"There Are Pretty Ones And Ugly Ones. The Person Getting My Letter Sees The Owl. Correct?" She Paused

Serra jumped back as the ferret made contact with her shoes, shrieking. "Get that thing off of me." She wasn't good with animals, they had too much fur and it got everywhere. And she had a bad experience with a cat once. "I don't like anything with more than two legs. It's eyes are creepy too."

"She's not a thing, she's a ferret!" Clyde protested, not bothering to stop Bonnie from running over to sniff at Serra's shoes. There was absolutely nothing wrong with ferrets. Bonnie had all her shots and was the most well-behaved affectionate little thing. Why would Serra hate her? "What have you got against her, then?"

"I am never second best." Her ego wouldn't allow it, what she lacked in ego she made up for in delusion. "I do not mind spending a few hours in your company. You shower me with attention, but alas I do need to make my rounds to please my parents. Wouldn't want anyone telling them I am antisocial. I am here to represent them and our name after all." She was an only child, her parents had struggled getting pregnant and had always wanted a son to take over the business. Now it fell onto her cousin on her dad's side as she had no plans to work. "I shall let you know, but I do believe no one would dare. Except my cousin Alara, but she is another story. I can handle her."

"Of course, the second best would not do. How would you like to spend the evening? I would not mind spending it with you, but that can wait until after the wedding, it would be a crime to monopolize your attention for too long, social butterfly that you are. Well perhaps just a few hours?" Antonin squeezed Serra's arm and took her hand. He looked at some of the gossipers noting faces in case he heard anything too damning come to surface later. "Just tell me if you need your honor defended it's been a while since I had a good duel, but blasting the proper respect into someone is often considered taboo at weddings, don't ask how I know."

"With the colors you just said about any color I wear should match. Adding little accents of whatever I plan on wearing should do the trick. A tie, cufflinks, a pocket square. Little details that aren't garish but attract the eye and make sure the look is cohesive." Him not having the most colorful wardrobe didn't surprise her much, he didn't seem like the flamboyant type. Short answer? My favorite color is green. I like all shades of green, but I also like soft pinks. I look good in basically every color so I do occasionally like a deeper red, for the holiday season."

"Something complementary, if we're going to wear outfits that match. I usually wear black, grey, dark greens. Things that go beneath notice, unless I have a specific purpose, but I don't know if I would say that any of those are my favorite." He looked her over as he contemplated something as simple as a favorite color. Something easy but with little purpose besides blending. He hadn't thought about it in some time delegating his outfits to others, rather than picking things that attracted his attention on a whim. "Something about you is so bright, what about you, which color is your favorite?"

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-"

Alecto Carrow had always intimidated her, there was just something about her presence, you could not miss her when she entered a room. Especially now that she had snagged one of the most eligible bachelors. She had heard he'd been betrothed to her cousin Mira for a brief stint and she did wonder what happened there for things to end up the way they did. She would be looking forward to the next issue of Rita Skeeter's column. "I agree. Evelyn looked wonderful. Do you know who made her dress? It is gorgeous."

where: fulham palace who: open

This was their first event since their own wedding, and she could feel the eyes on her, not that it mattered. She was quite content with how things had turned out and wouldn't have it any other way, slowly accepting what would be of her life. Rabastan was always there to put her at ease and turning her thoughts into a more logical one.

The witch walked around with a glass of champagne, not having taking a sip, not wanting to draw more attention since she was able to conceal her pregnancy still. "I will say, I'm impressed with how this turned out. Evelyn looked beautiful in her dress." Her head turning to the person beside her.

"I suppose it is?" Serra's eyebrows furrowed together for a second, confused as to why he was asking but dismissed it quickly. "Oh I heard what happened to hear. It is quite a shame that her betrothal fell through. It was so many years in the making after all. Oh you mean you want me to watch you duel? I can do that." Serra wasn't a good dueller herself, but she figured she didn't need to be. It's not like she was fighting in the war.

Her smile widened from his compliments. She enjoyed talking to him and dancing with him. "Thank you for the compliment. I am careful with the things I care about." Which mainly involved her appearance, but to her that was extremely important. Appearances mattered. "You should know I am better than all of them." Serra's tone matter of fact, a smirk playing on her lips.

"Not at all. I like talking to you. I don't think you are boring." They had liking to talk in common, especially when it came to her favorite subject: herself.

"Transfiguration is good as is potions. I swear by Valeria Flint, unfortunate circumstances surrounding the woman but wonderful for poisons and potions. I dabble in a bit of everything, anything that might give me an edge in dueling or seems fun, perhaps I could show you sometime? As far as transfiguration I think my greatest feat is summoning ropes, a nice trick especially if you can do so wordlessly, though it is important to get the gestures perfect and have a good bond with your wand." Antonin looked into Serra's eyes losing himself in them. "You surprise me though, those are both very precise magics. I pride myself at being able to read people, but you surprise me, I find that refreshing, you are not a boring woman or shallow, something to be treasured especially among most eligible ladies on offer." He looked pointedly at a few other guests around the dancefloor. "I hope you don't find me too much of a boor, I've been told I enjoy the sound of my own voice perhaps a bit too much, but I find you are easy to talk to."

"Well then try it and tell me what you think of it." She knew Mira had good taste, certainly better than that younger sister of hers had ever displayed. Then again, few could be as excellent as she could, competing would be hard for anyone. Especially someone that inferior. "Thank you. So do you. I like your dress, the color suits your complexion."

While Mira wouldn't openly admit it, she hadn't really wanted to attend the party. There was too much going on, too much turmoil for her to truly enjoy herself. Still it would have been unacceptable not to make an appearance, and so she'd arrived with a smile on her lips and a small wrapped present in hand, adding it to the already growing pile that had been left for the birthday girl. She snagged a glass of champagne from a passing tray, taking a drink as she watched her cousin make her way over to her. "I just grabbed a glass actually. Happy Birthday Serra, you look gorgeous tonight."

"Yes." She grimaced, her tone petulant and angry and not nearly as blasé as she wanted to be. Normally no one got to her, she believed herself to sit pretty on her throne, a pedestal from where she looked down on others and now it seemed like her whole kingdom was crumbling. "I'm not as cheap and desperate and easy as you are." The insults kept flowing easily out of her lips but that didn't make her feel any better. Wandless magic was something she was quite good at when it came to beauty spells, needing to know she could do her hair in any situation. It wasn't even planned, her emotions getting the better of her as she turned Charity's hair into a hideously short bob with uneven bangs. A laugh left her lips as she started at the other, feeling like she won she made her way into the hallway. She needed to find Malcolm so he'd tell her this was all a bad joke.

She stared in bewilderment, surprised to see the toll her boyfriend's shenanigan had taken on her. It was hilarious to see the tormentor become the tormented one, all too annoyed to feel someone she saw as lesser get a small triumph. "Plenty, huh?" She repeated the witch's words, simply to spite her, a sly grin pulling at the corners of her lips. "The way he had fun with me, though, makes me think you two didn't have any." Charity stated, turning to washing her hands, pretending not to care for this conversation at all. She did, though, more so for the pure satistfaction of getting to pull one over someone as awful as Serra. "You don't have to, what do I care if you believe it or not?" She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "All I care is that I'm most certain I'll ride him again."

status: for @willabulstrode location: Rosa Lee's teabags

Standing up from her seat in Rosa Lee's she waved to Willa, motioning her friend over. It was the middle of the day and there were more people around than she had thought, so she wanted to make sure Willa saw her through the crowds. "It 's been too long. I told you, you should've come to Paris to visit.."

She started pacing around, not getting very far on the balcony with her - now inconvenient- large dress. The dress was meant to make a statement, to ensure that all eyes and all the attention would be on her. What she hadn't expected was her parents announcement, betrothed. She was betrothed to Malcolm and everyone knew it. It would hit the gossip magazines by morning, there was no way that this information would remain solely at the party, only a fool would believe that. In her mind, she understood that that is why her parents have done it this way, a further assurance that this couldn't be ignored or swept under the rug. "We have no choice. The damage is already done." Serra cared for her reputation, what people said mattered and she refused to be a laughing stock. She was surprised at his reasoning behind the many gifts he had sent her over the years but kept her expression blank on purpose, not wanting to show weakness in front of him. He must have thought about her quite a few times then, if her jewellery cabinet was any indication for it. Or the shoes and dresses she'd received. Serra wasn't going to tell him that, but she enjoyed his gifts, the first ones she planned to throw away, too angry back then to even consider wearing them, but in time her curiosity had won out. He knew what she liked, there hadn't been one thing that didn't suit her taste. Still, he didn't need to know how well he had her preferences down. "Clearly my parents do not listen to reason, they have made up their mind. If we back out of it now we look like fools and I will not be made a fool by you again. I expect a ring by tomorrow morning. If I don't like it, I'm sending it back and you're buying a new one. " She paused, thinking for a moment. "I want a big diamond."

Malcolm was known for many talents, but even he recognized his shortcomings with humor. "I wish I were," he sighed. Already, things weren't unfolding as planned, and he regretted her parents' public announcement. "There probably aren't many options, actually," he mumbled honestly. Lost in his thoughts since seeing the marriage contract, Malcolm hadn't considered Serra's perspective. While his own world felt like it was collapsing, the contract did mean being with her. The idea of happiness achieved through the wrong means felt deeply corrupt. They were adults and should have the autonomy to make their own choices. Yet, his answer to most things would always be Serra. "My guilt?" he echoed, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Perhaps initially, yes. I've done many things I regret, certainly, including what happened between us. But I assure you, the gifts weren't meant to revive a bad seed. I gave them to you knowing you would like them, every time I thought of you." Malcolm glanced around to ensure their privacy. "There was a marriage contract forged between our families when I was in school. I annulled the original, but that wasn't the end of it. None of it makes sense, I know. I wanted to discuss this with you or your parents properly."