"Don't Bring That Thing Anywhere Near Me." She Grimaced, Not Bothering To Hide The Disgust That Was So

"I would not host a ball for you, I would host a ball for the pleasure of hosting one. I am an excellent hostess. My mother has trained me well." Her parents cared about a good education and making sure she would one day make a good pureblood wife, that she knew the importance of proper etiquette. Of course she preferred not do any work and simply sit back and relax, but she did enjoy party planning, dressing nice and telling people what to do. "I would look wonderful in a gown, you are correct with that assumption." She smiled, pleased at the compliment, blushing at the intensity of his stare as he went on. Guys her age were nothing like this, she didn't have much experience with older men. "It is a much more interesting topic. Truthfully, I do not care much for boys my age." She held his gaze, challenging him.

He dismissed the thought of mudbloods with a wave. “Interesting anomalies, but ultimately nothing more than something to be foisted off on squibs or the reason for them, but I don’t want to bore you with magical theories, and speculation. Are you offering to host a ball for me, Miss Borgin? If I didn’t know better I might think you are trying to snare me, not that I mind. I am sure you would look wonderful in a gown. I can see it, a splendid thing, for you paired with a simple domino mask, not that you would choose something simple, but your face hardly needs any hiding or accent, and it would be a crime to cover those lips.” He looked at her lips smiling a bit hungirly. “Yes, nothing that would impede you talking, drinking or kissing. When was the last time you had a good kiss? A much more interesting subject than dirty mudbloods don’t you think?”

"Thank you. I thought you would like it, everyone has so far." She smiled, pleased, although she had not doubted it for a second. Mira was a woman with good taste, she would've been surprised if it her cousin didn't appreciate it. "I do wish more people would have thought like you. I've seen some terribly boring outfits." Serra sighed, dramatically. "They have. I am their only child after all, it only makes sense."

Mira took an obligatory drink, not wanting to offend the birthday girl. She nodded as she swallowed, offering her a smile. "It's delicious, a good choice." She commended her. Already she was exhausted from the social niceties, hoping she would not have to stay much longer and that she could slip away. "Oh thank you. I had to make sure I chose something that was Serra approved for your birthday party." She mused. "It's quite the party, your parents went all out this year, didn't they.."

"You're obviously lying." Serra's eyes blazed with anger, furious at the insinuation of what Charity's words could mean. Malcom cheating on her? Definitely not. He wouldn't do that to her. There was no way. Things were good, she was this close to letting him take her virginity. There was no reason for their relationship to be on the rocks. They didn't even get into a fight! "We didn't break up. We're together! I saw him this morning!" She stomped, like a child throwing a tantrum. How did Charity know about their spot? "He'd never go for a loser like you. Your eyes are way too far apart, you look weird." It was the first thing she could come up with short notice.

Charity turned around to face the witch when she was interrupted mid-sentence, brows raising in disinterest. “I wouldn’t lie if I could.” She was quick to say, which was true of course as she never understood the motivation to lie, the truth always flowing smoothly from her lips. “And what is it you, anyways, since you’re all broken up?” The witch wondered, a smug smile growing on her lips for she was enjoying seeing the other all rattled, especially after the years of bullying she’d endure from her part. “He moved on, right on to me. Want to hear all the details? He took me to this secret spot in the dungeons, Nearly-Headless Nick’s spot once when he was alive.” She was telling it as though it was the juiciest of gossips, lying heavy on the excited girly tone. “And if you must know, he really is a good fuck.”

location: madame malkins status: for @xantoninxdolohovx

Meeting up with Antonin was something she'd been excited about all week. The prospect of shopping and buying something new always thrilled her and having someone there complimenting her was a bonus. They had also discussed her finding new things for him, so this day would surely be fun for her. "We'll start looking for me and then we'll look for outfits for you as well. Perhaps we can find something that matches the ones I will be choosing for myself. Is there any color you particularly like?"

status: for @rsrevan, @miraxselwyn location: borgin manor

Serra was in an excellent mood tonight, tipsy on attention and gifts, as well as several glasses of champagne. It was her birthday and she'd been showered with presents left and right. Her parents were being particularly generous this year, which while she noticed she didn't comment on. Perhaps they wanted to make sure she didn't have any wayward plans of following into her idiotic cousin's footsteps. As if. A cautionary tale more so than a role model she'd always been to Serra. Floating around in her pink dress she smiled when she spotted a familiar face. "Welcome. Have you had the champagne yet? It is quite delicious."

"I got about seven new wedding appropriate formal dresses, I figured I wanted to be as well prepared for wedding season as I can. Then I got a couple more evening dresses for various occasions that lean less formal than weddings, five sundresses and three day dresses. Which should be enough, but I have a standby monthly appointment at Madame Malkins in case I need an emergency dress made."

He smiled squeezing her hand and linking arms nudging her shoulder like an old friend. "Of course I do, now tell me more about these dresses, are they all formal or are there some sundresses mixed in, do they all look as good as this one, and who is your designer and tailor, if you don't have anyone specific I can recommend a good one, not that you need it you would look good in a burlap sack, though I imagine it would be harder to dance in."

She wanted the distraction from all the trouble tonight had put her through. Her birthday party had been more than she had bargained for. When her parents first told her they would organise a big birthday party for her 21st, she thought nothing off it, feeling it fair as they were demanding her to come back from Paris much earlier than she had intended. If only she had known what they were planning, but they chose to leave her in the dark purposefully- so that she could not cause a scene. While she thrived off of attention, she did not want bad attention. So after they'd announced her betrothal, to her surprise, she just needed to get away. Landing right in Evan Rosier's arms. Her eyes blazed with anger, trying to overplay the hurt she felt at this old wound ripping open again. Malcolm and Charity Burbage. Again. She couldn't do this. She wasn't going to do this. She wouldn't be played for a fool by him again. If he could hook up with whoever he wanted, so could she. Anger made one do things they probably shouldn't as was the case right here. Her eyes falling to his lips for a moment before she locked eyes with him again. "I do. Let's get out of here."

He always knew what he was doing, a birthday girl deserved to be complimented and given presents, of the best kind. Evan had plenty to give and something told him that she was eager to find out more. A nonchalant grin dancing along his lips, the wizard used his grasp on her waist to pull her closer to his body, dragging her away from the guests' curious eyes. "It's not gossip if I've seen it with my own eyes." The wizard told her, his voice low and steady, looking into her eyes as he shared what he'd seen recently. "Your ex-boyfriend leaving with a Miss Burbage, not just once, looking all too cozy." He finally stated, eyes holding her gaze to see if it did anything to her, one of his hands leaving her waist to reach the nape of her neck, stroking her cheek gently with his thumb. "It's worth plenty." The blonde reassured her, tongue wetting his bottom lip, his gaze settled on hers. "Want me to show you just how much it's worth?" He wondered, voice barely a whisper of hot breath as his hand on his waist slid down to grab a handful of her ass.

When they were children, Serra didn't mind Alara's company. In fact she had even welcomed it as they were around the same age and she would finally have someone to play with that wasn't a maid or a house elf. Growing up as an only child was only and when she saw her cousin running around with her two older siblings she'd gotten jealous. Jealousy had always been the root of their issues, not that Serra would have ever admitted that aloud. "Oh I have a nail appointment in a couple of hours, I could move it to give it to you. You look like you need it." She grimaced, looking down at Alara's hands. "Please. My hair is never flat." Serra scoffed, making a mental note to get out her pocket mirror once Alara left. To make sure. That's all. "How should I know?"

Alara didn't understand why her cousin hated her so much, but over the years, it slowly started to build up on her side. It was how princess behaviour irked her. Serra had never worked a day in her life and expected to be pampered. She could be biased, but that was her opinion anyway. "We wouldn't want you to break a nail." A coy smile etches onto her lips. "Your hair is your best feature? Aiming low." Shrug of her shoulders. "Seems a little flat today." This was the last person she wanted to see. "Is Rafealla around?"

"You think I'd let some common owl touch my mail?" She scoffed shaking her head. "I'm not poor."

"I'll give you cats as a pet," he conceded with a nod. Loads of people had cats, they just weren't for him. "But why own an owl when the post office has one?"

She hid her face in his chest, embarrassment taking over. How could he find her attractive once he saw her like this? This was a disaster! Her life was supposed to be perfect and this was an absolute mess. "She's crazy stalker obsessed with you! She said you two hooked up...but you wouldn't cheat on me..." Serra was still half crying and hiding her face between her hands so he couldn't see the bloody nose, trying to rack her mind for a spell to get rid off blood but she'd never had to use that before so she came up empty. "Wait it's like you're crazy stalker obsessed with me! Did you do this to get back at me?" Serra let out a yelp of pain when Charity threw her on the floor. Gasping in shock when Charity hit Malcolm, not his face! It was his best feature! They had that in common, that was why they photographed so well together. The more time passed the less like a lie it seemed. Could it be true? Could he actually have cheated on her? With Charity of all people? She stood up, her head a little dizzy from the quick motion and she caught her stumble. "Shut up charity case!" Turning back to Malcolm, once again hiding the lower half of her face so he wouldn't look at her bloody nose, she continued. "Just tell me this is all a bad joke. That this-" she pointed between him and Charity. -didn't happen."

Malcolm was walking back from class with friends when a commotion erupted down the corridor. A surge of students rushed forward, forming a tight circle. He overheard someone shout, "Girls fighting!" and quickened his pace. This wasn't a common occurrence, and he wasn't about to miss it.

The sight of Charity and Serra locked in a fight was the last thing Malcolm expected. He shoved through the crowd, muttering curses as they shouldered against him. This moment was torn from a nightmare. He'd justified his cheating, but never imagined this—a public confrontation. He'd planned to tell Serra on his own terms, when he was ready. That moment, that control, had been stolen from him. Then Serra was in his arms, and instinct took over. His eyes scanned her face, searching for injury. He spotted the smear of blood and his gaze snapped to Charity, a cold tension settling in. "What the fuck is happening?" he demanded, pulling Serra close. A sliver of denial flickered; maybe this wasn't about him at all. Now he didn't feel as excited about girls fighting when they were his girls-no, just Serra. Malcolm's chin raised to glare at the other onlookers. "Well, get fucking lost-nothing to see-"