Slug Club [December Meeting]

[Emmeline Vance]

People were already starting to arrive as well--this was one party where she wasn't obsessed with the perfectly fashionably late timing, and she could spot Slytherin after Slytherin with the couple of exceptions like Imogen there, and Benjamin Burke as well. Not that she could particularly go up to either of them for a chat, as, really, she wasn't exactly friends with any of them. Not that much. Especially not to Imogen after that weird...what had that been, when she'd all but cornered her about not eating breakfast or something? Really? She shook herself. She'd probably just wait for Rita to arrive and... catch her before she frolicked away to talk to somebody else. Besides, she hadn't spoken to her since that awesome sleepover all those days ago, and she figured her friend definitely needed an update. Emme was about to turn to grab a drink of some sort, when a loud voice behind her called her name, and she turned, eyebrows raised somewhat expectantly, to fall upon Fehlandt Zabini. The immediate smile on her face was more of a clue than anything else as to the fact that he may have just been the only Slytherin at Hogwarts she could actually stand. Not stand, she corrected herself, as she turned to go over to him, and the chair he'd pulled out for her. She liked him, genuinely. He was fun, and loud, and just... a nice person. "Hello," she greeted him with a warm smile, taking the seat next to him and folding her legs to the side neatly, not wanting her dress to get wrinkled or anything. "How have you been?

[/color]" From the way her head was turned to face Fehlandt, she didn't notice Gracie come running up and--she'd almost forgotten about her!--she snapped her head up immediately, smiling at her younger friend. "Hi! You look so pretty![/color]" she exclaimed, turning to nod towards Fehlandt. "Grace, this is Fehlandt. He's in sixth year.[/color]" Emme had almost forgotten how much she loved introducing people to each other. Being the only common ground was something special. Opening her mouth to say something else to get the conversation flowing--she was not about to pass up an opportunity to have something to do instead of tempt herself into eating something she'd regret later, Emme froze at the sight of a recently familiar light brown head of hair and closed her mouth again. Aiden Neeson nodded his head at her and gave her a smile so much like Luke's that it startled her for a moment, and she blinked before returning the smile a little hesitantly. She hadn't expected to interact with him tonight. Not after the conversation with Luke in class the other day, and what if he asked her about that? She wasn't sure what she'd say. Taking a deep breath, Emme turned back to her friends. "So, Feh. Who're you going to the ball with?[/color]" she asked him politely, crossing her fingers that at least he'd have some sense to take somebody worthy and not some pureblood princess. Speaking of which. That other girl with the advice column in the Herlad came up to them, saying something about diversity, and Emme couldn't even be bothered to listen. She barely managed a forced smile before turning her face politely, rolling her eyes at Gracie behind Aceline's back. This was the kind of people she didn't want to meet tonight.[/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[Fehlandt Zabini]

Fehlandt smiled widely when Emmeline joined him at the table. "I have been brilliant, Lovely,"

[/color] he said, draping his arms over the back of her chair. "You look gorgeous,"[/color] he told her earnestly. Blondes were so nice to look at! And her's was such a nice shade! And curly. He brushed some of that magnificent blonde hair over her should and played with a lock of it, very much oblivious to the idea of people having personal space. And then another younger girl bounded up and Fehlandt sat up straighter in his seat. "Oh look, another one!"[/color] he exclaimed cheerily. This one had curly hair too! But her's was brown. How lovely! Fehlandt was dangerously close to clapping in appreciation. Always the gentleman, Fehlandt stood up to welcome the new pocket-sized girl with brown curls to the table. "Pleasure to meet you, Grace!"[/color] he said, leaning over to plant a kiss on her cheek before waving his arm to the chair next to Emme for Grace to take. Fehlandt sat back down again, his arm going immediately to lean against the back of Emme's chair, his fingers going back to toy with the ends of her curls again. "I'm going with one of your fellow Hufflypuffs! Vanessa,"[/color] he answered Emme. "Such a friendly girl, asked me during class! You must know her, yes? I'm taking her to get her dress this weekend from one of the designers who work for my father."[/color] Fehlandt was suddenly hit with a stroke of genius and banged his fist excitedly on the table. "WAIT! Why don't you two come along and find your dresses??"[/color] he asked with visible enthusiasm. Fehlandt loved pretty things and being surrounded by pretty things. Taking those three pretty girls to go out and pick pretty, glittering dragon hide dresses was almost overwhelmingly exciting. Aceline joined the table and drew Fehlandt's attention with her greeting. He turned to face her, his smile becoming no less friendly, but not quite as genuine. Aceline belonged to that crowd of pureblood Slytherins that Fehlandt didn't entirely appreciate. "Not hiding, Miss Perezz, just otherwise occupied,"[/color] he replied smoothly. Fehlandt had good manners -- his parents raised him well -- but he also didn't have patience for people who tried to insult him, so it was always a delicate waltz with Aceline. He raised an eyebrow slightly at what she said to Emme and her remark on "diversity". Fehlandt was very sensitive to the fact that when it came to "diversity", he and his family usually ended up on the losing end, what with most pureblood families being not only purist, but racist as well. He certainly hoped she wasn't trying to make a dig at him. "Now, now, Aceline,"[/color] he said coolly in the more reserved tone he usually saved for the Slytherin common room. "We mustn't be unkind to our fellow Slug Clubbers,"[/color] he said in the politest tone of voice he could muster.

[/blockquote]

[Daciana Gamp]

Daciana hadn’t realized it at first, but the older Slytherin boy hadn’t walked in alone – Caoimhe Moran, his girl…thing was there as well. Well, Daciana wasn’t sure what she was to Aiden exactly, but they were almost always together as far as she could tell. The red head was interesting, Daciana supposed, she didn’t know her exceptionally well but Aiden seemed to have a good time with her, to say the least. “Caoimhe,” She responded pleasantly before turning back to her friend. She rolled her eyes good-naturedly when Aiden slung his arm around her and commented on Lucius Malfoy, “Play nice, A. I’d rather him be here than some of these other sorry excuses for students,” she grumbled, unimpressed with many of Slughorn’s selections and directing her gaze to the likes of the tiny Gryffindor and only Hufflepuff in the room. “Better wolves than pesky little vermin.” It was gauche; a societal occasion where mudbloods and halflings were invited, where she was expected to be both polite (for Slughorn’s sake) and snide (for her blood status and reputation’s sake) so she could get this over with (for her sake). Still, Daciana supposed it could be a lot worse. At least the food looked appetizing. At least she wasn’t completely surrounded by insufferable braggarts and ninnies. At least she could be a bitch under her breath, and someone would appreciate it or at least find it amusing. At least Vaughn or Rivera weren’t here. Also Aiden led them to the table, she let Caoimhe sit down between the two Slytherin boys and took the seat next to Aiden that was farthest from Regulus, hoping to avoid his accusations for tonight thank-you-very-much. However, this also put her nearer to Fehlandt’s rather boisterous conversation with Vance, Marlow, and an older blonde she recognized from her own house, Aceline Perezz, who must have only really sat there for the Zambini’s company. She shifted her attention again, and sat poised in her seat surveying the rest of the room. It seemed nearly everyone had showered Slughorn with one thing or another, and Daciana silently wished the old man would break open one of those bottles of wine just for this special occasion. She ran her tongue across her top row of teeth and raised her eyebrows as Aiden seemingly ignored her earlier suggestion with the proposition of changing Malfoy’s hair color. Well, what else did she expect. She had to admit (to herself only, of course) that turning the older boy’s blonde locks blue would help liven up this place. She smirked, then, and added in a low voice, “I’ll put in 10 if someone lengthens and styles it in the same way as Narcissa’s.”

[/b][/blockquote]

[Andromeda Black]

Andromeda scrunched her curls lightly as she surveyed her reflection critically. She'd opted for simple, sheer blue dress - Ravenclaw colours - to wear to Slughorn's silly party tonight, but she wasn't sure if it was the most flattering option. Lips pressed together critically, she put her hands at her waist, scrunching the fabric in, pulling it taut to emphasis her thinnest point. Upon removing her hands, however, the fabric fell just as shapelessly as before, and she had to fight a gulp of panic. The dress was pretty, it was, and the colour complimented her nicely, but-- but-- Inspiration seized her and she let out her breath, hurrying over to her open trunk to rummage through accessories until she found a silver belt, which would match the bracelets that dangled at her wrist and also serve a much greater purpose. She looped it around her waist, pulling it through until it was at its tightest. There. That was much better. She ran a hand loosely through her curls again, and, now satisfied with her reflection, parted her hair neatly over her shoulders as she left the room. She was running a bit of a risk, really, in arriving a few minutes late, but all eyes would be upon her, which meant his eyes would naturally be upon her as well. So she hoped, at least, though it wouldn't really matter in the end. Her mouth twisted, and she pressed her lips together tightly again as she stalked down the staircase, her stance almost predatory. Forcing herself to relax, she gripped the rail tightly instead, as if to focus her pressure all in one point. Soon enough, she was at the bottom of all the stairs, anyway, and making her way down the dark hallway to the office from where she could already hear the sound of many chit-chatting loudly. Slughorn's own booming voice was rather hard to mistake. Twisting her lips up into a pleasant smile, Andromeda swept into the room, head held high, no shame. Her eyes even took an extra sparkle as she noticed a certain empty seat, and wasted no time in filling it, her curls swinging just so as she sat herself at the table. "He-llo, cousin dearest," she practically purred, leaning in close to Regulus and pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. There was a dark edge to her smile as she pulled back, eyes glinting. "However have you been?" she continued on naturally, her voice bright and pleasant. There was no reason for it not to be after all. She was merely conversing with her beloved cousin, at Slughorn's precious party, in a room full of their peers, in a very public situation. And she was equally his beloved cousin, of course. "Such a shame we haven't had much chance to talk lately." Her lips curled into a manufactured pout, and she twirled a finger around a lock - dark, dark again, as it had been since early in the school, as he liked it - and kept up her bright chatter. "At least now we've got the entire evening to catch up!" she exclaimed, eyebrows rising with excitement. She reached out, put her hand on his and gave it a squeeze. She left it there, her fingers curled just so around his. "Tell me everything," she continued, and then let her voice drop to a softer tone. "I'm sure none of all the other students here mind if I take up all your time..." She said the last three words slowly, her eyes darkening, lips twisting again. Her tone remained playful else-wise though, and why shouldn't it have? For all appearances - and in truth, she insisted to herself - she was merely talking with her dear cousin. No one would dispute that, no, though they would watch surely. Andromeda had long learned that it came with the territory of being a Black - people always watched. Tonight, she would wield that to her advantage.

She'd warned him that he couldn't just decide she didn't exist. And now she was proving it.

[aceline20]

Along with Fehlandt and Emmeline, Aceline’s small section of the table was also being accompanied by a rather exuberant Gryffindor. What was her name? Millie, Miley? She certainly did look like the type, with her eager expression, earnest eyes, and unruly mess of dark curls. Lacy, perhaps? Aceline felt as though the name was tugging at the back of her mind but, unable to grasp it, she turned her attention to another bean, picking up a rather exotic lime green one coated with specks of pink. Aceline’s eyes shut briefly as she listened to Emmeline fawning over the Macy child, feeling the flash of a migraine beginning. Ah, Grace. Gracie. Aceline was pleased with herself for finally knowing the girl’s name, despite the fact that she had not, actually, figured it out herself. Why had she chosen to sit here anyway? As the two girl’s chattered on, Aceline began to notice other more suitable places she could of sat but, at the mention of “Feh”, she realized her original purpose. She was to interact with her peer’s. At least, the ones worth interactions. Aceline ignored the small snub she received from Emmeline, the girl’s lack of introduction and tight lipped smile an indicator of how she really felt. See. This was the problem. Aceline tried to be nice and these filthy little mutt’s were so dreadfully ungrateful. Her tempered flared slightly at the thought, but she smiled back at Emmeline and her little friend, before turning her back completely against them-no longer caring about their part in her conversation. Fehlandt was who Aceline had come to speak with anyway.
Despite the fact that he was currently speaking to the two girl’s about dresses, Fehlandt still responded to all of Aceline’s comments on point. My, wasn’t he talented, Aceline mused. It was like watching a juggling act, sometimes. Fehlandt had a very out there personality and, with the way he was bouncing from girl to girl, Aceline was watching for his pins to drop. Unfortunately, hers fell first once he responded to her comment about “diversity”. She felt a small blush creep on to her cheeks, not realizing the way the comment could have been taken to him. Aceline may be a money snob, but she wasn’t racist. She loved green and whoever had it but she also knew many people felt differently, such as her parents who really didn’t approve of “interracial breeding” as they called it. She wanted to take the comment back, after hearing his over pleasant tone, but she knew that would probably make conversations worse-with her declaring the obvious. Then, as she imagined stumbling over her words, she knew she’d only proceed to offend him, if she hadn’t already. Sucking in a big breath of air, Aceline prayed for the pink in her face to fade and, once she felt her temperature cooling, she continued the conversation as if no faux pass had been made. It wasn’t like her comment was intended to be taken that way. If Fenlandt got bent out of shape, well, that was his problem.
“Yes, cher, I suppose your right.”[/b] Aceline said with a sigh, sounding almost submissive. What she really wanted to do was leave this conversation, and hated herself for joining it to begin with. Aceline’s eyes spotted Justin Whiting now, and a mix of reaction’s spread through her. Curiosity and desire to speak with him, similar to the emotions she felt the day she met him. These were spiked with anger, in several forms. Anger for who he was as a person, who he wasn’t to her, and who he was to Noah. Noah. Aceline’s heart flickered a small beat, but she pushed it aside, drawing herself up from the table to her full five feet, six and a half inches. ”If you’ll excuse me, Fehlandt, dear.” she muttered, training her eyes on her target. Aceline made her way over to him, not knowing how he would respond. The last time they had seen one another, he had invited Isadora to her party, and she had blown up several antique pieces, and multiple trophies. However, he was still somewhat of a hot commodity at Hogwarts and, Aceline knew, quite the possession of Rita Skeeter who, while supposedly being her friend, Aceline was more then determined to drive, head first, into the ground. Aceline ignored the fact that half of Justin's face was bruised and battered, she had not come here to fawn over his looks but, rather...start over. ”Bonjour, chéri. It’s quite the…pleasure, to see you once again.”[/i] Aceline paused, briefly, at the word pleasure knowing that was not quite the right way to describe it. Smiling her Cheshire smile, she welcomes herself to a new seat, slightly upset once she realized she had left her pink flecked bean on the table beside Fehlandt, never even knowing what the flavor was.[/color]

[Imogen Sauveterre]

[/color]

Imogen had no idea who this Fehlandt character was. Oh, she remembered seeing him at poker, but if she recalled correctly, neither Ian nor Wendy knew who he was either. He and Alessa seemed friendly, though, and he knew who she was somehow. Either way, she nodded in polite greeting, then gave Alessa a questioning look before straightening out her dress. Really, she would have to talk to Tori about skirt length in the future, because this was just – oh. Benjamin. Ha, shit. Imogen had been sort-of avoiding him for a while, because Ian’s talk in the library had just been… awkward… but now he was sitting next to her and she had nowhere to run. “H-hi,” she said, then couldn’t help but duck her face as the blood crept into her cheeks. Her, ravishing? She sorta doubted it, but then, she was in the shortest dress known to man. “Thanks,” she said quietly, and then everything came out in a soft jumble of words: “Listen, I’m not trying to run away from you – I mean, it’s not like I changed my mind or anything, I just – when we talked in the library, you know, with Ian, he said some things that just… Well, I kinda… He’s right, of course, I did sort-of act a bit like a tramp, and I’m sorry about that, and yeah, I’m sorry for avoiding you, I guess I just was afraid of throwing myself at you again. Which is stupid. But uh… I guess I was embarrassed for how I… behaved, and I didn’t want you to judge me or… or anything, and my behaviour in general has been kinda slutty lately and I’m sorry, so… Yeah.” Her face burned redder than ever and a stinging sensation on her knee made her realise that she’d been picking at it the whole time. She brought her hands up and firmly clasped them on the table, then shifted her gaze over to Regulus. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him to bugger off and stop looking at her, but his attention had been grabbed by Andromeda. Although Imogen was relieved he wasn’t looking at her anymore, now she didn’t have an excuse to change the subject, so instead reached for her goblet of pumpkin juice and took a sip. “Well,” she said, setting it back down, “I’m stuffed.”

[ritaskeeter]

graphics & etc. later

Alright, so perhaps she was running late, but honestly, Rita was not in the mood for one of these little parties. It was funny, putting herself and "not in the mood for a party" in the same sentence, except that honestly, Slughorn's parties weren't like normal parties. They were a lot more like the parties her Granny threw for all her old lady friends, where they self-complimented and fawned over each other and got all doting. And sure, Rita was glad that she was a part of Slughorn's little clubs, because hello, such blatant elitism was obviously right up her alley, but ugh, she just didn't feel like sitting through a night of Slughorn listing everyone's credentials off over and over while they preened over him like idiots. Slughorn was old like her Granny, okay, so he had an excuse, but her peers did it too, and they weren't old, so it was just annoying. Besides, Slughorn let in some pretty undeserving people, in Rita's opinion, which went against the whole point of the club. What exactly did girls like Imogen Sauveterre, for example, have to offer? She didn't have a clue what the stupid, old man thought he was getting out of having her in the club, as she'd often remarked snidely to Emme. Rita wasn't even trying to be snobby about it, it was just frustrating! Slughorn was the one who'd set his little club up as a collection of the best of the best, not her. She'd revelled in it, of course she had, but it was his club! And yet, he let in people like that annoying, hateful little chit, and ugh, honestly she had to wonder if his mind was slipping, if he needed her to take him by the hand and walk him through how his own club was supposed to work. Sheesh. It wasn't the end of the world, though, not by far, and normally Rita wouldn't have been so fazed by it if she hadn't already been in a bad mood before she'd remembered the dinner tonight. She'd talked to Noah earlier that day, see. Not that he had done anything, no, Noah had just been, well, himself. She was annoyed with herself because she'd actually gone to Noah to ask him about Justin. Ugh. She didn't know what she'd been thinking, honestly, because she was not that sort of girl, and even if she maybe did have some nerves about the whole Yule thing, she was Rita Skeeter and she didn't-- she didn't share them with anyone. Ugh. Thankfully, she was positive Noah would display some good sense for once and keep his mouth shut. Rolling her freshly-re-made-up eyes, Rita fluffed her hair and swept it over her shoulder, then smoothed down her dress and fixed the scarf she'd looped around her neck one last time before flouncing out of the dorm room. She was going to be late, she was well aware of that, but honestly, she didn't care at this point. She still felt stupid for going to Noah like that, and she felt even stupider for actually being reassured by any of it. She didn't need reassurances from Noah Orchard, for godsakes. Today was just a day of frustration, it appeared. But none of that mattered, because she was looking forward to the Yule Ball, and really, wasn't that the most important thing these days? Yes. She'd be seeing Justin tonight too, she reminded herself - more like for the millionith time. And well, she was rather undecided about how she was supposed to act, whether to take Noah's words into consideration or not. It wasn't like she'd read one of those borings books this afternoon just like that in time to bring it up, but there were other things too, she supposed... But using any of what Noah had told her would just result in her feeling like she'd needed to, and she didn't, obviously, since he'd asked to Yule, so clearly he liked her, duh, but she just wanted to... be safe? It never hurt to put effort into something, anyone would tell you that. And sure, maybe Rita didn't normally, well, put in that sort of effort, but the point was, Justin was new territory. And new territory-- well, saying it "freaked her out" was perhaps being a bit too dramatic, but it made her less comfortable, sure. Rita was used to drawing on experience, using every advantage she had. Yes, she was all about advantages, in any given situation, but Justin was new and different and she hadn't quite figured out yet what sort of advantages she could claim. And that wasn't a comforting thought to put beside the fact that she was starting to crush on the guy hard.

Rita wet her lips, pat her scarf, and felt her hair quickly, ensuring every curl was in place before stepping into the room with a sudden, sunny smile on her face. "He-llo!" she cooed to Slughorn, as expected, forcing her smile wider as she approached the old man. "Such a lovely dinner tonight, it appears," she remarked lightly, though in all honesty she'd only glanced at the spread from the corner of her eye. But flattery was the only way that to interact with Slughorn, and as much as it annoyed her when she wasn't the one on the receiving end of it, Rita would pay her dues and be done with them. "My Granny says to send her best wishes." Bullshit, but he wouldn't know it. "She found a little something she thought you'd like the other day, it should be here by owl soon," she promised with a wink. She'd have to write to her Granny tonight and tell her to send Sluggy some trinket or another that he'd appreciate. Rita hadn't thought of anything to bring him tonight - she'd all but forgotten there even was a dinner, after all - and frankly, she had better things to spend her time on. Fretting about what to get her Potions professor to butter him up was not exactly high on her to-do list these days. Turning away from Slughorn, she pressed her lips together as she noted the seats mostly filled up around the table, but grinned when she caught Emme's eye and flounced over to take an empty seat next to her, slipping by some little Gryffindor girl and offering up a small smile as she did. She couldn't help glancing over at Justin as she sat down, her smile freezing as she took in the very-black eye that he truly did have-- Noah had been right, and she felt a surge of anger toward the Gryffindor, even if it wasn't exactly his fault and he'd only been the messenger; logic was something Rita cared little about when it came to directing her anger. However, black eyes and Yule photos were not something she wanted to stress about right at the moment - oh, she would later, though, be sure of that - so she merely winked at Justin from across the table, before she turned her attention to Emme with a quick "Hey!" Noticing Fehlandt on Emme's other side, she flashed him a quick smile too. "Sooo, what's up?" she asked brightly, raising her eyebrows and not really caring if she was interrupting. It wasn't the sort of thing she thought of much, what people might have been doing or talking about before she arrived. She just arrived and demanded attention, that had always been her style. Ha. Rita found herself looking over at Justin again, as-- what? Her eyes narrowed as she watched Aceline slide into the seat next to him, murmuring something that Rita couldn't make out, as if that didn't just annoy her even more. Okay, so the Slytherin girl was supposed to be her friend, sort of, and she was useful at times, and on occasion even fun, but Rita sure as hell didn't trust her, and she certainly remembered how she'd been all over Justin at her party back in September, and she did not like what she was seeing here. Not that she had any real right to the frustration that was causing her to tap her foot quickly against the ground under the table, over and over and over and over and over and over. She and Justin were just going to Yule, that was all, whatever else Noah had tried to imply aside. Wetting her lips, Rita chewed the lower for a moment, before realizing what she was doing and releasing it from her teeth. She was so not going to give Aceline the satisfaction of seeing her annoyed; that was probably the only reason why the other girl was doing this. Bitch. Smile still in place, albeit a tad faux, Rita directed her attention back to Emme. "Ooh, cute dress, by the way!"

[Regulus Black]

The worst part about Andromeda, Regulus had just now decided, was that she was utterly oblivious to how much hurt she caused him. Prior to this incident he might have said it was her childishness, her spontaneity, her temper––but now? Now, it had come to this. They had slept together and she had brushed it off––him off––more easily than she had done anyone before, in spite of the close bond they had (once) shared. And Regulus was bitter about that. A few weeks ago, whilst in the middle of his pining for her, he would have ardently declared that no matter what the consequences, he would never take back what had happened between them that summer. But now he would give the world to do just that. To take it away and make things go back to normal, to how they were, to he and Meda and their meaningless little world. They understood each other, he and Andromeda, as much as he now came to resent that. Their last conversation was what he had expected: she tried to force things back into the realm of what was comfortable for her. It was typical Andromeda. She fucked up and then looked back on what she’d lost and tried to fix it by simply ignoring the issue at hand. He knew better than to expect anything would be different with him, just because he had the short-lived pleasure of calling her one of his closest and most dear companions. But this? This, humiliating him and making a show of herself in front of his peers, for everyone to see? It went too far. For the first time in his life, Regulus contemplated hitting her. Pouring all his anger into the tendons of his arm and letting it lung forward like a spring, snapping the delicate bones under that perfect flesh of hers. He wanted to make her hurt. He wanted to humiliate her. He wanted to scar her like she had scarred him. He wanted to hurt her. Hatred emanating off his being, he regarded her coldly and removed his hand from underneath hers, shifting his chair a few centimeters from her. He knew what she was doing. In her little Andromeda way. She wanted to corner him, force him to acknowledge her, to treat her civilly. Ha, Circe. Is this what his life had become? It was all a stupid fucking game, at which he and his family were the epicenter. Everything at once felt so empty and constricting; he felt like screaming, or gasping for air, or killing someone––hurting something, someone, anything. He clenched his fists and averted his eyes from his cousin, feeling nothing but antipathy for her, for the world she represented––the world to which he had facilitated her return. This void of a world, this shallow nothingness. He was disgusted by it, by her, by everything. Suddenly it wasn’t just an immature hatred for that which took him away from his pals, this Slug Club nonsense was a joke, a shoddy representation of what the future looked like for Regulus. Endless parties and pleasantries and people like Slughorn who just wanted a taste of it. He could have spat at them, spat at them all––but mostly, he could have spat at her, at Andromeda, who was the source of his anger presently. He felt as if he might explode if he did not at once leave the room. Brusquely, not caring if he started a scene (and actually hoping he would, so as to embarrass Andromeda), Regulus pushed back his chair and said, levelly, “Forgive me for being rude, Professor Slughorn, but I am feeling ill and at any rate must finish a scroll for Transfiguration by tomorrow morning. I trust you will allow me to make up for this some other time.” Once he was behind the closed doors, he could finally breathe again. But he still wanted to hit her. And he was still wondering what on earth his life could possibly ever mean if this was all he had to look forward to.

[Professor Horace Slughorn]

He enjoyed having his favorite assortment of students over for dinner once a month, and he enjoyed them especially when they brought him little treats. Horace's eyes lit up when witch after wizard strolled in and offered him their salutations and gifts, oftentimes from their parents as well. Such as Alessandra, who was the first to arrive––her mother had sent him a letter with a lovely bottle of wine attached. His favorite type of wine, to be precise. He smiled widely and exclaimed, "Miss de Luca! How delightful it is to see you tonight. I did indeed receive your mother's letter; she is a very kind woman!" His booming voice carried across the room, as always, and Horace beamed with pride as Alessa took her seat and the next guest, none other than Regulus Black, walked in. Horace had a particular affinity for the Blacks––just their presence was a gift, and often they did not bring much else, which was fine by him. Narcissa, too, came, though she had slightly better manners than her cousin, seeing as she came up and offered her pleasantries to him before seating herself. "Good evening, Miss Black, and thank you, thank you!" He did have to give himself (and the house elves that helped him) a pat on the back for setting the place up tonight. It looked simply... well, delightful. It seemed even brighter when more and more students arrived––Emmeline Vance, Lucius Malfoy, Imogen Sauveterre, Benjamin Burke––and ah, Fehlandt Zabini! "Ah, Mister Zabini!" Horace exclaimed with glee, chortling out a few puffs of laughter at Fehlandt's greetings. "Tell your father he'd better come and do it himself, only after I've had a few sips of this!" he said, gesturing to the bottle Fehlandt had just handed him. When the next few students arrived––Daciana Gamp (lovely little girl, lots of connections, that one), Gracie Marlow (young, but with the promise of talent), Caoimhe Moran and Aiden Neeson (both rising Quidditch stars this season), Aceline Perezz (an old favorite of his), and Justin Whiting––Horace decided it was time to start the dinner. He rose from his seat, face still shining with joy, and announced, "Again, I would like to thank you all for coming to dine with me this evening! It seems most of our guests are here, and as such, the first course will be served in approximately five minutes. Please, make your way to the table, everyone! Hopefully you haven't stuffed yourselves with the appetizers!" He seated himself once more and took a swig of butterbeer (which he served, along with pumpkin juice, to all the children and himself, to set a good example), and right then some of the final guests emerged: Rita Skeeter and Andromeda Black. He smiled politely at them, a smile that widened once the food was brought in and set on the table. Things darkened slightly when Regulus abruptly took his leave, but Horace knew enough of teenaged dramatics to know how to recover from this mildly awkward situation. Before everyone began to dig in, he rose his glass and said, "I would like to propose a toast to the holiday spirit!" Once everyone had clinked their glasses and drank, Horace launched into conversation. "So, tell me," he began, glancing at the students around him, "does anyone have any exciting plans for the season?" And by that he actually meant: who's doing what where and which events can I attend?

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[luciusmalfoy]

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He didn’t want to be dramatic, but talking about the holidays was the last thing Lucius wished to do while in the midst of the Slug Club. He’d managed to keep himself entertained by watching Regulus and Andromeda piss each other off; he’d kept his word to Regulus, keeping their tryst a secret, but that didn’t mean he had to pass on feeling a tiny touch of pleasure at seeing him come undone. Despite his threat to tell, Lucius knew the chances of him actually telling someone were remote. It wasn’t that he cared too deeply about Regulus, of course. No, it was the fact that Andromeda was Narcissa’s sister, and hurting Andromeda would risk hurting Narcissa. It was sometimes difficult to remember that the two were related, especially given how vastly different they were. Andromeda was changing for the better lately, but Lucius couldn’t help but feel that she wasn’t quite there with her ‘transformation’ as of yet. It wasn’t a feeling he could properly explain, per se, and so he let it go. She had ended her associations with Mudbloods and other blood traitors, so Lucius figured it was safe to say she was not the blood traitor she had once been shaping up to be. But now Slughorn had stolen the focus away from the quarrelling couple, forcing Lucius to think upon his holiday plans. He was going home, as per usual, but this time he would not be arriving in the midst of intense decorating and party planning for his parents’ Yuletide party. This year, he would be arriving to his father’s bedside, listening to Healers tell him that they were doing all they could, watching as his father slowly deteriorated from the pox that was killing him. His hand tightened unconsciously on Cissy’s knee; he let go when she looked at him and took his hand in her own. She squeezed his hand and he squeezed back in apology, then busied himself with the merlot and dinner in front of him. Slughorn didn’t need to know his holiday plans. Lucius never spoke much at these meetings anyway.