Alternate titles: I Find Your Company to be Absolute Torture -  OR  -T27thAMFDFNERWAYDHAITYWDDP (The 27th Annuel Morgan Family, Distant Family, Not Even Related, What Are You Doing Here, and I Thought You Were Dead Dinner Party)


Brianna Morgan - pb Tilda Swinton
Marc Harper - pb Julian Sands
Darian Morgan - pb Kirill Nikolini


The invitations had been sent out precisely two weeks ago, edged in gold and obsessively-compulsively chosen. The dishes were prepared (all of the ones the Morgan-Harpers were providing, at least), the family was decked in their finest (semi-finest, perhaps), and the house itself had been cleaned within an inch of its domestic little life until the floorboards gleamed golden and the marble tabletop was so slick one could skate on it.

Of course, Brianna Morgan thought, regarding the shining entrance hall with chronic dissatisfaction, it was no Tredegar House. Only three stories, and small ones at that; one house elf, five bedrooms, no view to speak of, and too close to the Muggle settlement of Newport. Not even an attic ghoul. But Tredegar House had been lost thirty years ago due to some unpleasantness with Grindelwald’s unexpected downfall, and Artur would have gotten it anyways; there was nothing to be done but to carry on with the evening’s entertainment with an extending charm stuck to the dining room wall and hope no one wanted a tour.

The Morgans had all seen it, of course, but there was the distant family to think of. Every pureblood with even a tenuous link to the Morgans (not to the Harpers) had been invited, including people Brianna hadn’t rubbed shoulders with since she’d been in school, had desperately wanted to rub shoulders with since, or thought were the sort of people who would gossip favorably to the society papers. She would have invited Hogwarts staff, too – the pureblood ones, at least – if not for Landis, who had quite calmly incinerated the list of professors she had carefully picked through and left only the single singed name of newly-arrived-to-England Juliette Vaillancourt. Brianna had been pleased; the Vaillancourts had a good bloodline. Much better than that of the Weidman girl Landis liked so well, however sweet Dazmond might be.

It was nearly time for the dinner to start; she clickety-clacked in her high heels through the halls, deep purple robes brushing the floor and cut close to her bony body. Pinched face, blonde hair, high cheekbones and eyes like pebbles; she’d applied red to her thin lips and rubbed her cheeks to flush them, but her complexion remained the color of old bone. Once she’d finished attending to herself she checked over her house, for the fifth time in the hour. The window drapery folded obediently back at the tap of a wand, revealing false scenery of a brilliant night sky. The table was set, the upstairs darkened to discourage wanderers, her husband dragged out of his study and suitably placed – now to her children. She knew better than to touch Landis, but the others didn’t escape so easily. “Get off, Mum!” as she raked thin fingers through Erin’s permanently disheveled hair; a polite “Thank you, that looks much better,” from her darling daughter as she straightened Hannah’s bow. The house elf was doing the cooking, but Brianna swanned into the kitchen occasionally to harp at the thing until it worked faster. Marc was sat down at the table and told to stay, as was Erin. There was an insult in that their father was placed mid-way down the table and not the head, but after years of marriage Marc had become tired of dealing with Brianna’s sharp comments and nervous, aristocratic affections; he looked more than content to be placed in the “distantly related” section. Now he went over next week’s business plans under his voice and ignored his son as Erin swapped around all the place cards.

Hannah had been sent, an impatient sentinel, to stand just inside the front door where the guests would be arriving; now her high voice cried greetings as family entered.

This evening was certainly going to be torturous.

Landis had nothing against social events, usually. Social events populated with purebloods were breeding grounds of potential alliances, deals, secrets – chances to make the acquaintance of someone who might come in handy later, or gather valuable gossip.

Family dinners, on the other hand, were nothing of the sort. Landis as a general rule detested most of his immediate family; some of his aunts and uncles were suitably stiff-lipped, serious purebloods who understood and upheld many of the values Landis did, and they were all right. But they were also old enough and close enough to remember Landis when he was in nappies, when he was a solemn pale-haired boy, when he’d been lanky and spotty and not yet grown into his knife-sharp cheekbones  – a situation which deeply unnerved him. No one should be expected to make polite conversation with near-strangers under such circumstances, no matter the blood ties. Besides, all the gossip was old, and some of it potentially embarrassing.

So for one evening he would be assigned to the table from hell, where he would have make stilted conversation and field questions about his job and his hobbies and other things no one could possibly be sincerely interested in, probably while trying to ignore the fact that his younger brother would be chucking dinner rolls at his head or teething on the guests. The fact that other, less intimately related company would be there was both a blessing and a curse. A.)There would be someone decent to talk to. B.)Some of those someones would probably be his students.

His only consolation was that there was someone more miserable than he. Landis was fully capable of acting as polite and as interested as could be while internally planning murder (or in this case, possibly suicide). Others were not so talented.

Erin, for example, was sulking at his pre-assigned spot.

No one was around yet, so he managed to clock Erin in the head with a heavy silver tray in passing. “Stop moping over the rarebit, you little brat.” “No one asked your bloody opinion!”

Their father barely blinked.

Hannah’s squeals could be heard all the way down the hall. Landis turned in time to see Darian in all his snappy glory, right down to the purple suade shoes and the wild red curls, and carrying Hannah upside down over his shoulder.

“Evening, Landis,” he said, and kissed him on the cheek before Landis could stop him. Irritably, Landis batted away the fabric of Hannah’s dress before he suffocated, then took a quick step back as Darian took off around the table, narrowly avoiding being kicked by his sister’s flailing legs. “Put me down! Put me down put me down put me – pick me up, Darian, honestly, and you will sit next to me, won’t you?“ Following on his heels came Rhys, with a more sedate handshake and a clap to the shoulder. He quickly went off to greet Erin, their tousled blonde heads bent together as they spoke in unconscious mimicry. Uncle Artur and Aunt Evie filed in from the sitting room, brushing floo ash off their robes; the girls had without his noticing deposited several dishes of food upon the table, eyes flickering over to Landis as they made not-quite-whispered comments about how he never spoke to them at school. Hannah had wriggled out of her cousin’s grasp and bounded for the door, only pausing to give Bethan and Alice a hug and to subtly direct their attention to their other cousin Erin, who was much closer to their age and less able to defend himself. Only 11 and already a wonderful little manipulator; Landis was so proud of her.

He made a strategic retreat for the sitting room, knowing as he did that more people were likely to come through the door than the floo. But Darian had grown up with him and knew him too well, and Landis soon found himself escorted back to the table by his grinning older cousin. Said older cousin was busy alternating between loud admonishments: “Your hair has gotten so long, Landis, when did that happen!” – “Sharp suit, old chap” – “Other end of the table, isn’t it? Not next to dear bach Erin, oh no, I know all about that – “ and other, less family-friendly comments. Right now his lowered voice was promising the divulgence of every pitiful secret he knew (no big threat, for there weren’t many) and the urgent whispered hiss, “If I have to stand all of them staring at me and asking pointed questions about the family line, you damn well have to suffer too. Only fair, isn’t it? But here – “ His lilting Cardiff accent ran away with the words as he raised his voice again. “If you’re very good I’ll let you have an after-dinner drink!”

Landis hated family. And he didn’t even have Dazmond to bolster him; his owl had returned with his letter unopened, unable to find her.

In the foyer Hannah’s delighted shriek hit a decibel normally heard only to dogs. ”Auntie Octi! Uncle Jo!” Brianna Morgan’s head snapped up like a startled deer. She exchanged looks of identical surprise with her twin Briallen, the two drawing together like the sisters they rarely acted in public. Artur paused mid-sentence in conversation with Marc Harper; Darian’s hand tightened on Landis’ arm. The younger cousins didn’t even notice, chatting happily to Rhys who only glanced over everyone’s head to the entrance hall and then back down, unperturbed. Erin looked thrilled.

Erin wondered why she just did not bribe a house elf to do this particular chore.  It had taken her six tries (three of which she got half way through and was distracted by something) but she finally had a bread pudding that would not seem out of place at a gourmet restaurant.  It was soft, moist, and had a scrumptious treacle relish served onto the side if someone wished it to be slightly fruitier.  It made her look more like an expert alchemist or herbologist rather than a student whose main talent was...well she realy wasn't sure what her main talent was yet.  But between the dueling club, the quidditch team, and everything else that happened in Hogwarts she figured she would figure it out.  Eventually.

Erin sort of wondered how this thing was going to turn out.  Her sisters had told her that she needed to be here for something or the other, but thus far could not see what exactly.  Her head of house was here to, so she guessed that all of the official channels were taken care of.  Taking a wild guess that people would also be bringing other types of delicious food she inwardly cursed.  She knew she needed to watch her diet.  Stupid 1st year she thought, who had made her entirely too conscientious.  As she surveyed the assembled guests, she made note of Erin, Landis, and a few other guests.  She did not recognize the Gryffindor first year, but figured they would be meeting soon enough.  Walking up to Brianna, who she assumed was the lady of the house, she started interrogating the hostess.

"I apologize for not introducing myself straight away, but do you have somewhere I could set these down?" Erin asked, not really caring if she committed a gaffe of some kind.  Besides, she was tired of caring a bowl of bread pudding as well as a relish dish.  Though this place was not exactly Malfoy Manner, Erin did not want to take up space that had been reserved for...well whatever space was reserved for at these events.  She assumed this many people did not just gather to talk about the weather, but did not know what this assembled group had in common.   She still was not entirely sure what she was doing here, but figured it would work out.  Or she wouldn't be invited back.  Either way, problem solved.

As she waited for the person she thought was the hostess to either correct her assumption or point her towards the kitchen, Erin took another look at the surroundings.  The decor of the night sky and drapery were nice, but nothing was particularly noteworthy to her eyes.  She was hoping for something more of a clue, like indications of an upcoming celebration or something similar. 

-- Beatrix's Outfit. -- -- And her natural hair. --

---

Beatrix was probably never going to experience a more interesting night in her life. It all began when Vinnie and his brother, William (whom was a lot more handsome in person... but nothing like her boyfriend), met up with the twins and had a small visit at the Dark manor. And the visit was, indeed, small. Things got a bit awkward when Beatrix introduced Vincent as "her boyfriend" to her father. Beatrix recognized the look in his eyes when she spoke those words... She knew then that she would have to keep an eye on Daddy Dark... And Vincent, just because he was cute.

The sweeter Dark twin had gotten ready before she met up with Vincent, in case something like that would happen... And she felt she was rather smart doing so. Knowing that Landis Morgan, one of her favorite Professors (she still wasn't sure if she was supposed to call him "Professor"), would be at the dinner, she decided to look as natural and sophisticated as she could. Being Beatrix, however, she couldn't help herself when she found one of her favorite faux-skull necklaces. Despite her attire being rather pleasant and feminine, she always needed that twist in her wardrobe. She even put small curls in her hair. She was dressed to impress... Though, she hated having blonde hair usually. Mainly because she reminded herself too much of her mother. She considered just going with her regular pink hair, but she knew she had to look like a proper lady, as she was attending a proper dinner.

Of course, Bellatrix had convinced Beatrix to have 'Rin come along. Beatrix's face made a light scowl when her eyes landed on her when she first arrived. Beatrix didn't realize how much they all looked alike until then. She wished Mikey was there... But he probably would have felt awkward being a Squib at a strictly pureblood dinner. Instead, Razzy decided to join them. While he didn't look so much like the blonde haired, blue eyed bunch, he was still the only Chancelier that Beatrix liked. She could only imagine what her father thought about him... Hopefully it wasn't anything too bad.

She had been pleasantly surprised when she learned she was related to the Morgans. But the feeling didn't last once she realized she was probably related to every pureblood in the whole school. But Bea's Great, Great Grandaunt or someone of the sorts had married into the Morgan family, which was completely enthralling. Beatrix idolized Landis Morgan. He was a brilliant, enjoyable man, once one gets past his... Librarian-esque persona.

When the group had arrived at the dinner, Beatrix held the homemade, raspberry pie that Bellatrix and her slaved over all day in her arms, making sure it was covered nicely with aluminum foil. Normally, Beatrix would be leaning against Vincent and speaking quietly with him, but she decided it was best that she stayed by her father's side by now. Behind her stood a rather bored looking Razzy, and the Pennyapples were not too far from her other side. William seemed to already be enjoying himself... Which made Beatrix seriously consider if he was right in the head.

The door swung open and the group immediately shoved themselves in. Pleasantries were shared and jokes were told, but Beatrix mainly just wanted to put her stupid pie down. She scooted her way to the dinning room and sat the pie down, only to look up and witness the horrifying scene that is Erin Harper. The girl let out a yelp and tore her eyes away, looking down at the placing and pretending she was just happy that she was sitting in between her two favorite people: Vinnie and Daddy.

Beatrix's face flushed and her hair turned a blinding yellow for a moment before she finally composed herself. While the color drained from her face and hair, she sat herself down at the table and avoided any eye contact with the gorgeous Harper boy. She hadn't known that he was related to Mr. Morgan. That was incredibly awkward. She was finally able to put on her bubbly smile and she turned to the crowd, "Look, Vincent! You're sitting right here... One person away from Daddy... Oh my god." Beatrix's smile stayed in place, but her eyes widened and her gaze fell down to her plate. She wasn't sure if she was fully capable of fending off her father if needed. However, she was in a house full of brilliant purebloods (and Razzy and 'Rin... who definitely weren't "brilliant"). If she needed help, they'd be there.

She waited for Vincent to sit down (to the right of her) before she entwined her fingers with his. Luckily, she was ambidextrous... So through the whole meal she could feel at ease while causing the Pennyapple boy to lose feeling in his hand, all the while eating with her left hand. Beatrix bit her lip and continued to stare down at her plate. While a part of her was happy that she had everyone she loved all together... Another part was upset that Erin Harper was there to witness her happiness. In a way, she wanted him to be jealous... But she now just wanted him to drop off the face of the Earth. Plus, her dad was a crazy, psychopathic murderer... And traitor. Maybe she should mention how she feels about Erin to her father. That would be a situation that Beatrix would be happy with.

[Bella's Outfit]

Skull earrings: 20 Knuts; Leather jacket: 2 Galleons, 15 Sickles; Spine-heeled shoes: 5 Galleons. Spending an entire night at an awkward dinner party with her daddy, sisters, her twin's boyfriend, his brother, and 20+ other relatives she didn't know she had until a few nights ago? Priceless. It was just the kind of I'm-not-so-sure-about-this-but-I'll-play-along event that Bellatrix needed to top the double-ice cream sunday with chocolate. It was ridiculous how sudden all of this was. She was related to the librarian at her school? Why couldn't she be related to someone less... Well, she didn't know him as well as her sister did. They never spoke other than "sshh" and "I'm leaving anyway". The point was that she was related to the Morgan family and they had been invited to a dinner party of pure-bloods. At least, she would assume they were pure-blooded.

Upon her daddy's other arm was Beatrix carrying a pie. Bellatrix was on her daddy's other side, her arm linked with his. It was nice being able to flaunt her daddy around. She hadn't spent as much time with him as her twin (something Bella was still jealous of, but only mildly) which was why she had agreed to come: more time spent with daddy was something she would give anything for. Her blue eyes, warm tonight with her good mood, flickered upward to peer at her daddy. He was so handsome and such a gentleman! If she wasn't so rebellious against her mother's insistence that she be more "lady-like", Bellatrix might have wanted to mind her manners just to prove to her father that she could. Unfortunately, it could not be done. She needed to be true to her nature which was anti-conformist.

Unlike her sister who had dressed like a lady, Bellatrix had decided to wear a skull-themed outfit. Skull earrings, high-heels with a 3 inch spine for a heel, a leather jacket upon which was pictured a skull with a mohawk, a skull shirt, bone-pictured tights and arm-warmer, and all of her little accessories were shaped like bones. In order to match with the black and white color scheme, Bellatrix had used a coloring charm on her hair to turn it ebony black with pure white tips. As she entered, she tugged the bill of her black newsboy cap downward as a tip to Mr. Morgan and the lady of the house and pressed on.

She glanced behind her as the group made their way through, catching sight of Vincent Pennyapple and his brother. Razzy was there as well. Thinking back to the day she was told about the dinner, someone had said that her Hufflepuff cousin would be joining them. As a response, Bellatrix had snorted, muttered "ridiculous" several times, ranted & raved in private, and insisted that Erin be brought along too. Why? Because if she had to tolerate one Chancelier that had stolen her date at the Valentine's Day Ball, she would be bringing the only other Chancelier that she could stand: her baby sister. Erin was in every way a Chancelier and Bellatrix sometimes had a hard time getting past the fact that mother liked her. If only their mother hadn't liked her, Bellatrix would accept her as a true Dark instead of just treating her like a clone of her mother. That was the main reason Bellatrix watched over her younger sister so much: to influence her to the Dark side of the family.

Bella's attention meandered around her father to her twin whose hair went a bright yellow momentarily. She looked away from something and when the darker Dark twin looked to see the source of Bea's problem, she also felt a lump in her throat. Erin Harper! She hissed to herself, the grip on her father's arm tightening a hint. The nerve of him! Was he related to everyone here? Of course! Morgan-Harper! Another hiss.

"Potter's knickers," she muttered angrily under her breath.

"Look, Vincent! You're sitting right here... One person away from Daddy... Oh my god."

A devilish grin worked its way over Bella's mouth when she looked at Vincent. He would have to endure sitting near their daddy! Of course, Bella was more than happy with him being her twin's boyfriend. Vincent was one of the few Slytherins she could tolerate and the only reason she let him date her other half was because he made her go crazy. Bella had figured out that if Vincent was involved, she could use him as bait to drag her sister along to do anything. Well, almost anything. Unfortunately, Bellatrix hadn't found an opportunity to use him as a piece of meat on a string to manipulate Lil Bee, but that would all come in time. She also looked around for her place and squealed excitedly when she realized it was on her daddy's other side! Goodie! She took her seat, caring very little for who sat on her other side, and tugged at her father's arm.

"Sit down, daddy," she smiled up at him childishly.

-- Razzy's Acceptable Clothes. --

---

Razzy would never admit it, but he enjoyed his cousins' company. The Dark family was a lot more accepting to Razzy and his flaws than his actual family... Well, at least, the children accepted him. The Hufflepuff wasn't aware that Michael Dark escaped out of prison until after he met up with them. Even still, Razzy remained unfazed. Sure, it wasn't a daily occurrence that he met an escaped convict... But Razzy simply didn't care. The Darks were odd, odd people. And the twins seemed happier with their father around them...

Only, Bellatrix was very unhappy with Razzy. The boy had attempted to speak to her but she brushed him off and ignored him. He was assuming it was just because she was a raging bitch, not because he snogged Peyton during the dance. Razzy wasn't known for having a conscience, anyways. He would had never cared. Even if it was her boyfriend he was snogging. If Razzy wanted something, he was going to get it. And that particular night, he wanted Peyton's lips. Razzy, naturally, didn't find Peyton all too attractive (dark hair, too nice... bleh). The boy's only appeal was that Razzy thought he was straight... And he had his mouth all of Bella's and that made Razzy jealous. How did she get action while Razzy was stuck between the same two guys?

That wasn't the life for the devilish boy. However, the more time he spent around Erin, the less need he had for other people. Which was a good thing, in a way.

While the Pennyapples and Michael Dark awkwardly made their introduction, Razzy was fixing himself up in one of the Dark manor's dusty mirrors. He straightened his tie, not exactly paying attention. In a way, he could be rather vain. He watched his expressions in the mirror, none of them looking completely real to him. His eyes were dead. It was like he had no soul. He looked past his reflection and his eyes landed on William Pennyapple, who seemed rather chipper around Michael and didn't seem to realize the awkward situation. Famous, brooding, talented... And stupid. William turned and locked eyes with the young boy.

Razzy concluded that, if the opportunity were to ever arise, he would, most definitely, tap that. It was a shame that William was so much older and so, so heterosexual.

The dinner required the households to bring a dish along with them... Naturally, Razzy didn't bring anything... But he wasn't worried about it. He was with the Darks, after all. Who were nice enough to bring two dishes to the dinner (though... Razzy wasn't sure if Erin was considering herself apart of the family). The tall boy had followed, close, to the group and never uttered a word since he was snubbed by Bellatrix. Not because he was upset, but because he was Razzy... He didn't talk much if he didn't have to.

Petite Fille Erin had immediately presented her pudding to the lady of the house and Beatrix scurried off in her heels to the dinning room. He stood completely still for a bit as the group chatted with the other family members. He wasn't sure if he was technically even related to the Morgans, not by blood at least. He felt like a Pennyapple... Not exactly meant to be there but too proud to not attend. Razzy had never even spoken to Mr. Morgan before. It was a very strange situation.

After a few moments, Razzy finally trotted off to the dinning room, passing by a familiar looking little girl (he just assumed she went to his school, anyways), and he came to halt. The place was rather nicely decorated and neat... Razzy contemplated whether or not he should sneak something nice into his pocket, but decided against it. He was already considered "wealthy", he didn't need any of their crap.

Bea's hair went a bright yellow and Razzy let out a low sigh. She was always getting worked up about something. He didn't even know what the colors meant anymore... He assumed "yellow" meant "I need to take a piss" and didn't bother asking questions. The twins acted like their sickly selves and Razzy gazed around the table for his spot.

After a moment, he finally found his name next to a very, very familiar lump... His lump, actually. The boy slid into his seat with a rather pleasant smile curving his lips. "Didn't think I'd see anyone I like her..." Razzy told him, his entrance as blunt as always. The boy's fingers twitched, slightly, as he naturally wanted to slip his hand into Erin's. But Razzy wasn't stupid (as much as he lead people to think, at least). Razzy wouldn't put a move on the Harper boy around his own family. Not to mention, he highly doubted Erin would tell the load of tight asses that he had a homosexual encounter. That would just be awkward.

"How are you, Erin? And how are these people...? I remember when I told you that you had a stick up your ass... But..." His green eyes shifted around their surroundings, "They remind me a lot of my Aunt... When she has parties... No wonder you laughed at me..." He sent another smile down towards Erin. Considering he wouldn't be trying to get into Erin's pants that night (maybe, at the very least, get him to show Razzy his room... But even then Razzy wouldn't be bold enough), Razzy was going to remain pleasant. Friendly, almost.

"Do you live here? After dinner you should show me around... It's nothing like the houses I've lived in..." He paused and fiddled with his tie again, "That's a compliment, though. I hate those awful people. And their stupid decorations. They think Roosters are 'beautiful creatures' or some tissu de crêpe." He shrugged, lightly, before nudging Erin with his elbow, "Enough about me, though..." He continued to smile. He knew not to ask Erin about his family, really, since he had been sulking just minutes before. Clearly, Razzy wasn't the only one with family issues.

He shifted in his seat, his eyes quickly scanning the Slytherin, "I really like your shirt..." he finally let out. He'd like it better if it were off, but that was just Razzy. He didn't plan on flirting with Erin all too much... But he was merely complimenting him.

-- William's Nicer Clothes (Even though he wears suits all the time). --

---

It was a rather sad situation if even William could sense the awkward tension in the air. When William had agreed to join his younger brother at some pureblood get-together, he assumed he was going to be a chaperon of the sort. From the sound of it, there wasn't an adult in the Dark manor. However, William understood that the children were nearly of age... So, in other words, he didn't exactly think about. Much to his surprise, when the two arrived they came face-to-face with Michael Dark. Escaped convict, lunatic, and father of Vincent's new girlfriend (which, he was rather proud of... Despite the fact that she was a Dark girl). William was only glad it wasn't him that was boning the young girl... Else he would have been long gone by now.

William wasn't exactly fazed by the older man, considering he was around criminals all the time (one of the many benefits he got from being apart of the WBA). So when the tiny Dark girl introduced the two of them, the death glare Vincent received just made William smile. William didn't exactly know about Beatrix being a metamorph, so he actually liked the looks of her. She was a cute blonde with a bubbly attitude. Most likely slow in some way... Considering most smart people weren't happy like she was. He wouldn't approve if he knew that she wasn't usually so well put together. It was best that he didn't know that she was a lot like her twin sister, who looked like a raunchy mess.

The older Pennyapple simply smirked and gazed around the house. It was dirty, but it probably hadn't been touched in years. He inspected each of the other guests... Another small blonde who kept a bowl of bread pudding clasped in her hands (very, very young from the looks of it), and a rather tall boy who had darker features than the rest of them. William stopped and considered whether or not the boy was on a Quidditch team before they locked eyes. This made William uneasy, since the boy's glare was a lot like the one Michael was laying on his brother. They were, obviously, closely related.

The group had apparated together to the Morgan household. William wasn't very informed on who they exactly were, but since it was a pureblood dinner (and William being a very proud pureblood), he was certain he would be accepted. They all huddled up and entered simultaneously. The Darks went one way, the Pennyapples another. They scattered along before all heading towards the dinning room. William greeted a few people, but for the most part remained set on getting a glass of wine at some point.

It was then that William saw that Vincent's new girlfriend was a metamorph... With her insanely bright yellow hair. However, she composed herself and sat down. In a way, William thought that would be a benefit towards Vincent. At least he would know how Beatrix was feeling at any given moment. Females and their emotions... So silly.

William sat down at the empty side of Vincent. The two lovebirds seemed rather close... But at least it wasn't in a sickening way. They had the decency to hide their hand holding under the table. While everyone else began chatting endlessly with each other, the older Pennyapple sat there with a rather bored expression on his face. Usually, he would have someone to talk to by now. And he would have wine.

If this dinner continued to be boring, and William wasn't viciously drunk in the next hour, he decided he would leave. Vincent could figure out how to get home on his own. He was a selfish man, yes, but he would at least pick Vincent off the street at some point and let him stay at his apartment for the night. Maybe. He would owl mother... And then owl Atticus for missing out on such a "fun, fun" party. And then ask him why he's still an "artist" and hasn't done anything meaningful in his life.

Which was why William preferred Vincent. At least the youngest brother could manage to get a cute, pureblooded blonde to be his girlfriend. Though Vincent wasn't into Quidditch as much as William was, at least he didn't waste his hours away with such bollocks as art.

A dinner party, a family get-together. How quaint. How exciting! Michael was genuinely pleased. To be among family again, to be among purebloods, there wasn't anything better. He'd even dressed for the occasion, nice robes pulled from the indomitable Dark wardrobe in the attic. Their cut was archaic (it might've belonged to his grandfather, given the preservation spells on the thing; Michael didn't care) but dashing, buoyed into handsome by his strong chest and square jaw. Used to rough, to filth, to dirt, Michael was clean as well, old customs of politeness and good breeding as strict and inbred as law, so that he had scourged his flesh until it was raw to relieve himself of any last, imaginary traces of Azkaban.

Now - trimmed blonde hair, robes heavy with silk - one could hardly tell he was a murderer at all. He looked good, and he radiated the easy, arrogant power that came from confidence both natural and cultivated by years of careful breeding. The best of his family had been distilled over generations to culminate in him, and he was aware of it, as aware of that as he was the brimming promise the twins under his arms likewise held. Of course, with the best came the worst. But that made him confident too, so he laughed silently to himself as they walked - he would be the most dangerous thing in the whole shining house.

And, a daughter flanking each side, every inch the Dark patriarch, Michael had come as himself. His features were his own,  as was the flare of madness in his shadowed eyes.  No one here would report him to the Aurors. If they did he'd kill the little blood traitor himself - but the horrified disapproval of the other family members would probably do it for him first. It was more than just bad manners - blood tells, and blood binds. No one would dare.

There'd been a brief scrabble earlier in the warm darkness of his own home - a meeting, of some boys he didn't care much about (from Audrey's side) and one that he definitely did. He could tell Bea was nervous about him meeting her boyfriend, so he made sure to smile at Vincent. Several times, with pointed teeth, and as often as possible - and no one could smile quite like Michael Dark. He didn't even count it as an expression unless the recipient shuddered.

He would be watching that boy. And possibly other things too. He'd only gotten out a fraction of the things he'd wanted to say to Vincent earlier before his little Bee had gotten upset at him. He'd have to save those things for later. Hopefully not too later. Michael was impatient.

His girls had been good enough to make the food to take, to coo at him in his dress robes, to snuggle into his side now. His girls. So precious. Not at all like the disgusting little copy of his ex-wife that had come along with them, a reminder to make his teeth ache as Bella had made him promise not to hurt her. Michael couldn't help it - Erin was too similar, too trained, better than his only son because at least she wasn't some disgusting magicless lump, but still... too much like Audrey. He'd heard Erin was her perfect little model. He hated her. He hated her. But he'd promised to behave.

It was easy, mostly. Michael melted back into the charmer he'd used to be once they stepped into the house, the charmer that had gotten him such a high-class whore to begin with. He was a good actor, this part easy to shrug on once he shoved all the bleakness and the madness and the frustration deep down inside. It didn't even show through his eyes as he bent over Brianna Morgan's hand, the arrogant hard-faced beauty he remembered from Hogwarts now all nerves and bones and desperation that he could smell on her just like the dull dull dull complacency of Artur Morgan, once a man to be admired, a fellow patriarch of a semi-fine family. But he shook hands with Artur like a gentleman, too, and all the other faces that he was related to and had seen numerous times over the years at various pureblood occasions. This was his generation, these were all his old classmates and his cousins-thrice-removed, and Michael was both relieved and disappointed to see how they had changed. And if his smile was a little over-bright, a little manic, a little fixed, as he moved to the table (still surrounded, protected, buttressed on both sides like an inmate by his girls) and was sat only one down from Bea's boyfriend, then what of it? He was with family.

Josiah had smiled a couple beats after his family, when it had been confirmed that yes this was someone they should be happy to see. Abel and Hannah made all sorts of unintelligible squeaking sounds and bandied about, such in the fashion of small animals.

She embraced Octavia around the middle, and he noted the delicate similarities between them. The long yellow hair, the tiny bird bones. Even their smiles were related, though Octavia’s was distant and faintly strained, while Hannah’s was bright and sure. Cassisus returned the hug with the stiffness of a mechanical creature, and Josiah didn’t lift his arms at all.

Octavia was dressed for a funeral. For many attending, it would be the first they had heard of her husband’s death. So, perhaps in a sense, it was a funeral. Black silk robes trailing to the floor, black silk shawls around her shoulders, blonde locks bound up and spangled with dark violets. The black made her look even more sallow, and among the bleak décor it made her that much easier to miss. How long she’d spent taming the boys’ hair was a mystery. Abel’s was tamed into a single intricate braid at the nape of his neck, sealed with a silk ribbon. Cass had shaken his free of its binds, and it brooded black above his head like a storm cloud.

They were opposing children, in many ways. Cassius was fourteen teetering into fifteen, growing tall and narrow like a wraith. He scarcely spoke, yet when he did his tongue was like a viper. His eyes were black and his face was grim. Cass shouldered the insult of a fluffy cravat with sullen nobility.

Abel shrank back to his mother’s side once he got the sense about himself to squirm away from Hannah. Only ten, still so small and a bit fat, meek as a lamb. He peered around Octavia’s train of black skirts to the girl, smiling in that very faint way only very sad children can.

The rest of the Inkwood-Morgan clan threaded in past Josiah, leaving him standing rigid as a fencepost outside the doorway. It was only when they’d reached the end of the hall did any of them notice he wasn’t following at all, as vampires are unnervingly silent of step.

Octavia fluttered back for him and reached across the threshold to grasp his hand. Her grey eyes had a strange cloudy look about them, and her voice was soft and cracked.

“I, Octavia Morgan, invite you into my home, Josiah Inkwood.”

There we go. The quiet shield charm all doors possessed against vampires fell with a cold draft, and Octavia lead him into the dining hall. Whatever ghost of a smile she’d had on her face flickered away.

“Good evening,” said Octavia.

“Hi,” said Abel.

“Charmed,” said Cassisus, though he clearly wasn’t.

Josiah said nothing at all. After a moment of blank, shark-eyed staring, his glanced over to one Michael Dark and cocked his head. "Oh. There you are." The former Auror did not look pleased nor shocked that he had just discovered the single most wanted wizard on the Ministry's hitlist. "And might I say -- Brianna, Briallen -- you both look lovely this evening."

Cassius circled the table examining place cards and blinking his arrayed family members up and down as if searching for the softest bits of their shells. He looked to his father jerked his head to the seat beside Erin, before slipping down into his own chair. Abel clung to his mother’s hand as if he’d instantly drop dead without it, and without giving it much thought reached out and took Hannah’s too. His huge brown eyes were fixed on his shiny shoes.

Octavia dipped her head primly before the gathered reunion and glided across the room to perhaps convocate with her sallow sisters. That is, before catching an eyeful of one of the Dark girls. That stopped Octavia Morgan-Inkwood in her tracks, made her fingers tense around her son’s hand, and her wide moony eyes narrowed to iron sickles as they picked over each and every little bone decorating the girl.

“I suppose you find that very amusing, little girl.” She spoke like a serpent’s hiss, quiet yet ripe with threat. “Such attire is immensely insulting to myself and my family, trivializing death if it were something to be strung on a necklace. I say—“

“Lay off it, Mum,” Cassius interjected. He was already poking around a glass of red wine. “Da doesn’t care. She can dress like a stupid muggle if she likes.” The boy was either ballsy, or all too aware that the Dark twins weren't the only ones here with a dangerous father.

outfit

Unbeknown to Landis, Juliette had stuffed an entire day and evening’s worth of clothes into the tiny, black sheen clutch she carried in one milky hand. Her hair was down, round her shoulders, her fringe swept effortlessly to the side, and she the simple black speak for itself as she drifted through the open door. She gave the tiniest quarter of a nod to the elf who let her in, his floor-kissing bow comical in the face of the sky-heeled redhead. Hannah was busy showering guests with the charisma of three Harper-Morgans combined, and doing a fine job at it. Juliette smiled witchily to herself as she passed the bijou blonde.

Where her shade palette was simple, the tailoring was not: Juliette knew what to show off, what to hide, where to nip, and what should flow. She also knew what should show. Lean legs, soft, well-rounded shoulders, a hint of bare neck beneath a singularly intricate piece of jewelry, and the peachy arms of a woman who did noble work, but not manual labor. A cauldron stirrer or not, she was hardly a peon. Her skin was its natural moon wan, her muscles sparse, the shape of a silk-stocking aristocratic woman in her prime. And she knew it.

And so she smiled, all sincere, half-darling, a quarter gloating, and a quarter lethal (for Landis’ benefit, as she caught his eye just before leaning in for the kill), and extended her arms to Brianna Morgan, the regal hostess, and every bit her lover’s mother upon first glance. If ever a woman had birthed Landis Morgan (lest have appeared from thin air, a full-grown man, and never a child), it was this fine-boned creature in purple. Juliette closed the distanced, hands clasped with her new ally-of-sorts, and offered the customary French greeting of a kiss to each cheek.

She left a lingering fragrance of whatever she’d worn for the evening, and the tiniest of whispers, lips moving much more animatedly that her voice dared speak. Again, like a cat, she toyed with her prey. Her eyes flickered to the blond man as she murmured to his mother, “You have a lovely home and a most... pleasing son.”

Or perhaps she, Juliette, was the prey, and he had meant to toy with her. Perhaps his mother was the prey and the predator, and here was Landis inviting Juliette along to both appease Brianna and catch her off guard too.

Tonight would be lively.

Juliette removed her cloak at last, offering it to her ‘date’ (he had not called himself that, when she’d received the invitation, but she had more or less got some confirmation out of him that she could hang on his arm and help him avoid conversation with his mother). They were still just lovers, the sort who shared each other’s bed when they pleased, and friendly coworkers at all other times. Tea and coffee, or a stolen sip of wine were not uncommon, but Landis was still Landis, cool and reserved and witty over warm, and Juliette was still having fun prodding him like a schoolgirl in the firelight of the professor’s lounge. “You never told me your mother was so beautiful,” she said, her first words to him, and the only ones she spoke for the moment. Her eyes cast round as she gave him a moment to stand awkwardly with her cloak in his arms. She saw a few familiar faces, mostly students, and several people who looked like they might rather choke on chicken bones than sit through this dinner. Finally, after lingering on a dark man with an uncommonly... nocturnal... aura, Juliette looked back to Landis and grinned. She reached out, daring to poke his cheek, one stolen touch. “You have her cheekbones.”

She leaned in then, and kissed his cheek, but just a peck, all faux modesty and soiree praxis. “One moment. I have an old friend to catch up with.”

Hunting down Hannah, who was no hard to miss, being one of the tiniest of the guests, Juliette looped her arm through the child’s and leaned down conspiratorially. “My, aren’t we looking nearly thirteen? You’re lovely, Hannah. I’m sorry I didn’t catch you as I was entering.” And she was. She reached into her small purse and drew out her wand, and also the canter of stewed French wine she’d brought along-- hot as cider, slick as black tea, and soaked in an elf-enchanted olive wood barrel for three hundred years. “Will you keep this safe for me?” But it was not the wine she offered the girl; rather, she surrendered her whole purse. A wink. Their own party had hours yet to begin.

Vincent groaned. More awkward than the taunting twinkle on Bellatrix's lips, laced with the sugarplum threats of all of Michael Dark's potential Metamorph disguises, who danced invisibly in a macabre mobile that swam over Vincent's head, turning in time like a jewelry box ballerina to the music of William Pennyapple's signature arrogance, was the sudden appearance of not one, but a second professorial type in the foyer of the dining hall. Swathed in black, she batted this way and that, all gingery and untrustworthy as she kissed one too many people.

"Look, Vincent! You're sitting right here... One person away from Daddy... Oh my god."

The boy's hand tightened round Bea's, and he finally averted his gaze, stealing a glimpse of his girlfriend, who reminded him of snow in Spring's path. Beatrix had took the breath from him when he set eyes on her pastel ensemble, all light and airy and complimentary to her lithe figure and fair complexion. Her hair, unusually natural, made his heart jump with a renewed seriousness of their situation-- but it also brought out the brightness of her eyes, and the pink of her lips, and was sort of like having a whole new girlfriend in one. Who needed to role-play when he had a Metamorph for a girlfriend? (Not that he ever grew bored of Beatrix Dark, or that it was even possible, whatever her hair color or dress code).

"Yeah. Lucky me." He caught William's eye from somewhere down the table.

"Youlookverynice," was all he could say when he'd arrived on the Darks' doorstep, a sudden rush of nervousness tinting his tone as he'd caught glimpse of Daddy Dearest looming in the background some second or two after greeting Bea. Was that a rusty knife behind his back, or was Vincent growing ill?

The boyfriend-girlfriend thing had fallen into natural step, and there fewer people in all the world whom Vincent could be himself around entirely-- say anything to, anything at all-- but her father standing there with murder in his eyes made him feel twelve and newly hormonal again. Like he couldn't decide if he'd had all of his dragoncootiepox vaccinations. Wand, ring, triangle cloak / now you've got your Hallow'ed hope. The childhood songs came back to him in a rush, and he remembered running away from little girls whose germs were sure to kill him.

Now the germs were something he welcomed, something he hoped to squeeze out of Bea's hand as he laced his fingers over hers. With luck, he'd catch them, and earn a little bit of love from Michael Dark. Not that kind of love, mind. Just... 'Understanding.' It was normal, wasn't it, to watch one's daughter grow up? Lots of boys had survived their first girlfriends, William as testament to this rite of passage, and lots of fathers had survived, too, no jail time necessary. But there was nothing normal about Michael Dark, he had not seen any of his girls grow up, and he was no stranger to Azkaban. Hell, he was probably on first-name basis with the long-banished Dementors, he'd been there that long.

But Vincent liked his daughter, so he swallowed hard and tried not to pass out at Erin Harper's dinner table.

"So, do you think, maybe, right after dessert--" Sooner. Before bread. He daren't speak that wish aloud. But he'd already lowered his voice so many octaves, he might as well have. He was practically miming. "I think William's leaving early. Do you want me to bug him to take us to the stadium? It's closed right now, but he has his own key. It'd be empty. You could fly the whole thing by yourself." And they'd be far, far away from Mr. Dark and his many assassin's masks.

The Darks were right on time, and Brianna handled the greetings and dishes of food with a grace and a quickness Hannah didn't know her mum still had. She'd never seen her in full-on society mode before.

To Erin Dark there was the smooth "Of course!" as she took the dishes from her. A second later and they'd been whipped out of Brianna's hand and deposited onto the table in their place, the family house elf earning her place. Brianna didn't so much as blink or look down - for this sort of quick servitude was the only natural kind for a pureblood - "Yes, let's see - that hair - aren't you one of the Dark daughters? I'm Brianna Morgan, darling, your third cousin on your father's side." But as Erin was only a child, not worth the full introduction set, she'd swept onto the other arriving Dark family a moment later, leaving Erin to find her spot at the table and make her own introductions.

The twins were as different as day and night, one as pretty and sweet as freshly-fallen snow, the other dark and adorned with bones that if her father had let her wear, Mrs. Morgan was hardly going to make a scene about (despite her automatic inclination to sneer and ask if the girl had ever been been out in public before). The girl even had the audacity to tip her hat to Brianna as she passed, and Brianna stared back at her with eyes like pebbles before dismissing the insult. They hadn't had a father to teach them the proper manners, she supposed. But they'd been so good as to bring more dishes, and besides that were on the arm of Michael Dark. Brianna delivered a kiss on the cheek to him, cool brush of bone-dry lips to slightly stubbly cheek, and he took her hand like a man who hadn't spent his last years in Azkaban. His blood status was more important than the fact that he was currently on the Ministry's Most Wanted list; Brianna didn't bat an eye at his presence. Artur stood up to greet him once they'd gone into the living room, and the other Morgans all nodded or smiled and otherwise pretended they didn't have a murderer in their midst. After all, murder was hardly shocking as long as it was done to the right people.

The bevy of Pennyapple and Chancelier boys behind the Darks got similarly polite greetings.

Erin slumped in his spot at the table. Somewhere behind him, he heard the idle chatter of the arriving guests, his mother's thready voice dipping smoothly in and out, but he didn't turn to look. He had once already, and that was enough; his mother being so bright weirded him out. It was way worse than her usual stern self because it was just so damn bizarre. Any moment she'd try to do something suicidal like make Erin take people's cloaks or pat Landis proudly on the shoulder, and then the shite would really hit the wall. Erin didn't like the bastard, but Landis taking her arm off would probably be the most entertaining thing that'd happen all evening; he, for his part, was itching for a chance to do something incredibly embarrassing. But his mum knew better, and she was sticking to Hannah, who liked her. Erin couldn't decide whether to be grateful or disappointed.

As it turns out, there was an entertaining aspect to the evening after all. Erin - who'd had a vague idea that the Dark had been invited, since being stuck in the house with his mum all day meant he'd heard all about the party whether he'd wanted to or not. So it was with more satisfaction than surprise that he watched Beatrix and Bellatrix wander into the dining room, see him, and freak. Beatrix's hair even went bright yellow, which was about the only way he could recognize her what with the weird white-blonde hair. He earned a hiss from Bellatrix, too. He smirked at them, and crossed his hands one over the other on the tablecloth.

"Evening, cousins."

A sugar quill wouldn't have melted in his innocent little mouth.

But he quickly abandoned his game when Razzy walked in. Despite himself, Erin sat up a little straighter, and gave a grin when Razzy sat down next to him, the expression about 500x more genuine than the one he'd offered any of his family. "I didn't know you were coming either." So there'd be at least one bright spot in an otherwise miserably evening. If Razzy tried to grope him under the table, though, Erin was stabbing him with the salad fork.

"How are you, Erin? And how are these people...? I remember when I told you that you had a stick up your ass... But...They remind me a lot of my Aunt... When she has parties... No wonder you laughed at me..."

Erin gave a shrug, but he was still smiling, just a little upwards tilt at the corners of his mouth. "What do you think? I'm surrounded by people whose sticks up their arses have sticks up their arses. You shoulda believed me."

And,

"Yeah, we can take a tour later. Good excuse to get out of here." Erin's first thought had been to escape to his room with Razzy in tow - but then he remembered who exactly Razzy was, and more importantly, what he might like to do.

But, hell. Erin might take him up there anyways. It'd be better than sitting down here and tugging at his too-tight collar. He'd have to put every locking spell he could think of and then some on the door, though.

He didn't know what a tissu de crêpe was, but as Razzy talked about his own family his smile began to seem a bit... creepy. Strained. Like he really didn't want to smile but didn't know what else to do with his face. Erin didn't comment on it, because Razzy clearly had some idea of where family misery came from and yet he'd refrained from asking any more questions about Erin's family than strictly necessary. Erin liked that. Razzy deserved a reward. So he nudged Razzy back, and tilted his chin up to point to a dish easily reachable by Razzy's long limbs. "Mashed potatoes. Go crazy. Get some on my family." His blonde eyebrows performed a complicated dance, the general look he got when he wasn't sure if he was being made fun of or genuinely complimented on his shirt. Eventually he decided Razzy must have been genuine, so he gave another shrug, frowning a little. "Thanks."

Like Erin, Landis was sticking to the dining room instead of the overcrowded entry hall. Unlike Erin, Landis was not sulking in his seat but still standing, attached at the arm to his older cousin who seemed simultaneously delighted by this appearance from such controversial family members and rather wary to actually get near his aunt or vampire uncle. Landis' gaze caught briefly on the eldest boy, a dark-skinned little soldier with a stormy expression that kindled a strange empathy, but dragged quickly upright to Josiah.

He was distracted by the arrival of the Dark family - a nod and an absent smile to Beatrix, whom he noted looked very pretty and presentable for such an occasion, and a nod of acknowledgement without the smile for her bone-decked twin, whom Landis barely knew at all - and a brief murmur for the Dark father, who was a purist criminal and therefore just Landis' sort of person, before his attention returned to the Inkwoods.

The damn vampire had to be invited in. Landis' lip curled, and then Darian bounded from his side to the newest arrivals. He bowed over his willowly aunt's hand with a flourish.

"Aunt Octavia! Uncle Josiah - Cassius - Abel - delighted to see you all, do ignore the gawkers and come sit next to me...." His gaze flicked over Cassius' sullen face and then away with the unaffected dismissal of someone who'd grown up in a family of sneerers while Hannah, torn between her favorite older cousin and her favorite younger one, took an uncertain hold of the edge of his bright suit.

Thankfully there was another distraction, and one Landis was much more pleased to see; Juliette Vaillancourt, who'd had the honor of a gold-edged invitation AND a personal semi-plea from Landis, second best to Dazmond in terms of comfortable company but managing to be just as welcome. Slipping into the identity of Landis Morgan, Slytherin Head, Hogwarts Librarian, and oft-baited lover of the Potions mistress was a much more comfortable skin than the dutiful eldest Harper boy, with a transparent but helpful name change and no spawn yet. Juliette reminded him of adult things, adult duties and a belonging to the adult world rather than being someone's son or cousin or nephew. It was very welcome, particularly when presented in its extremely aesthetically appealing little-black-dress-wrapped package. If it showed in his eyes, any kindling of appreciation at her approaching form, he let her see.

He took her cloak with relief, held it carelessly to the side as the house elf whisked it away, and almost managed not to bristle that she'd touched his mother or that his mother had touched her. That was the unpleasant part, wasn't it? Landis had invited her to distract from his family, but knowing her as he did, he suspected his family was going to distract her from him. More than that, from the witchy little glint in her eye, she was most likely to make herself delightfully acquainted with all his kinfolk in wicked return.

Still, it was awfully gauche to respond to a compliment of one's mother's graces with a sneer or a snarl, so Landis only bent his head instead, didn't speak, although the tight line of his lips spoke of his disapproval. Said lips twitched in an almost smile after, though, in acknowledgement of her coy little barb - "You have her cheekbones."

"I'm glad to see Declan could bear to let you go for a night," he said, faint smile still ghosting his lips, although the memory of having to ask the Deputy Headmaster for permission on his mother's behalf to steal away a portion of the pureblood children for a family dinner was a painful one.

A peck to his cheek and then she slipped away, apparently to speak to Hannah - bizarre. Landis happened to glance up and caught sight of Darian, who had a wicked smile curving his lips. Darian waggled his ginger brows. Landis sneered back.

Like Darian, Hannah was unfazed by the difference in her cheery demeanor and that of the rest of her family's; if her hugs were returned lackluster, or not at all, she appeared neither to notice or care. Likewise the black finery of her aunt's attire, the sullen scowl on her cousin's face, the murmured thanks of Brianna and Briallen to her uncle's compliment - none of it escaped her, but she didn't comment on it either. She was aware of the gulf of silence behind her, aware of the intent and feel of the air. But Hannah just didn't care. Happily oblivious worked so well as she payed sharp attention otherwise, blue eyes picking up the nuances and storing them for later while her face smiled and smiled.

She knew what Uncle Josiah was, too. She wasn't supposed to know - her mum would screech to learn that she did - for none of the young ones were supposed to, not even Alice or Bethan, but Erin had told her. She thought maybe he'd been trying to scare her. It didn't work. Jo was still her uncle and she'd still hugged him, even though he was slightly cool and smelled a little funny. A faint musty scent hung about his clothing, about his chest and his slow-reacting form; despite her strong convictions, it'd been a tiny, tiny bit frightening to touch him, the spark of her awareness making her nervous. It made her think of werewolves, the club at school for their rights and Chance telling her how they were misunderstood when she'd been raised to think they were scary. It also made her think of family duty, and of its twisty-turny hypocritical loyalty; she would have invited him in if her aunt hadn't.

Seemingly without being conscious of it, Abel took her hand, and coaxed from her dark thoughts Hannah nearly melted. He was only a year younger than her, but he was just so cute with his little cravat, suit, and braid, pudgy baby-fat cheeks frowning and soft forehead furrowing at all the fuss; Hannah decided then and there to become his adoptive big sister.

"Awwww!" she cooed, but softly, under her breath so as not to offend anyone as she snuggled happily into the younger boy's side. Her fingers curled reciprocally around his, pink-painted nails careful with his soft little flesh.

A scuffle, a disturbance in the already tense air - Bellatrix Dark was wearing bones, and Aunt Octi was furious. Hannah's eyes narrowed but she still didn't speak. Attention torn away from Abel and his enchanting baby softness, she looked as alert as a much older girl while she watched the family react, easily the thirteen or older Juliette credited her for just in the way her expression sharpened. Aunt Octi spoke just like her mum did, the sisters pale, blonde, and wraithlike all alike even though only Brianna and Briallen were strictly identical. Still holding Abel's hand, who was still holding Octavia's, Hannah pressed closer, although it was more like a message to her aunt - a reminder of her presence, a warning - than any childish bid for comfort.

Her older cousin stopped it. More blunt than she would have been, but effective; "Da doesn't care." Hannah's eyes flicked up to her uncle.

Then her attention was snagged by the beautiful potions professor, whom Hannah had not been aware was invited; she watched in horrified delight as Professor Vaillancourt greeted her mother and then her brother, her brilliant socialite manners and fashionable outfit sparking envious pangs in the half-grown Hannah. Imagine, a professor outside of school, kissing her relatives on the cheeks and dressed like that; Hannah didn't know how the woman had slipped past her, but she nearly died when Juliette approached with a smile and a compliment and a query about taking her bag.

An answering grin bloomed on Hannah's face. She smushed it before it could get too big, and arranged her features into what she hoped was a sophisticated expression.

"Of course," she said, as smoothly as she was able. "And thank you. You look very pretty yourself, Professor."

Carefully, delightedly, she winked back.