{ gate crashing } | blaise & tracey
His heart leapt in his throat at the sight of the brunette, but only for a split second, because then she’d spoken and shattered the illusion. It wasn’t her. Although, the voice was familiar. Blaise squinted, his eyes narrowing behind the holes of his mask (a sleek black to match the trim of his suit), and he turned to eye the woman who’d drawn up beside him. She was tall and elegant, very slender, and judging by the cut of her jaw and the fit of her dress: very attractive as well. The frustration in her tone is amusing, to a degree (or perhaps that was just the champagne-) and he gives a little laugh despite himself. Could he not allow himself to feel humor? Was that no longer a thing that he deserved? He was still a human, whether Daphne or anyone else who mattered thought so, and he could enjoy his life in the same way that he always had. Plus, his hard work had paid off, and here he was. Blaise sniffed. As if they could keep the brilliant Blaise Zabini out of anywhere.
“Who knows where she scrounged up this many people. I’d have thought no one would have wanted to leave the safety of their estates, given the latest forecast for danger. Clear skies with a chance of werewolves.” Zabini nearly laughed at his own joke, but the expression went sour in his mouth and he doused it with champagne. “She probably dredged the lake,” he spat in disguist, implying that their dear hostess had, indeed, stocked the party with reanimated corpses. Such a thing was not unheard of, though it’d been several hundred years since the last noble had had to resort to such desperate measures. He stood in silence while she spoke, his lips pursed while he scanned the crowd, only partially listening. He hated the idea of a masquerade- it’d been Daphne’s notion all along, and when they’d planned the party he had been vehemently against it. Wearing a mask let others believe that they were all on the same playing field and that they were all of the same class. While they might all be of some form of nobility, class wasn’t something that you could buy. But here, everyone was the same; unrecognizable behind plasticized features and a drunken swirl of confidence in their bellies. He’d hoped to avoid this very scenario.
At least she had a nice pair of legs. Had it been any other bird he might’ve given her the silent treatment and stalked off to find Daphne himself. But for the moment, he was content to sip at his liquid courage and try to discern exactly where he’d heard her voice before. The Slytherin common room, no doubt. Though, that was the easy guess for most of the guests here. And it’d been nearly two years since he’d seen some of these people. The war really had scattered them to the four winds to hide beneath craggy rocks high and low, waiting until it was safe to come out, until the community had a different scapegoat to cast their own shortcomings upon.
“It can’t be that hard,” Zabini drawled, rolling his eyes a little. “Unless, of course, you don’t know anyone who would be here.” He cast her a suspicious glance, wondering if they could be lumped into the same group of gatecrashing partygoers. “Look, there.” He pointed across the lawn with the rim of his glass. “That’s Theo Nott. I can tell by his hair and the cut of his suit. We use the same tailor.” He was pleased with himself for his brief show of brilliance and when another tray of flutes floated by, he exchanged his empty glass for a full one and took a long, drawn out sip of the fizzy alcohol. Blaise turned to his companion and lifted his chin. “I suppose, though, the real question remains. Who are you, stranger? And how do you know the hostess?” Straight and to the point. He hadn’t time to fancy around the conversation like they were accustomed to.
Her black dress fit snuggly to her, sparkling in the light of the darkness that was very slowly starting to creep up around them. She continued to stare at the large amount of people that were chatting all around her, but at the same time not coming too close to her, or the man she had found herself standing beside. Tracey hoped that he was someone she could use to her advantage later, someone that could help boost her in the eyes of the rest of the former Slytherin elitists. How had she fallen so hard? Putting almost all of her cards in the wrong pocket of Pansy, who was becoming more and more disgraceful as the days passed on. She should have known not to lay all of her eggs in one basket. Luckily, she had maintained a rather small friendship with Daphne. The elder Greengrass would no doubt her new leader. How pathetic did that sound? Did she truly need a leader, someone to follow around like a lost pup? Of course she did, it was how she had survived her entire life. It might not be one of her greater traits, but who were people to judge her? After all, she knew some of the deepest secrets people had to offer, just by their own stupidity of not noticing her.
The man’s comment drew her from her thoughts, posing the question of why she had chosen to come out tonight. It was dangerous, that was no secret. Reports and headlines were not easy to ignore, mostly when you worked at the Daily Prophet. But, the remark he had made almost had a morbid humor to it and let out a small, drawing laugh. “It seems as though anyone is willing to put their lives at danger to come to a party held by Daphne. Not that I blame them.” Tracey went to take another sip of the champagne, but it seemed the liquid in the glass had already disappeared on her. “As for me, I’ve never been one to let the chance of something bad happen, ruin a good evening. Plus, it’s not as though they are always in their beast form. Who knows? There could be some amongst us, now.” Tracey knew more about werewolves and other dark creatures than most of her peers. Not because she had set out to learn about them, but when you constantly bury your face in books to pass the time and go by unnoticed, you tend to learn a thing or two.
“It’s harder than you think.” It shouldn’t be, she thought to herself. How long had she studied some of these people? Plotting and planning to make some of them her closest allies of the pureblood world. Maybe, it was the alcohol. Tracey had already had a few glasses and that was more than she had consumed in awhile. “I should know most of the people here, except for some of the lesser beings that somehow made their way onto the guest list.” It was no secret that some of the people here were not considered worthy. Impressed by the man’s ability to tell who people were, mostly ones she had been staring at for the better part of an hour, Tracey gave him a smile. “I might need to keep you around tonight. You can steer me in the direction of those I need to speak to at some point.” She was only half-joking with him. It would be nice to have him around, even if just to keep her company.
Tracey grabbed one of the champagne filled flutes as they were being floated by, deciding she did in fact need another drink. It didn’t matter if her head was already starting to feel a bit fuzzy. She knew how to keep herself dignified even under the influence. “Ah, straight to the point. No games. I was right, you must have been in Slytherin.” She eyed the man carefully, glad that she had at least figured out one thing for sure. “Tracey Davis.” She, too, felt that it would be easier to skip all of the assumptions. “And if my previous statement was correct, I would think that you can now figure out how I know Daphne. But, just in case, I’m an old friend of hers from school. Slytherin, too, if you don’t remember by now.” Tracey stared at the mystery man from the corner of her eye, “I think it’s only fair that you tell me who you are. I would hate to have to try and guess. If you haven’t already noticed, I’m not great at this guessing thing.”












