Social Scare
It was no surprise later, closer to midnight then not, that Gabriel was feeling stuffy. The party was put on by Nott, after all. Nott wouldn’t know a decent party if it bit him on the arse and without Mrs. Nott it probably would have had an ending time of ten-thirty.
Which, really, would have been a blessing at this point.
Sure the food was good, and there were plenty of drinks, but it was all so... one note. At least if the party was at the Malfoy estate Gabriel would have found other ways of making the party...interesting (in socially acceptable ways, of course).
He needed some water, maybe. Or just a quick walk in the gardens. Or...
Gabriel Greengrass had experienced many needles in his life and more than his share of potions (much to his frustration). This was neither. It cut his skin and burned through his robes (and he liked those robes!) The shriek probably would have put his son’s ear-piercing shouts to shame. The following, “What is it, what is so my chest?” No less reverberating around the room.
All Greengrasses tended to bleed heavy with the lightest of pricks. Gabriel bled like he was lightly carved along the shape of a rising phoenix. Which meant he wasn’t the only one screaming soon enough.
