#mortem event

nadia normally wouldn’t be here----even under orders to gather intel (a waste, honestly, maybe three of the people present knew anything of real consequence)----but her brother had come, and she, admittedly, was reluctant to let him be around so many bombastic children of the order alone. and so there she sat, a table a bit away from the thrum of activity around the bar, her chair leaned against the wall to allow her a view of the place with no blind spots. a familiar face approached, and she scoffed at the drink in their hand, “i doubt anything this pub has can compare with what i’ve got at home. if only they’d chosen someone a little classier for their adolescent rebellion.”

it probably wasn’t the wisest idea, but leda could always claim plausible deniability (how could she have known members of the order were going to this same bar?) and she’d never been one to turn down a night out on the town----even if that town were a village, it was easy to blend in with the many muggle students. walking----not stumbling, definitely not---up to the bar, leda reached out to grab the bartenders attention, accidentally bumping into the person in front of her, “oops, sorry, didn’t see you there----if i spy a good margarita, it gives me serious tunnel vision.”

Settling the cigarette between his lips, James curled his fingers around it, letting the pressure of the inhaled smoke built before blowing it out into a ring, letting the nicotine edge away the apprehension that was settling into his bones. Mask on like the rest to obscure his identity, James had to wonder about the appropriateness of this plan, how effective that it would even be. Yet he knew vocalizing any protest would have gone unheard. Not as if he could have come up with an alternate plan anyway. He’d slowly, over the years, begrudgingly accepted that war, by its very nature, was ugly. A pit full of grey. He  remained as he was, a steady rock, his shoulders squared as someone joined him outside of the Malfoy Manor where he was leaning against a pillar. “You might want to take a few steps in the other direction if smoke bothers you,” he advised. 

Dominique could not help but feel anxious as she arrived at Malfoy Manor. Despite the beautiful blue mask protecting her identity, she felt as though she were completely exposed. Heading towards the entrance she was careful to keep her gaze to the floor – terrified that it would take only a glance for someone to notice she was Dominique Weasley, daughter of Bill and Fleur and member of the Order.

daphne got to attend the ball, but not how she would have liked.  she didn’t get to put on a nice fancy gown, wear a beautiful glittering mask, or even get to dance.  oh how she longed to dance, even if it was just with her father, in the kitchen of a safe house they were staying at, even if she only wore some old worn out socks and her usual clothes.  she would give anything to go back to those days.  but alas, she was here, at the masquerade ball, but she was just to be paraded around.  the death eaters had been bragging apparently, and now they got to show the rest of the wizarding world that they held neville longbottom’s daughter captive and could do with her what they would like.  she was thin to the point of being emaciated.  they fed her yes, but not tons and she barely had the will to eat most days now.  once her eyes had been full of light, and hope, and dreams of a better future, but now they were sunken and had no spark in them.  they were now just dull blue things staring at seemingly nothing most of the time, just like now.  they wanted her to serve drinks, but daphne had never been very graceful when she wasn’t dancing.  it only took her a minute with the tray to trip (although perhaps it was that foot someone stuck in her way that did her in).  the drinks were saved by a nearby wizard’s wand, but she was not so lucky.  she hit the ground, hard, harder now that there was less to cushion her bones from it.  while she was in no rush to stand, she was in a rush to get away from the foot that now poked at her, and as such, she scrambled to her feet and bee-lined to the nearest corner of the room.  she couldn’t leave the party, the death eaters made sure of that, but she could hide out in a corner for a least a few minutes, or at least she hoped she could.