The whole bottom floor of the manor was decorated richly but tasteful in dark purples, silver, and gold.  There were stars on the ceiling and soft music playing in the ballroom.

Draco stood in his parlor looking over everything. He really didn't know why he had decided to have a ball on the night before Halloween.  Really, it wasn't something he was either good at or wanted to do, but he felt like it might help some people change their perception of him.  Maybe.  He'd enlisted the help of a couple of girls he went to school with to help him decorate and he thought it looked pretty good.

He hadn't known who to invite, so he had told a couple of people who were still friendly with him and told them to pass it on.  With who he told, it was almost as good as putting an announcement in the Daily Prophet. 

He sat down in an armchair by the fireplace and put his head in his hands.  He didn't know how he was going to get through this.  It was one thing to have an idea about a party, but another thing to host one.  He'd been by himself for so long that have several people in his home for one night was a little nerve-wracking.

Taking a deep breath Draco go up and went outside to make sure that maze in the garden was well lit and free of anything that would hurt any guests.  Once he was satisfied he went back inside and began getting ready for when his guests would arrive. He'd taken down the wards earlier so they would allow visitors.

He got dressed and put his mask on, after all, it was a masquerade party.  Hopefully others wouldn't be as freaked out as he was wearing a mask. It brought back memories - and not good ones.

Now all he had to do was stand at the door and wait and hope that someone actually showed up.[1]

1.	Here it is, I'm not good at starting these things.

Tamzin Olllivander and all of her closest friends[1] arrived in some dramatic horse-drawn coaches. She emerged from the lead one, hand in hand with a fellow cavorter, dressed in luxurious robes, glimmering with orange and plum and gauzy layers. Her hair was shockingly white, and over her eyes was a lacy rose-gold mask. She was laughing and talking loudly as she walked towards the house along the grandly paved path.

It had been, oh, fifteen years since an Ollivander had set foot in Malfoy Manor,[2] which was precisely why Tamzin here. If Draco Malfoy wanted to emerge back into society, he'd have to do it out in the open, demons and all. Surely, her uncle's torture had not been done at Draco's wand. But if the trauma of it could haunt her family, then it could haunt his, too. Tamzin had been in her late twenties at the time, and remembered every agonizing day her uncle was missing.

Her entourage arrived at the doors and there were greetings to the young master Malfoy. Tamzin extended her hand palm-down in a genteel gesture.

"Draco Malfoy."

She didn't even need her aura-detecting spell to know who she was standing in front of.

"Tamzin Ollivander."

1.	She has so many; it could be anyone!
2.	When Garrick Ollivander was held prisoner

Seventeen-year-old American witch Nemo felt like a happy infiltrator, even though she'd been explicitly invited by the host himself. Well, not explicitly; not even indirectly. She'd heard through the grapevine there was going to be a masquerade at Malfoy Manor and so naturally she'd find a way to be there. She was, of course, vying for a unique association with the host so it all made sense. He'd expect her, she was certain.

She came in costume, naturally. Black boots, black leggings, under a hooded black poncho. The best part was a long-beaked crow mask. She'd blacked the skin around her eyes to make the look sufficiently creepy. Who didn't love Halloween.

Nemo had hitched a ride on the back of one of a train of carriages. They'd bumped along the tree-covered road and through ornate gates and along intricately tended topiaries. The house itself cut a dramatic silhouette against the autumn twilight sky. When they arrived, she allowed the more austere party-goers to precede her, hanging back a moment to see what would happen.

Draco himself was dressed in a dark purple suit with silver accents.  His mask a swirl of purple and silver.  Standing at the door, he could just begin to see people arriving.  He tried being polite to those who entered his home, aware that many probably were only there because they were curious.  Then one of the women approached him and introduced herself as a relation to the old wand-maker.

His heart dropped.  Though no one could probably see it, beads of sweat began to form on his forehead under the mask. "Madam," he began, his breath catching for a moment before he steeled himself and began again, "Madam Ollivander, a pleasure to have you grace the halls of the manor tonight."

Inside he was dying, he'd not had anyone in his home in a long time, and the first time he actually planned to have visitors, it just had to be a relation to someone his father had helped keep prisoner.  He didn't know what else to say to her as he let her pass him into his home.

Tamzin was satisfied to hear the slight hitch in the young wizard's voice, the appropriately conciliatory tone. She lifted her chin and smiled.

"Thank you, dear," she said and sauntered slowly past, linked arm-in-arm with her friend.  Just a few more steps into the marble-floored foyer, she could feel the expansiveness of the place. High ceilings, sound-muffling tapestries on the walls, the soft movements of a few servers tending food and refreshments. She smelled pumpkin and spice.

She paused, not nearly done with young Draco.

"Dear, did you ever get that wand back? You know the one, your hawthorne? Sat on the shelf for ages before it matched you."

The Ollivanders they tended to keep track of these things. They'd found out at some point that Draco had lost his original wand to Harry Potter and that he'd used his mother's for awhile, and well, one other.

"Not many who've lost the Elder lived to wield a different one. Was it disappointing," she asked, turning to face him.

How could he not? Draco Malfoy had emerged!

Cuffe arrived in a black velvet suit and a cloak lined in burnt-orange brocade. He'd had it enchanted to leave a trail of dark, misty effervescence. He carried a masque on a stick, as was customary, but he knew he'd forget to actually place it on his face.

Upon entering, he noticed that the now head of the Malfoy house was otherwise occupied with Tamzin Ollivander. He made a private, "oh ho!" to anyone who might be near him. That was going to be good.  Cuffe was well acquainted with all of the important Ollivanders and Tamzin was known to be a bit of a benevolent bully. Cuffe kept his distance, ready to leap upon the next semi-available celebrity of a status matching or exceeding his own...

He knew someone would make a comment that he would regret later.  He gulped as he thought of a decent response to her question.  The problem though, was that his mind was drawing a complete blank.  Every response he could think of had a sarcastic tinge to it or sounded completely disrespectful.  He couldn't say anything like that now that he was doing his best to stay out of the headlines and completely under any one's radar.

Taking a deep breath he looked her in the eyes, even though he didn't want to, and replied, "No, I never looked for my wand in the aftermath Madam.  I did purchase a new wand from a crafter in France though." Truthfully, he hadn't even paid attention to the new wand he had.  He knew he needed one and he didn't want to purchase one in England. He was too ashamed of the things he had done with his old wand.

"Pfft!"

Tamzin scoffed and tossed her head to the side. There wasn't a word for how she felt about this: both contemptuous but also unsurprised and satisfied. She'd never have sold him one, that was obvious. She wondered who he'd been to?

"Montesquieu? Ibrahim? Racine? Oh, well, I hope you're able to muddle along with it." Oh, France had skill enough. A good place to go if no other wand would have you. If she'd had any fondness of Malfoy at all, she'd have asked to inspect it, but why sweeten a sour thing?

"Well?" She lowered her mask, her brown eyes still and unseeing, her purple lips in a smug little smile. "Aren't you going to offer us a tour?"

She dared him.

As much as he wanted to, he wasn't going to rise to any bait to cause a scene at his own party.  That would be really bad.  Instead, he held his comments back and instead replied, "I would on a normal occasion, but just for tonight, the rest of the manor is closed off to guests.  I'm afraid you will have to come back another time for your expected tour."  And with a nod at the woman, Draco went off to pretend to mingle with the other guests.

Looking around, he spotted that American girl Nemo, he smirked and walked over to her, "Evening miss." he said in a low voice, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

Tamzin would not be afraid to report that she was mildly impressed with Draco Malfoy's disposition. Nothing about him seemed stuffy or vindicated, no sign  (to Tamzin) that he was making any attempt to grasp for his family's lost esteem (if ever they really had any). Instead, his manor struck her as mildly contrite, which she found appropriate.

So she took his cue that their first impression was done, and she and her entourage sauntered away. The house was spacious and Tamzin had never been. And in the hubbub it was hard to pinpoint any voices she didn't know. So she drew her wand from her sleeve and cast Aura Periciperium.  On cue, the room became clearer and individuals were distinguished by their unique magical impressions.

"Barnabas!" she cooed. The editor of the Daily Prophet wore a distinct cologne and his voice carried. She approached alone. Their families are old friends, and she approached him like a peer. "What's new, Cuffe?"

Draco Malfoy finished his schmoozing and Nemo lifted her chin to look aloof when he came over.  She leaned against a bannister and looked interested in her fingernails.

"Hey," she replied. "Heard you were having a party. Who was that witch? She seemed pissed at you."

If she was going to be Draco's familiar, she'd need to learn everything she could about him. Or perhaps it was the other way around: if she was going to learn everything about him, she'd need to become his familiar.

"I can fix it, if you need." Another promise she wasn't actually sure she could deliver on. But hey, the first one had worked out. She had the object of his test in her pocket at this very moment. If she managed that, she could probably figure out what to do with an obnoxious party guest.

Draco knew she'd probably been watching him since she wanted to sort of work for him.  Anyways he took a deep breath and shifted his position so he was standing next to her, his gaze sweeping over the guests that were in his home.  "No one you need to worry about." he said to her.

"If you want to work with me, understand that not everything can be fixed.  Not to worry." He stopped talking and made his way through the guests.  Stopping here and there to say a word of greeting to certain people.  He still wasn't too sure that he wanted people in his place, but it was too late now.

Nemo nodded, more focused on that he'd reaffirmed that she was sort of working with him. "Got it," she said giving him a wink. But she wasn't sure if he caught it because he'd wandered off into his party. She pulled her crow mask back down and followed him with a smug sort of aire.

He greeted his guests, talked a little shop, and Nemo tried to keep track of names and faces. She had always been good at keeping that kind of thing in her head, and she thought it might come in handy. When they were off by themselves again, she said in a low voice, "so I got the thing."

She slipped a hand into her back and held out a small little coffer, a wooden box with a slide lid, all carved very intricately.

It was three cakes of mummia. A closer look at the bottom of the box would reveal a fading paper label that said, MUMIĆ.

"It's real," she said. "Real mummies."

When the whole unicorn blood thing hadn't worked out she'd had to figure something else out. She didn't know that she'd ever get over the humiliation of that, but she couldn't just give up in regards to Malfoy.

"Put that away!" he told her urgently. Truthfully he was excited, that was truly a rare ingredient and he honestly wanted to know how she came by it, but here at the party was not the place for it.  "Put it in my study if you can find it." he said with a smirk and then walked off to pretend to enjoy himself some more.

Nemo quickly re-stowed the illicit little package back into her bag, hiding a very self-satisfied smile under her mast. She'd done it! Her new ... employer? Partner? Whatever, he seemed genuinely pleased. And scandalized!? That would be even better.

She bit her lip and watched him walk away, absolutely thrilled with herself. She almost felt better about not getting the unicorn blood Although, considering the reaction of everyone in that little tale, he might have thrown her out if she'd actually shown up with some. 

Instructed to find Draco's study, she turned slowly in the foyer. There were stairs, and could see at least three different exits into the rest of the expansive house. This was practically an invitation to snoop, but might be best to stay on task. She shifted from foot to foot, considering. Was a study an upstairs room, or downstairs?

She decided that Draco Malfoy was a man of ... privacy. And a wizard trying to start fresh. A downstairs study - that would probably have been his father's. She had no idea if she was right, but she began to slowly climb the ancient stairs, the bannister pristine but smoothed by the hands of generations of Malfoys. It was a magical place, this house.