there was something to be said about the triviality of ministry balls , or perhaps merely the entity of the ministry itself , with it’s age - old manipulation & stark delusion , BLASÉ with their own ignorance & drunk with the arrogance that a sea of masks could possibly distract the invited wix from the pungent rancor of death trailing around the corner . or maybe they just knew their society well enough to get away with it .
christ , but he was straining for the exit .
despite the obvious question of identity , it had been ❛ of clamant consequence that you make an appearance mr . potter ❜ this & ❛ you mustn’t bereave the people of their savior on such a momentous night harry ❜ that . he wasn’t going to show up at all , but for the nagging suspicion that some poor sod would just drop dead & he wouldn’t be there to stop it . granted , the chance is all the more greater with him around , but at least this way he’d get a free drink or five out of the ministry’s GRACIOUS hospitality .
❝ say , there’s really no chance of telling whether the hand you’ve taken to the dance floor is barnaby beetlewewt from level five . . . you know , the one with the - pus . ❞ here , he sniggers , in decidedly drunk fashion . his voice unsplinters from it’s previous whispered state , & he finally spares a look at the masked figure beside him .
( open to all . )
