#abevent.01

Given he had not spent more than about five minutes thinking about it, Ron knew that it was a dodgy move on his part. Had he done it anyway? Yes. Would he possibly regret it later? Maybe not.

None the less, ‘accidentally’ losing Harry in the festival crowd was not his most shining moment, but at least then he didn’t have to outwardly admit to how much he’d wanted to spend time with Hermione without their best friend piping in.

(He had no doubt he was never going to live this down with the best friend in question).

Casting his eyes around the masses of people near them as they walk (and trying to stop himself from actively staring at his companion in the first place), Ron clears his throat once, and then twice. He casts a short glance sideways before his mouth twists into a grin.

“So...being here is the highlight of your life, isn’t it?” he teases, “Just you and a close proximity to Lockhart’s underwear drawer.”

When it came to trouble and the myriad of ways to get out of it, Tonks had a nose like a bloodhound. She’d been on the scent of it since catching a glimpse of her parents in the crowds earlier in the day, hastily dipping behind a topiary swan before either of them could sense her presence and try to absorb her into a family outing. It had been a while since they’d popped up in her path, no unexpected detours necessary to avoid the question of what she was doing here and shouldn’t you be—

She should be on shift right now, technically. Talking smack about Kingsley while he tried to do his paperwork and trapping Dawlish in the elevators. Not slouching around the Ostara Festival trying to judge which Wickermore candle bearing Lockhart’s face would serve best as the new centrepiece to the truly embarrassing shrine her father had amassed over the years. She set the candle back upon the table, ignoring the way it winked up at her knowingly, and shoved her hands back into her pockets to carry on into the crowd.

Veering sharply away from the wall of flower arranging stations up ahead with a grimace, she slipped between a pair of artfully sculpted lavender shrubs, following the scent of something in the air (there had to be food somewhere around here, right?) and slamming straight into the people she’d been steadfastly avoiding since — well, since the day she’d told her head of department to suck a dick, she guessed.

𝐀𝐍𝐃  :  @draggingon​

Home was calling to her amidst all the loud chatter and crowded walk ways that were only filled for the chance to see Lockhart. Hermione herself could relate, but tea and the warmth of her own bed was far more appealing to her than all of this. Still, the festival provided her with the chance to peruse a few booths that held a few novels that she’d been meaning to pick up, and her position with the Ministry afforded her enough galleons to blow on what intrigued her. Dragons and Thestrals: A Comprehensive History was one that particularly caught her eye among the stack of books that crowded the vendor. Ever since joining her department, Hermione had taken it upon herself to not only familiarize herself with house elves, but every magical creature that she could read on. It was an easy feat, though there was only so much she could absorb in one sitting.  Book in hand, she made her way down the least crowded walk way she could find until she saw quite the familiar face in the crowd - freckles and all with a sort of homeliness that continued to pull her in and make her own little house in Camden a bit closer. “I didn’t know you would be here, is Ginny around as well?” Hermione asked as she approached, almost instinctively pushing her newest book into her bag as to not remind the man of his latest shortcomings. Hermione wasn’t sure if this knowledge was public, but his suspension was quickly learned given her occupation. Treading lightly was certainly the way to go, but she aimed to take his mind off things. “Would you like to get a drink? I’m parched-” 

Ten years ago, Percy Weasley never would have imagined himself standing in a crowd such as this. Lockhart, hairbrained as he could be, knew how to throw a party, and rather than feeling out of place, Percy felt like he belonged: he was respectable, for once, in a way his family couldn’t be, mingling among clients both old and ( potentially ) new and not once looking toward anyone who would be familiar from his past. 

Well. Almost not once. Could anyone blame him for occasionally peaking at the crowd in Lockhart’s home, looking for a glimpse of ginger hair so he could show his family just how well he was doing? Never did they seem proud of his accomplishments, but Percy now surrounded himself with people who saw his skills for what they were and thrived among their showered compliments. Once upon a time, his family’s opinion of him meant the world to him, but now it was nothing more than a reminder of who he once was. 

Not that such depressing thoughts belonged at a festival like this. 

He easily shook the thoughts out of his head and grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing server’s tray, grinning in farewell to his previous conversation partner and walking further into the crowd to mingle. These events were wonderful for networking, and Percy would be damned if he let the opportunity go to waste. He took a sip from his glass and glanced around the crowd again, eyes falling on someone who didn’t already have someone to speak with and sidling up to them. 

“Lockhart definitely knows how to throw a party, doesn’t he? I shouldn’t have expected anything less than him throwing it in his own home though -- he certainly knows how and when to show off.” 

There’d been a flock of curious children and dubious parents surrounding the booth every time she’d circled past. On her third incognito sweep, in the hopes that whatever strange magnetism that seemed to summon every ginger in the area to the highest concentration of orange might have lured Charlie in, she gave up the ghost of being inconspicuous about it and approached. The twins were always good quality.

"Wotcher boys.”

It must be something else to have a bank-account so full of gold, Ron thinks as he looks around the ostentatious set-up that was Gilderoy Lockhart’s gardens. Sure, he expected nothing less from their former professor, given what they had seen of him a decade back, but really...

Shrugging off the thought, Ron turns his attention back to making sure he doesn’t trip and fall on his face, lest he manage to humiliate himself in front of what feels like the entire Wizarding World. Instead, he moves himself off to a less crowded side, nudging Harry’s shoulder as a hint.

"Remind me again why this feels more like the Gilderoy Gala than the actual festival?” 

𝐀𝐍𝐃  :   @unchosenlion​

Festivals were one of the more social events that Cho had a habit of participating in despite her better judgment. While she never truly understood some of the girls’ (and others’) infatuation with Gilderoy Lockhart, Cho enjoyed the festivities and the faces she hadn’t seen since leaving school. One of the faces she sorely missed was that of Harry Potter - the boy who seemed to have the most endearing crush on her, though her own feelings for Cedric muddled what could have been. Still, the man was a good friend to her. He’d assisted her in some classes that she struggled in, and she eventually found herself in her current career because of his tutoring.  So when she saw that mess of dark brown hair while Hermione was off getting the two a pair of drinks, Cho couldn’t help but approach Harry with a grin. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages-” she laughed, unhesitant as she leaned in for a quick hug. “Y’look well. How are you?” she asked, taking a small step back to tuck her jacket a bit more snuggly around her frame as she examined her old friend. “Didn’t think I’d find you here-”