meant every moment was an opportunity to influence, gain esteem, and endear herself to important people. 

Near a chaise and a beautiful column she saw the host for the evening.  She was hard to mistake.  Willow tall and sharp.  All ice-white and clean lines.  A cutting creature, certainly.  And a true contrast to Persepolis who was dark, round, and gleaming.  She approached her with a eye-wrinkling smile and open arms.

"My dear, Madam Almasy, you are a wonder.  I'm enchanted already," she hummed in her rich alto.   "Did you get our owl?  I know how International Cooperation can be sometimes but we set them straight.  You shouldn't have any more trouble."

No favor was truly freely given but Zephyr had always been savvy in the game within the game.  An opera was not just an opera and an owl was not just an owl.

She embraced Ira lightly and kissed each cheek.

Aisling had only stepped away from her husband for a moment-but it was enough to get her entangled in a few bits of conversation before she caught sight of their host.

And of the Minister, it seemed. That was not a greeting she had ever quite expected to see directed towards Ira Almasy. While risking the same did not seem the most pleasant of moments, it was also hardly a great imposition. It would be good to speak to both of them. Something to distract her from both the fact that her daughters were waiting at home, and various Ministry officials who might wish to bore her with details of cauldron thickness.

"Madam Almasy, Madam Minister. I am gladdened to see you both." The black velvet of her dress rustled as it brushed against the floor, and Aisling then offered them both a polite curtsey. She turned just barely towards their hostess. "And you have truly outdone yourself yet again." The small smile that accompanied her words was honest-as they all were. 

Distinguishing Zephyr's arrival was on par with anticipating an evident sandstorm- one observed it from afar.

"My drink, Reinka." Ira Almasy passed her crystal to the younger witch, a tone of resignation marking the gesture. There was no avoiding this aspect of the facade and had she even the option, one did not simply ignore a Minister of Magic. Irregardless of government.

Raine had accepted the glass obediently. "Do I stay?" she did not seem to savour the idea either, and a flicker of uncertainty betrayed the girl's confident bearing. Amidst golden glamours and plunging symphonies that danced throughout the night, Ira's niece was a small star- eclipsed by larger characters in a performance of which she was hardly aware.

Something akin to sympathy passed through the older woman's mind as she tilted her head subtly.

"Flee, precious." Soft by intention but harsh in the Russian tongue. Still, Raine smiled fleetingly and disappeared on to the crowded Floor just as  Persepolis swooped in, a sight in pink.

There was something to be said of a politician's prowess.

"Madame Minister," Ira felt the strain of her smile as she received the societal kisses. "Da, we are most grateful for your assistance." Bureaucracy in the United Kingdom was a greater force than in Moscow, and (for now) it was beneficial to be in Zephyr's good races.

Aisling Knight had come to their rescue before any further mention of the matter could be made however. And in exemplary form. Ira lowered her head into a demure nod, responding to the curtsy, as long spindly hands came to meet across her middle.

"Niet. You flatter me, Madame Knight..." she smiled, in no way modest. "It is to the artists we owe admiration. Now tell me, are you two alone this evening?" Ira's pale brow rose with gentle humour. "I would be most disappointed in the gentleman."

Of course she already knew of partners or dates- but this was polite. And polite was all one could be, considering the performance she had in store for them.

When Sam  reached the Floor, he saw Minister Zephyr talking to Ira Almasy. One thing of note is that, unlike at most of these events, Laura was not accompanying him. Unfortunately, she had been taken ill and had chosen not to come. It was unfortunate, but happened. He had been thinking about it so mch that he was briefly surprised to see he had ended up near Almasy and the Minister. " Minister Zephyr. Madam Almasy. Madam." Sam greeted, the name of the third woman escaping him for the moment.

Nightingale, was going to be sick. Absolutely bloody sick from the nerves that raced around through him like a bolt of cold lightning, and shook from all the anxiety. He'd been waiting now for what seemed well over half hour for his partner to get there, and was half tempted just to leave. He wouldn't be too cross with Chaz for not showing, and rather thankful as he wasn't sure he was ready for this. There were so many people here. Students. Professors. Important members of the wizarding world, and he hadn't expected this. This was supposed to be their night, just theirs--no one else's, but as the floor got busier so too did the bar area.

This was such a big night for the two of them, Gale and his lover as it meant more than just a night out. It was a first of many, or so he hoped. This was his way of shouting to the world that he was there, in love, and better than they expected.

If only he could move away from the stair railing, and didn't fear passing out.

Chaz sidled past a couple talking, trying hard not to brush up against anyone in their expensive clothes.  The men and women alike were wearing outfits that were probably more expensive than his flat, not even including the jewels hanging off them.  Chaz pulled on his coat, making sure it was straight even though he'd already done that twice since arriving.

Shamefully, he was a tad late.  He'd been on his way out the door with plenty of time to apparate and scope out a place where he'd see Gale arrive but as he'd reached for his scarf, he found it under Aphrodite's scowling form.  "What?" he'd asked the cat.  He could feel the disapproval rolling off of her.  That's when he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of the kitchen window.  He looked positively scruffy.  You're not going to the Opera looking like that? she seemed to ask him.  So, of course, he'd had to shave.  And then the girl at the coat check thought it would be brilliant to have a chat about the show.  It would've been rude to just ignore her.

Here he was, in a crowd of unfamiliar people looking for his boyfriend.  It was by chance that he looked above the crowd and saw Gale standing on the last few steps of the stairs.  He approached and placed a hand on Gale's elbow.  He leaned forward and placed a warm kiss on Gale's cheek.  "Sorry I'm late," he said with a grin.  "Aphrodite wouldn't let me leave without shaving.  Fancy occasion and all that."

Gale's heart was pounding, and when he saw Chester walking towards him it didn't stop. He felt the kiss, felt the other man's hand on his elbow, but still curled inward.

"I don't know about this Chaz," He spoke quietly looking up at his lover through very scared and nervous eyes, "Students are here. Other Professors." He tried to swallow back his nerves and even closed his eyes to whine, "It will change everything." He was beating himself up, on one hand he wanted this, on the other he was scared to death he'd lose his job. Chaz was worth it, and the money wasn't what kept him. But knowing he'd never have the chance to have a child of his own, the students were his world. Shaking he curled into Chaz's side, and pressed his ear to the other man's chest so that he could hear the only true steady thing in his life.

"Are you sure about this?"

Chaz laughed and pet Gale's back lightly.  "Of course I'm sure," he murmured.  Then he pushed Gale back and tipped his face up so he could peer into his remaining eye.  "The question is, are you sure?"

He was a little worried about Gale.  This was a big step, coming out to the people you knew and it was really unfortunate that Gale had had to wait so long to do it.  Not that Chaz had any room to talk.  He hadn't been able to admit to his sexuality until after school because of his parents.  In the grand scheme of things,  he was lucky to be an only child or he'd have be disowned for not being willing to reproduce.  Heirs meant everything which is probably why they tucked adoption brochures into his Christmas gifts.

"Look," Chaz said soothingly.  "If you're not ready, we don't have to do this.  We can just go home."

'We can just go home.'

Gale loved hearing those words, especially from this man's lips. It didn't matter if they were staying at his rented flat or Chaz's dumpy little one, he felt home when they were together. It's why this was so hard, because he wanted to be out with Chaz. He wanted to get this off his chest and stop pretending, but he was so afraid of losing his students. Gale's time at the ministry was nice, but he loved teaching.

"It's just a really big step. I mean a really big one. I've never done anything like this, but I want to. But I just thought..we'd start small. I didn't realize how many important people came to Opera's. I never paid attention growing up. My dad and I always just snuck in the top so we could see." He ran his fingers through his hair, his nervous habit, and bit his lip.

"Important people are here," He whined again, and ran right back into Chaz's chest only to sigh. No one was as important as this.

"Ok. I can do this." He tried to breathe and took a few steps back to get some air. "We can do this," He took Chaz's hand, and felt like such a rebel. With one more look at himself in the glass of the sign he smoothed out his hair, and was happy to still see the bruises had faded finally. He slipped his hand in the bend of Chaz's arm as he always did and turned to walk in.

"I'm going to pass out."

The young lady who he had come fact to face with looked the age to be a student at Hogwarts, but one could never assume.

“You can tell a room is really glorious in its own right when all of the resources in the world are available and the decorations are still intentionally understated. See how it sparkles without a touch of glitter? That's beauty,” She spoke so softly, Edwin found him leaning even close to hear her words, which were sensitively phrased, his own eyes looking upwards.
“That's how I came to be standing here. I was admiring. It wasn't intentional, and I seem to have lost my auntie.”

"Now you point them out to me," Edwin replied, his tone matching hers on purpose, "they are rather lovely, aren't they?" His eyes continued to gaze up above them, the light reflecting in his brown eyes.

"Who is your aunt?" He asked, looking back down at the young witch, "Oh, forgive me my dear, I haven't even asked your name."

Evie hadn't lost Opie, they had lost each other simultaneously. While Evelyn was off satisfying her wanderlust and love of all things beautiful by staring at the ceiling and bumping into strangers, Ophelia was hiding behind a pillar, satisfying her love of philanthropy by spying on the other guests via her opera glasses. The flock of people around the new Minister had caught her eye and she was pretending they were part of an elaborate Soap operaesque play that was being put on for her personal entertainment. She had even given them all names and back stories, as well as an suitably soapy love quadrangle. It was proving quite entertaining actually, or at least she thought so. When she had tried to tell Roldolfo about it, he had begged her to pull the strings on his ears shut. Always a critic.

Perhaps she was being a bit childish and socially immature, but Opie was never one to balk at such labels. Long ago, she had decided that one didn't have to be sociable to be a philanthropist, you just had to like people. She liked people, that wasn't the issue, it was that they just didn't seem to reciprocate. So she treated them much like one would treat a badly tempered cat. You watched and admired them from afar, only ever approached when invited and left little gifts, such as delectable lumps of tuna, about anonymously in hopes that one day they would figure out that you actually did something for them and may possibly appreciate it. It could often be thankless, but for Opie, it was knowing she made even the tiniest difference that mattered.

It was harder in settings like this, though. These cats weren't just frightened strays that appreciated every drop of food you gave them, even if they didn't let you touch them. These ones were fat, spoiled purebreds that didn't let you touch them because you were simply not good enough to sully their fur and don't even bother trying to feed them that slop you call 'food', you peasant. It was an entirely different world from her trips to the slums and ghettos, and Opie had quickly found herself out of her element. So she had begun to weave a story out of the need of self preservation. The champagne helped. She didn't know how she had managed to procure a flute of the stuff, but she was enjoying it immensely.

Sipping at the bubbly, she turned her glasses onto other guests, trying to locate a new group of interest,and  occasionally let out a random giggle when she saw something particularly funny. She was having fun at least. One could never be bored when one had imagination.


(er... Approach with caution?)

"Madam Knight!"  Persepolis was proud to recognize the wife of the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and agent of the Muggle-Worthy Excuse Committee Aisling Knight.  Persepolis Zephyr exchanged a pleasant greeting and embrace with her as well, as was customary among witches and stood back just a step to accommodate a coven of three.

Three was a charmed number and Persepolis Zephyr always felt a cozy completeness when in the company of two other witches, and witches of great esteem to boot.  She certainly required no accompaniment this evening.  A wizard at her flank would not afford her these moments.

"I am never alone these days," she answered Almasy with a wry smile.  She was always followed by a discreet security wizard who stood around corners, just out of view in attire appropriate to the setting.  And more often then not, a clerk or assistant was waiting for her somewhere nearby.  Romance was something Persepolis hadn't dared consider now in her new post.  She was far too busy and at her age, she wasn't as ravenous about pursing a traditional mate as she had been in her twenties and thirties.  She had the entire Ministry of Magic now.  That was bedfellow enough, for now.

It was then that a wizard in Auror's dress robes approached them.  Tall and dignified-looking and with good manners.  The coven was broken, but no matter.  Those moments could be fleeting, and perhaps unnoticed by many, and Zephyr cherished them when they came and did not overly mourn their passing.

She didn't know him, though.  Only that he looked the part of an Auror of some experience.  There was a twinge of annoyance that she wouldn't be able to greet him by his name since he hadn't introduced himself and so now there would be an awkward moment of hoping Aisling Knight could do the courtesy.  She smiled at him and nodded her head. 

"Good evening."