#ministry galas

[realitybitesyouknowit]

“Do you like it?” Voldemort asks before he can embarrass himself further.

Harry stills. “What?”

“My new face,” Voldemort says, tilting his head with an odd look on said face. If he were just a bit more buzzed, Harry might call it coquettish. “Do you like it?”

In which Harry creates an opportunity, and Voldemort takes it.

[triptomarss]

Fleur Delacour and Hermione Granger, spotted arriving together at the Ministry Gala.

[ourladyofomega]

📷  source: Wax Trax! Records (FB)

[med1rigby]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level one, the atrium. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for ezekiel burke ( @hoggleswart )

gracefully making her way over to the minister's advisor, there is a clear tension in her exposed shoulders as she forces a smile onto her lips - she can hear the distant crow of her mother's high-pitched remarks ( how she could remember it after twenty-six years away from her was beyond gwen ). "mister burke." the mediwitch offers a bow of her head to the other, the framing pieces of her hair falling with her movement before she looks back to him. "i am in need of escape once more, if you so wish in being my knight that would be much appreciated." gwendolyn. her name is called in the banshee cry, her smile never faltering as eyes hold the begging of her request, "please."

[rebuildeds]

PROMPT : i hope you haven't been standing out in the cold this whole time.  LOCATION : an ouside terrace at the ministry of magic FEATURING : @hoggleswart !

“ it's not that cold. ”     tempest glances over their shoulder at justin, voice husky and goosepimples climbing up their arms showing off the blatant lie. it was only a matter of time before they bumped into each other, given how small the wixen world seemed to be, but their teeth grit at being seen as vulnerable. again. at the very least, they look devastatingly gorgeous – small mercies. they look away again, gaze drifting, an empty glass of champagne on the table next to them. they're desperate to put on a facade, but they can't make a choice on which mask to wear quickly enough, and they all seem wrong in one way or another. it would be easiest to just get angry, get defensive, and shroud themselves behind that kind of wall – but, equally, that feels like it reveals as much as it hides.    “ i've been colder. ”

[hcldmybroom]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: i'm just saying, murder is an option 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level 8, the atrium 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for millicent bulstrode ( @hoggleswart )

an incredulous laugh spills from her lips as she leans back in her seat at the table, her gaze flitting between millicent and the crowd of uppity snobs trying, and failing, to avoid looking at minnie. "you're funny, bulstrode. you should be a comedian!" her laughter dies down as she returns her focus to her friend, manicured fingers reaching for her flute of champagne. if the keeper continued on this path then she would be a bottle of champagne by the morning. "you are joking, aren't you?"

[bemyhcro]

𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level eight, the atrium. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for roshana cresswell ( @hoggleswart )

he dragged a chair from somewhere a while ago now, perching himself behind the drinks table - close enough to continuously reach for flute after flute of champagne, but far enough to avoid the questions and stares. pax tips back another drink as the echoes of forced laughter and friendship hum around him, knowing full well the extent of some peoples loyalties. as he goes to reach for another drink his eyes land on one of the aurors, a woman he had seen here-and-there around the ministry and once in a bookshop - shana? roshana. "i can stop whenever i want to." pax slurs his words.

[fwbenjy]

[ggathena]

[petriichvrs]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃  :  sometimes the only thing a bully understands is a punch in the mouth. 𝚁𝙴𝚀𝚄𝙴𝚂𝚃𝙴𝙳 𝙱𝚈   :  @hoggleswart / seamus finnigan  !𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  the ministry of magic ( atrium level ), london  !

" piss off, seamus, " and honestly, she doesn't MEAN to sound so abrasive - she's aiming for the sort of lighthearted banter that they're both used to right up until the words actually leave her painted lips & come to hang heavy between them. there is something defensive about her to be found, now, where previously there was not. a straightening of her spine / the slight jut of her chin / even the downturn to the corners of her mouth where moments before was a friendly smile. ginny isn't SURPRISED by his words, but she thought they'd come much later. in her experience, people were always braver after a few glasses of the expensive alcohol served at these things & while she had expected to field curious questions in that easy way she always did ( oh, no, it's purely platonic- if even. no one else could stick it & i wanted to be here, so...- ), she had figured it would take awhile before anyone really got into it. seamus, of course, catches her OFF GUARD. ginny responds to that in kind, but a brief moment of reflection is enough to have her tack on, half heartedly, " if you're going to take a swing at my date, would you mind waiting until after the prophet pictures ? it'd suck if a fresh shiner distracted the people from my gatecrashing. "

[hoggleswart]

LOCATION:    the  ninth  annual  ministry  gala. STATUS:    closed  to  @kxbellem

"    wanna  play  a  drinking  game  with  me?    "    slightly  wide  eyes  and  the  uncharacteristically  bright  smile  softening  usually  -  sullen  features  suggests  it’s  a  game  lavender  has  been  playing  for  a  while  now,  drink  hugged  close  to  chest  like  it  provided  some  comfort.      ⸺      or  perhaps  in  case  someone  tried  to  confiscate  it.  either  were  both  possible  options.  at  least  the  girl  was  having  fun,  something  she  personally  felt  she’d  earned  after  having  to  bribe  her  way  into  somebody’s  plus  one.  turns  out,  that  pesky  fear  of  missing  out  won  every  time.    "    the  rules  are;    you  have  to  take  a  swig  every  time  a  worker  says  but,  um  during  their  talks.  it  happens  a  surprisingly  large  amount.    "

[taciiturns]

"weasley." surname with all lack of warmth is as much of a greeting as any member of the brood of redheads is ever going to get from mikaela karkaroff. she must then remind herself to at least twist her features into a facade of friendliness- she's poking the rabid rabbit ( kaela's new nickname for her LEAST favorite ) for good reason, afterall. "i've been meaning to talk to you about something."

she glances over, looking for a tell-tale sign from ginny to go on, but she would press onwards even without the affirmation. "what is the deal with your uncle ? single ? married, still ?" lips press together in very surface level contemplation. "he's very handsome despite how glum he seems. you think that's something that can be fixed ?" @petriichvrs

[hopcflowered]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: have a drink with me. 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level three, department of magical accidents and catastrophes. 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for alfred cattermole ( @hoggleswart )

her body jumps from the shock of hearing his voice, delicately manicured fingers coming to calm the heavy beating against her ribcage as her other hand places the documents back onto her desk. "merlin in a cream cracker!" a soft laugh pushes passed her lips as she moves to fully face alfred, a flush of pink creeping along her cheeks and up to the tips of her ears. "you should really warn a girl before you go all silent ninja on her, alfred." the hand at her chest lowers and rests on the edge of her desk, bottom perching alongside painted nails as the poofy skirts of her dress rustle and fold around her. moira had gone for the fairy princess look, of course. "do you not have all the pretty ladies out there absolutely begging to have your attention?"

[sodamnradd]

“Don’t look,” murmured Theo, twirling a lock of Hermione’s hair around his finger. “But I think he’s jealous.”

“Who?” she whispered, desperately wanting to peek.

“Draco,” he said, caressing her cheek to keep her from checking. “He hasn’t stopped staring at you.”

“In sheer disgust? Draco despises me.”

At work yesterday, he’d insulted her penmanship. Again. Visiting her office for the third day in a row with her memo torn up in scraps, claiming her ‘barbaric handwriting’ was illegible.

“I don’t think so,” he said, leaning in close to make it seem like he was whispering sweet nothings into her ear. She plastered on a dreamy smile and looked up at him through mascara-coated lashes. “It’s a ruse, you know. Him and Astoria. They’re planning a public break up in a week or two. She’s secretly dating a Quidditch player—a half-blood.”

“The horror,” she replied with a feigned gasp. “Is that all you Slytherins do? Scheme and show off?”

“And fall in love with the wrong people,” he replied with a faraway look in his eyes, straightening when a shadow loomed over them. “Alright, mate?”

Malfoy stood at their table, tall and cross. “May I have a word, Granger?”

Theo nudged her ankle under the table and gave her a knowing grin. She shook her head, refusing to buy into his nonsense. Malfoy was probably here to insult her hair or tell her that pink made her look frumpy.

Before she could tell Malfoy to leave them alone, Theo kissed her cheek and told her not to take too long.

She was left with no choice but to follow Malfoy into the rose garden, away from the gossiping crowd. “What is it?” she demanded, prepared for his regular bullshit.

“I saw something earlier that you should know about.” The grave look on his face sparked her interest. “Look. I know I give you a hard time at work now and again—but I’ve come to… to care…” He paused and tried again. “I mean… I think you deserve… not that I…”

“Malfoy,” she said sharply.

He expelled a long breath, then blurted out, “Theo and Potter are fooling around behind your back. I saw them inside earlier.”

She was floored. And then she felt an odd rush of affection for the stormy man standing before her. It had obviously taken a lot to suck up his pride and tell her that. What had he said? Something about caring?

“I’m sorry, Granger.” He hugged her, smushing her face against his warm chest. “Don’t cry. He was probably afraid he’d get caught by his father and used you as a cover up. People do lousy things when they’re desperate. Take it from someone who knows.”

“I’m not crying,” she mumbled, nudging him back. Her heart was racing. “I know about him and Harry. We were faking it so Theo’s father would ease off him. Apparently, dating a Muggle-born witch is slightly less offensive than being gay."

He opened his mouth, then shut it. His cheeks were turning red. It was oddly sweet how he had nothing to say.

“I hear you and Astoria are pulling a similar stunt,” she said in an attempt to make him feel better.

He shrugged; voice strangled. “Family dynamics are fucked out here.”

“Theo says it’s because you all fall in love with the wrong people.” She looked meaningfully into his eyes.

He stared back. “I wouldn’t say ‘wrong’, just...” His gaze was so intense, she felt trapped in it. “…inconvenient.”

“Is that what I am?” she breathed, wondering if Theo was right. Maybe Malfoy wasn’t looking for ways to get under her skin just to be a prick. Maybe he was looking for excuses to get closer to her. “An inconvenience?”

He didn’t verbally respond, but she felt his gaze all over her. The heat emanating off him made her sweat.

She swallowed, overwhelmed. “How long until you and Astoria call it off?”

He tilted his head. “We’re waiting until the Ministry Gala.”

“Maybe Theo and I will split around that time, too,” she suggested, mentally counting down the days and hoping she wasn’t misreading the situation.

His eyelids grew heavy. He licked his lips.

She felt a little drunk with the way he was looking at her.

“Maybe,” she said, stepping closer to fix his tie. He shivered beneath her touch. “You can send me an office memo. Since my handwriting is so offensive.” She tipped her head back, whispering into his ear, “Thank you for telling me about what you saw.”

Hermione left him there speechless, smiling softly to herself as she walked away.

-

Twelve days later, an office memo nose-dived on her desk. She recognized Malfoy’s pristine handwriting, and considered if maybe hers was a bit messy in comparison.

Dinner tonight in Diagon Alley?

The pink memo bloomed into a rose. She lifted it to her nose, enchanted that it smelled like a real one. But more touched that he wanted to take her out publicly.

Pick me up at 7, she wrote, and let the office memo fly.

(847 words, prompt: fake dating for dramione month)

[med1rigby]

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓: you look like you just saw a ghost. 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: level 8, the atrium 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐒: closed for oskar catchlove ( @hoggleswart )

"more like a banshee and her pet ghoul." eyes roll as she finds solace away from the centre of the room, slender fingers wrapped around the neck of her champagne flute tightly. it hasn't been long since she arrived in the atrium and she had already spotted the forbidding features of her mother barking orders at her poor-postured father - it was one of the few times in her life that she could confidently say she felt sorry for him. gwen knew the wrath of her mother, the stinging of flesh almost too familiar, even after all of these years. "my parents," offering a tight-lipped smile, gwen sips at her bubbly drink. "haven't seen them since i was eighteen. how unfortunate to meet them now."

[rebuildeds]

PROMPT : ❛ so why's it so important anyway? ❜ LOCATION : level three , ministry of magic FEATURING : @bemyhcro !

there had been a point in his life where dudley would have responded to this question with an over-the-top defensiveness. maybe even started a fight. as it stands, there is still a touch of that in his bones, when he bristles a bit and asks :     “ why's what so important? d'you mean the muggle liasion department? ”     he's immediately ready to jump to the defence of his job & to the very importance of liaising with muggles in the first place. while he's grateful to not be involved with the presentation for this year, he's stationed in front of it regardless, bulking out the distinct lack of a crowd. there for moral support, even if his lack of involvement this year is potentially because of the slight from the minister. to be fair, he was never very good at public speaking.