#vollystarter

[brcntides]

Beanie pulled low over his brow so as to fly under the radar, or at least attempt to do so, Sirius made his way down Diagon Alley. The once bustling street was a mere shadow of it’s former self - boarded windows, tattered wanted posters - gone were the days of chatter and laughter echoing down the cobblestones. He had got what he needed, the wrapped package tucked safely in his jacket, now it was simply a case of getting home without being spotted.

Stepping into the Leaky Cauldron, he glanced around. A few patrons slumped in corners, but other than that the place was empty. His gaze darted from the door that led through to the courtyard to the bar and back again. He had time for one drink, surely. Having never quite successfully been able to temper his impulsive streak, his mind was made up. Crossing over to the bar, he fished a handful of coins from his pocket. “A glass of firewhiskey.”

[brcntides]

Events such as these had never been Tilden’s favourite, but he knew that if he wanted to continue on the fringes as he had been doing so then he had little choice but to show his face. Whoever had been in charge of organising had seemingly outdone themselves, transforming the atrium into a magnificent ballroom. Tilden couldn’t help but wonder if Holly had been responsible for the floral arrangement, making a mental note to ask her later. “It’s quite something, isn’t it?” He asked, turning to the person next to him.

[brcntides]

Perhaps it could have been put down to the regime change or perhaps it was the years Sirius had spent with his back turned to the wizarding world, but Merlin, the ball was worse than the ones he remembered from his youth. No doubt the Death Eaters out in the open, resplendent in their finery, and the damned snake looming over the festivities as some sort of Belle of the ball contributed to the frisson of unease that made its way up Sirius’ spine. Nursing his second drink of the night he sighed softly, rather quite wishing that he were anywhere else but there.

[thiswitching-blog]

Date: July 14, 1984 Ministry's Blood Ball Open 

At this time of the night, there was already a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand that he was drowning in. It didn’t feel natural for him to be here, always rejecting pureblood society and being shunned from it, there’s not much of a way for him to walk among it now like he wished to be here. The polyjuice face helped in speaking to people in the way wearing a mask always does, still where he found himself was people watching at a table that’s been emptied for a while now. “These seats are free if you need one,” he called out to one of the people lingering by, he could see out the corner of his eye.

[thiswitching-blog]

Date: July 14, 1984 Ministry's Blood Ball Open 

The last thing Hestia planned to do when Nagini made its way near her was scramble and almost jump away, her hands held at her chest, and almost bumping into a chair. But its too late to take it back when she does.

She turned to the nearest person she drew near in her escape on accident, before even catching a good glimpse at who she spoke to, she asked, “Dance me, you?” the words stumbled out, and far louder than she planned, a bit breathless before she heard what she said. “I’m sorry, I meant dance? No, I mean, have you danced tonight yet?” One hand worried at her lower lip.