Dunstan felt the young girl's presence before he saw her — and even as she lingered in his peripheral vision, he didn't turn to acknowledge her. For quite like the girl herself, Dun was feeling lost and didn't know what to say. It was unfortunate that this key thing they had in common couldn't merely result in a comfortable silence; she was an invited guest, and he was the son of the groom. They had to socialise.

And so he turned gracefully to regard her, still holding his empty glass. This was Miss Goshawk, a very pretty Slytherin. She was not in his year, but she couldn't have been much older than him. In fact, given that the young half-vampire had been forced back a year, there was even some chance he was older than her. A vaguely interesting but dull possibility that just reminded him of how the school had treated his kind.

"It's quite something, isn't it", he managed, gesturing towards the painting of the ocean at which he'd been staring. "My sister Acacia painted it."