Dining Room

This was a good evening for distractions. For celebration and voices about their home. Mordecai Hollingbury had been appointed to the Wizengamot, and such events tended to call for a bit of a celebration. Especially given the recent mess with the flying car. Aisling could save the sorrow for the next day, where it truly belonged. Leave it confined to that one anniversary. One sliver of time.

For now, she stood in the dining room, watching as Krix scurried about with vases filled with white flowers, silverware, and the occasional candle. "Put that one over to the side, please. I'd hate to crowd the table." The table was easily large enough for five or more, designed to seat perhaps a dozen people at once, but it was also a bit narrow, with little space for decorations between opposing sets of plates and goblets.

The vase was promptly set beneath the window, and Aisling stepped back to obtain a better view. Everything seemed to be in order. "Could you tell Tarron that they should be here soon?" The house elf nodded and and vanished.

Lydia reached up and straightened out the lapels of Mordecai's slate damask double-breasted waistcoat, brushing away an errant speck of dust that had settled on his shoulder. "You're looking absolutely wonderful tonight, with your new clothes and all. Your savings over the winter have paid off, don't you think?" She gave her husband a wink.

"Now, no jokes of that sort," her husband warned with a smile. He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "You look lovely yourself, dear. Who knew you could still pull off that sun-yellow bolero like the date where we danced? And did you get your hair done?"

"Ever the flatterer, you." The olive-skinned woman gave him a light slap on the shoulder as she passed by in mock exasperation. "And oblivious, too. I had my hair cut on Wednesday, and you only notice it now. Are you this unobservant as the Head of Improper Use of Magic?"

"Staring at paperwork does that to you." Mordecai straightened his tie. "Which is why I'm glad that we were invited to dinner by the Knights. At least I can get to know the Knights outside of the workplace - they're lovely people, I'm sure, but it's a bit difficult to find that out when you'r having to rush around with armfuls of reports and people to reprimand."

"Yes, I remember." Lydia shook her head, her curly hair - now smooth waves that curled upwards at her jaw - bobbing with the motion. "I don't miss my days back at the Ministry at all. It's so much more relaxing to work here." She smoothed out her dress - a lovely off-shoulder affair in a shade of blue that gave her an air of dignity and brought out the colour in her bright blue eyes. It had been a present from Mordecai for an anniversary of theirs, and he'd been wise given that he knew his wife would leap at the chance of showing off her unblemished shoulders.

"As long as you don't fill up the kitchen with spores again." Mordecai grinned as he dodged his wife's playful swipe at him. "I kid, I kid." The event in questioned had been caused by his wife examining a curious fungus, and had accidentally unleashed a cloud of spore that had given their poor son a coughing fit and took a day to be rid of.

Lydia looked around. "Where's Arc? He should be down here by now."

Arcturus was just coming down the stairs when he heard his mother's name. He sighed and reached the bottom of the stairs. "Here I am," he said, spreading his hands out as if to present himself for his mother's inspection. He had been dragged out - by his father, no less - to get himself measured for actual formalwear. While Arcturus had an instant dislike for anything he couldn't curl up in on a couch and feel comfortable doing it, he had long since resigned himself that this had been a long time coming and it was about time he looked like a proper gentleman at formal events.

But when he had looked at himself in the mirror after taking his mother's suggestions into account, he had been struck speechless at how different he looked. At her insistence he had tied his hair, bar the locks of hair before his ears, into a neat and arching ponytail. The simple change reminded him of a dapper, neat gentleman with the capability of looking suave. He had stared at his reflection for several minutes before coming to his senses.

Now he was dressed in a dull, dark green velvet single-breasted waistcoat, still adjusting his cuffs as he stood somewhat uncertainly. Unlike his father he wasn't wearing a tie; Arcturus had refused point-blank to have something around his neck. It would take more than radical surgery and a crowbar to make him change his mind, and his parents knew that.

The overall effect was that his hair colour stood out and yet blended in, no longer marred by a ridiculous hairstyle that flipped upwards at the ends. It was like he'd stepped through a groomer's.

"I knew you'd clean up nicely." His mother swept forward - she was good at it - and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Look at you, all grown up. I'm not sure if this house can take that much gentleman anymore. Rustle can't, that's for sure."

Arcturus looked down at his ever-faithful feline, meeting the kneazle's tilted yellow gaze of curiosity. "Yes, I can see that." He coughed. "Sooo...why are we still hanging around here?"

"We were waiting for you, Arc." His father looked amused. "You're already lounging without any effort in that, and you still look good. I told you."

"Yeah. Okay." Arcturus sighed. "Let's just go, shall we?"

Mordecai shook his head at his family as he smiled and watched them, adjusting his royal blue tie one last time. He was wearing no coat - there was no need to, and his son had pointedly refused to have one as well.

"Well, through the fireplace then, shall we?" he said, cutting into the conversation. "Come on, you can admire your son's visage later, Lydia. We should be going now, they're probably expecting us any minute." He herded them to the fireplace and pointed his wand at it. "Everyone got everything they need? Yes? Good. You two go in first, I'll make sure there's no soot on the carpet."

His son stepped aside to let his mother past. Lydia smiled wryly at him, but clearly in admiration at such manners. "What's the address again?"

"Moonmoth Hall, London," he told her. As the fire blazed green she stepped into the green flames and vanished. Arcturus was next; Mordecai gave him a pat on the back and a thumbs-up before he went. His son gave him a look that very clearly said "Don't you start now" before stepping into the flames. Mordecai looked down at Rustle, who had sat down a little way away from the fireplace to watch them go.

"Look after the house, will you?" he told the kneazle. There was really no need to, since Rustle treated the entire house like his personal fortress and had been known to chase off dogs without much effort, but it was reassuring himself that he was more concerned with. Rustle knew this all too well; he mewed back softly as if acknowledging Mordecai's request. The older Hollingbury smiled and stepped into the green flames.

The next thing he knew was of his wife's sharp intake of breath. He looked up to be greeted by a grand, beautifully decorated interior of dark wood and polished marble, of a chandelier that gently bathed the hall in warm light that hid no shadows, of well-aged furniture kept in tiptop condition. Suddenly Mordecai felt underdressed, and from the look on his son's face he wasn't the only one.

Krix entered the study, her quip that the Hollingburys would be there any moment met with Tarron’s usual efficient nod. He rose from his desk, taking a few minutes to ready himself.

He did not dress in an overly grand manner for this dinner, an occasion assured to him by Aisling to be rather more casual than one might expect, given Mordecai’s position. His clothing was therefore elegant but simple, a waistcoat and trousers overlaid with a smoking jacket. The fabric was expensive, of course, but the cuts were simple, the decoration not quite so opulent as Aisling often preferred.

Mordecai and his family were people Tarron himself was not overly familiar with, despite their newly shared membership in the Wizengamot. Tonight would, hopefully, change that – and allow him to get a handle on the new member of the Wizengamot and see where the man stood.

He strode into the hallway, joining Aisling as the Hollingburys arrived. He greeted the small group with his usual understated and brief smile.

“Mister Hollingbury,” he said in his usual deep tones. He stood beside Aisling, dark colors not helping him stand out much against the darker tones of the room. He watched with some curiosity as the man and his companions looked about. “It is good to have you. Your wife and son, I presume?”

Aisling gave their guests a respectful bow of her head, a soft smile spreading across her features at the sight of them. "Welcome. I'm so glad you came."

It had been rather short notice for all of them, with Mordecai's appointment only a few days before. A pleasant surprise, in Aisling's opinion, as he seemed a thoughtful and reasonable sort from their brief conversations. And that was just what the Wizengamot needed, in her opinion.

Whether Tarron would agree remained to be seen. It would be good to know, either way. To consider all the potential tied up amid the convoluted politics. She was quite content to let him take the lead here. To be the polite hostess while they delved into all the details of the Wizengamot. With luck, the weather would stay pleasant, she did so enjoy the garden even in the evenings.

Mordecai rescued his family from looking like tourists by doing exactly what he always did during formal occasions - stepping forwards. He was well-versed in making good impressions - not to lie, but as a sort of habit after having spent so many years in the Ministry.

He was only grateful that the three of them had not slacked on fashion this night. Especially his son.

"Evening," he said calmly. "'Mordecai' will do just fine, thank you. I think this dinner is not at that level of formality, don't you think so?" Here he looked at his wife and smiled as he offered her his arm; Lydia smiled back, a knowing smile that gave away everything to the Hollingburys and nothing to the Knights. Arcturus had already moved to the other side of his father, his lips actually forming a genuine smile this time. Mordecai knew how much his son reserved those smiles for people he truly cared, so to him this was a big deal. He wasn't letting his family down tonight and neither were the other two.

"Indeed, my wife and son," he said, as the olive-skinned woman continued to smile the sunny hospitable Greek smile that he had grown so accustomed to, and Arcturus nodded as an acknowledgement. "Lydia and Arcturus, my colleagues Aisling and Tarron Knight." He didn't bother to point out that Aisling was of a different department and Tarron had only become a colleague in the space of three days and fiften minutes, but that was because Mordecai liked his job enough to decide that he was going to be colleagues anyway. Besides, Lydia and Arcturus already knew the finer details.

Lydia inclined her head. "It's a lovely place you have here," she said, gesturing to the place with a motion that even Mordecai had to wonder where she learned it (in the privacy of his head, though). "Thank you for the invitation, it's all rather short-notice, but things would have come to a pretty pass if the Hollingburys aren't prepared for anything at short-notice." Her sunny smile never faded at all.

"Shall we?" Mordecai asked.

The problem, of course, with such a casual meeting was that Tarron operated in a sphere of near-constant formality – at least, what most defined as formality. Tarron often found himself being asked to be casual when he himself felt that was the case already, and Mordecai’s request was another such incident.

It barely showed on his face, the moment of confusion as he was jarred from his usual and socially acceptable method of greeting and guest-welcoming. Still, one did not long survive in the wizarding world of today without learning how to adapt swiftly, and so he smiled and nodded. “As you wish,” he said, before looking to Arcturus and Lydia as Mordecai introduced them.

“’Tis an honor to meet the both of you,” he said, with a half-bow, as was proper. At Mordecai’s question, he waved them towards the long table, snapping his fingers to summon Krix.

“Do you have any preferences on drinks?” He asked, in his typical politely cool tone. Krix waited eagerly – she knew the pattern of such dinners well enough that orders hardly needed to be given, but over the years he had learned – and it had been a difficult lesson to truly come to terms with – that some guests preferred not to drink wine at all. That seemed to him rather an insult to wine. “We have wine to serve, but should you prefer something else…”

He indicated the house elf, a gesture which completed that sentence well enough.

Aisling found herself with a bit of fondness towards the Hollingburys already, this early on. She was familiar with the gestures of formality, true, but they never seemed as comfortable to her as they were to her husband. Her bow towards their guests was deeper than Tarron's, and she smiled softly at Lydia as they made their way to the dining room.

Krix gave her a subtle, curious twitch of long ears at the talk of wine. And Aisling just gave the House Elf the tiniest shake of her head. Her diet had become strict recently, with restrictions from both the Healers and from information Teagan had sent her. Wine was not an option for her at this time.

The first course, on the other hand, she quite looked forward to. A few forgotten meals over the last few days had proven just how much her body did, in fact, require sustenance. She gave their guests another smile, softly reassuring. Krix knew a great deal about the choices in drinks, and could answer any requests on the topic.

Mordecai didn't mind wine, but he let his family speak first. He might be the breadwinner, but Lydia was the overlord. Arcturus was just Arcturus, as he had long come to realise.

"Oh, sparkling water will do, if it's not too much of a bother," his wife said graciously. Mordecai was sure Aisling would know what she meant; Tarron not so much. Possibly for the first time that night he wasn't wholly sure that his host could deal with such...Muggleness. Morgana had once commented, on the lines of the unofficial Hollingbury motto[1], "One foot in the Muggle world, one foot in the wizarding world, Hollingbury all over."

"Water will be fine, thank you." His son wasn't helping. Then again, Arcturus was heavily concerned about what a lightweight he was when it came to alcohol.

"Wine will do fine for me, thank you." Mordecai was almost expecting relief flash across the Knights' faces. He took note of the house elf patiently hovering nearby and smiled. "If that's not too much trouble."

1.	"Half British, half Greek, all knowledge."

Relief certainly flashed over Tarron's face. He was quite proud of his collection of wines. Sparkling water wasn't something he knew for sure they had in stock; he had not had it himself. Still, house elves were amazing creatures, and so he was sure Krix would manage something. She had served at plenty a mixed meeting here, after all; the elf knew how to sort the kitchen by this point.

"No, it's no trouble at all," he said, smile polite and easy. He snapped his fingers at Krix, who disappeared with the loud crack that often accompanied house elf magic. Tarron led the way to the dining room, motioning that they be seated; he assumed they understood the basic order of seating at such occasions. He, naturally, sat at the head of the table.

"Do let us know if you need anything at all," he said, as he sat. "Krix is quite talented at what she does."

When they had all sorted out their seats, he sat up and forward slightly, hands on the arms of his chair. "How are you finding your new position, then?" He asked Mordecai. "I trust your new duties have not been a strain on your family?"


((Sorry for the delay, I'm a bloody idiot :/ ))

At least someone would get to properly enjoy the wine. Aisling's expression was pleasant, and a smile flickered on her face whenever she looked over at her husband. She took a seat next to him and looked out over the table. At least this way it didn't seem quite so large and empty.

"It was quite an adjustment after Tarron was appointed. There were a few late dinners because because of the Wizengamot being stubborn over one point or another." There had been the trials and the residue of the war as well, but she did not wish to think on that today, let alone speak of it.

She looked back over to Tarron, this was his realm after all. "I remember you mentioning the troubles of determining just which cases were the most important, with all the agendas roaming about." That was enough from her, and so she folded her hands in her lap and waited for the food to appear.

Mordecai smiled at Tarron's question, and listened to Aisling add on her view as he interlocked his fingers on the table in front of him. Arcturus didn't seem like he was interested, but he knew his son - no matter what, the healer would be listening intently regardless of where his eyes were currently occupied with.

"I have just been appointed, so I'm not actually sure about the strain on my family yet. But certainly the duties are an addition to my work." He shrugged nonchalantly, however. "Then again, I'm no stranger to sudden work from nowhere. Being on Level Two is a learning experience in and of itself. You get used to the unexpected calls." Not to mention once in a while he had to go and talk politely to an Auror who was delaying a report that was supposed to reach him three days ago.

"I think the one responsibility that I may or may not have some difficulty with is that the gravity of my decision would have increased, since I'll be the one right there adding my opinion instead of writing out suggestions and recommendations on a piece of paper," he added, after a moment's thought. "I don't usually see the defendants face to face. It will be interesting in the least, fascinating at best and stressful at worst. Either way, I'll be looking forward to seeing what each case involves, and where exactly I step in. Which is a question that even I ask myself during my regular job..."

Tarron's nod was simple, careful. His smile was much the same, adding an edge of melancholy; it seemed so long ago, now, that he'd had a relatively quiet job. The old Committee had made decisions that mattered, that was true; they'd effected witches and wizards all over Britain. But so few people realized it. He had spent 4 months on one case, seemingly endlessly arguing the merits of imported wizarding alcohol. In the end, all it had resulted in for most was that Russian Firewhiskey was even harder to get than it had been before.

Now his decisions could effect literally every member of their small little society. That was a weight he'd adjusted to, but he took some pity on Mordecai; the weight would not have settled in, yet.
“It is stressful,” he said. “I wish I could say you grow used to it, but you do not. You will find it is...harder to make decisions, now.” How simple it had been to merely look at two pieces of paper and decide between them! “It is one thing to read the plea of someone brought before the Wizengamot, but another altogether to hear it and to be faced with the consequences.”

His smile faltered somewhat at that. He would never quite settle and be over the sting whenever he was blamed for a decision he had actively tried to prevent. But that came from being the Chief Warlock – it was his face attached to many of these calls, regardless of his own stance.

“Like this werewolf business,” he added. “You were not among our number when one of our own came before us – be grateful for that.”

"I'm grateful to not be asked to make such judgments. My work is quite enough to keep me occupied, and just seeing the volume of Tarron's mail relating to the Wizengamot...." Aisling shook her head, smiling softly. While she didn't like to think it, her new position did make it more possible for her to be considered for the Wizengamot.

At least until the politics of her being married to the Chief Warlock were brought into matters. That did tend to complicate things. Though less so than the prospect of disagreements from the Wizengamot being brought home to the dinner table.

It was then that Krix reappeared, the House Elf balancing a large tray of drinks. These were soon out before the party, and Aisling gave the elf a grateful (if somewhat tired) smile before taking a sip from her glass.