put us through the median

Risha narrowed her eyes slightly, even though she was wearing a mask at the moment… She was pretty sure that it was showing on her face that she was not amused by these circumstances at all. “I am very sure I did not drop it somewhere, mister.” She took a step closer to him. At moments like these she had wished to be taller, simply because she was not impressive at all. There was no way that she was going to intimidate the man who was standing in front of her.

The young woman took a deep breath so she could calm herself down again. Risha knew that her temper definitely did not fit the small body that she was born in. “It would mean a lot to me if you would just return the thing that you stole from me. I am pretty sure that our hostess would not like it a lot to know that there was someone walking around here who has been stealing from one of her guests.” It were probably empty threads but that was something that the man opposite of her did not need to know.

Clement reached down into his pockets and turned them out—thankfully, they were empty at that moment, though they hadn’t been just five minutes earlier. He shrugged, as if to say, what are you gonna do? If Clement was a better person, then he would have felt bad about what was clearly something valuable to the other woman, but he wasn’t that kind of person. He didn’t put much stock in material items—even those that held sentimental value to him weren’t nearly as precious as they might have been to someone else—and so he found it difficult to imagine why anyone would care so deeply, other than money. 

By the time he’d had his fun pickpocketing most everyone in the crowd, it was barely 10:30 and he needed to find something else to do with himself until the end of the party. He would be damned if he was going to go home early and miss out on whatever shitshow was bound to happen, war-related or not. He’d tried earlier in the night to wander around the estate a little more, get a feel for the manor and the people who lived in it, but the hostess had cut him off at the stairs. 

So, he waited, making ample use of the skills he’d learned in auror training, until he found an opening to sneak upstairs without anyone catching him. He ducked around a corner as soon as he made it up, staying still for a moment to listen for anyone following him. Thankfully, he’d gotten upstairs without a hitch—not that he expected one—and his posture relaxed as he slipped a hand into his pocket and started wandering down one of the hallways. He had a double shot of aged firewhiskey in his hand, sipping judiciously at it from under his mask as he walked through the various twists and turns of the manor. 

He paused in front of a row of pictures, cocking his head to the side. Mentally, he was doing the math, comparing it to his own upbringing. It seemed similar—family, sunshine, impossibly beautiful people—and he couldn’t help but feel a little affinity. He picked up the picture frame, bringing it closer to his mask as he squinted down at the image. It brought on a wave of nostalgia he hadn’t expected, and he found himself overwhelmed for a moment with a desperate sort of homesickness. 

He forced the feeling down, swallowing the nausea back quickly as he steadily put the picture back down. C’est rien, Clement. Juste un moment. He had these sometimes, these moments where he’d be overcome with a feeling that he couldn’t suppress any longer, and it would feel, for just a second, like drowning. He had to force himself not to gasp as he brought the glass back to his lips and took another sip of his drink, lifting his mask just enough to fit his drink under it. 

                                              𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑.

location /  zabini  estate ( masquerade ball )

time /  january 25th, 11:30 - 12:00

featuring / khadjiah and open

𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇  her guests, leading those with wandering eyes back towards the fray when they became a bit too curious. Of course, she knew that the estate would have many people there, if not because they wanted to see her, because the appeal of a grand masquerade  —— a direct juxtaposition to the current environment that seemed to permeate London’s air, heavier than its usual fog.

“Charmed, darling. Please, enjoy.” Her cheek offered for an air kiss, returning the gesture as she glided through the room. Those she recognized easily with their masks on she nodded to, others she allowed a wide berth until she had time to scope the room, feeling out  the vibe of the room as a whole. Steps taking her in the direction of the nearest table of drinks, she cleared her throat politely. “May I get around you please?” Despite her request, she’d already reached around them, plucking a champagne flute from off of the bar.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Clement didn’t even have time to react before she was already reaching around him and he caught sight of the jewelry she was wearing. He scanned her once, already thinking of ways to use his Charm before she spoke. Realizing quickly that she was the host of the party—and while Clement may have been an asshole, he was never rude and he would never steal from the host—he instead changed gear, tilting his head to the side rakishly. “You’re the hostess?” he asked, reaching a hand out to shake hers. “Enchante,” he said, the lazy grin behind his mask audible in his tone. 

There was a special fun in befriending the host of a party for an evening and then disappearing. Clement didn’t know what it was about these fleeting friendships that he liked so much, but it was a hobby of his to get the host to give him a private tour of the home—something so intimate yet so fleeting. Clement hadn’t been able to truly hold onto any friends since he had moved to England, and perhaps part of that was out of a need to shield himself, but it was nice to pretend for a moment that his life was made up of something more than just fleeting connections. 

Where: Masquerade Ball, Zabini Estate

When: January 25th 1979, 10.00 pm

Who: Alice and Open

If she was at all honest, Alice much preferred to be at home with her comfy clothes on and a big glass of red wine in her hand. Whilst she was a social person, she didn’t like big events like these. Not really. She’d spent most of her childhood trying to escape them. And she had no real desire to be at them too much. Not without controlling the guest list either. Of course, she had many people she’d love to host at   Longbottom Manor. But this was different, and it made her a little anxious. She was glad for the mask though. It meant she could blend in, and chose whom she spoke too. Of course, she wasn’t really completely sure who she was talking too, but that was just a minor problem.

She took a sip of the champagne as she looked around. Everyone looked so beautiful. That was what she missed about these things. She had loved the opprotunity to dress up when she was little, even if she had hated her parents parading her around. She smiled though, as she noticed someone coming closer to her. She wasn’t quite sure whom it was.

“Hello” She murmured, hoping that their voice might give them away. “It’s been a lovely party so far hasn’t it?”

...

Clement was a social butterfly at heart, and he fit right into these parties. It was easy for him to mingle, make small talk, act rakish and charming so that everyone would think that Delacour boy is just so delightful! and not that Delacour boy is a menace. It was exactly what he was doing at this party, almost reflexively after years of doing it as a teenager and a young adult, and it was exhausting. Clement was growing too old for these games, and he would much rather spend his time and energy down at the pub at the end of his block with people he actually found interesting than this vapid crowd. He was scanning the room for someone he could at least hold an interesting conversation with—somehow, a rarity in this room—when he caught sight of who he was fairly certain was Alice. Or perhaps his twin. Either way, it was a promising prospect. 

He seemed to glide through the room towards her, weaving his way through the crowd that had built up—a practiced art, for Clement had learned a long time ago that there was nothing like the wrath of the owner of some freshly-scuffed Italian shoes. As he got closer to the edge of the room, he wasn’t any closer to figuring out who it was, so he cocked his head to the side as he started combing her appearance for clues, sapphire-blue eyes flicking up and down her features behind his mask. 

As soon as she spoke, however, he knew who it was, and he grinned, even though she couldn’t see his full expression behind his mask. “Bonne nuit, Alice,” he greeted cheerily, his posture relaxing as he slipped a hand into his pocket, already feeling more comfortable. “It’s been extravagant, for sure,” he said, glancing around once. “I don’t know how to feel about the crowd.”

Risha had been stopped in her tracks by the man standing in front of her and even though in any other situation she had told the other man that he was way too much with the compliments, for some reason she had been unable to do so as she had been watching him. The woman was holding a glass of champagne as she listened to the sweet words from the man in front of her. His sweet words and his soft touch distracted her from whatever was happening. A small voice in the back of her mind yelled at her that she would have to show this man the wedding ring that was on her finger. That she was wearing a necklace and a bracelet that had been a gift from her husband. But the words weren’t coming out of her mind. She watched how the man moved away and it was only then that her gaze moved back to her hand where she found the ring. Her other hand moved to the necklace around her neck, suddenly very aware of the gifts of her husband and then it moved to her bracelet. But the bracelet, however, had disappeared… The bastard.

It took surely half an hour before Risha had found the man again, recognizing the mask that he was wearing. She quickly moved through the crowd and stopped right in front of him so she was able to block his path. “Good night… monsieur. Your French words and such are very beautfiul, and it was quite fun at the time. But I’m sure you would not mind to give me back my bracelet which was a gift from my husband.”

Sometimes Clement felt a little guilty about using his Charm like this. Of course, he had been taught some strict boundaries—it was always fun, never serious, and it never went past some flirting with a little dash of magic thrown in—but that didn’t mean he was taught to be ashamed of himself. In fact, this was the part of his Veela side that people found palatable, the part that people always heard about. Everyone always heard about the beautiful, charming Veela, the creatures who looked windswept all the time and seemed to have the sun shining on them even on cloudy days. 

The more monstrous side of himself was a different story, but that was a book Clement kept firmly closed. No one saw that if Clement could help it. 

So it was fun and it was easy to grift these rich society women out of their jewelry because it reminded Clement that there had to be something appealing about what he was for it to be this easy. It was a twisted logic, but it was one that made sense to him, and Clement wasn’t going to pretend that he was somehow justified or not doing anything wrong. He was fully aware of his actions and the consequences that came along with them. He just didn’t care. 

Gabrielle had spotted him out of the corner of her eye making her stop mid sentence. Clement. She would know her brother anywhere. Even with masks obscuring their faces she knew that it was him in the way that he held himself in the way that he moved swiftly through the crowd. A smile formed on her lips, it was a surprise to see him there tonight, but that smile turned to a frown when she realized that he was up to his old tricks again. With a sigh that could only be attributed to Clement, she excused herself from her husband and their current company and began to follow him.

She carefully made her way through the crowd smiling here and there. She needed to be sure that her brother was doing what she thought that he was. The last thing she wanted to deal with tonight was Clement acting offended that she would disparage his honor by suggesting that he would do something like steal. They both knew that it would just be for the theatrics. A fond smile formed on her lips. There was nothing that she wouldn’t do for her little brother. She would deal with the theatrics any day if it meant that they could spend some time together.

Finally watching him as he slipped a bracelet off of a woman’s wrist, she sighed. She worried for him. There were so many notable people in attendance, if he crossed the wrong person it could be trouble. Even though she knew that he could handle himself she didn’t want him to have to. Watching him for a moment as he shoved his finds into a vase, she finally had had enough and walked over to him, grabbing his ear and pulling it enough for him to feel but not enough for it to ever hurt. She would never hurt him. “No,” she said firmly, shaking her head but she couldn’t stop the slight smile on her lips. “Up to your old tricks, petit frère?”

She dropped her hand and crossed them over her chest as she took him in. He looked well, she thought, and that was always a good sign. She worried about him, not unnecessarily, and it was always good to see that he was in one peace and healthy. Her annoyance at his stealing had already dissipated, call her a pushover but she could never stay angry with her brother for long. If anything she was worried about what people would say or do if they had caught him. She didn’t need him to be arrested. 

“Wasn’t doing anything?” Gabrielle retorted with a raised eyebrow. “Please. Don’t even go there, petit, We both know exactly what you were doing. If I put my hand in there what will I find, hm? An expensive watch? Or a bracelet perhaps? If I look in your pocks what will I see? A wedding ring?” She asked, but with a sigh, she pulled him into a quick hug. “Yes, you being arrested will absolutely liven things up for everyone else,” she said sarcastically. 

If there was anything good about being back in London, it was the close proximity to his sisters again. He loved his home in Provence, but he realized quickly that their ancestral home, the one they had grown up in, tucked away on the French coast, didn’t mean all that much without their family in it. Still, he was so much happier than when he had left Hogwarts—at which point he was not only miserable, but convinced he was nothing more than a monster—that he had dealt with the different kind of loneliness that came with going back to France. A nostalgia for something he wouldn’t be able to get back. 

And who could blame him for longing for the idyllic scenes of their childhood? Gabrielle, Claudette and Clement had been near angelic children, especially to human standards, always charming and beautiful and seemingly soaked in the sun even when they were drenched in English rain. Moreover, they were the only people who Clement felt had ever understood him with any measure of success, and he didn’t want to let other people into their little trio to ruin it. Frankly, at this point, he couldn’t even think of the damage Aldrich was doing without his blood boiling.

Gabrielle had always been the person Clement looked up to, more than anyone. She was the cool older sister, the one who caught everyone’s attention at Beauxbatons, the one who seemed to always know what she was doing, who had managed the transition from their life in France to their life in England seemingly without a hitch. In some measure, Clement had been envious of her, but more than that, he was fiercely protective. And even if she was going to get annoyed with him for his stealing and his penchant for getting into trouble, she was the person he knew would always protect him, too. 

He lifted his mask so he could look at Gabrielle—and she could fully see the sullen expression on his face. “Come on. You think it’s funny.” He felt a mischievous smirk curving at his features, the same expression he’d been using since he was a kid to make sure that he didn’t get into too much trouble (even though he definitely should have). Clement couldn’t help himself. “C’est un blague, Gabi, c’est tout,” he added, his smirk now his fully-blow, most charming smile. He was sure Gabrielle could see right through it.