#abevent.02

They were onto him already.

The glittering views of the VIP section had lost their shine within half an hour of the first flutters of paranoia kicking in — the velvet ropes had begun to whisper of keeping him in rather than keeping the masses out and the servers in their bespoke penguin suits were hardly Dementors but they certainly felt like they were trying to keep him tucked safely away and compliant with their nervous smiles, trapped up here in Cavi’s homage to an ivory tower. What was the point of a party where everything went exactly to plan? Cavi had a thing or two to learn about spontaneity.

Bash had pulled off far greater escapes in his lifetime than this and while most of them had been done with a significantly lower alcohol to hallucinogenic to blood ratio in his system, he didn’t mind a challenge if it promised to be fun. It only took a tripped server, an enraged socialite emerging dripping from one of the decorative, swan-filled ponds and a quick exit to make his getaway to the lower floors and the shimmering buffet of opportunity that they presented. People. Multitudes of them. And multitudes of possibilities that awaited each and every one of them.

location: Madam Puddifoot’s Tea Shop, Hogsmade Village

when: may 1st, 2003, midday

Penelope doesn’t normally wander this far from work, certainly, not when the requests for new testimony and research are endlessly piling up on her desk. But for the Beltane deals, Penelope supposes she can make an exception. It’s not as though she really needs the 50% off a spinach artichoke croissant and her favorite cup of tea, but it’s alluring enough to drag her from the confines of her dreary, ministry office. 

Looking around the tea shop, Penelope inhales the pleasant scent of tea leaves, doing her best to not focus on the abhorrent color of the walls. It’s been so long since her Hogwarts days, that she’s nearly forgotten the kitchy, frilly atmosphere. Despite the décor not being to Penelope’s particular taste, she could at least appreciate the food and drinks the place offered. After all, no one, save a handful of lovelorn couples, went to Madam Puddifoot’s for the ambience. 

In the mildly crowded shop, Penelope attempts to find a place to sit, her gaze eventually falling upon a once familiar face. “Tonks,” she greets, offering them a small smile, “It’s been a moment since I’ve last seen you. Your keeping well, I hope?”

It’s more of a polite query then anything else, for from what she’s heard, the circumstances of Tonks’s suspension were arguably less than ideal. Certainly, there were rumors swirling around the office, but Penelope was unable to find even the most outrageous gossip to be terribly shocking. In Penelope’s eyes, no matter what had happened, Tonks was a rare bright spot tucked somewhere between the career politicians and suffocating bureaucrats that the ministry seemed full of. 

“I have to admit my office has been an endless array of dull visitors without your occasional visit to liven things up.”

Love love, love.