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Regulus stood in the corner of the room, watching his parents talking with Crabbe and Goyle Sr., doubtlessly negotiating Rex’s entry into the Death Eaters. Circe’s sake, he thought, they didn’t have to do that. It was a sign of their lack of faith in Rex’s ability to get in on his own.
Instead of annoying himself further, he turned to the person next to him and said, “In the mood for some shots?”
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Sybill found a seat in the outskirts of the chaos. A nice, hidden place for her to people watch. If she was being more honest with herself, she had been asked to sit out for predicting something terrible to happen at this event. Apparently such predictions were frowned upon. She was used to people responding this way, but she still felt it her duty to warn them.
However, now, she sat, swirling her glass and taking turns look at the swishing champagne and the people when — she locked eyes with someone.
“Is your grandmother quite well? I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”
Alice was told to show up at the party undercover, but she was having a hard time not fidgeting. She could barely hold a decent conversation with the person talking to her. “Ah, yeah? I thought the Goblin Rebellions could have been resolved in another way. There’s unnecessary animosity now because of what wixen have done in the past.” She looked at them. “Wait, was that what we were talking about? I’m terribly distracted today; sorry.”
“C’mon, get yourself a beer! First round’s on me!,” Glenda near-yelled, wide grin on her face, a party hat lopsided on her head. Music was filling the Three Broomsticks -- half of which she had hired for the occasion ( it had cost a ton, and she’d decided to compensate by not buying any new records or fish & chips for a while ) -- and she was nearly bouncing with excitement. “It’s not every day your girl turns twenty, y’know, so you’d better celebrate.”
“Incredible,” he said dryly and sarcastically, “I see that seven years of magical education has not been wasted on you.”
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15th of july, 1979 - puddlemere united vs. holyhead harpies
"What a game,” Lucrezia murmured, engrossed with the match playing out in front of her. Normally, she avoided watching Quidditch games, her veela side coming out from the excitement, her features morphing to emphasize her sharp teeth and narrowed pupils. The games here, however, were of little consequence to her, not like the ones back in France.
It was also a good opportunity for her to market one of her newer, more commonplace potions. She turned to the person next to her, a beatific smile on her face. “Would you like to make a bet?”
July 20 1996-- The Three Broomsticks
In the hope of touching up her makeup while still avoiding the bathroom line Charity had decided to deal with the poor lighting, and simply root around her purse for a compact. She came to regret that decision when someone bumped into her, and made her lose her grip on her purse. “Shoot,” she muttered kneeling down to gather the contents of her bag without thinking of glancing at the other person.
LOCATION: hog’s head DATE: 16th of July, 1979
“Please,“ Sirius practically begged, wiping clean the last shot glass left. “Save me from my misery. Y’know, I feel like after people finish their drinks they take a leak in the glass. Like, how do they always smell so filthy when they give it back?“ He shook his head, clearly disappointed. “I’m tired, I want a drink and a pack of cigarettes.“
