b-sides

𝚆𝙷𝙾: Narcissa & @xophelias. 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽: January 25th, 1979. 11:58PM. 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴: Outdoors.

𝙴𝚅𝙴𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝙾𝙽𝙴 𝙻𝙸𝙺𝙴 𝙽𝙰𝚁𝙲𝙸𝚂𝚂𝙰 𝙽𝙴𝙴𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝙰 𝙱𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚃𝙷 𝙾𝙵 𝙰𝙸𝚁 𝚂𝙾𝙼𝙴𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴𝚂 from the endless suffocation of social interaction, as pleasing as the night has been. Frankly, it’d been enjoyable for the first hour before the small talk had managed to bore the blonde to sleep. Talking about the prices of a vial of dragon’s blood or a scoop of powdered asphodel is just as effective as a sleeping draught.

Strolling out the back door, she hears the music and chatter die down, and she inhales, watching her breath fog up in the cold, January air. It’s only as she walks further out that she hears a rustle further down the path. Realizing that she is not totally alone, Narcissa stops in her tracks, pulling out her wand, gripped tight in her hand. “Who’s there?”

...

Ophelia was more than grateful for the breath of fresh air as soon as she left the hustle bustle of the main party, taking a deep inhale and exhaling slowly through her nose. She was about to turn down one of the paths through the garden when she heard someone call out after her, and Ophelia felt a smile lift at her lips as she realized who it was. She stepped out from behind one of the trees, still a lush green, even in the dead of winter, and lowered her mask from her features. 

“Jumpy tonight, Narcissa?” she asked, cocking her head to the side as she looked at her. “That’s unlike you.” Ophelia could always count on Narcissa to keep a level head, even in the worst of times, and that was a gift in a friend. Ophelia found it difficult to relate when people couldn’t keep their heads on straight. She didn’t have the energy to keep up. 

When: January 25th, 1979, 10pm. Where: Zabini estate  Who: Cygnus + open

Cygnus felt nothing short of a fool. This was not the first masquerade ball he had attended in his life, but he certainly hoped it was to be his last. He hated the feel of a mask settling over his face obscuring his identity. For his whole life, Cygnus’ focus had been making his identity known, carving his reputation in blood. Masquerade balls felt like the very antithesis of this - blending into the crowd rather than standing apart as a member of the House of Black should. Never mind the fact he was wearing a monkey mask. It was as ornate as he could have made it, but still - it felt almost humiliating. 

Tonight afforded opportunity. Anyone who was anyone would be here, including the heads of opposing factions. Cygnus and Orion had met as soon as the invitations had arrived, agreeing to stomach a ball in the event that they may be able to seek new recruits….or prevent the other factions from seeking their own new recruits. His family ring lay heavy on his finger. That was a piece of his identity that he had been unable to part with for this disguise - the ring hadn’t left his finger in decades.

He’d finally managed to shake off his hag of a wife and find space to breathe, a glass of whiskey firmly in hand. He downed the glass in one swift gulp, far faster than whiskey was meant to be drunk. The glass was swiftly plucked from his hand and replaced with a full glass by the waiters who seemed to be ever present. Pausing for a moment, Cygnus glanced to the person who stood beside him. His eyes settled on their mask, and he frowned.

“What, pray tell, do you believe is the point of separating us into different animals. Each action holds such a heavy meaning these days, there must be something…unless Zabini wanted us purely to engage with soul-searching before we came to get too drunk and forget all about the mask that indicates our deepest desires…”

...

Ophelia had been told by her mother that she was to show the Black brothers some respect. They, too, were Sacred 28 after all and if Ophelia was going to play her cards right when it came to Mundus Novus, she would have to deal with the two older men. Ophelia, however, had very little patience for their traditionalist ways, finding both Orion and Cygnus to be somewhat rigid for the times, a little too stuck in the past ways. Ophelia may have believed in blood purity, but she was far from a traditionalist. Frankly, Cygnus and Orion showed Ophelia the most direct route to power, and she was going to take it. 

Orion had ended up taking on more of a mentorship role with Ophelia, if only because of her relative closeness in age, proximity, and relationship to Sirius, but with Cygnus, things were a little more terse. Ophelia assumed that she was meant to find him intimidating. She did not. She had spent enough time around stuck up purebloods who liked to adjust their man parts and say what was what, and it was a game she refused to play. It seemed to annoy Cygnus that she didn’t find him all that impressive, and so she continued her indifference. 

“No one forced you to come, Cygnus,” Ophelia replied with just a light smirk curving at the corner of her lips. “If you’re so put out by the theme, you’re welcome to leave the premises.” She curved her fingers a little tighter around the dowel holding up her mask. “I enjoy masquerades,” she added. “The evening is rife with potential. The masks make that potential easier to actualize.” 

She paused, taking down her mask and looking at it for a moment. “I will say, however: a monkey mask is flattering on no one.” 

     Besides the evident reasons ( how each garment hugged her curves so securely, the thought of her porcelain skin flushed against her touch, the mental image of raven dark locks splattered on her mattress ), Alecto had wondered time and time again what was it about this woman that was so appealing to her. Eventually, perhaps, she’d find out it was something about the darkness within her that naturally called to the one inside herself. For now, she assumed two powerful, unyielding women were simply made for each others’ arms, if only for one night. 

     However, Alecto didn’t like surprises. She was planner, she liked things to go exactly how she wanted them to, exactly how she’d imagined them. Ophelia’s finger daringly teasing the edge of her mask caught her off guard and, though usually not an indulgent in brutality, she was unable to hold herself back before her hand shot up and her fingers wrapped tightly around the girl’s wrist. She was a slim woman but her hand was able to envelop the smallest part of her wrist and keep it in place for long enough that she’d made her point. She released her grip on the other and let out a hum, almost in disappointment. “I don’t like surprises,” she murmured; though it might be confused for a confession, she meant it as a warning. If Ophelia wanted, like she did, to find out what else lay beneath such a dramatic garment, she needed to play nice. “You look breath-taking tonight,” as if to relieve the tension between them, her words were uncharacteristically sweet. What came after was even more atypical. “Kiss me.”

“And I don’t find that surprising,” she joked in her usual dry tone, her eyebrow cocking lightly at the firm grip of Alecto’s fingers around her wrist. For someone else, someone less assured of their abilities and their power, it may have been a frightening move, too aggressive for the time and the place. Ophelia, however, took it in stride, knowing full well that it was part of the game that they were playing, the back and forth that Ophelia, quite frankly, never wanted to stop. Alecto made things interesting, and that was more than enough reason for Ophelia to keep things going. 

Ophelia knew that the moment she said yes, the game would be over, and she wasn’t willing to end it. Moreover, she wasn’t willing to concede her victory—because, essentially, that’s what it would be if she were to admit that she was attracted to Alecto—so she stood there for a moment, regarding Alecto with a cool gaze. She paused before she lifted her mask from her features, pulling it down so that her face was now exposed again. A shard of moonlight cast her nose into sharp relief and a reflection of that silvery light shone out from beside her left pupil as she cocked her head to the side. 

. 

Ophelia Greengrass held a very coveted place in Lucius Malfoy’s world, a place of honor high above all but a very precious few. Ophelia was someone Lucius actually respected, and that wasn’t a prize given freely. She was intelligent and independent. She was a fiercely skilled witch. She was a strategist much like himself. And Ophelia knew what she wanted and what she deserved out of the world and what the world out to give back in kind. Had it not been for the Malfoy’s connection with the Black family, she may have just topped his list of potential suitors before his marriage. Not that that was information he had ever divulged.

Still, he was glad to see her at the evening’s events. Another familiar form was never a bad thing to have, especially when you knew their alliances stood with yours. He offered he a soft smile and a raise of the glass when he saw her at his side. “I suppose that’s true enough, but you can never have too much power, can you? And it isn’t as though you’re truly lacking in any of the other departments either,” he added casually. They weren’t married yet, no, but, well, Lucius had never understood why anyone would want for love and the idea of declaring you wanted it so publicly seemed a pathetic beg.

“I could enchant that for you,” he said gesturing to her mask, his own magically held aloft just in front of her face, “make things a bit easier for the rest of the night. Though really, I’m not sure what they were thinking holding a masquerade. Seems silly.”

*

Ophelia glanced down towards her fingers wrapped around the wooden dowel, thinking briefly to her mother’s words. Discipline, Ophelia. As someone who had been taught to train her wand arm whenever possible—as evident by the cords of muscle visible when she flexed her left hand—she figured that she could count holding a masquerade mask into that as well. Besides, it would make her mother happy, and fulfilling her mother’s idiosyncrasies had long since been an art form that Ophelia had perfected. She shrugged a shoulder. “I’m sure that I could enchant it myself, Lucius,” she replied simply. Not malicious, but clear—if she needed any sort of help, especially from a man, she’d ask. 

But as soon as the authority entered her voice, it left again, leaving her with her usual soft timbre, a stark difference from the din of the party. Ophelia’s voice was lower than one would expect, spoken with a gravitas that most would assume would require a larger diaphragm than Ophelia had. She had never thought to pitch her voice upwards to attract a certain kind of attention until she was much older, and it rarely came in handy, anyway. She leaned in a little closer so that Lucius would be able to hear her properly, her gaze still scanning the crowd. 

“I quite like masquerades. The anonymity holds a world potential,” she said, cocking her head to the side slightly. “Though, I do think we could have gone without this theme. This monkey mask is...” her lip curled lightly in disgust. “Not the most flattering shape, I will admit.” 

     Even though Ophelia’s hand was gentle when pushing her fingers away from her face, the pout that morphed her lips was immediate – as if she’d been fishing for exactly that reaction and it had taken half the time she’d imagined. The woman’s words had her slowly shaking her head; as she tugged her fingers off her grasp and, instead, let them linger over the girl’s bare inner wrist, Alecto murmured, “I know a lot more about you than you want to admit.” She was teasing, testing her limits, seeing how far she could push before the other reached out a hand for her to keep her from falling off the cliff that was this dangerous game. 

     Only then did she retreat her hand and let it hang by her side, forcing herself to remain without the touch of the other. Alecto had never craved anyone, her bed was always busy when she wanted it to be and she’d found out the best places to find something meaningless ( and, more importantly, someone who would keep their mouth shut after whatever she did to them with the lights off ), but she enjoyed a challenge as much as the next woman. And knowing she had infiltrated into Ophelia’s thoughts even in the slightest was enough to keep her coming back for more. When she eventually got bored, she’d find a new target, someone who, again, spiked her interest because of how unattainable they seemed. 

     She noticed how the woman’s lips twitched upward and she was overwhelmed by a sense of pride – I caused that, she’s smiling because I’m so bloody pleasing. All her life, she’d thought they should see me in a crown whenever she saw a sprak of awe and admiration in someone else’s face as a reaction to anything she did – this time, a golden crown was properly set on her head and the golden hues curled over and around her buns. After all, Ophelia might be the luckiest woman at the party.  “To be fair, I saw you,” she corrected her, though it was evident, from the step that drew her closer to the other’s body and the smirk that wouldn’t leave her lips, that she took great pride in being thought of by such a lovely woman. “What did you hope you’d do once you saw me?” she hummed curiously, quirking up an eyebrow underneath her brown mask.

Ophelia couldn’t help the smug sense of pride that swelled in her chest at Alecto’s reaction. There was a certain power to being able to have this sort of effect on someone, and Ophelia liked that she wielded it so expertly—she never did anything she didn’t want to do, and she almost always got her way. That was what would happen with Alecto as well, who she was sure she could rope in to following Ophelia’s word to the letter. That was what everything Ophelia did was about—accumulation of power. If she could just gather enough, then she could finally reach this intangible goal she was constantly stretching for. She could live up to her mother’s impossible standards. 

And if along the way, she could enjoy herself, why wouldn’t she? Even through her mask, it certainly wasn’t a terrible view, and she liked Alecto’s company. She was sure she would like it even more once Ophelia started giving up some of the little morsels of information about dark magic that Ophelia was certain would hone Alecto’s darkness into something to behold and fear. Alecto was a force in and of herself already—Ophelia could see the potential there, the very real possibility for greatness. And why wouldn’t Ophelia want someone like that at her side? Already, she was starting to scheme, manipulations forming in her head as she considered her next move. 

Zabini Estate, Masquerade, 9:30 pm Status: Open

Lucius eyed the crowd. There were very few he could outright identify. A few more he would be willing to hazard a guess at. But he wasn’t confident enough with the crowd before him. He didn’t hide who he was, not truly, that would not be befitting. A Malfoy did not hide who they were. He reached up and adjusted the monkey mask resting on his cheeks, enchanted to hover there, no strings or sticks necessary. It was garish truth be told, but all simian masks were. Lucius was going to have to have a talk with whomever had planned this party. They would do better to make better mask choices in the future.

He adjusted his gloves, then the rings that laid on top of them as he eyed the crowd. He spotted Narcissa’s golden head off in one corner. It was good to know his wife was here at least, be able to pick her out of the crowd. But he wished he knew better whom in attendance was worth his time. And who, if anyone, posed a threat–hiding faces in the midst of  war wasn’t exactly an ideal recommendation.

He grabbed a flute of champagne with nimble fingers as a tray passed him and he dared meet the eyes of the person across from him once the waiter passed. “So,” he said casually, almost as though he truly cared, “what led to you choice?” he asked, indicating their mask.

...

Ophelia, quite frankly, was much more fond of Lucius’ wife than she was of Lucius but she supposed in a pinch, Lucius would do. 

In all seriousness, the Malfoys had been a stable certainty for a long time now, and Ophelia appreciated that more than she had ever actually told them. Ophelia wasn’t the kind of person to need others—at least, she didn’t think of herself as such—but she liked knowing that if she was in trouble or if she needed someone to listen, Narcissa and Lucius would be on her side. It was comforting. It made her feel more certain of her power. 

She had seen some foreshadows of this party, mostly visions of gold and green and lavish party favors, but she couldn’t help the feeling of foreboding that was creeping up her spine. It was at moments like these that she liked to have a friendly face—or in this case, voice—to keep her from getting too wrapped up in the visions that still danced through her mind. They took over her nights, they couldn’t take over her waking hours, as well. 

And that was why she was more than grateful to hear Lucius’ voice next to her, and she felt her shoulders relax almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps I should have chosen something else,” she replied. “It’s hard to desire something that you already have,” she added jokingly, pulling back her monkey mask enough to reveal part of her face, her fingers slackening around the wooden dowel holding it up for just a moment. 

Where: Masquerade Ball, Zabini Estate When: January 25th 1979, 11.00 pm Open to: everyone (max 4 replies to the starter please)

There were definitely two sides to a night like this. On one side it was refreshing to go to a Masquerade Ball. You could be who you wanted to be on a night like this. No one knew what you were doing and no one knew what you had done so far on a night like this. You could have some fun without people judging you and she was happy about that. Risha could let go for just a night. And she had been doing that so far. She probably shouldn’t have taken the dare from Sirius, to drink for two on the night but she had done so. She had lost count of the glasses of champagne she had had so far.

On the other side a night like this was annoying… Simply because you did not know who you were talking to. And if Risha was one thing while slightly drunk, it was someone who had lost her filter. She would say what she would be thinking right at that moment. And if you did not know who you were talking to… That was not a good combination…

Risha tapped against the glass of the champagne flute with one of her nails as her eyes were focused on something in the distance. Well… Not really focused, she was just staring for a moment before she seemed to be snapped out of whatever trance she had been in. Her eyes found the person closest to her and she narrowed her eyes behind the mask. “I feel like I know you… Have you ever fallen into a fountain during one of those boring Pureblood party’s?”

...

Ophelia had never really been one for drinking, and she supposed at times like this, it was handy. She was only somewhat aware of some scandal within the Fawley family, though the details had either never made it to Ophelia or she hadn’t considered them relevant enough to make an effort to remember. Regardless, she knew that with Risha’s loosened lips and a scandal already under the belt, it would be important to start the new year on fresh footing. 

She hadn’t even been looking for Risha when Ophelia found her, recognizing her more by voice than by look. It was annoying, even though Ophelia appreciated the anonymity it afforded her. Ophelia wanted to enjoy the anonymity herself, but still be able to see who everyone else was. She was just that kind of control freak. Still, she was just grateful to have found someone she knew, and she decided that her place for the foreseeable future would be at Risha’s side. 

“No, but I did save you once from falling in my mother’s fountain,” Ophelia said with a smirk, lifting her mask just enough to reveal half of her features, enough to recognize her before she held the mask up flush against her face again. “Though I suppose the time that I dropped my jacket into the fountain could count,” she added. “My mother was absolutely furious.” 

“𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐘, 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖.” 𝐎𝐑  rather,  Ophelia  was  right  on  time.  Khadijah, on the other hand, had spent much of the day making sure that the grounds were immaculate, doing a final sweep before she finished dressing herself for the night. One hand lightly scrunching her still damp hair, she wasn’t in the least bit surprised to see Ophelia sitting far from where the party was to be held. Not many had trickled onto the estate yet, and in her usual fashion, Khadijah had planned on making a rather grand, if not late, entrance. 

Still in her dressing robe, she gave no thought to plopping down next to her friend, sending an assessing gaze over her form. “You look rather lovely. Thank you so much for dressing up for me.” It was a tease, with Khadjiah reaching out to smooth the folds of fabric of Ophelia’s skirt. “I created a spot for you in the back of the grounds, near the gardens for you to slip away to. If you choose to activate the charm to keep others away, you may. Only the guards around know that it’s there.” She spent more of her time hidden away in the little grotto more often than not. Given its heating charm and ability to shield her from the outside world, it had become her peace, and reminder of the home that she’d left behind.

“You know how my mother is about punctuality,” Ophelia replied. “She had begun her fussing by 4 in the afternoon.” Ophelia straightened slightly, already hearing her mother’s scolding in the back of her head at the thought of her catching Ophelia with such terrible posture, especially at an event like this one. She smirked lightly at Khadijah. “Besides,” she said, lifting the mask in her hand to her features, her eyes still bright and inquisitive behind it. “I’ve always been fond of masks,” she said, pulling it away just enough so that she could look at Khadijah around it before she dropped the mask back into her lap. 

     The sheer fabric hugged Ophelia’s distinctively pearly skin like Alecto wouldn’t have even dreamed of – and she had dreamed of it. The delicate appliques adorning and framing her chest, shoulders and arms were enough to leave the younger woman intrigued as to what they were hiding beneath. The profound contrast between how the other so graciously carried herself, not to speak of her outfit of choice, against the admittedly more brutish mannerisms of the Carrow female made her wonder in what other ways she might be more fierce than the girl standing in front of her. If everything went her way ( and, usually, it did ), she might not have to wait too long to find out just that.

     “I’m never not playing a part,” she retorted quickly, offering her a grin as if she’d just referenced an old inner joke of them, when in reality that might be the most truthful statement she’d spoken in years. She enjoyed Ophelia’s eyes on her – for a moment ( perhaps too long ), she wondered how other parts of her body would feel against her. Surely, the woman’s fingertips would be gentle, where her nails couldn’t wait to drag over her delicate skin. As always, she simply had to be patient. “You know me too well,” she hummed with the slightest hitn of a chuckle. Though she hesitated at first, Alecto reached her hand up to slowly trace the edge of Ophelia’s mask with her index finger as if she were making sure it wasn’t sharp enough to cut. “I thought of ou as a bird,” she added with a teasing smirk.

Ophelia was the kind of person to bide her time, to take her time with people and do things slowly. It was becoming more and more clear to Ophelia that the Carrow girl was an all at once type of person, and she would have to adjust her own behavior to account for that. The best thing that Ophelia could do was deny Alecto what she wanted, for as long as she could get away with it. It seemed like—for the moment, at least—what Alecto wanted was Ophelia, and Ophelia was not afraid to play into that. She never saw the harm in flirting, anyway, and women were just so much better than the men her mother was constantly pushing at her as prospects for a semi-arranged marriage. 

There was a truth to Alecto’s words that applied to Ophelia’s own life that Ophelia certainly didn’t want to admit to. Saying that she was more comfortable behind a mask because she was always wearing a mask seemed like a bit too much truth to share with anyone. She cocked her head to the side, letting Alecto’s finger guide her mask away from her features by a millimeter before Ophelia brought her hand up and caught Alecto’s fingers, gracefully tucking them down at their side. “If you gave that any serious consideration, I’d have to wonder if you’d learned anything about me after all this time,” she replied. 

     Location: the Zabini estate      Date: January 25th, 8:13pm      Interaction: Alecto Carrow & @xophelias

     While, as a child, she had had so many bigger worries than who to impress at a ball her Mother wanted to drag her to ( and, yes, she still did have more important things to do ), Alecto was not as oblivious to the effects a masquerade could have on people. There was some virtue into being hidden – she knew that so well. Some faces, in the end, were better not seen at all, and with the amount of guests on the list, some of them were bound to be in the same room as her. 

     There was one particular face she’d been searching for – obviously, the masks were an impediment to her task, but when she finally laid eyes on that waist, those fingers, that collarbone… She knew the night would finally be worth it. “We share our desire,” she murmured as she walked up to the girl from behind her – the insinuation was evident, and she trusted the other would appreciate her way with words. If she didn’t, Alecto might have to prove how skilful she was with everything else.

Ophelia couldn’t make her mind up on whether or not she wanted to see Alecto. Instinctually, she was inclined towards yes, but rationally, she feared that Alecto would prove more of a distraction than anything else. She couldn’t imagine that everyone would get together like this and nothing would happen—and in the case of some, in a word, inclement weather, Ophelia would need to have her wits about her. It was easier to think clearly in the chill of the winter evening. 

When she heard Alecto approaching, she straightened, bringing her mask up against her features again and looking back towards her. “Tired of playing the part?” she asked, letting her mask slip just enough that one eye was no longer obscured. Her gaze dragged up from the hem of Alecto’s dress, following the curve of her waist and up through the folds of fabric around her shoulders, past the narrow column of her neck until Ophelia finally met Alecto’s eyes. 

Ophelia had to admit, she wasn’t one for parties, but masquerades always had a special place in her heart. Perhaps it was because she could pretend she wasn’t herself—she could shed all the awkwardness and the unawareness of foreign social mores without feeling like she was doing something to embarrass her mother or somehow disgrace her family name. The anonymity was a comfort for someone with a reputation—and Ophelia’s reputation, being as confused as it was, never made anything easier. 

That was why she had been especially pleased to see that Khadijah had planned a masquerade for her first party of the year, an almost surefire way to confirm Ophelia’s attendance. That was how she found herself there in a golden and black monkey mask, adorned with feathers and balanced delicately on the end of a wooden dowel in her left hand. The mask effectively covered most of her features, something for which Ophelia was endlessly grateful. If she was going to go to a masquerade, she was going to do it properly. 

Despite her relative affinity for these kinds of parties, she still felt out of place—she knew that regardless of theme, these kinds of social gatherings were always a stretch for her to fully enjoy—and that feeling had grown into an anxiety in her chest that left her gasping for air. So, instead of spending her time inside the party, she was outside in the garden, sitting with her back to the main house.