25th January, 1895 — Hogsmeade Memorial Ballroom, Public Ball

Under normal circumstances Harriet would not have been a regular attendee at a ball that was open to all and sundry but she was far, far too bored to remain at home a moment longer. It had been a tedious winter, and she was on the prowl for something to inspire her again. When one was a mother of married children it was surely beholden on the unmarried ones to cause trouble so she could fix it for them but Freddie had been all but silent and she had given up on Felix deciding to wed. He seemed happy enough living with dear, young Reggie anyway.

Sipping at her second glass of champagne she stalked slowly around the edges of the room, making idle conversation with people she knew and gracing those that knew her with a courteous greeting, but her eyes were drawn back to the dancefloor time and time again. She hardly ever got to dance anymore. Oh, one of her sons or her nephew would offer her their arm once in a blue moon but she could hardly blame them for preferring a younger partner. In fact she quite concurred with the opinion.

A commotion amongst the guests caught her attention a moment too late. Had her thoughts not been on the excellent jawline of a gentleman she was passing she might have noticed in time, but as it was she was too late to get out of the way of the drunken buffoon that crashed into the refreshment table; he took the whole thing to the ground with him, which was entirely suitable punishment for his behaviour, but had the unfortunate side effect of tripping Harriet and the man next to her whose fall she quite graciously cushioned.

His jawline was nice though.

"Well, hello there," she said lightly.

  

"Oh well, I thank you, Mrs. Prewett," said Victor Frey, who had been narrowly prevented from falling to the ground in a very undignified manner. With a light sway, he held out his hand upon getting up to help his benefactress back into the upright.
He was certainly not as drunk as the fellow who just toppled over the refreshment table, but he was in his wine glasses, as was his habit. His valet had chosen an excellent suit for him today, and he looked with some amount of worry to see if any wine had gotten on his crisp sleeves. Thankfully, no red stains were blooming anywhere he could see them.
"Ridiculous," he said with a sneer and gestured to the man who tried to stand up and got caught in the tablecloth. It was really awfully nice that Mrs. Prewett had prevented him from a ruined night.
"Can I bother you for a dance, Mrs. Prewett?"
Ladies, in Victor's mind, loved to dance. Would this one like to dance? He would find out.

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   Beatrix Burke

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Miraculously she did not think there was too much out of place, aside from her dignity, but in accordance with said dignity the rest of the room was ignoring that anything had happened at all. The man was ushered away without too much fanfare and a quick wave of a wand from a footman restored the table to its former glory. If only he could do the same for her.

“Why, I doubt you could ever bother me, Mr Frey,” she replied, defiantly not looking around at a group of ladies nearby who were, even now she guessed, preparing to be appalled at a woman her age taking to the floor. Fortunately she had never cared to listen to gossip; only to lead it.

“Lead the way,” she said with a smile, holding out her hand.