Prewett Manor, Westbury, Wiltshire, England

For those apparating to the Manor, they are greeted by two large bonfires illuminating the front of the house.  The flickering light bringing the two large Griffin statues flanking the entrance to life, though if one gets to close to them they will quickly notice the statues already have charms on them that do just that.

Those that floo in, will appear in the large fireplace that greets vistors in the entrance hall.  Along with a bar, and two witches casting as many charms of the guests as on the drinks.  Once past the bar, one can enter the ballroom which is split between a small stage and dance floor, and a large table with a huge spread of food and an enormous cake in the middle.  The stage has a quintet backing Celestina Warbeck under a large stainglass window bearing the Prewett coat of arms.  And despite her age, Celestina is still able to put on an amazing performance.  Past the table, and through a large oak door, guests can find the quieter drawing room, with plenty of sofas and chairs to take a break in.

House elves, including extra elves brought in from the other Prewett homes, rarely seen, keep the whole party moving along, cleaning up spills and removing empty plates before the witch or wizard even realizes it’s empty.

---

Ignatius found himself in the drawing room.  Owen had asked his mother for a dance, and Ignatius, with much feigned reluctance allowed his son to cut in, and he took the opportunity to retrieve a plate of food and another glass of champagne and retreat to the drawing room.  It was quieter and gave him an opportunity to actually talk to his guests.  Though they were only his guests in name, because it was technically his birthday celebration.

Of course, he hadn’t planned it.  Or invited most of the guests.  His children had been making the party larger each year.  And at least according to Wynelle, it was because their family had lost out to all their other pureblood relations when it came to the holiday parties.  So they had made one of his birthday.

He really couldn’t complain too much.  It did give him a chance to open up the house to friends and colleagues.  Not that they weren’t welcome the rest of the year, and with a family as large as his, there were always plenty of people coming and going.  But the manor was an imposing building.  Despite the improvements and expansions and complete remodels, the building still had been built originally to survive attacks.  By muggles and wizards, though the former would never have stood a chance.  And the charms and protections had only been added to over the centuries.  And despite his ancestors being accomplished witches and wizards, it was not the easiest home to walk up to and knock on the door.  The atmosphere of the party, and the lowering of some of those protections, made the manor more welcoming to the guests, though it was always more welcoming to anyone with a close enough relation to the family that the protections recognized them.

And despite the costs, he knew the family vault was in good condition.  Though he did suspect there would be a sizable donation to St. Mungo’s in Madam Warbeck’s name.  That must have been his wife’s doing, because other than Wilhelmina, Eseld was the only other person in the family who really enjoyed the witch’s music, and she was still in America.  The rest of the family, including Ignatius, were intelligent enough to keep their mouths shut about what they thought about Celestina around Wilhelmina.

The door opened again, it sounded like Madam Warbeck was taking a break, as his grandson started to enter.  Until he made eye contact with Iggy and despite the smile he sent his grandson’s way, Iggy backed out of the door, nearly knocking the person behind him down.  He was pretty sure Iggy’s mother had guilted him into coming, that or his father had threatened him.  Either way, they were going to need to do something about him.  The self-imposed isolation wasn’t good for him.  Though Ignatius wasn’t sure what else they could do for the boy, other than what they already were doing.

He heard Pedran calling his name through the open door.  And calling everyone else into the ballroom.  Damn.  It was that time.  He sat the food down and finished his drink.  Both the plate and the glass disappearing as soon as he looked away from it.  He walked into the ballroom to see Pennar up on the stage.

“No.  You are not allowed to say a thing.”  Ignatius shouted over the crowd.  Who, at least those who knew Pennar, did not hold back their laughs as Pennar looked completely dejected. 

“But I have a great one.  May you--” Pennar started.

“No.  Absolutely not.  Get down from there.”  Ignatius had made the mistake of not stopping Pennar from giving a toast the first time his family had done one of these.  He couldn't show his face in the Ministry for the next week.

He quickly looked around the room, his eyes landing on Octavia.  “Sweetheart, would you please do the honors?”  He took a glass of champagne from a tray that was slowly floating it’s way through the room, ensuring that everyone had a drink to toast with.

Octavia made her way up to the stage, playfully bumping into her cousin who had retreated to his twin.

“Well I didn’t have anything planned.  So you all will have to make do.”  Octavia said, holding up her glass.  “To my uncle, happy birthday.  May you have a great year, and many more after it.  And Merlin grant you strength to lead your willful family,”  her eyes landed on Iggy, who was back in a corner before very deliberately pausing and looking at Pennar.  Which caused some people to chuckle and Pennar to make a face at his cousin.  “through another year.  Happy Birthday!”  The crowd echoed the happy birthday and glasses were raised.

“And now cake!”  Pennar shouted.

“Sometimes I think he does that to make up for most of the grandchildren being at Hogwarts.”  He took the plate with a slice of cake that had  floated over to him, the first of many that were now floating out to everyone in the room.  “Other times, not so sure…” Ignatius said to the guest nearest him.

“Ooh, look sharp, Pennar’s up.” Ceph remarked aloud[1], already a glass of wine down - perhaps more, those Prewett house elves were fantastically efficient. Ceph and the rest of the Gamps hadn’t been over at Christmas, it seemed the Prewetts had held off strategically, for which Ceph was rather glad. Christmas was saturated with gatherings and one felt equally saturated with socialisation, wine and food - wonderful but somewhat overbearing hospitality of the pureblood classes.

Sadly the man they were all there to celebrate the birthday of was not condoning Pennar’s attempt to give a little speech, and ordered him down. Pennar was older than Cepheus, but knew him well enough from social circles and the office. Instead, he’d been at school with Wynelle who now worked with his younger sister Andromeda as an auror, Owen, who’d been the year above and worked for his father’s Department and a few years ahead of Octavia. All had been sorted into Gryffindor, and were assertive types which Ceph admired. Prewetts were good people.

“Well I didn’t have anything planned.  So you all will have to make do. To my uncle, happy birthday.  May you have a great year, and many more after it. And Merlin grant you strength to lead your wilful family, through another year. Happy Birthday!”

“Happy Birthday!” Cepheus raised his glass with the rest of the assembled guests and turned in the general direction of Ignatius amongst them all. Despite Octavia being launched upon last moment to give a speech, she had put together something very apt on the spot.
“And now cake!” Pennar’s exclamation induced laughter in his younger colleague.

“Someone’s keen to have their cake and eat it too.” Ceph lifted his glass to his lips and surveyed those around him. The Prewetts were a good place to do a little strategic networking under the guise of socialising. Couldn’t move for Prewetts in the office, and as such they were very good at introducing one to others without one feeling too awkward or pushy.

1.	Feel free to be in the group if it helps

This was one of the bigger disasters in Primrose’s life. 

The past thirty hours had not gone at all how she intended them to – and with a week that had started with such promise.  It seemed that Blue’s foaling was going to remain the highlight of her week… or month maybe… potentially her life, she thought dramatically. 

It had started with the proposal she had legitimately spent weeks preparing for and the disastrous vote to follow it.   Granted, she had at least made a social ally in the department, though not a political one. Those seemed much harder to come by and Cepheus had offered to take her out for a drink in the face of her humiliation.  And that was where she had decided it would be brilliant to send a perfumed note via owl – which was answered in short order… Primrose had to sneak into the house by one in the morning and unfortunately had to order an elf to keep his mouth closed as she wandered through the kitchen door with hair askew and shoes in hand. 

And then, the cherry on top of everything was when she woke up to her mother poking around her room – notably without invitation in, and bustling in the closet.  It took very little prompting to find out she was looking for what Primrose would be wearing to the Prewett event and the eldest Woolfolk pulled her covers above her head.  She screamed into one of her pillows when her mother mentioned Marigold was coming with her.  Hopefully Maree wasn’t working and she’d be able to come…

She suggested just as much, still buried under her blankets.  It was a good thing too because when she did get up and wander to wash her face, Prim could have died.  The dress she was going to wear would be the last of her problems.  Big, purple bruises colored the otherwise pale skin of her neck and Prim blanched.  Her surprise (and horror) only increased when she went to bathe and… Prim would be going over books from her Hogwarts years to cover this up.  All of this. Every single one.  Wherever it was. 

Thankfully, this was able to distract her from the other terrors of preparation and fill up all of the time looking for the best concealer to match her skin tone and the best sealing spell she could find… one that would last all evening.   Though it wasn’t perfect – Prim wasn’t the best at cosmetic charms, it would have to do.  By the time it came to leave, she just had to put on her dress and hope for the best. 

As it was already, she had to show up to the party with just Mari.  Her parents had left earlier – always on time, and Primrose would have gone with them, but they told her to wait for her sister… so Primrose was doing so, like a dutiful sister.  Who had four arguments with her partner for the evening before they even left for the party.  (This was not strange for them, of course). 

When they finally did arrive, the party was in full swing.  Apparently the birthday party scene was a big one this year, and Primrose was at least glad for it because she could trail behind her sister and avoid any and all work related conversation.  Marigold liked these things, or seemed to, so even if Prim wasn’t her biggest fan, she would do her best to keep quiet.  If she didn’t, enough colleagues would definitely be in attendance to make this party even more miserable.  At least with the floo, it put her in a prime location to grab a flute of champagne before they even approached the full party room. 

Teeming with people, Prim was happy to slink off to the side and watch the festivities happen from a safe (and hopefully unnoticed) vantage point. Even ignoring her new (was he a friend?) confidant to just stand off... silently (for the first time in quite a long time).

"Ooh, look sharp, Pennar's up,"  came a voice. Amaryllis was just joining the group and gave a bright laugh at this.  What a delightful surprise! It was Cepheus Gamp!  She had not known he was the sort to heckle... like an emcee or host of some grand event. He was quite funny. He could see why Prim was drawn to him.

Honestly, she'd expected Prim to be in the circle of friends surrounding Gamp. That was why she'd made her way over here in the first place.  First Christmas, then drinks, then, well last night.  Maree gave Cepheus Gamp a sly smile at the thought of it.  He'd really done a number on her sister last night. And getting her back so late, too!  They were all adults, here, so it was hardly improper, but that didn't make it just the least bit salacious.  It was very unlike Prim, but looking at Cepheus--Ceph, Prim called him--it wasn't hard to imagine how it'd happened.  Sharp dresser, kind, attractive, and funny to boot. 

Amaryllis was about to ask aloud if he'd seen her sister when she caught a glimpse of Primrose herself, practically glued to a tapestry adorning a distant wall.  Of sulking like a shamed... well, it was rude to say it or even think it, but there was a sort of air of scolded puppy about her.  She frowned, looking between the two paramours quickly.  This was troubling.  She gave distracted applause at the niece's speech, um... her name was Octavia, she thought... Dutifully and happily called out her "Happy birthday!" and took a sip of champagne.  But she made her way to Cepheus Gamp's side as the formalities segued back into socializing as the cake was doled out.  "So..." she did not quite know where to begin. One did not simply talk about another person's, well--she blushed at the mere thought--intimate habits. 

'So,' was so not a good start.  She'd try this again.

"Hi," she said, her smile even more shy than before.  Oh, Lord.  He'd think her a proper idiot, now.

     “Sometimes I thinks he does that to make up for most of the grandchildren being at Hogwarts. Other times, not so sure…”


Lightly Idara laughed—a flash of gleaming white teeth through a perfect smile. “Some remain young at heart, even when they are old enough to have children of their own,” she said, eyes twinkling. She drew back, lips lifting wryly, “My sister Naila is not so different.”

From her left, Elder Howell – arm in arm with his wife – snorted. “Neither you nor your sister look old enough to have grandchildren,” he scoffed, ignoring Sofia’s gentle smack on the arm with his typical, curmudgeonly grace. “Curse or not.”

“Arviragus.”

Idara hid a smile of amusement behind a sip of her drink. A lock of golden hair slipped down her shoulder, mingling with cream-colored satin, only shades lighter than the ribbing of her gown. “You are too kind, Arviragus.”

Another couple approached, one much younger than present company, if not in age than at least in terms of relationship and appearance: Bai Li Yang, resplendent in pale pink, and her wizard, one Dietrich Eisenberg.[1]  The intimate hand on her hip boasted a single prepossessing band of white gold—an engagement ring. “Lovely party, Elder Prewett,” the magizoologist beamed.

Attention diverted, Idara scanned the room, gaze idle as she searched for her young companion, Ivanka… until she found her by the refreshments, looking coolly amused as one hapless young man desperately did his best to appear casual—only to have his hand go right in the profiteroles. Others looked on with varying degrees of pity.

Idara sighed. She turned back to Ignatius and the rest of their group with an apologetic smile. “Excuse me,” she said, and headed for the pair.

1.	With Nuri’s permission

     “We should probably save him.”


Some distance away, a group of young witches and wizards watched the scene unfold. Casual clearing of the throat had long since given way to needless dusting, unruly curls smoothed back and a wide, dazed grin. The recipient of the display – one beautiful veela, check – eyed him with something bordering on fascination. To be fair, Aisling supposed, the other woman was justified; their friend Gwaine was creative than most even on his worst days. Which was putting it mildly. There was no telling what he was coming up with, to impress her—not when ‘ridiculous’ already was the standard.

As one, they watched the pair some more.

“We could save him,” mused Irina over the rim of her glass. “Or we could pretend we don’t know him.”

“That seems a bit cruel,” her date said, making no move to do anything about it. He wore eyeliner. Aisling quite liked him; she had a few boyfriends a bit like him, but none of them ever quite pulled it off the way he did. Every time she caught him at the corner of her eye, she kept expecting his dress robes to be leather. “What about the desserts?”

Aisling frowned. “What about the –oh.” Gwaine was replaying some sort of fight, now, complete with a scrappy grin and an impressive, heroic stance that would have gotten him knocked out within seconds. The aforementioned desserts – a vast and extravagant array of pastries, cut fruit, and at least six kinds of fondue – were now in mortal peril.

A second later, his hand landed in pastry.

Without looking, Aisling held out a fist. “Play for it? Bludger-quaffle-snitch. Loser goes.” She certainly wasn’t going to; her dress was new. No way would it survive the proximity–

Fortunately (or was it unfortunately?), another woman appeared, a tall, blonde, regal-looking witch heading right for them in graceful strides. Her progress had been calm, but with purpose. Judging by the veela’s sulky pout…

“Show’s over,” Aisling sighed. “Better get him now, huh?”

A large hand clapped her shoulder and shook it gently, light but playful. From the other end of it, a lumpy Russian face grinned down at her, creased with familiar mischief. “Your date,” Grigory agreed, ever supportive. “Your problem.”

Aisling snorted. She had gotten the invite for a number of reasons, and for almost as many, she had decided to invite Gwaine, the main one being that he knew how to entertain. And that, she remembered ruefully, sometimes was the problem. “Arse.” But, smirking anyway, she plucked his hand off and let it drop. “Be right back.”

"So…” A voice began from beside him. Ceph brought his gaze down from the front to blink in surprise at the appearance of Amaryllis Woolfolk.
“Mari!” Cepheus greeted brightly, and somewhat informally, smiling broadly.
"Hi,”

“Sorry, Miss Woolfolk.” Cepheus corrected himself, remembering his manners and giving a formal little half-bow to the younger witch, champagne flute held out to the side. "You look wonderful, my goodness, and what a beautiful dress.” He marvelled politely at it sparkling in the light of the room. Cepheus did not profess to know a huge amount about tailoring for witches, but he had learned to be very complimentary to ladies because it was polite. Also given his patient personality, he had endured more than a few shopping trips with female friends, and successfully navigated ‘does my bum look big in this’ questions with diplomacy - well, more often without having to open his mouth and just by his expression. It was a wonder he was still alive really.

“How are you?” Cepheus asked politely, giving Amaryllis his undivided attention in the busy room. It was far more interesting to talk to her than worry about the distribution of birthday cake. Despite the age difference - he’d been off to Hogwarts when she was toddling at best - their families socialised so often they had rarely missed each other and these days caught lunch once in a while at work.

"You’re not here alone are you?” He asked, left hand venturing out flat towards her in emphasis of the question. Where one sister went another usually followed, but tonight no shadow came. "I was thinking it was odd not to have seen a Woolfolk sister this evening - I am sure I caught sight of your parents not so long ago.” He stopped his glance about the busy room and looked back to Mari directly, "Prim’s not unwell is she?”

And complimentary.  Amaryllis mumbled a shy thanks.  God--maybe he had a cute brother.  She knew his sister.  Very assertive, very competent, but also kind.  Their parents had clearly done something right.  She tried to remember what she knew about the Gamp family.  There was another brother, wasn't there? She chewed her lip. Maybe she could find a way to angle towards that later.

"Mari--Maree--Amaryllis, they're all fine," she said with a laugh at his correction to her formal name.  "'Miss Woolfolk' is hardly descriptive enough, with three other sisters.  But actually, Marigold, my younger sister, tends to go by Mari, so that's usually not the best, either.  I don't know how my parents didn't see that one coming," she mused aloud.  "Though, you know,  it's funny.  My friend, Frances? She was telling me about her siblings: Stanley, Janet, and Daniel."  She paused for a minute, giving Cepheus a moment to find the connection before stating, eyes wide: "Fran, Stan, Jan, and Dan.  Frances swears that wasn't intentional, either, but I suspect that parents have a cruel sense of humor with names sometimes.  But not yours--I like your name. Cepheus.  And Andromeda--both good names."

She flushed suddenly, taking a sip of champagne to cut herself off before asking if there was a brother.  You're running your mouth off, Maree. Amaryllis.  Mari.

"You’re not here alone are you?”

"Oh! No.  I mean, I came alone at first, but was planning on meeting up with Prim.  I think she ended up coming with Mari--Marigold--first, though." She shook her head with a disbelieving.  "Honestly, if the two choose to spend time alone together, I try not to get in the way of that."  She flushed deeper still at the mention of their parents.  She was a woman of twenty-five... did he--did most people--think she still toddled along after her parents to things like this?  Oh, dear.  She knew that with all of them still living at home, it could be taken that way.  Sensible, young, professional witches and wizards usually took up renting a flat in Diagon or Hiraeth or somesuch.  Maree knew that, of course, and had had the opportunity to move in with friends, but, well, her family were some of her favorite people and--

Was Prim unwell?

Maree's eyebrows shot up and, instinctively, she turned to glance back at her wallflower sister, broodily drinking alone.  "Ah... I don't think so? At least not particularly...  I know work's been stressful for her, but I didn't really get a chance to talk to her much yesterday." Considering the events of yesterday, Maree would have hoped she'd have been doing reasonably well, but her sister was a complicated woman.  "She might just be tired, you know?" She said, looking once more between Cepheus and her sister from across the room, trying to make out the puzzle without asking outright.

"Fair enough," Ignatius replied slowly, "but one could hope the head would rule the heart more often.  At least in public."  Though perhaps that was too much to ask for family in general.  At least the rest were mostly well behaved.

"Of course you won't when you do either.  Shouldn't be too much longer before Theo gives you some grandchildren of your own."  He remembered seeing the boy at one of the events over the summer, and he doubted the lad would have any problem finding a wife.  The only real question would be whether the baby came first. 

"Eseld gave us our first when we were your age."  He said as Wilhelmina joined them along with the new couple.  "Thank you Madam Yang."

Wilhelmina leaned in, "They're engaged now," she whispered in his ear.  Which he might have remembered in time but he was thankful for the reminder.  "And congratulations to both of you."

"Poor Pennar, just can't win tonight"  Wilhelmina said to the group as she saw what had drawn Idara's attention.  "Those were his favorite.  And someone already had to ruin his big speech." She smacked Igantius's arm, though there was a twinkle in her eye that said she was kidding.  "I'll go see about getting some more made."

Ignatius watched as she headed toward the kitchen. And then turned back to the group.  "Well he certainly won't live that down for a while.  Though he hardly had a chance of it going well either."  And there were several more young men, a few not so young, who looked to be on their way to similar embarrassment, though so far had kept their distance and their heads.

“… but I didn't really get a chance to talk to her much yesterday. She might just be tired, you know?”

“It was quite a day, I suppose.” Cepheus agreed thoughtfully, not thinking too far over the time he and Prim had parted company the night before. For all Cepheus understood, Primrose might have a rather sane bedtime to maintain her youthful looks and impeccable skin. It would make sense given the horses she looked after - early to rise and tend to them before work.

“I probably shouldn’t have started the evening by buying us a whole bottle of wine straight after work,” he admitted to Amaryllis, and looked down into his champagne flute, considering he’d probably had quite a bit to drink over the past thirty hours. It was odd for him to drink two nights on the trot, but the situations had suited themselves to a little liquid lubrication to bury a bad day yesterday and toast another year here tonight.

“But one thing led to another,” Cepheus shrugged and smiled at Amaryllis, rosy cheeked from the alcohol. He of course meant the vote not to support Prim’s proposal had led to them putting the world to rights at the Sword and Chant. “You’re not in the way! Why would you be in the way?” Cepheus exclaimed, looking thoughtful. “We’re at a party, we can socialise with whoever we want, and besides, it’s not like you and I are strangers either. How are things with you, anyhow? It feels like a while since we last caught up.”

Augustine never wanted to miss a party – even a 65 year old’s birthday party.  So, here Theodosia was – having nursed several bellinis at an inappropriate time in the evening (but who could say no to a bellini, honestly?), she was just glad the cake was out.  It looked amazing. 

Eyeing the pieces coming out to the crowd, Dosia had to find out just where it was coming from.  Her sister was behind her, talking to someone about something, but the third time she heard the comment about thinking Hogwarts was already back in session… Dosia could not.  Honestly.

It was like… completely absurd.  Obviously she was an adult who did not belong in Hogwarts.  Not anymore!  Gutted, the cake was a much better option. 

However, as many people as she saw coming away with it… Dosia could not for the life of her locate this cake.  Huffing, she was about to give up when… Oh. My. Merlin.  Dosia would recognize that giant anywhere.  “Tine!” she whirled quickly on the toes of her heels, reaching back to sort of whack at her sister’s arm, “Tine,” she hissed in the way that she hoped communicated how absolutely vital it was that she looked. 

“Isn’t that G?” she pointed to the massive Russian who made his most memorable mark in her head the (several) time(s) she found him outside of their door in nothing but a towel… or less.  And the number of fruit and sweets baskets she had to send to their neighbors to not be evicted.  So many baskets. 

It struck her with a sudden horror and Dosia walked to her sister’s side, “You didn’t invite him, did you?!  This was not some strange plus one scheme, was it? I cannot deal with this.”   It was as though the thought that things could somehow NOT be about them had not even crossed her mind...

Grigory watched Aisling go, amusement tugging his lips in a familiar grin. At one point she might have been a familiar entity only for her relation to her cousin, who was known for his proud displays of affection—if it hadn’t been for other mutual acquaintances, one of whom stood with him now. And even then, the feisty witch had a way of making sure new acquaintances knew her by her own, individual worth, rather than her family or their signature red hair.

Grigory would have almost felt bad for her date, if he didn’t know both of them fairly well.

“Kids,” he clucked his tongue, like he wasn’t only a few years older than either of them. He shook his head. “So crazy.”


     “And what happened last Friday, Grisha?”


He looked down at Irina and grinned, tongue catching between his teeth in a very familiar manner. She was distracted, but– “Friday fluke,” he protested, grinning still. “I’m ask for one drink, got–” He said a word, in Russian, before finding what he was looking for, “punchbowl instead. With little fruits that make one more drink.”

“No one forced you to finish it.”

Brows knitted together. “Of course I’m finish,” he said, wrinkling his nose. He held his flute up to his lips. “Still one drink. Can’t not finish.” And downed the rest of his drink, with the air of one making a point.

But of course such actions were not without their consequences, and when his made its own apparent, Grigory looked down and gave it a disgruntled look. Stupid champagne and its stupid fancy glasses; they were just so small. It was ridiculous. “I’m go, too,” he sighed gustily. “See if I’m get bigger glass.” He patted Colin’s shoulder before going on his way.

It wasn’t that the party was awful, because it wasn’t; what odd hors d’oeuvres that found their way to him had been good, and the lavish display at the dessert table had caught his eye from the very start. What he had seen of the estate was beautifully decorated. It was plain to anyone with eyes (and a nose) that the Prewetts hadn’t cut corners, when it came to throwing a party. And though most of Grigory’s friends weren’t present, it wasn’t all of them. Entertainment could still be had.

It was just… boring. As fancy as it was, it just wasn’t his usual scene. And the reason why he had come at all – the real reason – had yet to be found. He had thought he might see her (although ‘hoped’ would really be more accurate, given how little he had been able to make sure of without giving himself away). Just a glimpse, and he would be content.

But he had yet to see her all night, and he felt… a little let down. And foolish, for even feeling that way; it had only been five days, he berated himself. He had no business feeling this way.

Hence the champagne.

As he stood in front of the fondue, trying to decide what he wanted (cheese, or chocolate? Cheese, or fruit?), a server passed by, bearing a fresh tray. With little more than a glance, Grigory dropped off his empty glass and snagged a new one. Then, taking a lengthy sip, he plucked one of the premade skewers from its platter and stuck it under a fountain. A careful bite would prove itself yet another happy marriage between fruit and chocolate, and. Well. At least the food was good. Maybe it might even prove itself to be a decent distraction.

Oblivious to the stares he was now getting, he turned his attention onto the next fountain with new interest, a contemplative look.

Oh dear. Oh, dear dear dear.  Amaryllis looked about at the dissipating circle of Ceph's friends.  Since they'd engaged each other in conversation, they'd reasonably petered out, but she could have done with a little less, well, intimacy right now. 

"Oh! Oh, well..." she tried to regain footing, processing his comments about, well, liquoring up her sister and then... well, 'quite the day' indeed.  Honestly, she'd have been more upset about it if Cepheus didn't seem to be such a darling.

“But one thing led to another..."  This was not getting any better.  She felt her cheeks flush and she fidgeted with the stem of her glass, fingers running up and down.  Perhaps Cepheus had had a little too much to drink, she reasoned to herself, as she watched him sip upon his own champagne.  That sort of candor at a public party... Why, it was almost... crass. 

But so, so kind, too. Here he was, reassuring her that... Well... what was he reassuring her of, exactly? “You’re not in the way! Why would you be in the way?”

"In the way..?." Maree's voice trailed after his, trying to trace the pieces together.  She'd originally meant getting in the way of Prim-Mari bonding time, but Cepheus had reasonably assumed she'd meant Prim-Ceph time.

Primceph. Cephrim? Cephrim, she decided. It had a cute ring.  Like seraphim and cherubim all rolled up into one.

“We’re at a party, we can socialise with whoever we want, and besides, it’s not like you and I are strangers either. How are things with you, anyhow? It feels like a while since we last caught up.”

"Of course! Oh, of course," she recovered, not sure where exactly he'd been going with talk of talking to whomever... even knowing that Prim was just over there, recovering alone from a night that he'd put her through, but spoke about quite publicly.

O-k.  Okay.  Don't get ahead of yourself, Maree.  He's not trying to be ungallant.  She felt her nostrils flare; she was always known to be protective of her sisters--older or younger.  Pressing her lips together in a show of resolution, she gave a tight smile.  "Things are good.  I can't complain, really! Work's turning out to be a lot more complicated than I thought.  This I.D.R.E.A.D. work feels like something your level is more equipped to handle, but it certainly keeps the job interesting."  She paused. "Not that I think the Spirits Division isn't doing its best! But, I mean... one thing after another; I'm just glad for a change of month.  Here's to a good, quiet February, right?" Her mind raced for safe topics.  "Mari's planning yet another trip, I think to Italy.  Somewhere warm.  I may go with her; February is just so grey and, well it's the worst, don't you think?"

"Hide me." Andromeda interrupted. "Our Mother wants me to talk to another Prewett boy. This one has glasses." Andromeda clasped her brother's arm. She was looking behind herself to check the coast was clear. "And she keeps saying I should wear a dress." When she looked back she smiled. "Hello Amaryllis." Amaryllis was pretty. She was also very smart. Andromeda liked working with her. They kept working together because of the dementors. She let go of Cepheus and linked arms with Amaryllis. Great now if her mother saw this would really irritate her. And Amaryllis was lovely. Now she had much better party company. "Italy? Whereabouts?" 

Was it his imagination, or was Amaryllis a little flustered for some reason or another? Ceph wondered if the champagne was going to his head and he was gabbling or something, and paid keen attention to her answer about I.D.R.E.A.D.

"Here's to a good, quiet February, right?”
“What’s one of those?” Ceph laughed, but toasted her notion with his glass.
"Mari's planning yet another trip, I think to Italy.  Somewhere warm.  I may go with her; February is just so grey and, well -“

Ceph missed the question from Amaryllis because a hand went to his lower back and he jumped ever so slightly. Andromeda’s approach had been outside of his line of sight, which admittedly had mostly been filled with the obliviator.

"Our Mother wants me to talk to another Prewett boy. This one has glasses.” Ceph’s eyebrows rose. Their mother was always hoping to marry one of them off respectably since Orion had royally cocked up in that manner. For Ceph it was Primrose, for Andromeda it was any boy in his twenties who had enough NEWTs and a pureblood line.
“Glasses aren’t that bad, Andie…”
"Hello Amaryllis.”

In an instant, his sister transferred her contact from him to the Woolfolk sister with them, linking arms. "Italy? Whereabouts?” Ceph’s eyes wandered over the linked arms and up to his sister’s face and then to Amaryllis, a little confused. Andromeda was younger than him, and had made different friends amongst the families. They both knew the Woolfolks well, but he definitely perceived this as a strategic decision by his sister to anchor herself to friends and family and away from the unnamed Prewett relative.

“Best to leave it a couple of months, it’ll warm up by April.” Cepheus suggested, “Unless you’re going for culture in the low season, of course. But I agree, February’s dire. Good job it’s the shortest month.”