Upon arriving back in Britain after escaping the Santa Antonia shipwreck, Raphael had considered not attending the Minister's Masquerade. After all, it wasn't like the season was something he participated in out of necessity; he was not some doe-eyed debutante needing to make an impression in order to lure a man into proposing, nor was he some forty-something bachelor in desperate need of a wife. It was only the ball's premise, and the prominence of the couple hosting, that had swayed him into attending in the end.

The night was still young, at least by his standards—(he has always been one to stay up until the early hours of the morning)—and although the sun had set outside the inside of the ballroom was bright and alive. The bright colors of the ladies' dresses were a refreshing change to the bleak colors of the sea, and finally he felt back in his element. The oriental theme provided a bit amusement, and he'd excused himself from the dancefloor with the excuse of wishing to see the Chinese acrobats, but there was no ignoring the growing ache in his shoulder.

After arriving home, he'd been attended to by his father's most trusted healer, and for two days he'd been banned from leaving the family home in London. His father feared the damage done would be lasting—and the last thing Roderick Malfoy wanted was a cripple for a son. Fortunately any discomfort would soon be obscured, as the lights began to dim and the ball transitioned into its next scene: the night sky.

His lapel pin suddenly lit up, illuminating him and everything within two feet of him, and he took it as a cue to begin his circle back around the dancefloor. He could see the other dancers, but there were parts of the room that remained pitch black—empty, void. He briefly contemplated disappearing into it, lurking like a shadow for no one to see. It would be all too easy to let his lapel pin fall to the floor... but he shouldn't. He knew that. Besides, it would take away all potential of socializing for the next who-knows-how-long time.

But in the dark he caught sight of a lone woman, and he would not have thought anything of it had she not suddenly disappeared into the dark. Curiosity got the best of him. Lapel pin still attached to his coat, he moved towards her, aware that she might be able to see him if she turned in his direction—but as he reached her, the light of his pin illuminating her in the darkness, it was clear her focus had been elsewhere.

"Careful, now," he said smoothly, the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement, "Someone might think you're up to something."

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