(1938-12-02) Egg Sandwiches and Cigarettes
Details for Egg Sandwiches and Cigarettes
Summary: Variel and Lucretia share sandwiches and thoughts and before long are joined by Elizabeth, Angus and others who are preparing to attend Alphard's Christmas Bash.
Date: 1938-12-02
Location: Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley
Related: Itching for a Party, Black's Bash

"Rashley thinks a little like I do," Lucretia smiles, munching around the edge of her sandwich. "She helped me in duelling class and I think I probably like her." There's a disgusted crinkle of her nose as something not quite agreeable gets found in her sandwich and she peels the layers of bread apart and picks bits of egg from it, laying them on the side of her plate. A glance to Variel and a sudden smile to his own mostly eaten sandwich. "See? Things have their place. I don't like mixing egg in my sandwich and you on the other hand, don't seem to mind in the least."

Variel grins as talk turns to Lea. "Girl's a genius, well-bred, gorgeous- if a touch off with her fashion… choices. Not sense, she dresses well, but too old. Interesting girl, Rashley… it's always interesting spending time around her." That's one way to put it. He chomps his sandwich, chews, swallows and chuckles. "Nope. I think a good analogy might be… say cigarettes. they aren't good for you, but some like them, some don't and some don't care. You can't stand cigarettes. I wouldn't want to smoke myself- wouldn't want my kids smoking- but I can see merit in a smoker and make friends."

Lucretia grimaces, her upper lip curling back to show even white teeth. "Eurgh. Whereas all I can see is how being near a smoker taints the very air I breath." Such a good analogy that one, and Lu seems pretty pleased with it herself, her grimace turning to a smile as she pulls the crust of her bread, rolls it into a spiral then pops it into her mouth. "You know, I bet if I were older, you'd be saying the same about me as you do about Rashley. Thank the spotted dogs that I'm not, I'd hate to have you fall desperately in love, only to watch me marry Prewett when the time comes."

Variel laughs cheerfully, dropping the arm around her shoulder to loop around her waist. "Why Lucretia, I had no idea you wanted so badly to hear how you dress like an eligible 22 year old! Very well, Lulu, I shall commence criticizing your dress at every turn." He grins at the pretty girl. "Heavens knows you've got the other two down. You know, your grandfather shames hid students into studying harder by telling them to seek you out for lessons?"

"Well, I'm always happy to help oth… Oh. You're pulling my leg. Aren't you!" Swatting Variel with one hand Lucretia tucks herself in more companionably against the older boy's side, murdering her sandwich by pulling more offensive bits of egg from it. "And you can't criticise my dress sense since its just so absolutely perfect. See this sweater? It came from Libertys. What's more, there's nothing inappropriate or otherwise about it. Its black, soft and expensive. Like me."

Variel spends a moment running his hand over her side, not too high or too low, then smirks. "Soft… so you are, if you avoid the sharp edge of your toungue. Nothing soft there." A friendly grin as she tucks in against him. "I have this feeling that the only thing that you'd hate would be the bit when you had to go marry Prewett," he teases. "Bet he wouldn't be near as fun to chum about with."

"If my tongue's sharp, its only because it tells the truth," Lu says, a lick given her fingers before she continues. "That aside, I have no feelings about Prewett. He's of a good family and my parents would never have made the match if they weren't confident that I'd be happy in it. I nod to him when I pass him in the corridors at school and he comes to Grimmauld Place for visits with his parents. At least he's not offensive. Offensive I couldn't stand."

Variel nods and grins. "And nothing but said truth." He listens as Lu talks about Prewett, making a face. "Arranged… I guess it takes the chance out of things. Some parents use it like… a bargaining chip. Glad yours are looking out for you."

Lucretia gives a carefully controlled shrug of one shoulder, her face giving nothing away. "You make me sound like a pawn in a bigger game. Perhaps I am. But pawns can become queens if the conditions are right." A delicate smile tugs the edges of her mouth and she picks a crumb off her skirt. "Its odd though, him being a fifth-year and me a third, it makes it easy to not have too much to do with him. Then again, perhaps I should be spending more time with him to get to know him. Its so difficult."

Variel says, "Not you precisely. Some parents play that game. But you're right, nothing says there aren't advantages to be had or cultivated." A quiet ear is given as she discusses knowing him. "Well. My take? plenty of time for that later. Explore now, you know?"

"Or not explore anything at all," Lucretia says, waggling her fingers towards her butterbeer. She's not attempting to have it levitate into her hand, but comfortable where she is, she's rather hoping that Variel might reach for it and pass it to her instead. "What I mean is, why bother. Things are already decided for me and yes, yes, I know." This accompanied by a disparaging drift of her fingers through the air. "… Its supposed to be fun. But its not as much fun as suddenly understanding a runic script or managing to cast a spell perfectly for the first time." A small upward puff is given through pursed lips to blow her fringe away from her eyes and she glances up at Variel once more. "But yes. Plenty of time. Plenty of time."

Variel is happy enough to fetch the butterbeer, listening as Lulu discusses her views. "Why bother? Because you'll miss out! Once you marry, a whole world closes itself off. Doors will close, and you won't be able to open others without scandal or deception, both of which you loathe." Her glance at him meets a warm smile. "Plenty indeed. Just remember that you never need stop learning- but a family can make you stop an awful lot of things."

Lucretia takes the beer, her good humour slowly returning. "Oh doors. See. Again we differ there. I believe in that old saying that when one door closes another opens with no need at all for deception or scandal." Smug, she takes a sip of her drink and curls more comfortably up on her seat, and thusly in against Variel. "You know, I might start paying you to have this privilege wherever and whenever. You're like a huge comfy cuddle-cushion."

Variel welcomes the tuck against his side, curling his arm in more neatly against her. "Not saying you lose net doors- but you do lose specific ones, I'd think." The idea of payment leaves him chuckling. "No need to pay me. I enjoy it as much as you. I think." He made a show of peering at her suspiciously!

"Weasley. What you said in the bookshop the other day," Lu says, peering back up at him, forgoing bludgeoning the subject of boys and boyfriends further in favour of changing it to another. "We will always be friends, won't we? I mean, I'd like to think that we could have knock-down ding-dong arguments, but still come out of it friends. Because that's what friends are, aren't they? People that can push at one other and get pushed back? I hate it when people nod and agree with me because that's the easier thing to do."

Variel listens carefully, then nods slowly. "Yeah. That's exactly what friends are. Friends stay friends until someone gives up. That's what kills a friendship. We could make it through your marriage and school and all sorts of horrid rows, and we'd be fine right up until I got sick and tired of you always leaving the knife in the butter at tea."

Lucretia giggles. "Such a terrible crime could never be forgiven," she says, dimples showing in her cheeks with the breadth of her smile. There's a certain prettiness to her when she smiles that way, the softness of childhood firmly on the run now she's one foot firmly planted in her teenage years. There's the promise of the delicate lines of her mother's figure already present, the gentle slope of her neck and the finely carved shoulders that hitch a little within the soft cling of black cashmere. She nudges Variel lightly with her elbow. "Does that mean that you'll be inviting me to tea sometime then?"

Variel grins and laughs. "Perhaps we could do tea when I come to hear about those fantastic beasts, mm?" He finishes off the sandwich and sighs pleasantly. "Presuming the offer remains?"

Lucretia smiles, dibbing up the last few crumbs on her own plate with the tip of one licked finger. "Of course the offer remains. Why wouldn't it? You're most welcome to visit and I'm sure that my father would even show you some of his collection of artifacts himself should he be home when you call." Leaning forward, she slides her now empty plate onto the table and retrieves her butterbeer, cuddling the remains of it in against her chest as she flops back into the seat. "Though, its not long until we're on our way back to school again, so it might have to wait until Whitsun Break if its not done soon."

Variel offers a grin and almost replies to the chance of delay, but glances to the door and smiles broadly when Elizabeth arrives. He turns to Lucretia and murmurs something before lifting his hand to wave and draw attention.

Lucretia sits perfectly quietly as Variel murmurs something to her. "I'll take that as a compliment," she says, glancing over to Elizabeth when he speaks. "The first part of that at least." She and the Gryffindor are seated at a table and there are empty plates on the table and near empty mugs in hands. She smiles at Elizabeth. Whilst it might not be her best smile, or even one that warms her eyes, its still a smile and the slight hiss of breath through teeth may even not be heard as she exhales and slides lower in her seat.

Elizabeth blinks her pale eyes up when the wave catches her attention, a smile flickering at the corners of her lips briefly, seeing Variel, before she realizes that he has company at his table. There's a small bit of hesitation, but her smile changes, quiet and soft. She holds up a finger, indicating to give her a moment while she waits for her food. It's a short wait, but soon she's delivered a steaming bowl of beef stew and a mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows. The raven-haired woman counts out a few coins as payment, retrieving her food carefully to turn and approach the table. "Greetings." The bowl is set down, if only to avoid burning her hands. "I hope everyone is having a pleasant day?"

"Hello Dweedle," Lucretia says pleasantly, greeting the other girl to the table as she sets her stew down. There's an infinite pause that follows the greeting, the young witch lifting her mug and burying her nose in it so that all that's to be seen of her from Elizabeth's side of the table is a dark pair of brown eyes regarding her over the rim. Unable, perhaps, to think of anything to say beyond that greeting, she spends an inordinate amount of time just slow-sipping her drink, dark hair falling in sleek waves to frame both face and cup.

Variel says, "Pleasant, mentally stimulating and getting better by the minute. I like what you did with your hair, Elizabeth… just something new about it. Cant… put my finger on it."He grins- it's obvious he means the flower."

Angus slinks in. That's the only word for what the 3rd year does. Slinking. Guilt dripping from every pore. What, precisely, he's guilty of at this particular moment is up to discussion, but the fact that there's something is indisputable!

Elizabeth lightly dips her chin towards Lucretia, the polite smile still touching her lips. "Black." She's more than aware that she's being watched like a hawk. It isn't anything out of the ordinary after all, that familiar air of distrust wafting in her direction. She doesn't mind. Glancing at Variel, her expression softens subtly so. And his light teasing elicits a faint flush as well. "I suppose it is a little different than usual." she allows, not quite going along with his teasing just yet. The front door opens, allowing winter to enter in Angus' wake and drawing Elizabeth's gaze, if only because of curiosity.

Lucretia's attention shifts to Variel for a brief moment, and something quietly passes between them. Unlike him, she doesn't comment on the flower in Elizabeth's hair, partly perhaps because its at that moment that Angus' odd entrance has her looking his way. Sitting a little straighter, she observes him a moment or two then lifts her voice so that it'll carry easily through the crowded room and find him. "MacMillan! You look horribly guilty! Is everything alright?"

Angus ambles on over, "Aye! Aye, just been practicin' my scribing." Ah, no _wonder_ he's feeling guilty. MacMillan's aren't supposed to be able to write!

Elizabeth quietly glances between Lucretia and Angus, watching the exchange without interruption. And silently thankful for the diversion, now that the attention wasn't solely focused on her. To a razor's edge. Exhaling a small breath, from behind her wire frames she glances to Variel. "May I join you at your table? Or is it otherwise occupied?" she asks softly. If he agrees, she'll take a seat where she is at the table, but if not she'll find another table.

Lucretia gives Angus a long, hard look, and then its as if something suddenly connects within her brain and a warm smile melts across her face. "Writing! But that's wonderful. Well done you! Here. Sit with us." Generous to a fault towards her friend, she pushes a chair towards him with the angled nudge of one foot. "I need to catch up with you about a few things too." Apparently she'll leave it to Variel to permit Elizabeth's sitting, he being the subject of her enquiry and not Lucretia.

Variel certainly allows it and engages in light chatter- nothing that would stop her talking to the others.

Angus slides into the proferred seat, although not before saying, "Hey, Lucretia! Saw your _ankle_. You flashing those to all th' boys these days?" Thick Aberdonian accent. He gives a grin, "Butterbeer, Lu?"

A small smile touches her lips for a short moment, as Elizabeth maneuvers her cloak out of the way and lowers herself into the chair, the book and quill that had been hidden under her arm now appear so that she can write musings when they come to her. And taking her spoon, she begins on her beef stew, listening to the exchange between Angus and Lucretia without interjecting herself into it.

"Honestly MacMillan, you're terrible. Flattered though I might be at such an accusation, I'm wearing slacks. Perhaps it was Dweedle's ankle you caught sight of. Or Weasley's." A grin of amusement floats behind her eyes and she relinquishes her now empty mug, placing it down on the table. "Another butterbeer would be nice. Thank you. But I owe you for those sweets I had you collect for me the other day, so here…" Tugging her cloak from where its folded over the back of her seat, she fishes in its pocket for her purse, and once retrieved she takes some coins from it and presses them into Angus' hand. "Perhaps a drink for everyone at the table might be nice."

Angus sniffs, "Dinnae mak it any less shocking! Under those slacks yer legs are _bare_!" And he takes the coins and heads towards the bar. After a moment can be heard the shout of, "Of _course_ Ah'm eighteen! Four Glenlivits, please." A beat, whilst something is said in reply, "Och, ifn yehs say so. Four butterbeers then."

"I do have rather adorable ankles." Elizabeth comments quietly, a hint of playfulness in her voice that doesn't extend any further. She's content for now, steadily eating her hot bowl of beef stew and occasionally taking a drink of her mug of hot chocolate.

Oh there it is. When Elizabeth takes the bait and mentions her ankles, there's the tiniest look of smugness on Lu's face. Its not something she can help, nor does she do anything to hide it either. Why would she? One brow gets ever-so-slightly lifted behind her fringe and she looks away from the Ravenclaw and back over to where Angus harangues the bartender for more drinks. She doesn't say anything, but at the rebuttal given, she grins, eyes half-closing as a giggle threatens to escape.

Angus returns from the bar, carrying 4 tankards of butterbeer, and bubbling with mock indignation, "They wouldnae surve me whisky! Wouldya believe it? It's a scandal!" Although he does moderate his tone somewhat as he spies his brother.

Despite not being served whiskey, or any alcohol for that matter, Elizabeth was already finding this to be pleasant. She'll offer a word or two every now and then, but for now she decides to let the younger students engage in their conversation without her for now, content with her bowl of beef stew as it steadily fills her with warmth.

Douglas nudges the door open, stepping into the pub and scowling at the weather outside, as though that'll make it improve. He pauses, scanning over the tops of the various patrons, looking for his wee brother, and on spying him weaves his way over towards the table, there to loom, arms folded.

"Mmmm, this whiskey tastes good," Lucretia teases Angus, hooking one of the mugs and pulling it her way. A healthy mouthful is taken, one which momentarily paints a foamy moustache across her upper lip and she presses her lips together shortly after to internally swallow the belch that rises. So unladylike. Then again, its Angus that her attention is focused on now- and he's such a terrible influence. "So. About that writi.." Breaking off what she's saying as Douglas' shadow looms over his younger brother, she instead lifts her eyes to him, a delightful smile already in place. "Hello, MacMillan. Care to join us?"

Angus looks beautifically up at his elder brother, "Aye, Duggie? Wilya no join us? Are ye off to th ' party that wilnae let us wee ones in?"

It had been some time since she last saw Douglas. At school in fact, before the break. But he looks about as pleased with the weather as she is. So Elizabeth can sympathize. "Try the hot chocolate. It'll help warm you up." she offers quietly, trying to be helpful. That and hot chocolate is just delicious. Or actually, she takes the butterbeer that had been bought for her and slides it gently in Douglas' direction. "Or that." Her pale eyes flit to Angus behind her glasses, smiling lightly, "Wee ones and an assortment of others."

There is a flash of green, which is perhaps befitting as it is a Malfoy dressed in a green silk frock which steps out of the floo. A shake of her long black fur coat and Medusa casts off any of the remaining floo powder. She doesn't exactly fit in amongst the regulars, dressed to the nines as she is. With emeralds and diamonds dangling from her ears and her gloved wrists Medusa looks to be on her way somewhere else. Raising the hem of her dress with one hand she steps away from the hearth and looks around.

Variel looks up from his drink and grins at the new arrivals. "Malfoy, MacMillan! Welcome in from the cold. Malfoy, you're walking the line between class and opulence, but you are just nicely this side of it."

Lucretia spots Medusa's entrance and suddenly the reason for Douglas' arrival in the tavern becomes all too clear. Automatically sitting a little straighter, she offers the other Slytherin a friendly wave of her hand. "You look lovely Malfoy, are you attending the party with MacMillan?" A pause. "Goodness, I would give anything to be going to it too."

"Cheers," Douglas notes towards Lucretia at the offer to join them, and then towards Elizabeth for the offer of a butterbeer a slight smile creeping onto his face after all. "But I'll not start drinking yet. Angus, wee man, yiv gonnae be aricht the nicht wioot me here tae watch aiver yer ivry move, aye? Dinnae get too pished, and hiv yous got yer floo dust the day fer getting awa hame? An' dinnae…" But then there's a Medusa and he just trails off, attention drawn.

Angus snerks, and whispers, rather loudly to Lucretia, "Thall be smoochan before yehs kin sey 'snahp'" Then he clicks his fingers under Douglas' nose to provide the snap, "Aye, Ah'll be fine, Duggie! What trouble kin Ah get up tae, eh? An' Ah've git TONS o'floo dust the day, forbye you havnae lost it!"

Hearing Variel the Malfoy girl snickers, "Which side of which, Weasley?" Her pale head turns when her name is called out again. "Hello Lucretia," Medusa wiggles her fingers in a wave for her younger housemate, even going so far as to smile sweetly in her direction. Stoping beside the table she leans over to give the girl a kiss on the cheek. "Happy New Year." Righting herself she looks around at the others. "Well you all look cosy."

"Trying to be cosy. Winter makes that rather difficult." Elizabeth murmurs lightly, though smiles. She has her hot chocolate after all, so she's rather content for the moment. The mention, or the reminder of Black's party rather, pulls her gaze away to instead focus on the surface of her drink. After a long moment, she breathes through her nose and closes her eyes, taking another drink of the hot liquid.

Lucretia is comfortably installed at the table, and when Medusa dips to kiss her cheek, she beams a genuine smile back at her. "You smell nice too." Another mouthful of her drink is taken and, cheeks pink with barely supressed excitement, once Douglas has finished coming down all big-brother'ish on Angus, she leans closer to the younger MacMillan and whispers something urgently in his ear.

Douglas aims a clip for Angus's ear, rolling his eyes. "Aye, fitever, yous er jist jealous, ken." The accent, broad as it is when speaking to Angus, drops considerably to something more neutrally Scottish when he looks over to Variel, grinning. "She's scrubs up all right, eh? I reckon I can just about stand to have her on my arm for the night, without risking my reputation too much."

Lucretia cups one hand around her co-conspirator's ear and murmurs very quietly. "Its all set. Alphard is going to kill me!" Her voice then lowers further and something else is said in a whisper. "I managed to get all the guest room beds dusted with itching powder."

Angus dodges sideways out of the ear-clip, and almost bangs heads with Lucretia in the process. "Aye. Yehs have fun, Duggie, ken? Ah'll be nice and quiet and nae butther with Black here, ken?"

Medusa eyes Lucretia suspiciously then laughs a little and leans over to whisper to her, all the while keeping her eyes on Douglas and his brother.

Variel catches Elizabeth's demeanor shift, and leans in to murmur quietly, his hand on her shoulder.

Lucretia turns an interesting shade of pink when Medusa whispers something to her. "Oh. That's a really good idea. Thank you." And armed with that particular piece of information, she immediately turns and relays it to Angus.

Elizabeth chuckles softly to herself, enjoying the moment. Brothers playfully teasing one another, whispers exchanging, and the excitement of a party in the air. It was moments like this she reflected upon, truly enjoyed. And it felt as if there was true acceptance and comradery. Douglas says the bit about managing to handle Medusa on his arm for the night. She playfully lifts a brow at Medusa, her smile growing, "You going to let him talk about you like that?" It was all in fun after all.
The smile on her lips pauses as Variel leans in to whisper in her ear, a faint frown emerging before she turns to whispers back to him. Then, rather boldly, Elizabeth kisses his cheek, before her attention refocuses on her mug.

Angus turns to look at Lucretia, and just nods, slightly, and a crocodile, or possibly wolverine grin starts to spread across his face. "WICKED!"

"Yiv couldnae be quiet gin yer life dependit oan it, Angus," Douglas opines, rolling his eyes. "Jist dinnae cause too much ae a bother, dinnae get too pished, an' mind an' leave the door on the snib fan yiv get in so as I can get back in wioot waking ivryone." He stretches out an arm, almost casually, to settle on Medusa's backside, pinching lightly. "You'll do. Get your coat, love, you've pulled."

Variel says, "I'd certainly say so, McMillan. You watch, though, if she keeps whispering amongst the youngsters, you might have to fear for your reputation yet!" It's preposterous and clearly meant in fun. At Elizabeth's kiss, his freckles fade a bit as his color rises. He grins, though. "Which reminds me, McMillan, I don't think I'll be taking you up on that offer we talked about after all. Seems it won't be necessary.""

Lucretia doesn't quite know where to look, definitely not at Medusa's rear as Douglas pinches it. There's a glance to the ceiling and a glance to the left. Unfortunately, glancing to the left means that she just catches the tail end of Elizabeth's kiss to Variel, and she blows out a breath, the sound just whistling through her teeth.

"He's allowed to talk to me however he likes," comes Medusa's laughing response to Elizabeth. Jumping a little she lightly elbows Douglas. "Cheeky sod." Even so she slips an arm around his waist. "Is there anything more manly than the sight of a Scot in a kilt?" The rhetorical question is left out there because she is soon eyeing up Angus, "You're a bit scrawny still but you have promise if you'll end up looking anything like Douglas."

Angus explains to Medusa, "Aye, well, Duggie's the one that stopped too many bludgers wi his face. Ah'm the gud lookin' one, aye? Jist yehs wait and see."

Douglas nods solemnly in agreement with Angus. "Aye, I stopped bludgers. He's just naturally ugly." And then he grins over towards Variel, giving a thumbs up. "Glad to hear it, wee man. Good on you."

Holding her hot chocolate mug between both hands, Elizabeth lifts a slender brow at Variel, curious. "What isn't necessary?" she asks lightly. Again, curious but not prodding for an answer. It's Medusa that pulls her gaze next and with her reply comes a growing, beaming smile that so rarely graces her otherwise gentle expression. "Considering it's common knowledge what is underneath kilts, perhaps not, no." She agrees. Who's cheeky now?

"They wear bloomers under them," Lucretia says. "Angus told me so when we were speaking of him giving the quidditch fans an eyeful next time he rides his broom in one." And that might be stretching the truth a little, or it might be the absolute truth. Hard to tell with Lucretia, especially when the smallest of giggles follows such a statement.

Angus looks puzzled, "Ah didnae! Ah telt yehs that Ah wasnae tellin'!" He sounds offended.

Lucretia chokes into her butterbeer.

Douglas grins, arm sliding around Medusa's waist. "I think you'll find," he informs them all solemnly, "that nothing is worn beneath the kilt. Everything's in fine working order."

Lucinda steps into the Leaky Cauldron with a bag slung over one shoulder. It looks a bit heavy but it's impossible to tell what weighs down the sack-parcel. She moves smoothly enough still, her graceful steps not entirely choked by the weight of her burden. Slow going over to a table where she sets the bag down. There it sits atop the surface of the table. She stretched, reaching up to lift off her black fuzzy ear muffs. Next, her pliable dragonscale gloves are shed. Then shifts inside the large, interestingly color cloak, shrugging it first from one shoulder and then the other. As it's removed the iridescent shimmer that made it so arresting when it's worn fades, dying and turning the cloak an unpleasent shade of chartruese. Before she takes a seat she peers into the sack-parcel, reaching in up to the elbow and sorting things about unseen.

The blonde girl's mouth quirks with repressed mirth as she enquires of Douglas, "Is anything - drat, I was going to say it." Medusa laughs, clearly having heard it before. She looks down at Angus and shakes her head, bemused by the boy and his banter with Lucretia. Turning her head towards Elizabeth she says, "He speaks the truth. /Fine/ working order." Coughing as she somewhat embarasses herself she tucks her head against Douglas' shoulder. "How's your snake, Variel?"

Variel says, "Don't answer that," in response to Medusa's question. He lets a beat pass then exclaims, "Oh, you meant Clever!! Dear me, all that talk of kilts and-" He laughs cheerfully. "He's fine. Still working out what he is. Venomous constrictors… someone oughtta know something about them." Variel said that to Elizabeth, clearly.

Medusa is the one that brought up kilts, Elizabeth is more than amused by the topic as it's released into the wild. She may have not been embarrassed just a moment before, but the exchange between Medusa and Douglas does encourage a flush in her cheeks, further deepening when the older girl asks about Variel's snake. Merlin's beard she hopes to that she's talking about Clever… Variel's immediate reply? It turns Elizabeth completely cherry red. Even if she wanted to answer, she couldn't. Her voice is gone.

Variel grins in triumph at striking Elizabeth speechless. His eyes are nearly on fire with sheer mischief.

Douglas nudges Medusa with his hip. "Right, then, fattie. Are we out of here, then, or is there some kind of Malfoy tradition of being fashionably late we need to attend to?"

Cinda offers an indifferent sidelong glance at the cluster of folks chattering happily nearby. Her somber expression looks on the border of jealous or just plain annoyed- it's hard to glean. Overall she was known to be dour, emotionless lady-cur of a girl. So it's no wonder she often wasn't greeted by fellow students with rounds of hello and how d'ya do! Instead her attention remains transfixed inside her bag… then she snaps it shut standing rather suddenly. If anyone looks her way with the abrupt motion she simply covers the sack-parcel with her cloak. Looking away, looking anywhere but the face of the others. She adds her ear muffs to the pile. A nervous glance to the bar then back to the heap on the table. With hesitation she walks away to go order a butterbeer from the bar. There is no movement from the cloak where it was left.

Lucretia spots Lucinda, another fellow Slytherin. Its surprising that she does, really, given the chat, innuendo and everything else that's centered on the table she's currently occupying. Should the girl look their way, she'll raise a friendly hand to her and offer a smile. "Lucinda Slughorn," she notes to Angus, like its something he should know, her attention ratcheting quickly Douglas' direction thereafter. "Oh. Will you tell Alphard I said hello? I'd hate him to think I wasn't thinking of him on his big night."

"I do like Clever. Hopefully he will live up to his name someday." Medusa's attention is drawn back to Douglas. "Oh! Yes we should go. I'm supposed to be there to offer Andromena moral support." She nods absently towards Lucretia, having thought the girl was speaking to her. Pulling her fur coat up over her shoulders more securely Medusa informs Douglas, "I'm ready whenever you are." She tucks her hand into his.

Angus is like a smaller, cuter, nicer version of Douglas. He nods to the older Slytherin, "Hey hen! Yus gonnae come sit with us, aye?" And he casts an eye to the olders, as though, oddly enough, waiting for them to leave. Yes. Something like.

"Nae bother, quine, will do," Douglas informs Lucretia with an amiable nod, then turns to guide Medusa out of the door with him and off to… wherever the damn party is.

Lucinda catches the call from the younger Black girl and returns with her own pursed smile in passing. "Evening, Lucretia." Is hailed in a dry rapport. Then she turns from the bar, heading back in the direction of her bag once it jumps… "Oooh." Is added and she scoops up the bag and scurries from the Cauldron.

Variel says, "Is it time, then?" He sighs dramatically and gets to his feet raising his glass. "I leave you now, friends and countrymen, but do not mour- hey! They left without me!" Whatever Variel was going to say, he downs the last of his drink instead and leans down to hug Elizabeth. Lucretia, he rests his hand on her shoulder a moment with a meaningful smile, and then he's taking off at a rapid pace. "Fo try not to get TOO murdered, Black, we still have that tea!""
Lucinda gives you a cookie.

Elizabeth coughs once as she tries to gather herself, thankful that the attention hadn't remained on her. Her skin still shown a bright red. "You," she murmurs quietly to Variel beside her. "Are incorrigible." Though the next moment he's standing and giving her a swift hug for his departure. A flicker of something in her eyes. "Visit me later?" she asks softer, a little hopeful.

Angus asides to Lucretia, "Is it only us who arenae infected wi' thus smoochin' disease, Quine?"

"I think so. Perhaps its something that strikes when you turn fourteen." Lucretia tips her glass over on the table, signifying that its empty and slouches back into her seat a little, the small interlude between Variel and Elizabeth not having escaped her attention, though it draws no comment either. She nudges Angus with her elbow. "That floo powder. Did you say you had some actually with you?"

Angus digs into his pocket, and produces a small bag, "Aye. A wee bit more than we need tae git home."

"Or on the edge of fifteen." But Elizabeth isn't about to mention when her birthday is. Just soon enough for note. Nor can she assure the younger students that it's not as bad as they might think. She smiles lightly. "It'll probably get worse the closer it comes to February 14th." The empty mug is gently set on the table.

Lucretia gives a small, almost indiscernible shrug of her shoulders. "So long as its enough," she says to Angus, twisting fingers together on the top of the table. "And if anyone sends me a valentine they'll be wasting their time. I see no use for them at all. I'd much rather be sent something interesting."

Angus gets a little wicked smile. Uh oh. Something Lucretia or Elizabeth said just gave MacMillan Minor an idea. A plan. Or possibly a Jape or Prank. This can bode ill for practically everyone.

Elizabeth smiles gently, glancing to Angus, "Remember that, okay? 'Something interesting' for Valentines." His suddenly wicked expression earns a blink from the older girl, her pale gaze watching him a pause. Just what was he thinking about now?

Lucretia gives a sudden yawn. It is, perhaps, a little fake. "I'm so terribly tired. I think I may return home and get an early night." A small stretch is given her arms and a meaningful look is given Angus' way as she gets to her feet before she turns to address Elizabeth. "Pleasant as the company is, I'm afraid that I should go. I'll see you around at school. Maybe. Or perhaps definitely since we have a mutal friend in Weasley."

Angus stands, as if on cue, and clears his throat, "London is a dangerous toon, Miss Black. Will ye no have an escort?"

Elizabeth watches the younger girl thoughtfully, dipping her chin with a small nod as the third years excuse themselves. "Alright then." she's about to excuse herself anyways, pushing herself to her feet. "If it's of any consequence, I think you should be at that party too, Black." She's the one that seemed to look forward to it the most after all. Even if she isn't invited.

Lucretia clasps her hands behind her back, acting her part to perfection. "Thank you, MacMillan. That is so… gentlemanly of you." And then she has to unclasp her hands again because you can't pick up your cloak if your hands aren't to hand after all. She retrieves it, slings it about her shoulders and gives a small nod to Elizabeth's remark. "6th years and upwards only," she says, then turns to Angus. "Shall we?"

Angus gives a grin, "Aye. Lets. Miss Dweedle." Elizabeth gets a nod. And qualifies for an honourific, even, from the younger boy. And then he ooooh so formally offers Lucretia his arm, "Shell we?"

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