December 22nd, 1888 - Yule Ball, Hogwarts
Elliot Carmichael

If the Coming Out Ball wasn't enough for him, this year they had to go and host a Yule Ball on top of it. Mason was not built to be a chaperon at parties like this. Sure, he could teach and keep an eye on kids on Hogsmeade visits, but when he was among what would typically be considered "suitors" for his young, female students, he would like to nope right out of that. And fast.

Too bad that wasn't an option tonight.

Fortunately the Headmaster looked about as pleased about this as Mason did. That made him feel marginally better about having to stand around and assure everybody he was just here as a chaperon and not for any other reason. Because he most certainly was not considering any of his students as potential wife material. Not a snowflake's chance in hell.

"There is not an appropriate amount of whiskey for this shit," He muttered under his breath, though so Elliot could hear him. The pair stood near the entryway, making sure nobody was sneaking off where they shouldn't be. Still he had a shallow  measure of whiskey in hand, mostly for something to do with his hands and because he could use a little something to keep him off the edge. Not drinking was not an option, because he needed booze to get through this, but he also couldn't have too much because he liked his job. It was a fine line he was treading and he really would rather do it anywhere but here.

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   Cassius Lestrange

To say that Elliot would prefer to not be here was an understatement. In the staff office, when it first came up among professors sans administration, his verbatim response was: "I'd rather die." But apparently protesting wasn't an option - Headmaster Black had been extremely clear in meetings - and he would not actually rather die. (Or be fired.) So he was here. He felt like he was being observed, like he was on display -and he wasn't completely wrong, in that there was a clear division between 'professors' and 'normals.' The normals, after all, had chosen to be here. Elliot and Mason had no escape.

But maybe the whiskey was making him more dramatic than necessary, although he had not drank much of it.

"If one more student tries to dance with me, I'm out," Elliot said. It was an empty threat, because he could say no to a dance but would rather not say no to continued employment. But it was how he felt about this debacle in his heart.

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avs by Bee!

Well, at least Mason was in good company, even if they were both miserable. Elliot was right though, Mason found it incredibly odd that there were actually students who asked them to dance, talk about awkward. He had to wonder, not that he would actually ever ask and Mason actually prided himself on staying out of the social buzz, if there older students harboring crushes on some of the professors. No, he didn't really want to know. The curiosity flitted away as soon as it popped in and he was fine with that.

"Honestly though, why do they think that's even a good idea?" He said over his glass, watching some of them surrounding a pair of eligible bachelors. "I don't think I could even take them seriously if they were ever my student." Mason had a strict, no-former-student policy in his personal life. It served him well so far. The last thing he needed was rumors flying about that anything inappropriate had happened with a student while at school. He'd have to quit and he really liked his job.

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"A lot of them haven't been raised to want to be taken seriously," Elliot said gently. It was as close to subversive as he would get at work - and, honestly, he stood by it. A significant chunk of the wealthier girls - and the very wealthy boys - at Hogwarts were only at school to prove some level of magical proficiency before they got married and devoted their lives to making money through 'having money.'

Elliot thought of Meri. He could take her seriously, he thought, given the chance. The question was whether she would ever take him seriously.

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avs by Bee!

Elliot wasn't wrong. And Mason was glad for that, he supposed. Any of the wealthier girls weren't looking at him anyway. He certainly wasn't the sort and he was perfectly fine with that. Even the nice middle class girls had their sights set higher, if they were any kind of smart. It put him a little more at ease, to say the least. He could relax enough to enjoy his drink.

"Isn't that kind of sad, in a way?" No greater ambition, the ease of what their family money could afford them. It wasn't true of all of them, he knew, but on the whole, this generation of the upper class was certainly not lacking in opportunity, but more so the drive to do anything with it.

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"There's parts of it I don't think are sustainable," Elliot said, and never mind that he was wealthy, he was also Welsh, there was a little bit of a cynical edge to the way he looked at this whole English system. Eventually, the British spirit around conquering the world would stop resulting in buckets of money - and then what? Or there would be something else - labor unrest, push for women's rights, whatever. Something was going to topple. Maybe not soon, but eventually.

"So it'll change. Sooner or later."

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avs by Bee!

Taking a sip of his drink, Mason nodded carefully so as not to spill; it was certainly something he was easily capable of. "Sooner or later," He agreed, raising his near-empty glass in cheers. Now he'd either have to refill it, which would probably look bad, or make a move to the exit. Worse yet, he could mingle. "How early do you think we can make a reasonable escape?" The following laugh was wry as he wasn't kidding in the slightest.

In fact, he saw a gaggle of debutantes giggling and looking in their direction, whispers behind fans a clear bad sign of what could potentially happen within the next few moments. "We've been spotted." He added, not without a hint of desperation to his voice.

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"Not soon enough," said Elliot, with all the misery the statement befit. He loved his career, being a professor was it for him, but this sort of thing was just - unfortunate. Maybe it would be better if he ever got married and people would stop trying to make knowing eye contact with him, but then he'd have to - find someone he could marry.

And then - there it was. The knowing eye contact. The giggles.

"Oh, I wish for death," Elliot muttered. "Quick, spill your drink on me, we'll sidle to the gentlemen's room."

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avs by Bee!

Elliot's request of spilling the drink had Mason laughing so hard it was with zero effort that he exaggerated a little and spilled the remnants of his glass into his mate's trousers.

Still laughing Mason glanced at the ladies who had been eyeing them, the mild looks of horror on their faces and Mason had to wonder if they thought the pair were drunk; then again, Mason would rather be considered under the influence than under the scope of consideration. With his shoulder he nudged Elliot toward the exit and muttered a, "Brilliant plan." Under his breath, still laughing slightly.

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