Polyvore

Casey O'Doherty did not consider himself bored, oh no.

He just passed the time staring at the ornate fixtures around the balcony box seats and what he could see of the ceiling, imagining jinxes burning holes into things.

He had not been able escape family all of the holiday. Only his father appeared to find his absence surprising. So getting dragged to the Opera must be some kind of punishment. Not that Casey particularly disliked Opera, though it was lengthy, the 'punishment' came from having his evening dictated by his father and it had become a very tight leash.

What was worse, the box their tickets were for included the albino and creepy Ravenclaw Prefect, Ligeia Canterbury, accompanying her father on the Wizengamot, Argyle Canterbury. Casey didn't know his daily divination for the night was going to be 'inescapable'.

He was willing with all hope that she didn't strike up conversation with him. He didn't want to be reminded of anyone at school right now, even though at school he'd be free of family. At the very least the whole clan hadn't emerged from their hidden manor in Donegal County, Ainbertach allowing Martin to accept the family's invitation for tonight.

Casey's father was still elsewhere, making as much business as he could tonight no doubts. Casey felt warm under the collar of his green dress robes[1], the same he had warn briefly at the Yule Ball.

Another memory he didn't want to think about. Not here, in such a public place.

He must be the youngest attendee here. Ones like Canterbury or other students he'd seen were no younger than NEWT level. At least at formal balls and functions there were always places to hide and avoid attention. Not here pressed into a box. Though he didn't want to be amongst the last at the bar. There was nothing there he was old enough to drink besides spring water.

It was as his dry itchy throat was aggravating him that Canterbury leaned over with a bottle of cyrstaline blue something in a gloved hand. "Would you like some Winterbrew?"

This would have been the time for uncouth dribble of water out of the mouth in shock, had Casey not previously emptied his springwater. "That's alcoholic."

"Of course. So you don't want any?"

Casey blinked, scrambling for a defense. "But you're a prefect and you're offering an underage..."

"Oh, does that make a difference?" Ligeia asked with some naievty in her voice. The sleeves of her dressed trailed everywhere. Black, the only color being a purple rose on her chest. And a hairy set of red eldritch letters, a 'WL' monogram. "We aren't at Hogwarts. I was just offering you the chance to partake in an old tradtion. A glass of Winterbrew around New Years. What, were you suggesting I was suggesting getting toshed off our rockers?"

Casey was silent. Though there was a surprising amount of empty space in the bottle of Winterbrew even if lord Canterbury was also partaking in the tradtion.

"No thank you." Casey was as respectful as he could to keep the scathing quality out of his voice. He resumed looking across to the other boxes.

"We always import a case around the holidays," Ligeia said as she topped off her glass, speaking with a familiar air on the subject. "Amongst spirits this is praised for elating gaiety while remaining icy cold when drunk. I could water it down for you, one drop per half a glass?"

"No. Thank you." Wait, what did tradition have anything to do with it? New Years had been yesterday.

"Of course, there is an interesting risk involved. Suppose you had a glass. One in every ten hundred thousand glasses of Winterbrew send the drinker into a murderous frenzy. Imagine if that was you." Casey shrunk into his seat. When was the opera starting? "Selwynium's Wrath, they call it."

Casey risked looking her direction. Ligeia was looking outwards from the box. The bottle had disappeared and she was sipping the remains of her drink. How much have you had to drink? came the thought but Casey didn't really want the answer. And why isn't it effecting you? Or even more horrible to consider, what if it was? Casey imagined a new conversation in his head. And it resulted in an anecdote about how young Ligeia had been when she first partook this tradition and how she had to skip it because she couldn't smuggle Winterbrew into Hogwarts when she started school.

"Oh look, nearly all of the Ministry is boxed over there." Ligeia gestured across the other side of of the theatre house to the boxes aligned with theirs. At some point a pair of opera glasses had been unhooked from the shaft of Ligeia's parasol. She brought them to her face. "The Headmistress is sitting next to Madam Minister."

Casey felt like ducking or putting on his invisibility cloak. Had Canterbury just offered him an alcoholic beverage in sight of the school's headmistress without a care in the world?

"I wonder if Joshua is here as well, there's his father, a senior Auror. Then there's Mr. Glass and Mr. Knight in the next box. He's Head of the Wizengamot. Papa remembers when he he had a junior seat. Mr. Glass is Head of  the Department of Magical Accidents & Catastrophes."

1.	Polyvore Set