#bitingdownstarter

The Ministry had really fucked up this time. All across the paper, the name of those missing were plastered and still no statement was given. Even though he was out of the political circle he could still imagine the running around that must be happening behind the scenes. The shouting and plotting and scrabbles to save the situation in the office his father had once held. He was glad he was out of that scramble for power right now, although he knew exactly how he’d clean this up if he were the one in charge. Quickly, make a statement about those who are missing, promising their family that they’d find them, and introduce a whole load of new rules which looked like they were keeping people safe but in reality did nothing more than show that the Ministry cared. Of course if they could find those poor missing people all the better. It was much more fun to come up with these plans from afar though than actually have to bet a career on it.

Finley had a feeling that if he was loosing hope in the Ministry, everyone else must be too. Luckily, it wasn’t his problem anymore. He could focus on other things - like brooms.

He’d never been that much of a quidditch fan. He’d gone to all the games and acted like he cared, even had a box seat he’d show up to with his father, but it hadn’t been until he’d met Toma and they had started discussing the sale of modified brooms that Finley had really started to show any interest. Now he wasn’t forced to like the game for publicity he actually found he quite enjoyed it. Enough to join an underground Quidditch league. 

Today was just a practise. He was using a public pitch just a few streets away from Diagon Alley, much smaller than a standard size, usually where families brought their kids to play. Today it was his test zone. Finley kicked off from the ground on a broom of his own creation - one that would stop the flyer from every falling off. It was time to give it a test ride. He circled the pitch a few times to make sure the broom still did everything it was supposed to before throwing himself off the thing. He had expected to be caught immediately but it took a moment for the broom to register that he’d fallen and by the time he caught up he was already close to the ground.

Dominique had found herself unusually anxious when she arrived at her Uncle Percy’s fundraiser. She had little to no interest in the actual politics but she had liked the idea of getting out and being social and being at a party for the first time in forever. Now she was here she wasn’t so sure that this was a good idea. The last party she had been to had been the night - well, she wasn’t thinking about that now. She had told herself she was going to have fun, so she was going to have fun. 

The blonde headed straight for the drinks table, snatching a glass of champagne and looking around for someone who could distract her. She couldn’t think about the fact that there were so many strangers here and any one of them could be the masked man. She had family here. She was safe. She needed to feel safe.

Dom almost downed her first glass of champagne quickly reaching for another before she caught someone looking.

“I’m thirsty,” she explained. “You want one?” She quickly grabbed another glass shoving it into their hands. 

“We’re going to have a fun night,” she insisted, “it’s going to be good. I’m going to drink and eat and ignore all the boring speeches. In fact, I’m going to get drunk...” she took a large gulp of her drink before continuing “- and make out with a stranger in a cloak room.”

Falling. That was all Aloma really processed before she woke up in a bed at St. Mungo’s. She wasn’t sure if it had been the broom or her skill that had caused her to lose her balance, but she didn’t remember hitting the ground. She groaned a little as she tried moving, reasonably sore all over. She couldn’t really feel the fingers on her right hand, and she definitely couldn’t see that well out of her swollen eye but she was still alive so she couldn’t have fallen that hard. She looked around a little, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings when she winced a little, moving to rub her neck gently,

Vivienne sipped her morning tea, dainty fingers wrapped around the ivory handle of her teacup as she brought the warm liquid up to her softly painted lips. The Prophet lay beside her with her name decorating the newspaper’s front page article. Vivienne had considered her Valentine’s Day soirée a success, and it seemed the news outlets had rave reviews as well. Names of other attendees began to grace her vision also confirming that a good time was had by all.

As Vivienne’s chestnut irises finished the rest of the article before moving on to the next, she smiled at her hard work, absentmindedly clutching the stunning apology ring Finley had given her the night of the party. It seemed her husband was also making an attempt at putting in some hard work as well. Vivienne didn’t have time to ponder the thought any further as the article below hers took a turn for the worst. A perfectly coached gasp escaped her as she now read a list of missing persons who each happened to be guests at her party. 

“Oh, dear Merlin.” she brought a startled hand to her lips. It brought her back to the night of the Ministry Gala and the first round of disappearances. Vivienne could only hope these disappearances weren’t in connection to her seemingly perfect party. “Not again!”

It was fair to say that pettiness was second nature to Fred at this point in life. Every action he took was based on some level of spite he harvested in his soul. He did not take well to the disaster that took place between his aunt and uncle which promptly overshadowed all the hard work his father had went through to prepare the winter wonderland. Really, it seemed like his relatives had no consideration. Poor grandma Molly was beside herself on Christmas day. 

When he received the invitation to his dear uncles poncy fancy dinner, he just new it would be a tedious event. Who else could change that but him. Fred had went out of his way to purchase the strongest booze he could get his hands on and a pinata. If said pinata held a striking resemblance to his uncle Percy then it was merely a coincidence. He considered it a fair pay back for the trouble that was caused.

It was easy enough to get these things into the party, Fred had been smuggling items into places since he was thirteen. All it took was some expanding and weightless charms on his over sized coat and sneaking into the venue to hide the pinata. Suits and dress robes were not his style and he refused point blank to wear the ones his parents had brought him two days prior. Instead, he stuck on a pink knit sweater and a clashing yellow bandanna that held back his curly hair. The look his father gave him earlier was full of amusement and the red haired man had given him a set of rounded specks that could put Uncle Harry’s to shame. George had said they keep your vision from blurring with a all to knowing look at his son. Fred had grinned at him and made his way to the sidelines of the hall as more people began to arrive.

Fred could feel the eyes of someone watching him as he rifled through his coat pocket for a bottle of something strong. He finally spoke when his hand pulled out the bottle of tequila

“This is going to be a dull night” Fred shook the bottle in the persons direction with a sly smile, “Care to join me?” 

Once the phone booth reached the surface level of muggle London, Lily stepped out and into the blinding sunlight. Taking the guest entrance was always the easiest way to avoid the crowds that might stare as she left work; the Potter name was difficult to escape. Lily made her way to an empty bench across the block and proceeded to use her phone as a mirror, attempting to fix up her sullied appearance. Brushing strands of hair from her face, she sighed and began typing a reply to an earlier text from her father who was worried about her training as usual. As she typed, a shadow fell across the screen as a familiar figure sat beside her. “If my dad sent you to look out for me, tell him I’m fine,” Lily said lightly, “this is nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

Avery couldn’t help but grumble as he unlocked the front door to the shop, finally able to open the storefront for business after whisking away the rest of the rose petals that seemed to have taken over the front of his shop. While the Department of Law Enforcement had been dead set on scouring the street for any evidence of their perpetrator, it seemed they hadn’t been quite as preoccupied with making sure the damn flowers hadn’t spread elsewhere. 

While Avery hadn’t been quite as bothered by the political drama or squib scare due to privilege alone (that and he had been avoiding the topic of children like the plague considering his wife didn’t even life with him regularly until this mess), he had to admit it was starting to mess with his business and image, which he or the family certainly couldn’t afford. It didn’t help that his brother was hell bent on involving him regardless, and it was becoming more and more difficult to avoid it. He couldn’t ignore that it was affecting his staffing situation, either. Though he didn’t mind taking up more hours manning the shop, it also meant more time divided between the store and his workshop-- where his real passion lied. Heaving a deep sigh, he flipped the ‘open’ sign before adjusting a few products in the window display to his liking.

“Il pleut des roses ... incroyable. Bloody fantastic.”

Vegas was a bundle of excitement, nerves, and pent up energy. Of course she was excited to be invited to such a party, but she did feel a little out of her element in such an upscale setting, and the preparations for this night had left her practically buzzing. The only other truly extravagant event he had been to had been the gala, and even if that night had ended less violently, she hadn’t had a date in attendance. That’s what Byeong was after all -- her date. Trouble was, she didn’t know if it was a date or a date-date. 

At the very least, she was kind of hoping it was a date-date -- and she had certainly prepared for it as if it had been, what with the frantic search for just the right dress to grab a certain someone’s attention.  She had a small inkling that it might be a date-date, but considering how carefully Byeong had been looking out for her since her attack... it was also plausible that he was just kindly attending as her supervisor... a thought that kind of made her want to rip her hair out. Vegas had even started to work again and people still treated her as if she were fragile goods. It had been so incredibly moving to know there were people that cared, and she didn’t want to seem unappreciative for their concern by any means, but dear Merlin did she wish they stopped making her feel so frail and incapable. How long before she started believing it herself?

Allowing Byeong to continue chatting up who she believed to be a co-worker (all the names started blurring together no matter how hard she tried to remember, likely an indication of her still-healing brain), she excused herself to the one place her eyes kept returning to wistfully: the dessert table. The healer happily began to fill her plate with sweets, humming lightly to the music.