April 23rd, 1891 — Minister's Masque

April had been a bit of a hectic month, to say the least. Things were in motion in just about every area of his life. He'd been juggling increased responsibilities at work in the wake of the Santa Antonina crash and the resulting shake-up of Ministry personnel. He had been continuing to deal with the dementor he'd unexpectedly inherited from Cash Lestrange earlier that month. He'd had Grace's debut to plan, which had been occupying at least half of every waking thought since the first week of the month — it was so much to schedule, so much to consider, and so much to pay for, but he'd managed it and now they just had the night itself to survive. There was the ongoing stress with Noble, less present now than it had been last month but still lurking in the back of his mind on occasion, preventing him from sharing things with his brother in the way he'd been used to doing. And, lastly, there was Dorian Fisk, and Dorian Fisk's scarf, and — Ford just didn't know what to do about that, but he felt guilty every time he saw it sitting on his desk in his bedroom.

After all of that, he'd been looking forward to this party more than he would have guessed. The idea of just getting to go and exist somewhere for a while, and not have to think about dementors or debut bouquets or argumentative ghosts or string quartets or scarves, was nice. He'd have to supervise Verity and Grace for pieces of the night, of course, and he'd have to supervise Mama to ensure she didn't get herself or anyone else into too much trouble, but he felt like the stakes were a little lower tonight. It was a masquerade, so it wasn't the end of the world if Mama said something rude or Grace tripped over her hem, because maybe no one would notice or recognize them. Even Ford could blend into the background for a moment, if he wanted to... or so he'd thought, anyway, until Mama had presented him with a yellow-and-orange masquerade mask. He would have been happier in a simple black mask, but at least this one wasn't terribly ornate (and therefore, he hoped, not terribly expensive). It was meant to be the sun, according to Mama. Ford hadn't bothered to look that closely at it before rolling his eyes and slipping it on, and now that they'd arrived and it was fixed to his face he supposed he'd never know what it looked like.

Ford had stayed close to his family for the first hour of the ball, watching his sisters go out for dances and trying to keep Mama out of trouble, but by the time the scenery changed to something vaguely desert-themed he'd decided to wander off in search of refreshments. He'd finally found one of the wandering waiters and reached for the glass — the last on the tray — only to realize that another guest had been reaching for it at the same time. He'd beaten her to the glass, but offered to her as soon as he realized. "Sorry," he said with a quick smile. "Didn't mean to steal your drink."

Penelope Fawcett Melody Crouch

  

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Cassandra's near death epiphany to see at least one of her two children marry was a great inconvenience for Penny, as she had decided years ago she both wasn't designed for the season or desirous of a husband. She preferred the flexibility of being a spinster with the exception of the judgmental looks, of course. But, even the looks were better than being forced into a too-tight ball gown and dragged to the minister's masquerade. Truthfully, Penny would have even accepted being shipwrecked in its stead, too.

Her blue feathered mask was designed to resemble a butterfly, she thought, and was so mind numbingly cliche that Penny thought her mother was more wanting to see her daughter laughed at than married off. Still, she couldn't find her way towards any hidden escapes. Not with Cassandra lurking only feet behind her at most times. It was with this in mind that she forewent the dance floor to the strange balcony above in favor of refreshments, and, if she was lucky, Nemo.

The champagne glass was almost in her fingers when someone — Mr. Greengrass she recognized instantly — swiped it instead. "It's alright," she chuckled and accepted the glass with a grateful nod of her head. It'd been some years since they last saw one another, their graduation most likely, and she wasn't sure if he recognized her as readily as she did him to greet him with any familiarity. "I'm sure another tray will pass by shortly, they seem to be in abundance this evening."

  

There was something familiar about her, but behind the mask he wasn't sure he could place her right away. Not someone he knew from the Ministry, he didn't think, but somewhere else. Not that it made a great deal of difference. Ford would have spoken kindly to anyone, and unless she was Begonia Belby there was no particular reason to take any notice of her. At this point, anyway — all of the invitations for Grace's coming out had already been issued, so if she was the sort of Society Type that ought to have been invited and they'd accidentally snubbed her, it was too late to correct the mistake.

"I'm sure it will," he agreed with a good-natured shrug. "It wouldn't be a ball at all if there wasn't enough champagne for someone to get drunk and make themselves look foolish," he joked lightly.

  

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"Certainly would not," she laughed lightly. Penny had made a fool of herself when she first debuted and decided to never get that drunk again. Then, she had foolishly overindulged in Paris with Nemo and nearly destroyed their entire relationship. Champagne, or wine in the case of Paris, were rarely her friend.

She sipped at her glass, relishing in the taste as it could be her only one for the next hour or two. If she were to find Nemo then she ought to not indulge at all. "Have you spotted any such fools yet?" Penny then asked, taking another sip as she did.

  

Ford laughed at her question. They were only an hour into the party, or a little farther. "It's a little early for that, Miss," he pointed out. He might have said her name, if he knew it, but she was still hovering in that area of nagging familiarity; he was sure he knew her but still couldn't place her. He could have called her Miss Butterfly or something, he supposed, based on the mask she was wearing, but that seemed a little too silly. He didn't want to invite any commentary on his own mask, since he was sure it probably looked far more ridiculous than hers. Besides, using silly pet names was the sort of thing men did when they were trying to flirt with women, and after the Begonia Belby debacle the last thing Ford wanted to do was give anyone the impression he was trying to flirt with women.

"Hopefully they've thought about the eventuality, though," he continued, with a glance over the edge of the walkway towards the dance floor below. "That would be quite an unpleasant fall for someone who couldn't walk a straight line. Not to mention the poor dancers who happened to be below them at the time." Surely they had planned for something like that, though. It would have been easy to do with magic, putting some sort of safety barrier in, and the Minister had obviously spared no expense on the rest of this fete.

He probably ought to have just left off there, but a thought occurred to him suddenly and before he'd had a chance to think better of it he found himself asking her, "Want to test it?"

  

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An hour was plenty of time to get drunk, though perhaps too early for any drunkards to completely embarrass themselves. She lowered the glass from near her face in a hopeful attempt to keep from sipping it too quickly. Parties like these always set her skin on edge.

She thought to make some comment about the barrier when he suggested testing it. Her brows raised beneath her mask at the prospect as she looked from him to the nearest end of the balcony. "With a small piece of fruit, maybe," she said conspiratorially. Obviously, neither of them could risk throwing themselves off the balcony onto the dancers below. They could pelt someone with small pieces of fruit, though. And they could always feign drunkenness if they were caught. "Or some nuts? I'd suggest pebbles but those won't be easy to find here."

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Ford grinned; she'd caught on to his meaning at once, which was good, because he'd realized as he said it that if he needed to explain himself he would have been at a bit of a loss. "That might do," he said, glancing towards the edges of the ballroom to see if there were free standing refreshment tables. If he had to hunt down a waiter for it, Ford might lose his nerve and decide against it. He was fairly certain nothing would happen, because he thought there would be a barrier of some kind, but he had to be prepared for the eventuality that he might just smack someone in the head with a piece of fruit, which wasn't exactly model ballroom behavior.

If he got caught doing this, Mama was going to regret not just letting him wear a plain black mask, he bet.

"I was hoping we might have something already that would work," he continued, putting his hands in his pockets although he knew they were empty. "Although if we used one of your earrings that might incriminate you if it hit the Minister's wife in the eye, or something," he said with a chuckle.

  

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Her earrings might have been a suitable option if either of them were certain there was a barrier in place. The small diamond stud would bounce right back into their hands and the theory would be confirmed. However, after the bludger incident at the World Cup, Penny had little faith that any barrier would be in place. Clearly, barriers in general were a low priority for the organizers of large events, a deadly overlooked fact.

She felt the hidden pockets of her dress for anything they might use but came up empty. "A feather wouldn't have enough weight to it to be a worthwhile test subject," Penny explained as she prodded her mask for anything that might be pried off to use. The feather was the only such thing, but again they could hardly toss it far enough to remain inconspicuous. "Have you a pocket watch? They're easy enough to disassemble, we can use the chain of it even."

  

Ford did have a pocket watch, but he was reluctant to admit it. His hand moved to pat his suit just over the inside pocket where he'd stored it for the evening as he mulled over what to say to that. A chain wasn't the worst thing to lose or to replace, and it might not be lost anyway, but he didn't want to incurr any unnecessary expense with his stupid party games. That, and if the chain didn't match it would make it harder to pawn later, if it came down to it. He was hoping it never would, but he couldn't discount the possibility.

"Best not," he decided. "It's a family heirloom. Mama would lose her mind if she knew I'd taken it apart to assault partygoers," he joked with a slightly apologetic shrug. "I think your suggestion with the nuts might have been our best bet so far. Shall we corner one of the waiters?"

  

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The nuts were their best option, and she was glad he had finally come around to agreeing to it. Neither of them ought to potentially lose a valuable object just for the sake of science. "My mother would agree with yours, I'd wager." She said with a short laugh. Cassandra Fawcett was stern when she thought to be, something Penny more laughed at than respected at this point.

She looked about the room and spotted an open refreshments table a short while away from them. "That table might have some nuts. Shall we move there?"

  

Ford hadn't seen the standing table, but was glad that she had. "That's much better than a waiter," he said agreeably, heading towards it. They'd only need one or two to test it, maybe more if they wanted to try and figure out what sort of spell it was or how it worked. It would have been a little awkward to explain to the waiter why they wanted two or three servings, depending on how they were being dished out. He approached the table, spotted what they were looking for, and glanced around quickly to make sure no one was watching before he pocketed a handful of them.

"Alright, got it," he said, moving back towards the railing. Pulling one out, he offered it to her. "You first. I'll keep a lookout," he joked lightly.

  

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After abandoning her barely sipped on glass, Penny moved to the railing to observe the dancers below while he obtained the nuts. Without knowing whether or not there was a barrier she was hesitant to get too close. Though, watching the dancers below was also a tempting idea. Penny had never had the opportunity to watch dancers from this angle but what she could see was mesmerizing with the swirling colors of the women's dresses.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of being caught," she teased. A small nut wouldn't hurt anyone too much, so being caught wouldn't be the worst thing to happen to them. Still, she took the offered nut and threw it towards the open air, watching with rapt attention to see if it returned.

  

"I'm not afraid," he protested lightly, though the idea of getting found out doing something so silly wasn't exactly appealing, either. And this was a Ministry party, sort of, so he knew all of his coworkers and his boss and his boss were here somewhere, and he really couldn't afford to get into any trouble at work. He'd been considering trying to press his boss for a raise, after having taken on more than his fair share of the workload that month (and after learning how to conjure a patronus, even if it was noncorporeal), and that conversation wasn't going to go half as well if a week prior his boss had caught him pelting dancers with nuts from a balcony.

The nut she'd tossed sailed out in a wide arc, then fell down unhindered to the dance floor below. It bounced off the uncovered head of a middle-aged gentleman, and Ford's hand shot to his mouth to stifle a chuckle at the immediate red mark he could see through the man's thinning hair.

"Oh, no," he said, through light laughter. "We're going to be in trouble now. Quick, before he starts looking for us," Ford said, angling his body towards her and taking a small step in, as though they were deeply engaged in conversation. "Look this way and pretend I said something funny."

  

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The nut hadn't stopped its descent, leaving Penny immensely grateful they hadn't tried her earring or his pocket watch. A summoning charm might have worked, but there was also a chance it wouldn't have or, worse, that the charm would have summoned everyone's earrings and pocket watches. Nuts were a decidedly good choice, even if they did have the misfortune of bouncing off an unsuspecting man's head.

The giggle he instructed she mimic was genuine. What a foolish decision they'd made, throwing food off the balcony. "You were nervous to try it at the minimum," she continued her joke. "Do you think we should warn someone? A drunkard might go overboard later if they're not careful."

  

Ford grinned and shook his head. "If we warned someone we'd have to tell them how we knew," he pointed out. He was still hoping not to get caught, so the last thing he wanted to do was confess to what they'd been up to over here. "And I think you threw it too far out to be sure," he added, glancing over the rail briefly. "There might be a spell that's just right here on the edge. I'll try it in a minute," he offered, partly to prove that he hadn't been scared to do it before. They needed to take a second, though, because the fellow she'd hit was still trying to figure out what had happened and he was looking in their direction.

"When the coast is clear again," he said, turning his attention back to her. They needed to seem as though they were far too engaged with each other to be up to any mischief, and while her laughter had helped he wasn't sure they'd sold it yet. "I'm going to put my hand on your elbow just for a second," he warned her before leaning in slightly. So we look like we're flirting, he thought, though he hadn't realized that was what he was doing until after he'd already started it. Oof — hopefully this didn't end up in Witch Weekly. Maybe the masks would keep them safe.

  

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