lying in wait

As he steered her away, he smirked to himself after catching a glance of the look on the guy who he had stolen her from’s face. He was clearly taken aback and irritated that Marcus had been able to come along and whisk Cressida away, but whether she knew it or not, the guy had been attempting to flirt and both he and the guy knew that she could do better. He had known her for many years, since the days when their parents hosted parties together, to sitting together in classes at Hogwarts to stealing each other for coffee breaks without permission. She was one of his oldest and closest friends and though he suspected everyone nowadays of perhaps not being on the same side as he was, he couldn’t bring himself to indulge the idea that she would, so he forced himself into a state of denial and kept himself there.

“You’re welcome” he murmured as she clutched his arm. “How did you get talking to that creep?” he asked, curiously, a smirk of amusement on his face as he looked down at her. When she grabbed the drink from his hand sighed and shook his head, “It’s yours now, I didn’t want it after your germs have been all over it” he said, making a soft retching noise, as a joke, though he knew it would wind her up a little. The look on her face when she pretended to be offended by anything he did was priceless, it only served to amuse him. As a house elf walked past with a tray of drinks, he took one with a hastily muttered thank you and continued walking with Cece until they were on the other side of the room, out of most direct eye lines of sight. He took a sip of his own before she had the chance to steal this one as well. “So, how did they manage to rope you into this... ‘party’?”

For the first year of her employment at the Ministry, Cece had been more or less alone. She had family friends, knew people who knew people who worked in offices near her, but for an 18-year-old new graduate, she couldn’t have been more lonely. So, when Marcus, one of her nearest and dearest friends from school, told her that he’d be coming to work at the Ministry, Cece was delighted. On his first day, she made sure to drop by his new desk, and steal him away for drinks after work. Since then, she’d come by as often as she could, without shirking her work, and it had become a ritual ever since.

Usually at the end of the day, Marcus packed away his things, signed off on the reports he had been handed and headed either home or to the local pub on the corner, just outside of the Ministry, to mingle with it’s other members and vent about the work of the day. However, this evening was different. He stood in his office, having changed from his work clothes to his formal dress robes, pouring himself a glass of whiskey before he set off. The Ministry was having another interdepartmental gathering and as his department were involved, he was expected to attend and he was pretty sure he would be unable to excuse himself for at least several hours and after much tedious, exhausting small talk. Hence his desperate need for whiskey before he left, in order to give him a little buzz to cope with the night ahead.

After throwing back the alcohol in the glass, he replaced the glass upside down on the tray, tucked his wand into the inside of his robes and left his office, making his way down to where the gathering was being held - a large training room that had been lavishly decorated to the point where those who had never been inside it before would be unable to tell what it’s true purpose was. As a house elf moved its way through the room, he took a drink from the tray it was carrying and stepped forward slowly, eyes scanning the room over the rim of his glass, wondering how long he could avoid the small talk for, when his eyes landed on a familiar figure, standing to one side, seemingly absorbed in conversation although her eyes were not quite focused enough. He grinned and made a beeline for her, interrupting whatever the man in front of her was saying.

He placed his hand on the small of her back, “Cressida, there you are. Could I borrow you for a moment?” he asked, nodding to the gentleman who looked taken aback, before steering her away. As they moved away from whoever she had been stuck talk too, the man had not been recognisable to Marcus, he whispered, “you’re welcome, by the way”. 

[ @cressidanott ]

Even for the Ministry’s semi-frequent interdepartmental galas, this evening promised to be both bleak and tiresome. Of course, it wasn’t so bad, to get dressed up, to observe and be observed, as long as Cressida had a few of her Ministry friends, like Nat, by her side. But, on a day as excruciatingly long as this one had been-- with piece after piece of correspondence to be translated, and not even a decent piece of legislation, or anything interesting to break the stream-- her head swum with words and letters and numbers, and it made this gathering even more difficult. And yet, Cressida knew that her absence would be noted, as her colleagues at the Ministry were unlikely to forget a slight; not attending would be more trouble than getting the thing over with.

To make matters worse, Cressida had only been in the room a few scant moments-- not even enough time to get a drink from one of the many house elves drifting through the room-- when she was cornered by a co-worker who’d clearly had more of a chance at the provided refreshments than she did. With the confidence of a man a firewhiskey-and-a-half in, he engaged her in a one-sided conversation about just how critical the Department of Magical Transportation was, and have you ever wondered how you don’t bump into someone while apparating? That’s the impact of the “D of MT”! Absently, Cressida wondered just how many times this speech had been rehearsed and subsequently recited to other helpless victims. Yet, like her father always said, one never knows who one may call upon later, so she listened, and nodded, interjecting the odd oh yes or I agree every so often, and it seemed to satisfy him; now if only he could see fit to wrap it up.

It was with purpose that Sirius frequented Muggle bars and establishments run by Muggleborns and Half-Bloods alike. There was comfort, anonymity in the dirty, dimly-lit corners of the dingiest pubs. His name wasn’t likely to be known by those he didn’t already call friends or acquaintances. He was free to consort with anyone without fear of a familiar face finding his own. Besides, some part of him couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of seeing the look on his mother’s face if she were to know about his preferred watering holes.

It was with that thought in mind that Sirius entered the familiar pub, though he was keen to scout out potential new drinks for the Fiery Hippogriff. It was a much-needed evening off - from Order and Aversio business, but also work - and Sirius hadn’t been able to sit alone in his flat for more than fifteen minutes without the itch to go out becoming too much. He headed straight for the bar, greeting the bartender with an easy smile and ordering a whisky. He leaned, elbow on the counter, taking in the other patrons - in search of someone for the night, however it might end. Distraction, maybe; he didn’t care.

But he saw her, and there was only a few second’s hesitation before recognition dawned and his lips curled upwards in a devious grin. It had been some time since Sirius had even seen Cressida Nott, but he knew it was her, and he knew that this was no place for a woman in her position. The scandal!

He thanked the bartender when his drink was placed before him and scooped it up, easily weaving through the loose crowd, eyes set on the woman in the corner. He slid into the seat across from her, smirk plastered across his face.

“Evening! Imagine, running into you here of all places,” Sirius greeted, eyes glued to Cece. “See, I enjoy this place. Assures I won’t run into - well, people like you. And yet…here you are! Bloody brilliant.” He winked and took a sip, waiting for whatever reaction he could elicit.

The only difficulty with living in such exclusive circles is that when one wants to be alone, and avoid those whose poor opinions carry some heft, is that stepping into unknown territory is necessary in order to do it. The witches and wizards with whom Cece consorted were not forgiving to those who were unable to comport themselves with expected grace and refinement, as her parents had and their parents had. If she was seen, this ruffled, because of an up-jumped Muggleborn, she felt sure she’d never forget it.

So she stepped, with mild trepidation and much disgust, into this little hole in the wall. Upon entrance, the rustic, “dive” environs could have been, on a better day, almost charming; the little mice scurrying around, living in their own silly little bubbles, with their silly little lives. She could have found twisted amusement in watching them scuttle about. Tonight, however, their unabashed debauchery, was nothing if not absolutely grating. Thankfully, the staff and patrons had the good sense to avoid her, speaking only when spoken to. It was best that way; Cressida Nott was not to be trifled with tonight.

Of course, this day, this wretched, torturous test of her patience would not have been complete without bumping into someone. Someone she hadn’t seen in many years, and could have happily gone the rest of her natural life without seeing again. Fiery hazel eyes cast upward at the unwelcome invader who dared approach her.

Sirius Black. The idea of permitting him that last name, allowing him equal footing with her, made her mildly nauseous. The two of them had grown up together, gone to school together, and, for a short time, when they were young, had been on friendly sort of terms. When he left, however, and decried everything she’d ever known, he was, to her, effectively dead. On an ordinary day, she would have looked right through him, like he was as physically invisible as he was completely inconsequential, denying him the perverse satisfaction he came here seeking. She should do that.

But today was not an ordinary day.

Cressida took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, much needed lubricant for her frayed nerves, eyes coldly casting over the black-haired nuisance across from her. “Piss off.” She hissed, between immaculate pearly teeth. “ll be nice and say it once. In case you couldn’t tell from the fact that I am in this greasy hole, I’ve very little patience, for you least of all. So. Unless you fancy truly pissing me off, I’d suggest you run.”

Merlin, Cressida was gorgeous.  And so driven, and Natalie was grateful to have her as a colleague that she could trust.  She hoped that she was also trustworthy that Cressida knew that Natalie would always have her back.  She was focused, obviously using this position as a way to work her way up the ranks of the ministry.  But she wan’t so distant that she would be unapproachable.  Actually, Natalie could really see Cressida working well as the Minister for Magic one day, and she hoped maybe she could prove her own worth and work alongside her.  The Minister of Magic had secretaries, right?

All of that was shattered with Cressida’s comment about the French, however.  She didn’t know how she was supposed to take that… she had a few friends in the French ministry, a number of people who still supported her and her family.  She found them lovely, found nothing frustrating about the way the letter was worded… she looked at Cressida nervously.

“No, no, I get that… totally.  Honestly, I don’t mind taking the French communication.  It is my mother-tongue, after all.”  She smiled, holding up the letter she had put to the side.  “Why don’t we make a deal?  I’ll deal with all of those annoying French correspondences, and then you can take all the ones from Portugal.  I am trying to work on my Portuguese, but I just… I’m hopeless at it.”  She sighed, slumping back in her chair.  “It would really mean a lot.  I hate feeling… ugh like I can’t do my job or something, I don’t know.”  

“And don’t worry about that.  I just… I get in the zone and I sort of loose track of whatever’s around me.  It’s a bad habit, I suppose.”  Natalie shrugged, turning her attention back to Cressida.  “Seriously, tho.  I don’t mind taking taking the french letters.  I promise.”

If Cressida could have chosen a person she trusted completely in school, Natalie DuPont would have been high on her list. She was such a sweet girl, uncommonly sweet, actually, a rarity in their mutual circles; she was a Hufflepuff, and the qualities of loyalty so treasured by her house were so clearly present in Natalie and everything she did. Cece had been rather delighted when Natalie came in, just a few years after her; she’d finally have a friend in this department. She’d been worried that the girl would abandon her Ministry ambitions, and travel back home to--

France. Merlin, Cece could be an idiot sometimes, she couldn’t believe she’d been going on about the bleeding French, while it was clear on Natalie’s expression that she’d been rather upset at her rant.

“Oh, Nat, I didn’t mean it, you know that,” Cece conceded, crossing to Natalie’s desk to take her hand. “You know I get all worked up on myself during these correspondence rushes. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you. I read too much into it, that’s all. Please don’t be upset.” She extended her other hand, flashing one of her dazzling smiles. “I’ll take the ones from Portugal, and you can have the French letters. That way we can both get work done, and I won;t say anything else foolish about your home. Can we do that?”

Beside it being perfectly ignorant to bash a fellow Ministry, especially one with whom the British Ministry had to work so closely, she could not help feeling guilty that she’d upset her young friend. Off-the-cuff remarks so rarely went well for Cressida, and she could not help but be reminded that, even though they were friends, being completely transparent wouldn’t do if it would go to upset Natalie.

There were too many people in her home. A precursor to her ball, she was forced into invite os many that she had no plans on speaking to for long. Seeing a familiar face in the crowd up ahead of her, a genuine smile broke onto her face. “Cece!” she called, her voice maintaining its trained elegance even when yelling. The girl was one of the only things holding her back from her plans. If Davina allowed the current course to happen, they would be family most likely by the end of the following year. If she left like planned, the brunette may never talk to her again. “Darling, how are you?”

@cressidanott

“Davina!” Cece replied, in a voice hardly above speaking volume. It wouldn’t look good if they were to suddenly start behaving like children; even if she was very excited to see the older witch. Again, she was struck by the beauty of the Selwyn home; despite an apparently lax guest list, it was truly elegant. She sped up her pace, coming to her friend’s side. “You know, Ministry business, all perfectly dull, but I’m quite happy to be here with you. You look lovely. All’s well with you, I hope?”

“Working in this place, I would probably place a winning bet that our days have both been exceedingly stressful, due to the many idiotic employees who somehow managed to attain and retain a job here” he said, running a hand through his hair and sighing, “I’m sorry, was that too harsh? You know, nowadays, I can’t even tell” he admitted. Since he had been placed in charge, promoted before his time as many people saw it, he had heard them whisper it or in some cases tell him straight to his face, he had been put under a lot of pressure to make his department run smoothly. “I feel like this place is changing me sometimes, I catch myself acting like a total arsehole. Please, Cressida, you need to stop by more and remind me not to be” he grinned.

He followed her, shutting his office door behind him and magically sealing it, never quite trusting anyone within the Ministry not to attempt to break in. There were many who opposed his appointment. He slung his arm over Cressida and hugged her slightly as they had done when they were in school together - he was fortunate that they had both chosen a career inside the Ministry so that he could see her nearly everyday if he wished. “Sounds perfect. As long as there is caffeine, I’m there” he smirked, as they made their way into the elevator and down to Atrium level. The Atrium was as busy as ever, both of them having to dodge and weave their way through busy workers with no sense of direction. “How has your office been lately?” he asked, when they reached the exit, finally. 

“Too harsh? I’ve been thinking just the same thing! There’s a perfectly empty headed girl in my department, can never keep straight who speaks what language. Didn’t we all have to take the same tests and go through the same interviews when we were hired? Makes you wonder just how suitable the hiring staff is, doesn’t it?” Cece laughed, feeling a bit of the tensions in her body release. It did her good to get out of the office, even if it meant making up for it later; she’d been in such a huff when she left, she’d rather leave than make a mistake she couldn’t fix.”I don’t think it’s in your nature to be an arse, McKinnon. But I’ll keep an eye out all the same. I’m more worried about myself, really. Just about took someone’s head off earlier,” she paused, then added, “to be fair, she was being perfectly dense.”

Cressida grinned, and leaned into Marcus’s arm, and was again struck by her pleasure at having a few friends from school, those she felt he could trust, so close by. Especially someone like Marcus, who she felt was incapable of treachery. “The office? Perfectly dreadful. Again, I’d like to review the hiring practices in the staff, because I’m not sure how this girl would have gotten hired as a salesperson, let alone an employee at the Ministry.” With a little grin, absent of real remorse, she added, “Now that was too harsh. It’s not so bad, usually. I’ve got Natalie, she’s always a big help. What about you? Must be lonely, being the head of your department so young. Is everything all right? I worry, you know.”

    Of all the people he’d found to talk to, Cressida was probably a surprising choice for the young Slytherin. They really didn’t have that much at all to discuss between them, nor had they ever really had a friendship of their own. He wasn’t aware just how much they had in common, save for their loyalties. But maybe it was was because of that she seemed a safe choice in the moment. She knew so little about him and his life, and talking to her was just a simple escape from reality. The reality of marrying a woman he harbored resentment for, and who equally seemed to loathe him. A reality where his father had left right after the ceremony was over with hardly a moment to spare for his only son. One where he would now set off to carry on the family legacy.

    She was also a familiar face from his past, which was nice in the midst of so much constant change. Although he never had many private conversations with her, Evan had always rather liked Cressida. He admired her ambition and that rebellious streak of hers that wasn’t too far out of line, such as Cassandra’s. She was heading her life in the right direction, had herself a nice position at the Department of International Magical Cooperation. The perfect inside job he knew for a fact the Dark Lord appreciated. She was smart, funny, and easy to talk to. Suddenly Evan was struck with the thought of why he hadn’t married her instead. 

 But then he remembered — oh right, Emma. That and she was two years older than him and they hadn’t crossed path’s nearly enough to garner a suggested pairing from the community. It was always the outside pressures and suggestions that made these matches. “Well, I wouldn’t go as far to call this interesting,” he said, and he laughed slightly before taking another drink. “Just answering to my call of duty.” He nodded solemnly at her congratulations. He’d done this perhaps a million times already, but this time something in his facade flickered as he registered her harmless question. Like a concealing spell suddenly gone wrong.

“I’ve been better. If you don’t mind, I plan on getting really drunk tonight.” Looking over his shoulder he slid closer to her by the bar. “If you see my wife,” – he inwardly grimaced at the title – “let me know, will you?”

Social events like these, real ones that she celebrated with other Purebloods with clout, and power, and connections, were always usually yards ahead of any of the paltry Ministry gatherings she was obligated by virtue of her occupation to attend. However, just now, when she felt so acutely horrible, between her injury and the shame of failure, she’d rather be in a pit of vipers than here among her friends and relations. There was nothing these people could smell like trepidation.

So perhaps it was that sixth sense, that scent in the air, that drew the two of them together; the perturbed groom and the guest who hid her shame under a layer of easy calm. Besides, the two were so distantly connected that any risk was minimal; any connection they’d had was dissolved before he’d left school, But she’d liked him well enough when he was dating Emma; he was smart, and loyal to those he liked. Calliope told her Cassius spoke often and well of his best friend. Despite that, she’d never really gotten to know him; he didn’t work, and though he was handsome, he was two years her junior, and formerly connected to her cousin.

“Well, you’ve certainly answered the call in style. It’s a beautiful. It’s always a good sign when there’s a full bar.” Cressida smiled, raising her own glass to mirror his. “I don’t mind, actually. In fact, I’d had a similar mind. Isn’t it your right to do what you want at your wedding?” Taking another drink from the counter of the bar, Cressida smiled conspiratorially. “I’ll let you know if I see your bride. In the mean time, a toast. To your happy nuptials, then?”

✨ Disney Aesthetic;                                                                

                                    Cressida Nott - Violet Parr

                         “Normal? What do you know about normal?                  What does anyone in this family know about normal?”

open to all.

Skin pale with the past, cheeks red with anger barely concealed under messy blonde curls spilling into muted green eyes. She couldn’t be bothered to brush them away like she normally would. The bright spirit that once was had fallen dead to the torment of the past several months. How long had it actually been? The starchy gray hospital gown that covered her tormented body itched. She longed for her own clothes; baggy sweatshirts that smelled like home and pajama pants stolen from one of the many boys in her house. 

“Why doesn’t Saint Mungo’s have a bar inside of it?” She wondered aloud as her slipper-covered feet padded into the semi-crowded cafeteria. It smelled of old food, making her stomach turn uneasily. She ventured left, away from the people and out into the conservatory. It was built into the middle of the hospital, the building shaped oddly like a donut. She looked up at the dull, gray sky far above her. The plants twisted and danced, magic in their essence.

Marlene’s anger soothed slightly in the silence. She was just glad to be out of that ghastly room. It had been a week already. The only reason she knew was because she had kept count, marking the days on her arm with the jagged edge of her fingernail. Seven days since her rescue. Seven nights of horrible dreams and seven mornings of being poked and prodded and questioned. She had taken the nurse round the neck only hours before and told her if she didn’t let her go for a walk, she was going to end her life.

The really scary thing was not knowing how true a statement that had been. Would she have killed her? She just didn’t know anymore. A deep sigh mused the quiet, only momentarily. On the exhale, she opened her mouth and let out a brutal, gruesome sob. Hands in her hair and body crumpling at the waist, she fell onto the rough cobblestone and curled her legs into herself. She was going to be fine, but her aggression gone with the sound of her voice as it cracked under pressure.

“Merlin save me from this ruddy, nonsmoking hospital.”

Hospital coffee was a downright indignity.

Out of necessity and nothing more, Cressida’d come to the dingy, poorly lit cafeteria in St. Mungo’s, desperate for her daily dose of caffeine; there was no way she could get through these wretched “check-up” appointments, and Raj wouldn’t be able to see her for another hour at least. If she didn’t have her coffee, she was going to scream. But this was not coffee, this was a disgrace. The vile brown concoction in the cheap paper cup emitted a bitter, acrid smell that made her nose wrinkle in disgust; she threw it away without comment. Turning on her heel, she huffed away to find somewhere to wait that wasn’t quite so full of sick people. The pain was bad enough without the annoyance of it all.

After the absolute disaster at the bunker, and being stunned to all hell by the Order scum that invaded, Cressida had no choice but to beat a hasty retreat to headquarters. Knuckles white, body spasming, she hardly found the voice to bark out the healer’s name. The wound was not mortal, she knew, but with the agony wracking through her body like a lightning storm, she felt she’d go mad if she wasn’t seen at once. Mercifully, he’d healed the worst of it, returning her body to some semblance of normalcy, but the pain echoed through her still, spasming in her abdomen without warning.

{ The bloody wedding had been a nightmare to get through without tears or agonized screams } 

Raj had told her to come back at once, to get the residual pain taken care of; but at once seemed to be a loose term to the St. Mungo’s healer. Something about prior appointments, and she’d have to wait patiently. She snorted at that. Like she was about to wait in a dismal hospital waiting room with so many patients. So finding the conservatory had been a relief to her overstimulated senses. It wasn’t pretty normally, and the overcast sky did nothing in its favor, but it was open, it had fresh air, and it was blessedly spare of people.

A notable exception being the crumpled blonde on the cobblestone walkway some paces away; Cece’d afforded the pathetic creature a glance and nothing more. Another reason she hated the hospital. It attracted the strangest sorts; people screaming at the sky, talking to dead lovers, babbling nonsense--

crying out about nonsmoking hospitals in all-too-familiar voices

Cece’s head whipped back to the girl’s collapsed form, a sight Cece’d seen several times over her weeks presiding over the bunker with her fellow Death Eaters. The body and voice, so familiar to her, paired in her mind. 

So here’s where she’d ended up. Thought she’d have gone mad. Hope she’s gone mad.

March 3rd, 1979 Wedding reception

@cressidanott

     It was almost over. And then he was free. Well, not really. But he would at least be free to go home and sleep off this inevitable hangover. The wedding was nearly finished.There was still flecks of blood, barely noticeable from afar on his lapel. Caradoc Dearborn’s blood, the mudblood who had attempted to monopolize the whole thing. Evan had caught him before he could impress on Cassanda any further just as he was leaving her dressing room. That was when he’d snapped. He hadn’t even used his wand to make his point. His right hand was still sore from the punches he’d thrown, but the whiskey he was drinking was helping to numb the pain. It was helping to numb everything, actually. Both the physical pain and the mental torture of knowing he was now tied to Cassandra for life. 

    The ceremony had been perfect, and he had managed to get through it acting the part that was expected of him. His father had actually returned for the day. He hadn’t seen him in almost four months. It was almost too much for the Death Eater to take, and he just wanted the night to be over. After the first dance was over, Evan carefully extricated himself from the crowd of guests and wandered off to chat to some of the guests. Anything to keep him away from his wife. He only wanted to be near her long enough to persuade everyone that they were happy and enjoyed each other’s company. But he was pretty sure they had reached their convincing quota of the evening, so now he was free to mingle separately. 

    Grabbing himself another drink, jade hues looked around before they fell on Cressida Nott. They were friends, although not very close. She was Emma’s cousin, which was something that had kept them on opposite sides of the map it seemed like. He wasn’t sure if he’d even spoken to her since the break up, and that had been when he was still at Hogwarts. “Hey Cressida,” he said, offering her a friendly nod. “Thanks for coming.” He wondered if Emma was here also. He hadn’t ran into her yet, and he was partly grateful. There was just only so much he could handle in one night. “How’s, you know, life?” Just don’t ask me about mine.

   The wedding of the century, the flatterers and gossip columnists called it. An event to remember forever. And Cressida had to admit, the event was truly beautiful. It had been some time since there was an occasion of some weight in Pureblooded circles, and they were sorely wanting for the occasion. Although, the guest list had been rather extensive; she’d still managed to find some friends and acquaintances in the relatively crowded ballroom to mingle with. Of course, it’d been mortifying to attend without an escort, something their pitying glances reminded her all too well, so she’d been obliged to spend most of her time speaking with people less privy to her personal matters. She’d been much too busy with the bunker, and dealing with those Order scum to find the time to get an escort to the wedding; a fact which rankled her mother to no end.

   While crossing the finely-bedecked ballroom, she was hit with a sudden jolt of pain cracking like fire through her abdomen; she hissed under her breath, her hand flying to her stomach, clenching at her snug, finely tailored dress robes. She gripped the fine silk with a vice grip, knuckles growing white as she rode through the wave of her pain. After a few moments, she swiftly made her way to the bar so as not to attract unwanted attention. That stupid fucking hag McGonagall was handy with a wand, and faster too than Cressida or her fellows guarding the bunker. She’d been hit with a stray spell, something nightmarishly painful, before getting a powerful stun charm that nearly caused her to black out. Her and several others managed to Apparate to safety, but only scarcely. Raj had treated her after, and cautioned her against going to the wedding, since it was so soon after the disaster with the bunker. It could cause any number of complications, apparently. And yet, here she was.

   “Gin and tonic. Double. Fast.” She hissed out, before simpering an obliging, “please.” to the bartender; she was more or less at his mercy after all, it’d do her no good to snap. She leaned, seemingly effortlessly, against the fine bartop, before catching a pair of jade eyes looking her direction; eyes belonging to none other than the groom himself, Evan Rosier. It was strange to see him like this now, looking very handsome and adult in a groom’s dress robes, and it had been even stranger to see him up there at the altar exchanging wedding vows; it hadn’t felt like so long ago that she’d watched his relationship with Emma flourish at school. They’d been friends? acquainted in those days, but after Emma and Evan ended the relationship, there wasn’t much cause to see each other outside of a perfunctory nod or smile at social engagements.

   So it was only a minor surprise to her to hear him speak to her now; although, it was only appropriate. She was a guest here, after all. “Hey, Evan. Good to see you,” she replied with a charming smile, taking her drink from the bartender. “Life is... fine. Life, I suppose. Not so interesting as all of this, you know. Congratulations on your nuptials. Beautiful ceremony. Thank you for the invitation.” She chirped the usual pleasantries, perceptive hazel eyes darting over him. He seemed... perturbed, for a man on his wedding day. Not that she’d be so guileless to say so. “And you? How have you been?”

He rubbed his temples with his fingers, fighting to urge to simply let his head drop repeatedly against the mahogany surface of his desk. His secretary, a lovely girl with nothing but air between her ears apparently, had booked two meetings at one that morning and had put him in an incredibly awkward situation between two Heads of Department who were cross to find they had to share Marcus’s time, since neither had been able to reschedule. Afterwards, he had retired to his private office, his secretary had yet to make a move towards his door and he believed perhaps she feared that he would fire her. Sighing to himself, he admitted that perhaps that was the best move for her, to be reassigned to another department.

When a quick rap on his office door alerted him to someone else’s presence, he looked up quickly and a smile formed naturally on his lips at the sight of Cressida Nott. Beautiful as always, a classmate in Hogwarts, he had been glad to find she had wound up working at the Ministry of Magic herself. “Cressida” he smiled, pushing himself out of his chair and walking around the desk to reach the door and her side. “How did you know?” he smirked, gesturing with his hand for her to lead the way. After the morning he had had, caffeine was desperately needed, as was a break.

“Well, if your day has been anything like mine, coffee and a break are exactly what you need.” It’d been a stressful enough day before the Danish debacle, but that had pushed it over the edge. She’d had another sleepless night-- by-product of the hard work she’d been doing-- and so had slept in, was late and sniffed at by her Mudblood supervisor. The nerve of it had Cece fuming all morning, and she’d had a mountain of paperwork on her desk by noon. She’d been in the process of taking care of it when that stupid letter landed on her desk, and that had really set her over; if she didn’t leave the office right then, she’d regret it.

“Well, come along, then! No time like the present, McKinnon.” She pushed off the doorframe, still smiling, waiting for him to follow. Cece liked to make a habit of stopping by Marcus’ office. Beside being a favorite colleague of hers, they’d been friends at school, and had known each other before that; Purebloods run in very small circles. He was very handsome capable and she was stunned-- and jealous too-- to witness his meteoric ascent through the Ministry. Perhaps she’d have friends in high places sooner than she thought. “Coffee shop round the corner fine with you?”