Jonathan Marks, he could take. He’d had a fun conversation with his former dormmate. Jon kept the false sympathy about his condition and about last year’s kidnapping light, he could match him sarcastic comment for sarcastic comment, and he didn’t get offended as easily as Scorpius remembered. Plus, it was flattering to be subtly recruited to help take over the Ministry of Magic, which there was no mistaking that was what the tangents on spirit user rights were supposed to be leading to. Scorpius said he’d pass on revolution for now, it was accepted with grace, and they spent another few minutes talking about business plans. It turned out Jon had been to Nott Scorpions a fair amount, and if he could be believed, a lot more recently than should have been possible, which could have been a mildly terrifying thought, but Scorpius took it in stride. The only tense moment was when Scorpius cracked a joke about how easily Jon had gotten rid of his wife compared to how long it took him to get Vasilisa to cry off their engagement, but even then Jon swallowed it after a moment of murderous eyes, laughed, and promised him a list of good names if he ever wanted to drown someone to get away from Diana. It was a good time catching-up, for what it was.
Criminals recently released from Azkaban he could take, a few of them came up and made weird comments about his father or grandfather, but no more so than he was used to from other audiences, less than some of the Ministry employees actually, and for the most part, he couldn’t even tell the groups apart, not remembering pictures in the paper that well. That was another thing, how well some of the escaped prisoners were getting on with those from the Ministry who actually showed up. It looked like there may even be a few offers to talk to the Minister about pardons being bantered.
It was a cool night. Bizarre, but cool and strangely relaxed. He hoped the food wasn’t drugged. It didn’t seem likely with the no harm vow, but it would explain the sense of calm in ninety percent of the attendees. However it happened, he wasn’t going to question. He was going to have his required couple of dances with Diana, make some more business connections, and enjoy himself.
That was the plan until he saw what he couldn’t take. Lawrence Frisk, Joshua Radley, the redhead from the potion shop in Hogsmeade he’d saw later in the Forbidden Forest, and fucking Bellamy whatever-her-last-name-was.
He had every excuse to go a bit stiff, to go paler than even usual, grip his drink more tightly than necessary, to forget what he might have been saying to whom, and to head straight for the bar. He would have been excused for heading right out the door. It wouldn’t even read differently, if Lawrence came over, clapped him on the back, and started in on how good it was to see him, which wasn’t so unlikely. It would seem like his former kidnapper was taunting him.
If Bellamy was warm to him, that was a bigger problem if the wrong people saw, but she wasn’t likely to approach him. None of them were likely to approach him if they really did consider him an ally. They were smarter than that, right?
He needed a drink. His drink was full but he needed another.
“Three scotches,” he told the bartender. “Don’t look for other people. They’re all for me, and I do need them all at once. I’m going to levitate them out onto the balcony with me.”
