Winter Solstice Ball

Andromeda's Outfit

Reference to Decor

When she had first mentioned the idea, Andromeda hadn’t expected him to agree. If she was being honest she didn’t know how they had gotten to the position that she had managed to put them in now. But she hoped that he didn’t hate her for it. She loved him, and to her, that still mattered the most. No matter what else was going on in her mind, no matter what else was going on in their lives. He was the one she wanted to share it with. And her name now was something that she thought that gave her the right to want that, gave her the right to want, and be, a lot of things. Last spring, she had questioned herself, in August, she had questioned herself. Now she didn’t have a question. There was no doubt in her mind who she was. She had grown into the woman that she was supposed to have been all along. She had become someone that she was proud of. Someone that she thought could be respected as who she was supposed to have been. Because it had been a long time coming of her remembering who it was that she had been born to be. But she had now. She had remembered. And she had learned what that could mean. Andromeda knew who she was. She was the Lady Lestrange… And she had been a Black before that. She knew now, and that meant that the game had once again changed… Because this was a game, this was all a game, and if you didn’t know the rules, then it wasn’t yours to play. Andromeda knew the rules, she knew how to play, and she was going to win.

Keeping herself in check for tonight was something that she had sought to do. She had only had a limited amount of time between sending out the invitations, and the actual Ball itself. Not that they needed a lot of planning for things like that in their world. Everyone knew that they were going to have some sort of event for the Yule, and the Solstice, but this… This was not what anyone was expecting. Or at least she figured that it wasn’t. There were those that she knew could feel what was happening, but no one was mentioning anything and that was for the best. It was easier to plan a ball, simply to plan a ball, and that was what she had done. They were the Lord and Lady Lestrange after all. They had a right to host whatever they wanted to. And she had wanted to do this. The boys were tucked away in Scotland for the night, Desirae was watching them again, and she knew that she had continued to put her faith in the witch, but she trusted her with them. She trusted her with the boys, because there were very few people that she actually would have trusted, and her first choice of witches to watch their sons had just had a baby of her own. That made the choice easy enough. She knew that they would be safe with Desirae and Viktor, and that was what she wanted. She didn’t want to take any chances when it came to their safety.

She swept down the stairs, and into the foyer, her heels one of the only sounds echoing through the castle. He was here somewhere, she knew that he was, and everyone else would be arriving soon enough. Around the corner, lined with the candles that she had set throughout the entire space, Andromeda thought that there was a sense of something alive. Something that this castle hadn’t seen in decades. She had every intention of filling it with people. Of making sure that there was no doubt, just where it was that they were, and that they were enjoying themselves. That was what tonight was about. Making sure that everyone that was supposed to be here, was here, and that they had come at her bequest… That was power, and she knew it. She knew what she was doing, she knew the game she was playing… Smiling when she saw Rodolphus Azazel Lestrange in the ballroom she dropped him a sweeping curtsey, and then laughed lightly as she rose and headed towards him across the room. “This is happening.” The Ball, their life, all of it… It was happening… Moving to stand in front of him, just as the clock in the foyer struck eight throughout the castle, she looked up at him, knowing that the elves would begin to answer the door, that this was really beginning. “I love you…”

He didn’t do this often and given that he and @alayla were newlyweds he was a little more than weary about it all. However tonight he was not going to be surrounded completely by purebloods and their obnoxious ways and he knew that his wife would enjoy herself. But he also knew that she was on edge and that was understandable given they had gone from being exes to husband and wife in a matter of a few weeks. However thankfully the media had not got wind of their breakup but they could very well find out about their marriage given the fact they both wore wedding rings and eventually they would learn of Alayla’s pregnancy. When the time came Logan would do his best to protect her and their baby. He didn’t have the name but since he had been on the winning team in the league last season he was sure to draw some attention. And Alayla being new model for Witch Weekly she would draw some attention herself. She was part Veela and that in itself was plenty of attention but he hoped that they could draw the lucky straw and could get through time relatively smoothly. At the end of the day he was going to make sure that both his wife and their child was healthy.

They had been to St Mungo’s last week and got the all clear that everything was going well with her pregnancy. He was glad. Though he may not show, Logan experienced nerves and worry like anyone else. He had been going his time of uncertainty when there had been so many questions of whether or not he should join the Falcons after starting a job at the ministry when he had finished school. Eventually with his ex’s insistence he had joined and it had not been soon after when their relationship had ended. He hoped though that now he was about to become a father that Alayla would change her mind and see him as a problem that she could not deal with or decide not to be with him because he had been the cause why she was pregnant now. Of course it took two people to conceive but she was still young and he felt like he had robbed her of the chance to experience adulthood.

Still they were here and he was determined to make them work not solely for their child but for themselves too. He didn’t want their marriage based on the sole fact they were expecting a child but also because they loved each other. Sure the two of them had started in a very heated physical exchange but they had soon found more in each other and truthfully she made Logan happy and he hoped that he made her happy in return. Logan had wanted nothing more than to settle down with her and when it seemed that Alayla would never return thanks to her mother’s antics he had feared that it would never happen and even when she had shown up at his flat earlier this month he had been weary at first because he wasn’t sure why she was there. But her asking if he still loved her had only made him give her one answer, the honest one. Now they found themselves here as a married couple attending their first ball together.

After the elves of the castle had welcomed them Logan escorted Alayla in and through the delicately lit hall to the ballroom and it was spectacularly decorated, not that he expected anything less from the hosts. He kept his arm linked with is wife’s as he saw @andi. ”We should go greet the hosts soon, love. However for now, can I get you something to drink? Water? Pumpkin Juice?” he asked as he wondered if @leah would be attending tonight also.

Attire

This was an important event for him to attend, Mikhael fully understood why that was the case. He was part of the sacred twenty-eight families but even that was just a minor part of it. He was also here as a representative of his branch of the Travers family and he knew that to a lesser extent he had to keep his wits about him to make sure that no one caused trouble tonight. He wasn’t sure who else was invited but he knew that no one wanted trouble tonight, especially the hosts. He was also going to see Amelia Aziza Travers and he was looking forward to seeing the young witch given that one day she would be his wife. Normally it would be considered inappropriate for someone that young to be seen as anyone’s wife but in magical pureblood society it was the norm and no one blinked an eye. Mikhael had been a little taken back when he had learned about their age difference but after he had met the witch he had seen that she was very intelligent and caring and someone he could live his life with.

Seeing her tonight was a great benefit and he could show her father that he was serious about their betrothal. The older man did not need to know about Mikhael did in his free or who he spent it with. He was very cautious about that as it was. He was careful in how he met with the women who warmed his bed of a night. He didn’t go on dates with them and that was also because he had very little free time when he was at home. The majority of the time when he was not at home or at the ministry he was out on mission and really was really how he spent most of his time. Sure he had his pursuits by way of sailing and exploring the universe but the time devoted to that was rare these days as being an Auror was still critical even with the Death Eaters being in power.

Mikhael surmised that someday he may be a Death Eater himself but for now he was content in simply making sure that their values were upheld and being adhered to. Given that he was coming straight from work he was not able to pick up Amelia and accompany her here. He felt bad but work was what it was and he hoped that she would understand. It was not traditional but even he was not the most traditional of purebloods. Most wizards his age would be married but he seemed to have slipped under the radar, well until now.

The wizard arrived at the manor and smiled to himself as he fixed his bow tie. He could have worn a tie but he decided he would see what Amelia thought of them if he was to wear one, if she liked it he would keep changing between them and a regular tie. If she didn’t like it then he would stick to regular ties for future events of this nature. Sure for work he wore a tie but balls and the like deserved a much more fashionable attempt at an outfit. He entered the foyer and gaze at all the candles that lined the sides as he entered the ballroom. It was rather impressively decorated and he knew that tonight would be something.

Looking to his right he saw Amelia and he grinned, she looked lovely and he thought that she had outdone herself tonight. ”Miss Amelia, good evening” he greeted her as he stooped down and kissed cheek lightly. ”I apologise for not accompanying you here, you look beautiful” he nodded before he looked around the elaborately decorated room before he looked back to her

When Alayla was at school, she used to attend all the balls there, even if it was just to see who she could bed that night. There’d only ever been one time she’d went with a date and whilst she had enjoyed it, she hadn’t felt overly comfortable. Normally she enjoyed it and normally managed to drink anything spiked or smuggle alcohol in, but this time it was different. She’d heard of formal events like this, Gen had attended a fair amount and informed Alayla about them and she knew Calliope and Samuel often had to attend events too because of Calliope’s family ties. Part of her wondered if they would be in attendance today? She knew Imogen wasn’t coming, she was still mourning Kit and she understood completely, although selfishly she hoped that Imogen would come at the last minute, she had Logan, of course and she was happy for that but with everything that had been happening for the witch, she would have liked another friendly face around. Alayla knew she was still a baby when it came to the world of fame, if you could call it that. But she’d already had a couple of questionable shoots under her belt in both the muggle and magical world and that made her uneasy. Alayla had already decided to turn down any more… mature shoots, at least until her baby was here, sure that wasn’t for just shy of eight months but she didn’t mind. People would be more likely to clock onto there being something different otherwise. Alayla hoped that her newly dyed hair would make some of her charm fade a little, but she wasn’t sure. Her plan for the night was to just keep to herself and hope she and @logan could slip away relatively early.

Alayla’s first appointment in relation to the baby had gone smoothly but anyone who knew the witch, knew she was panicking and frightened. The first check had made everything more real and she had considered taking that first hint of reality and using it to tell their friends and loved ones – minus her mother – about the situation. She knew Logan had told his parents already and from what she’d gathered they were more than a little eager to be receiving a grandchild. Cassandra had been quick to contact Alayla and offer a friendly shoulder which the witch was incredibly grateful for; though right now she was still shutting herself off from it all. She was excited and happy, but she didn’t have the same faith in herself that Logan and her in-laws seemed to have in her and that troubled her greatly.

She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t had much of a chance to admire the décor but as she finally came back to the present, Alayla gave the area a quick once over so she could make an educated compliment instead of an empty one. Later on in the evening, she would take a more thorough look but right now her heart was in her mouth and she already wanted nothing more than to be at home with her husband. Husband that was still something foreign for the witch to admit, it was unfamiliar but as she allowed her blue eyes to roam over Logan she didn’t regret it, she just wanted to be able to say husband as easily as she had said ‘boyfriend’. It was complicated, but that was Alayla’s life.

Alayla smiled and nodded at Logan’s comment about the Lady Lestrange, he was right but Alayla wanted to buy just a little bit of time before that. She moved closer to him as they entered the ballroom, trying to put on the mask her mother had taught her to do and she only ever used when nervous. Aiyana Blackburn would have scolded her for using it incorrectly, but Alayla didn’t care about the proper usage, she just wanted to have everyone around think that she was okay and not freaking out about a number of things. ”Um… I’ll have a water please, love.” She informed Logan quietly, picking up two glasses of champagne and handing one to her husband, she wasn’t going to drink it, of course not, but she needed to keep up the appearance of drinking and if she just rejected the champagne offered there could be a couple of responses, one of which was people would make up a ‘rumour’ that she was expecting and the idea of keeping her pregnancy a secret would be out before it had even started.

can i go yet?

outfit || @logan

Leah was not one of the world's greatest advocate of formal dances, and she would most certainly not class herself as a dancer. She could dance, after a fashion, but she would never choose to do so in public when an opportunity presented itself, except of course for when she was too inebriated to care- but that didn't count because by that stage, everyone else would be too drunk to remember any of it the next day in any case. So, why it was that she found herself at a society ball where she felt that she had no real right to be in the first place, she really couldn't have said. Observing with a jaundiced eye from her corner, she was of the opinion that the majority of the people here who were not Quidditch players were probably related to one another in some form, and of the remainder, a large percentage were probably engaged, or related in some way which they would not disclose. Leah was not a snob, nor was she a Socialist; she took people as she found them, in the time honoured phrase, and right now, she had the uncomfortable feeling that if she met half of these people in the street, her immediate impulse would be to walk on by. Perhaps that was why, despite being the captain of what she considered to be a rather significant team, she was not invited very often to social functions. In which case, she could not honestly say that she was sorry.

But at least she could talk to the Quidditch players, and, the sport being a relatively small world within the already small world of wizarding people, the brunette was fairly confident that she knew most of the people in the room who she ought to know, and that of those she knew, a fair few would agree to talk to her. There was a lot of rivalry in Quidditch, of course there was, but Leah did her best not to allow it to affect her personal life, and she knew that a lot of other players did the same, so that if a player for the Holyhead Harpies, for example, were to invite her out for a drink, she wouldn't say no. Consequently, of the Quidditch players in the room, she thought that she could call most of them acquaintances and not a small number close friends. So, she took no risk of being bored or lonely tonight, however hard she tried, but Leah did think that she ought to do the rounds and go and see some of her own players first, and so, swirling the dregs in her wine glass for a moment or two before draining the receptacle and depositing it on a nearby table, the brunette sallied forth in search of her teammates. And of course there was one whom she had placed on a special priority, the reason being that he had had the audacity not only to get married without her permission but to do so without inviting her as well! Speak of the devil, she could see the offender before her very eyes. Leah derived a certain satisfaction from going up close behind him before exclaiming "Logan!" in well-feigned tones of surprise.

something not quite right

outfit || @enzo

Charlotte had been brought up in pureblood society, of course, and a pureblood society was a select society, but she felt that her upbringing had been somewhat sheltered. Her father had held somewhat liberalist views, so far as the purebloods of Great Britain were concerned, as had her mother, and naturally enough, these views had been passed on to Charlotte. Which was all well and good, but it did seem to have the effect of making her something of an outsider in the social circles which she seemed now to have suddenly moved into. She could not in good conscience stand and smile politely whilst she listened to some opinionated octogenarian describing exactly how he intended to eliminate all the Muggleborn witches and wizards who had not signed his ghastly register; it went against all her personal principles, and that was something which she could not do. The blonde might have been a lawyer, but she did have a conscience, and that would remain however much money she was offered. It was, she suspected, why Fawley and Co. was not doing fantastically well as of late.

She had come, of course, despite all of this. She would have had to have been mad to turn down an invitation like this, since not only would it have inclined one of the most powerful pureblood families who were currently in existence against her, but Lottie would also have lost out on a valuable opportunity for networking. And while she might not have been trained as a businesswoman, while she might in fact be a rather bad one, she did at least understand the value of making contacts, of making personal connections, of handing out discreetly inscribed business cards to people who might have need of her services, and, most importantly, of Being There. And it deserved the capital letters, because turning up demonstrated both that she had made the effort and that she was important enough to be invited. Charlotte tried her best to avoid doing business with Death Eaters and their sympathisers, but she was realising as of late that this was not a sustainable business plan, and she knew very well that no Death Eater worthy of the name would visit a lawyer whose name was not, as one might say, on the list.

Of course, being a woman helped. The blonde knew all too well that there were wealthy powerful men who would disclose things to a pretty woman which they would never tell another man in a million years, and she conceded that while this was an unfair advantage, it would be downright foolish not to take... well, advantage... of it. Not that she only employed women of course; that would be equally foolish, because Charlotte knew that if one went around doing things like that, one lost half the talent available in the field. But as senior partner, she herself dealt with most of the high profile- as in, Death Eater- caseload, and while she would not go so far as to call herself pretty, she was indisputably female.

someone else's manor

outfit || @andi

Xavierius was not used to being in the houses of other people. Generally, his social life was strictly limited to what he could not reasonably avoid, and when one considered that the options only consisted of what others could not avoid inviting him to in the first place, it might be realised that he very rarely went out socially. As a rule, he was content to remain in the ancient halls of his own ancestral home, with only the company of his antique books and extensive collections. Of late, however, his job at the school had been broadening his horizons, whether he liked it or not, and the consequences of this, rather to his displeasure, appeared to consist of an increased desire to see people. This, Xavierius did not understand. He had existed quite happily for more years than he could count by avoiding all social contact, and he failed entirely to see why now, having spent a few months standing at the front of a classroom and lecturing, he should find himself suddenly desirous of meeting people. It was not at all natural, and he was not happy about it. So far as the aging lord was concerned, he had had quite enough of socialisation when he was younger.

Ah, those had been the days. There had seemed to be a society ball every few moments, and whilst of course he had complained hugely about attending each and every one of them, his mother had insisted and, truth be told, he had rather enjoyed them. Back then, of course, he had been younger, more supple, he had had no stiff leg and he had been quite capable of sweeping even a fairly large lady off her feet and dancing the night away. Now, he doubted that he could manage even a fairly steady foxtrot. The man sighed, consulting a large gold pocket watch before replacing it in his waistcoat pocket and glancing around him. Ah, the turning of the years. Where on earth had they all gone? One moment, one was young, energetic, and- dare he even think it? Virile. And now he was here; crusty, dried out and falling to bits around the edges. Love was always supposed to be a cruel mistress- he didn't know, he'd never had the honour of making her acquaintance. But Life certainly was, and he had more than a passing friendship with her.

The Lord Macmillan shook his head to break his train of thought and commandeered a cocktail, which he eyed disdainfully before taking a wary sip. He disliked cocktails; he felt that if one was going to drink alcohol, one ought to drink it properly, without damn silly slices of lemon and paper umbrellas. Cocktails, to his view, were a waste of time. All that shaking and blending. It was far simpler to pour a glass of whiskey and drink it. And that was what he would like to be doing, instead of all this ridiculous socialisation business. Still, he supposed that he ought to make an effort and accordingly, he picked his way across the crowded room to where his hostess stood with a few other people whom he vaguely recognised.

"Lady Lestrange, I do hope I'm not interrupting." he began, not actually caring very much but making the protestation for the sake of civility. "Such a pleasure to see you again, I never seem to meet anyone these days." Which was just the way that he liked it, thank you very much.

gonna be popular... oh, i already am!

outfit || Amelia Aziza Travers

Lily was good at balls. She had been born and raised in the pureblood society of Britain, and the social circles which she had orbited in since birth were of the kind that were rather heavy on balls. And galas and receptions and just plain parties of course, but mostly, purebloods did balls. Because it was what they did, and it was what they had always done, and Heaven forbid that any pureblood should ever change anything, ever. Time had moved on in the rest of the world, as Lily was well aware. She actually owned two pairs of jeans, for example. But in the halls of the ancestral homes up and down Great Britain, she felt as though she might as well be living in the fifteenth century. She was female, and so she was automatically assumed to be of no practical use whatsoever.

There was a Muggle phrase, which ran 'He's neither use nor ornament'. Now, Lily was very definitely ornament, and she knew this for a fact; so, for that matter, did more or less everyone who clapped eyes on her. But the thing was that inside the blonde head, there was a very functional brain. It had to be confessed that Lily did very little to point this out to anyone who she met; in fact, she made a point of using her brain as little as was possible. It was always a good idea to make sure that people underestimated you, and looking stunning was no hindrance there either. But she did grow irritated with being treated as though she was mentally deficient. Lily had ambitions; she wanted to reach the top, and she was damn sure that she was going to get there. She had the looks, she had the brains- however hard she might try to conceal them- and she was willing to go as far as she had to go. All the way.

A ball was Lily's natural atmosphere; it was where she thrived. People to socialise with, people to flirt with, people to drag off somewhere discreet if she was lucky, and, of course, the chance to look stunning in front of important people who would notice. Lily needed to be noticed- and this was not an observation on her psychiatric health; it was a vital component in her plan. She needed to get in with the right people, and she needed to do it soon. She was dressed up to the nines- hell, she was dressed up to the tens!- she had her best smile on, her hair was dead straight and hung like a golden halo around her head, and her eyes held the Greengrass signature sparkle- just genuine joy at life, pleasure to be talking to whoever she happened to be talking to, and a suggestion that things could quite easily go beyond just talking, should circumstances be correct. And the circumstances were important; Lily would never take money in exchange for amorous relations; she was better than that, and besides, she had no need of the money; but she did accept favours in kind, and did so with great enthusiasm.

Entering the room with a flourish, she allowed her eyes- sparkling as usual- to roam around the room, until they picked upon a face and a figure which she recognised. Admittedly, she did recognise almost everyone in this room, since pureblood society was rather select, but this was a rather special person, and one of the very few who Lily would actually consider a friend. "Amelia, honey!" she exclaimed, bearing down on the girl with a walk rather alike to that which Napoleon might have used when about to demand that the British take him off Elba. Ceremoniously, the blonde kissed her friend on each cheek, and only then turned to face the man beside the Slytherin, whom she assumed must be Amelia's fiance. And his name was... Oh, come on... Lily was good at names; it was part of what made her a people person. And this particular person was a Travers. The blonde couldn't recall his first name, so she played it safe, gave him a dazzling smile and exclaimed "Mr. Travers, such a pleasure to see you!"

Winter Solstice Ball

Outfit

When the invitation to the Ball had come she hadn’t been all that surprised really. Well, she had been surprised that she had been invited to the Ball in the first place, at least until she had opened it and seen who it was that was hosting. Andromeda. Then it made sense that she had indeed been invited, and then… Well then, she had realized that she wasn’t going to have anyone to go with. That had been the first thing that she had really been keen on. Asking Teddy to go with her had crossed her mind for maybe a fraction of a second, and then she didn’t even bother considering it further. She didn’t want to listen to it, she didn’t want to have to put up with him talking about how awful the Death Eaters were, and how terrible everything was because of them. Yeah, they did bad things. Yes, some of them were horrible human beings. But not all of them. They weren’t all the same, and that broad generalization was what got people in trouble. They weren’t any better or worse than anyone else, and Toire had excelled at history. She knew her recent history. The history that had made her family who they were. She knew the stories, but hse also knew that every single one of them had made their own choices. You couldn’t blame the other side for every aspect of death in a war. You just couldn’t. And you couldn’t hate someone based solely on their name.

Or at least she couldn’t. Toire knew that she was in the grey area on a lot of things. She knew that she was floating in that middle ground. No longer using the name Weasley didn’t make her any less of one. A Weasley was a Weasley. They didn’t turn on you just for the way that you wanted to live your life, but they did expect things from you. They expected you to have manners, and they expected you to respect yourself, and your elders. They expected a sense of family, and that wasn’t really all that much to ask. Toire could do all of that, she could be all of that, but she wasn’t going to be a Weasley. She was going to be a Delacour, and she had been for months now. That was who she was, that was the name that fit her best. Victoire Apolline Delacour. She was everything, and she was nothing, and she knew how to exist as both. She didn’t want to be a soldier, she wasn’t going to pick a side in this not war. Her family was distributed on both sides of this fight. There were purebloods, and there were muggleborns. They were both. She was both, and she knew that she could exist here, in the middle. In this world where invitations came from the top, and love came from all around. That was the world that she lived in. Because people could preach that things were better, or worse, one way or another, but they weren’t. They were the same. A different group on each end of the spectrum, but things were the same.

She thought that if she could get her family to see that, they might just shut up about everything for five minutes. Yes, they had family that was hiding right now. Yes, the Potters were gone, and maybe that was for the best. Someone had to know where they were, that they were okay. But so long as it was keeping them alive… That was the goal. To stay alive, and she thought that they should just consider themselves some of the lucky ones. Maybe it wasn’t her family that she was really upset with at all… Maybe it was someone else entirely, but now was not the time to go there. Shaking her head, she let Edmund lead her into their aunt’s ballroom. Their aunt, because she was his aunt by blood, and Toire had called her that for longer than she could even remember. Nodding in the general direction of Andromeda and Rodolphus she smiled, knowing they would end up over there eventually, but it was blonde hair that caught her attention from the other way. @lily … Terrianne had told her, about her sister. That had been surprising, really not something that she would have expected from Percy… Ron, maybe, but not Percy… Still, she was here, and Toire thought that she might as well reintroduce herself to the girl. She had been two years behind her in school, but she had still seen her here and there. She pulled lightly on Edmund’s elbow and headed that way. “Miss Zabini,” she smiled at Amelia Aziza Travers , “Lord Travers.” She ducked her head respectfully to Mikhael Albert Travers , and then looked at Lily, “And Miss Greengrass… I just thought we should be properly introduced after all... Given that we are cousins….” Her smile was soft, and sweet, but not completely genuine, and she was grateful for Edmund cutting in and holding out his hand to the other lord, “Evening Travers.”

Newer Life

Attire

She'd been brought to the Ball with her father and stepmother, as it had been decided that her fiance would not be escorting her tonight. The reason was deemed unimportant for her to know. It wasn't that she'd really thought that with the engagement she'd be . . well, approved of more, but she was similarly treated, if only with a bit more stability. It might change as she grew older, or when Lord Mikhael married her, she wasn't sure. The hall was beautifully decorated, with candles that reminded her of the Hogwarts feasts-- a bit of homage to the place so many of them came from? Things were a sort-yellowing gold, almost as if comforting, but this was Lestrange Castle, not Hogwarts. Anything that involved consequences in Lestrange Castle would possible end with death.

The dress was more mature than she was usually allowed to wear out-- away from the childish sheers and laces she'd liked, the filminess glowing against her skin, at times set off by bright flowing skirts or shawls. She was an engaged . . .girl? woman? young woman, that worked now, and so she'd been instructed to have a new wardrobe, to find skirts and dresses that were less leggy-- as those were more for children, or engaged women, and she was in the grey area of both. She was sixteen and a half, after all-- in a handful of months, she'd be an adult, and possibly married before the next Solstice Ball.

She was the one who could be trusted to not need to be within hearing distance, so after she'd noticed Mikhael Albert Travers, she was able to explain where she was going to, and head over. He looked good, she noticed with a sort of tightening in her stomach that she wasn't sure was. . .nerves? attraction? looking-forwardness? appreciation?

"Good evening, Lord Mikhael," she gave him a smile and a curtsy, thankful her heels lifted her up some inches. Their height difference was still large, but. . .she would grow. Hopefully. (she had to, really. A lord father who was a handful of inches over six foot, and the other near six foot? their child could not be stuck at five foot near-nothing. Right?). "It's quite all right-- with what we have so recent, it might have looked almost improper. You look very handsome yourself." She was still. . .technically underage, which while she wasn't a child, meant that she was under her father's arm until she would switch to Lord Mikhael's. She wasn't quite sure when that would be-- her seventeenth birthday? Their marriage? Earlier?-- though as of now, she could not afford to let down either of them.

His bow tie looked rather good, she thought. She'd matched her dress well to it.

The sound of someone approaching caught her attention, and she turned to see @lily bearing down on them. She was too well-trained to display any signs of near-- or really, even to be anxious about this, because while Lily could technically possibly ruin her (or not really, as she'd never gone quite far), Lily was still a good friend, even with the new truth of her heritage.

"Lord Mikhael, might I introduce Miss Lily Greengrass? She is a schoolmate and friend, the natural daughter and heir presumptive to The Lady Greengrass." She caught Lily's eye with a smile-- there was no presumptive about it, as she doubted Lily would allow The Lady Greengrass to give birth to another child. Lily's biological father was known about Hogwarts around as much as it was known that-- well, once the Weasley girl in their year had leaked it about, it was no great secret. Her father had found out, of course, as he'd been friendly with the Lady Greengrass and was a school governor, and he had told Amelia to separate herself from Lily if the ways of the father started showing. Out of Hogwarts? She couldn't quite say Lily's parentage was known outside of Hogwarts, though was it was known the Greengrass heir was illegitimate. It was for Lily to declare herself, not a friend of similarly dubious heritage.

"Lily Greengrass, Lord Mikhael Travers. I have the honor of being his fiancée." There, suitable introduced, with Lord Mikhael to decide-- or Lily, perhaps.

At more approaching-- the woman familiar, pretty, blonde, with the Rosier heir, Lord Edmund Rosier. The very pretty blonde (who was she fooling, she knew it was Victoire Molly Weasley) . . .pair, yes--
with Lord Edmund Rosier as her escort, then Victoire Delacour (she'd heard it from Nick, after all) was likely not in the same standing as other Weasleys, the proof that she was here tonight, without much fear, if any at all. Especially with a high-ranking pureblood as her escort, respect was owed for his own name and line. Lord Mikhael might do as he wished-- heir to the heir of a Sacred Twenty-Eight line, but Amelia was only a half-blood, her father's family having been viewed as too new to Britain, too foreign to make the British cut for British purebloods, as they'd been Italian for two hundred years, and Spanish for a previous five hundred or so.

As a half-blood-- as half Bones, with a Bones family name for all that it was a common British name, she couldn't be seen to be too kind, too tolerant, too sympathetic. She wasn't sure who would have her killed first-- her father or paternal grandmother. "Lord Rosier." She made another curtsy, and a nod with a polite smile to Miss Delacour-- respect must be showed, with Lord Rosier as her date (and Lady Lestrange as her . . . patron? She wasn't quite sure about that one, but est to err on caution). "Miss Delacour." The rest was for Lord Mikhael and Lily to respond to the words and greetings.