|Scene Title||A Late Autumn Eve's Nightmare|
|Synopsis||Instead of a Feast, Hogwarts celebrates Halloween with a Ball. It seems like a grand idea … until someone spikes the punch.|
|Location||Hogwarts' Great Hall|
|Date||October 27, 1995|
|Watch For||Costumes and dances and Things to Be Embarrassed About Later.|
|Logger||I am the Bad Wolf|
Tonight, the Great Hall has been turned into something out of a dream. The four House tables have been removed, leaving the room feeling even larger than usual. The Head Table has had all chairs removed and is laden with every kind of hors d'oeuvre, treat and sweet one could possibly think of. Small, circular tables line the two side walls and a small orchestra has set up in front of the Head Table's dais. The sky is lovely and clear, showing both the stars and the bright, full moon - only a smattering of clouds straying across it. The floating candles are, tonight, accented by many floating jack'o'lanterns that cackle by turns. Someone has even charmed a few bats to fly about, swooping down low over unsuspecting students. Out in the Entrance Hall, several games have been set up for the youngest ones - and those young at heart - but in here, the atmosphere seems to be that of an elegant ball, as was intended.
With things just now getting underway, the Hall is mostly empty, though students and staff are slowly trickling in, coming in ones and twos and the occasional pack. Aurors are stationed at the doors and along the walls, quietly observing everything and everyone - on the alert for any signs of Trouble.
Jethro Gardener is standing at attention at the door, ramrod straight, wearing slightly classier robes than normal. They're navy blue, blazoned with an insignia that will be unfamiliar to most of Magical Britain. Probably a good portion of Magical America, as well. He wears a collection of colorful pins that look a little more … commonplace, perhaps. As the staff filter in, he gives each one a visual scan, greeting a few here and there with a terse nod and a half smile.
Snape strides in, the effervescence of the children creating a tension headache that becomes patently obvious when he rubs his fingers across his temple. "Infernal holiday," he scowls, making a small Ravenclaw scurry away from him. He is wearing his normal attire with the only concession to the holiday a small lapel pin of an Avada Kedavra green colored cauldron charmed to bubble periodically.
One of the smallest of his House, however, has not gone with the stolid and staid approach. No. Julian Legume — Bean to his friends — has adorned himself in a fairly plain green outfit with leaves and sticks stuck here and there. He has plain cotton green wings that might even have a hint of hanger wire poking out of it. However, the thing that could draw attention tonight is Bean's hair. It is a 'spec-ops mohawk'; the very short wide stripe of hair down the middle of an even closer-shaved head. Tooled into the close-cropped hair on the sides of his head are what look like vines and branches, leaving a mossy tinge around his temples and just the very tips of the 'hawk' frosted with silver.
This entrnace is signaled with a sneeze. Is it Costume_Fail (tm) if you end up sneezing on your own glitter? Unfortunately, if you're going to do something, you need to do it right—and possibly go overboard. Once in the hall, though, Ophelia, possibly in the most unrecognizeable thing ever, plasters on that fake smile (Her face hurts just doing this) and tries her best to be flitty and flighty and…
Oh god, will someone PLEASE tell her they spiked the punch.
As far as Jas Lancaster is concerned, he isn't dressing up for the ball; if anything, he's dressing down. After all, these are old clothes, hand-me-downs, really! Handed down through three or four generations, in fact! Of course, they happen to be the very finest dress robes one ever could have purchased, a hundred fifty years ago, and they're perfectly tailored to him — robes and undersuit both — in a modest black with a subtle gold pinstripe, plus just a dash of gold lining the sleeves of his robe. Sure, there might be some of those around the school right now who don't realize that Elegant and Hufflepuff go well together. They need only look at Jas, up at the staff table, or circulating around the room to investigate the punch and canapes, to realize that they do, very well indeed.
Tonight, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley will be arriving at the ball together. It was meticulously planned, the better part of a half hour spent thinking about, designing, and creating their costumes. With a little help from Hermione of course! Stepping off of the grand staircase, the two move towards the Great Hall's doors, pausing just outside of it when they're stopped by another Gryffindor. Exchanging pleasantries, the two finally turn into the Great Hall, stepping inside to marvel at the decorations — only, it's not quite the Ron Weasley and Harry Potter one might expect.
Enter Ron Potter and Harry Weasley. Harry has turned his normally jet black hair a fiery red color to match that of the Weasley clan, and given himself a healthy dose of freckles to go with it. The scar, hidden behind hair and freckles, is harder to see than usual but is still just barely perceptible. To seal the matter, he wears a large maroon sweater with an 'R' emblazoned across the chest. And there, standing next to the young man, is Ron. He has performed many of the same charms Harry has in order to look like his best mate. Red hair turned jet black (although his freckles aren't going anywhere), glasses over his eyes (which upon close inspection reveal no actual lenses in the frames), and a maroon sweater emblazoned with an 'H'. To compliment the fact he is now Ron Potter, a crudely shaped scar has been drawn directly on his forehead.
The two turn and grin at each other, and with a nod, make their way off to one of the small tables to the side, pulling up a couple seats and plopping down into them as they take in the rest of the costumes.
During a lull in the stream of entering students and faculty, Siobhan makes her entrance. Eyes of warm cinnamon scan the crowd, quickly finding young Bean and flashing him a brilliant grin before schooling her expression into something much more like the mask of elegant refinement socialite girls learn to perfect at a young age. Moving in through the empty double-doorway, she twitches a muscle in her shoulders and flares out the sheer, oil-on-water-rainbowed faerie wings sprouting from her bare back. As she walks, the sound of softly pealing bells follows, her bare feet flashing from under the skirt from time to time. One of the Seventh Year Hufflepuff boys wolf-whistles and she gives him a sharp glare, but he seems uncowed. Determined to ignore him, Siobhan Noble lifts her chin and glides - yes, glides - towards her young Puck.
SOME people hear the phrase 'Hogwarts Halloween ball' and focus in on the Halloween part. Others, the Hogwarts part. This particular young man has quite definitely zeroed in on the 'ball' part, though — with just a brief detour past 'Halloween' — and whether he actually already had all this clothing on-hand or had to owl off to his family to have it sent back, he obviously spared no thought or expense in doing so. Black, red, and gold silk encapsulate his frame, utterly failing to give any sense whatsoever of proper British propriety — oh, no. Not at all. Pierrick Remi is quite happy with the fact that, as it's Halloween, coming in costume as Giacomo Casanova and oozing sexuality are simply in character, and therefore not something he should be punished for! With luck, this'll hold in his French sensibilities all the way until winter break.
Once Pierrick is done slinking his way into the Grand Hall — stalking? Prowling? Well, whichever — he adjusts his cuffs, just a little bit, leaving frilly lace to fall down nearly to his fingertips, and then heads off to find someone to hit on. I mean, to find something to eat. Right.
The students are swarming into the room now, and it's too much for Jethro to scan each one individually, so he watches clumps of children for odd looking behavior. In a school like Hogwarts, that might include a lot. For instance, he catches a Seventh Year Gryffindor giving surreptitious looks toward the punch bowl. He casts a discreet freezing charm on the kid, and strides over to see what he's got. It's a bottle of Euphoria Elixir, it looks like. … Or is it? He shakes his head, and lets the kid go, keeping the phial.
Severus Snape stands near the Aurors, refusing to go much further into the room. He crosses his arms across his chest in a familiar pose, scanning the room for problems. When the American Auror catches the Gryffindor, he calls out, "That will be five points from Gryffindor, Mister Weasley." He does not specify which 'Weasley' he takes the points from, of course.
Ophelia's just generally mingling, chirping away happy greetings in a voice that sounds like someone just kicked her in the nethers. The nice thing is, Phee knows how to sing, so she's managing this higher voice pretty well and making sure it doesn't grate on anyone's nerves do to it being off key or something. Just.. being happier and perkier. The nice thing is, she finds, she's still managing to disturb people being in brighter colors.
Entering into the fray, at some point, is a pirate McGonagall. Yes, that's right. Minerva has found herself a muggle pirates costume. A long, belted vest atop flowing white shirt with a sash for a belt, black trousers tucked into shiny knee-high boots, a pirate hat, a -sword-… and, her owl has had a glamor cast so that it looks like a parrot. So where, upon entrance, does she go? Right up to the Aurors of course. "Well? There hasn't been any trouble so far I trust? And which Weasley are you picking on this time, Severus?"
Most of the time, Claire doesn't actually go to parties. She doesn't stay for Christmas and has never been talked into going to the Yule Ball; it's possible she's only been to at most one or two Hallowe'en balls before either. This year, though, she's here — and actually managing to rock the look she's attempting. Evidently, this year the shopping worked out to give her something good to wear and that's quite possibly why Claire made an appearance. The dress has a secret pocket and she has a hand in it, playing with something that makes a quiet click-click-click sound as a nervous habit as Claire idly meanders around the outskirts of the room and doesn't make eye contact with anyone. Yet.
Cianan is entirely unsure how he was talked into the costume, but he tries to sneak in to the Great Hall wearing… a Frodo Baggins getup. Bit longer hair. Frumpy clothing. A golding ring on a chain around his neck. He's really just missing a Samwise to follow him around in a creepy manner. Much like Claire, actually, he sort of tries to avoid people. He hasn't even figured out what posessed him to take a gander at the celebration this year.
Bean spots his Titania, and smiles brightly. "Milady," he grins up at her, sketching a deep bow. "I'll put a girdle 'round the earth…" He snickers. "How do you fare?" He's in a bright mood, and no one will be able to convince him otherwise. "Would you care for some drink?" He gestures toward the punchbowl, hopping up and down a bit as he does. "Frenchy is around here somewhere, I think." He's not sure. They totally got separated with all the bigger kids flooding in. "He does look cool, though."
With Snape subtracting five points from Gryffindor at the behest of a Weasley, Ron Potter instantly snaps his head in his direction. First, he didn't lose any points, and second, his name isn't Weasley! "My name is Potter, Professor," Ron says to Snape, shaking his head slightly at Harry. (That would be Harry Weasley.) Harry, for his part, stays out of it. No sense getting even more points taken, as is no doubt about to happen. "And what're you taking points from me for?!" he says, a hint of indignation in his voice. Of course, he's blissfully unaware that the points were actually taken from another Weasley… but after a while, you just kind of assume it's you for whatever reason. Especially with Snape.
Siobhan can't resist a sunny smile as Bean sketches his bow. Bracing herself with one leg shifted behind her, she too drops into a small curtsey - befitting for a Queen greeting a favored servant and sometimes friend. "What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?" she rejoinders in kind, just as excited and playful as Bean is, it seems. Apparently taking that Calming Draught earlier in the afternoon was a Good Idea, for she seems the picture of ease and grace. "Some punch would be lovely, dear Puck." She creels a very, very soft directive in Mermish and flicks her fingers toward where McGonagall and Snape are taking up watch. It's a clear message of I'll be over there. Giving in to a bit of fancy and letting herself twirl instead of just turn, Siobhan starts the arduous process of dodging students who want to flirt and Aurors who want to dance - nevermind that the music hasn't actually started yet - on her way to the two stern-looking Heads of House. One of which has apparently come as himself.
Jethro flashes a quick grin when the Deputy Headmistress walks in wearing a pirate costume. He shakes his head. "Was that the kid's name?" He holds out the phial of potion. "Swiped this from the kid. One of yours, Professor." He changes subjects for a moment. "I like the costume. Definitely unexpected." He falls silent again, returning to his role as protector.
"Can you tell with certainty what's in the phial? I can't believe you didn't even /try/ a costume, Severus. Really." McGonagall notes, with good natured ribbing when she holds up the potion to squint at with slightly pursed lips. "Well, thank you. That's very kind of you." is added, when Jethro remarks on the costume. "It does the students some good once in awhile to see us indulging in a bit of fancy." And a fit of fancy is probably what led to the costume in the first place really.
"I'm bloody /chokin'/ on fancy." That's just Ophelia passing by, don't mind her. Or the glitter cloud.
"I am costumed, Minerva." Severus points directly at the cauldron pin on his robe. It's his concession to the season. Festive. Yeah, right. "It was a Gryffindor, Auror." He gestures toward where the two ginger-haired twins are unconcerned with the loss of points or the change in plans. They probably have a second plot lined up anyway. "It was one of the elder Weasleys." This is directed at both Teacher and Student. "Mister Weasley," he emphasizes. "Perhaps an additional deduction is in order?" Cue intense dark look. "A 'bit of fancy' is usually conducive to migraines, Minerva." He says nothing to Ophelia as she passes, merely wincing at the brightness of her costume.
Sweeping in just in the nick of time, Siobhan catches Minerva's disapproval and Severus' response and grins absolutely wickedly. Time to have a bit of fun, save her friend from a lecture and give heart-attacks. All in one go! Coming up to Severus' other side, she slides one arm through his and lets him catch the wicked edge to her smile. "Nonsense, Minerva. Can't you see? He's come as my Oberon for the evening." Cue shocked and horrified gasps from the students close enough to eavesdrop. Jethro gets an almost-apologetic smile. She didn't leave him on the best of terms last time, but now isn't the best place to make those kinds of apologies. "Fred or George?" she quips, looking closer at the vial. What? If someone is going to try to spike the punch at a party full of dark wizard catchers, it would be those two.
"Claire!" Cue Casanova — or, that is, Pierrick — showing up and grinning cheekily just in front of the rock-star's perambulatory path. "You are saving a dance for me, non?" Yeah, he's shooting his cuffs again. And possibly, just a tiny bit, taking advantage of the gown in order to appreciate Claire's cleavage, which is, after all, on display.
"Oh my. How could I have missed the dark colored pin on your dark colored robes. Perhaps my eyes need another checking." Minerva decides, her tone full of droll humor right up until the comment of migraines and then… Siobhan and her Oberon remark. Did Minerva just stifle a bit of a tittered giggle? Why yes, yes she did! And she clears her throat to look stern again. "Well, goodness. Why didn't you just say so Severus. I'll go spread the word so that nobody thinks you're just a spoilsport again." And then she even winks at Siobhan. Perhaps the Weasely twins did already get to the punch. Except that she hasn't had any.
Ophelia's finding a spot to sit down, amongst a billowy pillow of taffeta. All this PERKY is exhausting! Not that Phee's normally grumpy or depressing, she's just not… perky. NOt to this extent. She takes her hands and rubs her cheeks, sore from too much smiling. She should've dressed as a banshee instead. She's trying to watch the punch bowl though. Someone other than the Twins have got to be daring enough to make it interesting. Unless the Adult there'll swoop in and try to offend her Irish Sensitivies.
The eyebrows belonging to one Claire Sutton are now climbing up into her fancily sprayed courtesy Siobhan hairstyle as Pierrick makes his entrance into the direction she happened to be walking. The first thing she does is follow the trajectory of his eyes: slowly, down to her chest and back up again. "— I could," she tells him with a little bit of a wry smile that slowly widens as she continues, "Tell me why."
Clearly, the Weasley twins were planning to be a distraction the whole time — they're just so gosh-darn noticeable, after all, and just prone to be trouble-makers, and so of course the eyes of Dark-Wizard-catchers and teachers alike will be peeled for their mischief. And the sleeves from Jas' heirloom robes do go all the way down over his hands, of course, and one does tend to expect that one will use those hands when ladling punch into a bowl, so there's nothing strange at all about the way his hand is over the bowl as he reaches for the ladle on the opposite side! Besides, he's the authority. They're never the ones up to no good! "Quite good punch," he murmurs to himself as he sips from his cup, and slides the ladle back into place.
"Because I," Pierrick Casanova tells Claire very earnestly, with all his French and borrowed charm turned up to 11 (so to speak), "am a very good dancer." So there! That's a fanTAStic reason to save him a dance, right? "And because I am asking you to dance even now, when the music is not playing. I am just so interested!"
Once again, Siobhan Noble has surprised the stern potions master and startled him into … near silence. "Ill met, proud Titania," he intones, narrowing his eyes pointedly at the gown-clad Professor. "And I see we have a wanderer as well." His dry tones do not bode well for conversation later. "Being labeled a spoilsport is not necessarily a bad thing, Minerva." He scowls again, his gaze dropping to the pin on his — what? "Miss O'Mainnin, kindly restrict your plumage to your own person." He doesn't take points off, but he does give her a good glare. After all, there is pink glitter on his cauldron pin, now.
The French charm and the borrowed charm from good old Giac might be more overwhelming to someone who doesn't find a French accent to be a natural romantic deterrent — but in this instance, Pierrick's innocent desperacy is what wins him over as far as punk rock star Claire is concerned. She doesn't even have any borrowed attitude! She came with the entire package. "Did you come ask me first?" she asks with her head tilted to the side a little bit, eyes wide, mouth quirked upward in a mischevious line of inquiry. The expression breaks for a moment when she overhears Snape's remark to the Ravenclaw and bursts out a chortle, but she forces it back.
Jethro is busy watching the miscreant twins. He doesn't expect the new liasion to be the one to spike the punch. Blue eyes narrow at another set of children who start to dance rather animatedly. He jerks his head sharply, sending a fellow Auror over to make sure the kids are okay. Snape's not the only one giving pointed glares. The teachers gathered around each other are given a good stern glare of their own. It probably goes unnoticed, though.
"Come now, Severus. If I can dress up for once … it can't be all that bad." Minerva points out, turning then to cast her eye out over the crowd. After Jas has taken his drink of course. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be going to look for any scurvy dogs that need to be made to swab the decks!" she intones, in a surprisingly prim voice for one who just rattled off pirate lingo. In other words, she will be checking dark corners to make sure none of the children are groping each other and having *too* much fun.
Bean dutifully returns to his favorite professor's side, complete with punch (now spiked). "Milady Titania…" He hands over the glass of punch, then stands back, as though awaiting orders. Riiight. He grins widely, hopping from one foot to the other. "Professor McGonagall, you look lovely." He tosses out the compliment as the Transfiguration teacher walks away. However, her words make him snicker. "What, a play toward! I'll be an auditor; An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause." He giggles outright, then scurries off toward the food table.
Pierrick squirms a little bit under Claire's questioning, but — well — his alter ego for the evening is far too smooth to let a little matter like that get in the way of a good time. "I did, oui," he answers, smoothly enough. Thank you, Casanova! "You, I think, perhaps are best at knowing how to dance, here?"
And Siobhan is absolutely delighted by McGonagall's wink and rebuttal. "Quite so," she answers the older Scottish lady in a very good imitation of Minerva's own prim brogue. Severus' response - proving that he has an understanding of Shakespeare - only fuels her good mood and she turns the warmth of her softer, less public smile up at him. When Minerva swaggers off to mete out pirate-y justice, she gives his arm a squeeze and then steps back, untangling her arm from his and giving him back the personal space he wears like a cloak. "Why should Titania cross her Oberon?" she replies softly, letting those personal barriers slot back between them once again. It probably seems like a non-sequitor to anyone close enough to hear, but she knows he'll understand it. And then Bean arrives bearing punch and suddenly there's a bright smile plastered over her features - one a bit reminiscent of Ophelia's actually - and she accepts the punch gratefully. The whole thing is drunk in one go because she trusts young Bean. She probably shouldn't, but she does. "Swifter than an arrow from the Tartar's bow," she compliments her Puck brightly. Whatever the effects of the spiked punch, one had better hope they take a while to show up. Especially since there is music starting.
If Claire ever finds out that Pieranova just lied to her about that, she will not forgive him. She will never let him forget it. Hopefully he's aware of that. "I'm a pretty good dancer," she's willing to give him. "Got non-Hogwarts experience. Unfortunately I'm not much of a waltzer and I don't know if that's all that'll be played. I just think it's kind of boring, slow dancing." A shrug, as her hand goes back to clicking the thing in her pocket. What else is she supposed to say? Parties. Awkward.
So what happens when an emo-teen drinks punch? Let's find out. Having been hiding in dark corners most of time thus far, Cianan has somehow managed to lurk through shadow all the way to the punch bowl until he can ladle a cup full for himself and then start to slink off again. Except, of course, that he finds his attention drawn to the awkward spectacle of Claire and Pierrick. So what does he do? Head on over to interrupt! Duh. "Hey, Claire. Who's your friend." Outcasts have to stick together, amirite?
Snape gazes implacably at Siobhan, giving a singular, short, sharp nod to her words. He strides away from the wall, heading toward the food table, keeping an eye on the students as he goes. "Mister Marson, kindly remove your hands from her person." He doesn't deduct points, but his low hiss is enough to shock the boy from … groping the girl. For about five seconds. His eyes narrow, but he remains silent, only giving Siobhan a glare.
And as Snape is admonishing students, there's McG escorting one young man out of the gym by the ear. "/10 points/ from Hufflepuff young man. Who-ever- told you it was appropriate to do that with y… and in public. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. Really. And a Seventh Year no less!" Huff. As if delicate sensibilities are at all ruffled. When really, Minerva is quite simply shocked.
Jas, of course, is off across the room by now, and is idly munching away at a plate of munchies, as one does. His cup of punch dangles carelessly from one hand, as he chats up Madam Hooch about this year's newest racing brooms. If his mouth is quirking as he notes the tendency kids these days have of taking such blatant advantage of such poor anonymity as their costumes might provide, as Snape and McGonagall are left actually joining forces to defend the school's virtues, well — what of it?
Deciding it's not best to invoke the wrath of Snape, Ron Potter turns away from the Professsor, and re-directs his attention on the table he sits at. He nudges Harry and points at Siobhan, and leans in close to whisper something that sounds suspiciously like it contains the word "legs." Whatever it is, however, is lost in the din of the ball. Grinning at each other, Ron gives a nod in Harry's direction as the latter moves over to the punch bowl to grab some drinks. A small gathering of Gryffindors is gathering at the table, and the many of them exchange pleasantries and compliments on the various costumes they wear. As Snape moves off to another part of the Hall, Ron mutters out of the corner of his mouth to a fellow Gryffindor. "Bet he's off to take more points from our House."
"Casanova, of course," answers Pierrick haughtily, looking down his nose at Cianan. He's tall. And he's facing a hobbit. What can possibly go wrong? He promptly ignores the Hobbitclaw in order to turn a bright smile back to Claire. "This is not a waltz," he points out, sounding hopeful. "Will you not dance with me, now?"
"Casanova tonight, anyway," Claire tells Cianan with a much more welcoming smile than she's really given anyone else so far. He doesn't, at least, expect her to not be awkward. "I could tell you his real name but then he might, I don't know, start to cry or something and that would just be regrettable. He's a Frenchman dressed as an Italian sex god." This is perfect common sense. "Mortal sex god," she corrects herself. "And I think I have to go dance with him, because he's begging me for some incredibly strange reason I can't fathom — hang out right here and we'll come talk to you again at the end of the song?" Claire asks Cianan hopefully as she offers Pierrick her arm.
Bean moves away from the table, snacking on some sort of hand-held sweet. He tilts his head, seeming to analyze the flavors before giggling again at the stupid behavoir of the 'grownup' kids. He bounces over toward Siobhan, and grins. "Enjoying yourself?" He isn't sure exactly what he saw, but he knows it's making the kids act like idiots. And he, of the eidetic memory, will remember every. Single. Thing. He grins at the thought, then sits down at a table near Siobhan to just watch, giggle, and eat snacks.
"How… not fitting." Cianan decides, in a blandly bored tone when he glances at Pierrick and his outfit. "No, no… we wouldn't want him to cry." is agreed, with a rare smirk, though he lifts his cup in a toast to the two of them. Ok, maybe he would like to see the annoying french-italian whatever-he-is cry. But he's not going to admit it aloud. "I'll be here. Or.. over there. Somewhere." he assures Claire.
"I am not about to cry," Pierrick answers with dignity, and then leaves his dignity with Cianan (consolation prize?) as he takes Claire's arm and leads her off to the floor, to enjoy a cheerful foxtrot past the punch bowl. For some reason, other students keep trying to cut in on him.
Siobhan watches Severus leave with nothing more than a nod. It's not an unusual response at all, even from him, but there's something bubbling in Sio's gut - and currently being pushed through her arteries - that makes his response into a challenge. The softness of her faerie disguise seems to shift, leaving the sharp allure of a predator instead of the charm of the fae. What did she just drink? Hooded eyes track the progress of her fellow professor across the room, meeting his glare evenly, though she lets a sensual, predatory smile curve her lips. "I will be, soon," she answers Bean, something low and dangerously alluring in her voice. Setting her empty cup aside, she follows the rhythm of the music across the floor to a very familiar face. "Jas," she greets him warmly, sliding her body Into His Personal Space. "I can't believe there's actually someone here who'll be able to top me." In dancing, of course. Not dancing. Of … course. "Indulge me in a dance?" Because if she remembers right, it's this foxtrot and then a tango. A single flick of her gaze passes to Snape, but it's only with a challenging arch of her brow, nothing further.
Jas grins right back at her, and doesn't — for once — seem to mind having his personal space invaded, at all. "Why, Miss Noble! — Or rather, Professor Noble, isn't it? I've been meaning to catch up with you, ever since I got here!" Is he studying her a bit — carefully? — for a moment? No, trick of the light, clearly. He's just leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. "I was so wonderfully relieved to hear that you've recovered," he adds more softly, offering her his arm to lead her back out to the floor. Did he know she was be-portraited? Nope, not a bit. "I won't pretend it was on par with your family, though — your father was quite distraught, after all." Because of course he's a man frequently known for his emotional outbursts, and all of that. "But still! Happier times are here, now, it seems."
Snape is too busy deducting points and pulling students apart — to only have them return back into place seconds later — to notice much of a change. He does, hower, notice the gaze 'flicked' his direction. His eyes narrow in consternation, but he moves to pull the Hufflepuff - Ravenclaw couple apart again. "I do not know what you think you are doing, but you will cease to do it in the presence of the younger forms." Or, frankly at all. "Mister Orkan, you will escort young Miss Tollor to your common room, and you, Miss, will escort him," He points out another young Ravenclaw, "to the Eagle's tower. Make no mistake. I will discover if my directive goes unheeded." He forcibly separates the couple again, handing each to the younger housemate to guide away. It might not be younger escorting older; it might actually be the other way around. When Severus spots Jas speaking with Siobhan, his gaze narrows even further, and a thunderous expression crosses his face.
"The children certainly are a bit on the touchy-feely side today aren't they, Severus." Minerva, stating the obvious when she watches Snape pull apart even more amorous young couples. She follows his gaze towards Jas and Siobhan, and keeps the thunderous expression in mind with her sidelong watching of him. "Is there a problem of some kind? She's a lovely dancer is she not?" Oh drat, and there's a couple snogging in the corner. She trots off to separate them, having already caused a bit more trouble!
Siobhan accepts that kiss on the cheek and returns it with one of her own. "It's been a terribly busy week, Jas. If I'd known they'd picked you for this job, I would have escaped days ago." After all, this is the man who brought her presents at Christmas. He's almost - but not quite - family, and it helps that he's a bit dashing, to boot. Raising her voice just a little - just enough - she smacks him playfully on the arm. "Come on, where did this 'Miss Noble' business come from? Siobhan - or Sio - please." Pointed remark? Aimed at a certain other individual? Quite possibly. Choosing to gloss over the mentions of her curse (that's not good dance talk, after all!) Siobhan takes his arm and moves easily in step with him, allowing herself to be swept out to the dancefloor.
Enjoying the anticipation of a dance with a truly capable partner, Siobhan settles comfortably into Jas' arms, beaming up at him with a truly contagious smile. She truly is an excellent dancer, having been raised on lessons since she can remember. The fact that her partner also knows the steps allows her to relax and enjoy herself and - wonder of all wonders - let him lead. Laughing with sheer joy as she's whirled expertly around the dancefloor, she might catch Severus' thunderous expression. Might. "How are you setling in?" she asks Jas, voice sounding just a little bit breathless - more so than the dance calls for, surely.
And with this song ending, and a tango beginning, well — Pierrickanova, for one, is aware that tango is not his strong suit. As such, he fetches Claire up at the edge of the dance floor, by the punch and nibbles, and smiles at her once again. "Merci beaucoup," he murmurs deeply, and bows even more deeply to her. "May I fetch for you a drink, perhaps?" Or a baseball bat, so she can fend off all the admirers who are about to ask the same thing? It was, after all, a good dance.
What a depressing predicament Claire is in — having actually been enjoying the dance for the dance's sake, as well as the fact that she and Pierrick are both good fox-trotters and so it was an enjoyable experience, and now it is over. She'll survive, though, as she is buzzing with the energy of having enjoyed a good spin around the dance floor. And not the energy of having consumed spiked punch. "You're welcome!" she barks out a laugh as he bows, and then says, "Oh, I can't drink anything here except maybe water, too much sugar and I don't have exact counts and it screws everything up, but I appreciate the offer, anyway. We should go find Cianan." Hopefully he's not far!
Oh Cianan is there alright! Near where he found both Claire and Pieranova previously. Except, sitting. Watching. Being his normal creepy outcast self.
"Oh, very well indeed," Jas chuckles softly, grinning down at little Sio. How much she's filled out! Why, she's practically an adult, at this point! And is … occasionally casting looks at Snape … okay, that's just gross. Damn. To take his mind off his fellow Death Eater, he spins Siobhan effortlessly across the floor, claps his hands, stamps his foot, and waits for her to tango back to him. This, this is dancing. This is also clearing the floor, since apparently nobody else here knows how to dance a tango.
"I am certain, Miss Noble, that Mister Lancaster is merely being … polite." Severus hisses his comments at the dancing couple, and moves along. However, he mutters, "I wonder if Titania be awaked …Then, what it was that next came in her eye, Which she must dote on in extremity." He strides on, in full dudgeon. As he does move on, he frowns at Minerva. "I don't doubt that yon ginger lions," he jerks his head toward where the Weasley twins are laughing at their fellows' antics, "found a way to perservere through even the Auror's inspection." Poor Fred and George. Severus responds to Minerva's last comment with a scowl. "No. Nothing whatsoever." He strides on.
Spun out, she twirls like a dervish out towards the other side of the floor, pausing with one foot held aloft. It is thus that Severus passes her and strikes her ire, though the look she gives him is heated with anything but. "But O, how bitter a thing it is to look at happiness through another man's eyes." Siobhan's reply is … almost purred, her hands moving along the prescribed motions for this particular dance. A click of her fingers in time with the rhtythm and she slinks back across the floor, taking Jas' hand and spinning her body rapidly back into his, one leg lifting to hook around his hip and show off smooth, pale, glowing thigh in the process. Oops, probably shouldn't have hiked up the skirt. The full moon shines brightly through the ceiling, however, and the combination of that plus the potion has left sweet Siobhan far behind; in her wake is something ethereal and otherworldly.
Pierrick is of course completely oblivious as to where Cianan is, or why he should really care, but he is certainly willing to scoop a couple of glasses of water up and offer one of them to Claire. The other he sips from, obeying his mother's commands, for all that she's on the other side of the Channel and not actively talking to him anyway. "We will dance again at some point, I hope," he tells her, his delight in his eyes. "You are very good. Even," as the delight and his eyes both start laughing, "even in shoes such as these."
Okay, that took way longer than she expected. That being a breath of fresh air or something along the lines. She's not so smiley, but Ophelia's still toughing it out in the pink. And she has to quirk her brows. Is everyone looking a bit more swoony in this room than when she left?
Bean giggles, his cloth-and-clothes-hanger wings flapping with the shaking of his little body. He's watching everyone he's able to, and keeping pretty good track. "Lorrrd," he gasps out between giggles. "What fools these mortals be!"
Knocking the shoes, Pierrick? You are lucky that Claire is not a total clothes horse (like you are) and therefore will not make any choice remarks about it. Except, well, that actually he's right: "It takes practice! But I got the practice. So taht's all I really need, right? I'd be happy to," she adds, in re: dancing again, as she sips her drink. Slowly. And then catches Cianan's eye and waves at him. Over here! "And thank you for both the dance and the water, really!"
Cianan waves back, being the clueless sod that he is. And keeps staring. Because apparently aphrodesiac spiked punch turns him into kind of a creeper. He is absolutely not getti gup again, only to be left standing when they start dancing another song! He'd rather brood. All he needs is black eye-makeup now.
Little Sio Noble has definitely grown up, Jas is discovering. It's not just the fact that she remembers how to tango. She's putting more than a little bit of feeling into this dance, which is only what it deserves — but on the other hand, he wasn't really expecting that feeling to involve the inside of her thigh and the outside of his! That is an awful lot of leg to show, Professor Noble! Which is, doubtless, why Jas' hand is quite high on that bare thigh, to support her while she dips backward, falling until her hair brushes over the (nice clean) floor, only to snap back upright and be pressed close against him, chest to chest. Of course, in the middle of this fancy sexy dipping, he does happen to spot Snape, glaring at them. Cue raising an eyebrow, there, over Sio's shoulder, and placing a hand quite low at her back to keep her — ahem — supported, yes, as he watches Snape through the tumbling curls of her hair. How intriguing.
Except as far as Claire is concerned, Cianan is just a sweet creeper who deserves love. So she heads off in that direction — whether or not Pierrick is following her. If he really loves her, he will, but since he is Casanova he is entirely unlikely to even remotely love her. Or anyone. She is sidelined by someone else on the Quidditch team, or maybe a fan of the Quidditch team, talking to her about something about Quidditch, for about two minutes, and then sits right down next to the slightly younger Ravenclaw. "Not going to ditch you forever," she says reasonably.
And if Claire weren't looking right at him, Cianan might even give Pieranova a triumphant little glare. Instead he watches her progress from the Casanova, to the Quidditch player, and then to the spot beside him with what might be construed as a slightly adoring gaze. Is this not setting off alarms for anyone? Really? "No." he agrees quietly. "You're too nice to do that." Now he does glare at Pierrick. Really. "Can't say the same for him though."
In between deepening scowls toward his … friend and colleague and pulling amorous students apart, Severus Snape heads toward the punch bowl. He stops, tilts his head, and then lowers his … 'abnormally large nose' down toward the bowl of punch. "Minerva," he calls. "I believe the punch has been spiked with a particularly foul aphrodesiac. The youngest students are not at risk; it will merely make them 'indulge in a bit of fancy.'" Words thrown back at her? Absolutely. "Those beyond a certain point, however, will focus on those they find attractive, and …" He gestures around. No more explanation needed. He grabs a phial from his robes and scoops some of the offending potion out. "I shall test it to be certain, however, when this farce of an event has reached its necessary conclusion." He strides over toward Jas and Siobhan. "Miss Noble." He does not expect an immediate response, so he pulls out the big guns. "Siobhan," he hisses. "Your punch was spiked." He sends a dark, foreboding glare toward Jas, then steps to a nearby couple. "I will need to procure an antidote." Or someone should.
Pierrick, well, he is Casanova, tonight! He'd absolutely ruin his reputation if he locked onto Claire and never flirted with anyone else tonight, surely! So that's probably why he's pointedly ignoring Cianan, and unfortunately also Claire, in order to flirt with a bevy of witches (and the occasional young wizard). For appearances, surely. And if he's maybe finding that a great many of them are resoundingly uninterested, well… Maybe it's something in the water.
(Or maybe in the punch.)
Ghosts just don't throw the same sort of parties as the living, and as a teenager, albeit a freshly dead one, Perpetua bored quickly of the festivities down in the dungeons. Oh some of the ghosts were very sweet towards her and quite welcoming, but it was all very depressing. Moaning Myrtle was the only ghost relatively close to her age. Uhm, that is, the age she died, but Myrtle is well, Myrtle. Her appearance times itself accidentally with the inspection of the punch bowl, her head poking up through the table alongside it. "Ooooh, this is a livelier party than last year's."
Maybe he was late to the party- or perhaps he was here all along, hesitant to pass more over the fringe of being there. Or, just maybe, Rene was being an extremely gracious bother with that gaggle of little girls, whom he has been flitting around with. When Rene finally seeps into Bean's vicinity, it looks as if his cheekbones are not only pink because of the powdery rouge he's put on them.
The set of transfigured wings on his back, secret courtesy of Siobhan, give a fluffing stretch out behind him when he finds his best friend perching on the outskirts of the party. Rene's slim form is draped in a short ivory chiton, the hem above his knees, and draped only over one shoulder. There is a silk band that hangs from the other, draping what appears to be a slip underneath of it(can't be going around without something on under it!! Never.). His belt is banded with two red roses on either side, and the forest green sash across his chest is spiraled with real leaves. It attaches to an eponymous quiver on his back. His long hair is curled from virtually top to bottom, pinned back with a clasp of peacock feathers. The smallish, buttery white wings on his back emerge from the chiton, soft in feather and stirring only when he moves about. At his hip is a red-wood recurve bow, in miniature. The glimmer of shadow around his eyes and the shine of his mouth give him quite the startling show when he finally sits himself at Bean's table.
As if to prove some point, Rene promptly and wordlessly tugs a little arrow from his quiver, pulls back on the bow, and lets it dart across the room. It sticks its rounded point to someone's shoulder, sticking via simple charm. "I may not know Puck, but I know my Grecian lore."
"There's 'bit of fancy' and then there's /bit of fancy/. Do be mature enough to know the difference Severus." Minerva snaps that when her words are thrown back at her in Snape's usual ever so charming way. Much like the difference between a costume and a cauldron pin anyone? Ahem. "Well, for… " Once the potion master has his phial, she waves her hand atop the bowl and apparently seals it shut against further tasting, summoning house-elves to take the offending punch away. And probably into the potions classroom for now. "Go, and quickly if you could. I can only pull so many students apart…" Sigh. Minnie goes recruiting Aurors to help her out.
Oh, whatever, Pierrick. Claire is over you anyway. "I don't know if I'd call me particularly nice, but I'm not particularly rude, either," she halfway agrees with Cianan, with a tiny shrug. Hopefully, her on-display cleavage is not making her Ravenclaw companion too uncomfortable, considering she's not all that much taller than he is and they're sitting. "I don't know, he's not so bad — what'd he do?"
Pierrick didn't do anything wrong at all! And yet, somehow… He keeps getting dissed and dismissed by nearly everyone he tries to flirt with. When he goes to get some punch to console himself, the poor boy has to deal with Snape, a ghost's head, and McGonagall — and then they're whisking the punch away! This is hardly fair! Morose, miserable, thirsty, Pierrick manages to find a flagon of pumpkin juice and sit down next to the punch table. "Bonsoir," he tells the ghost's head, sounding a bit gloomy. He toasts her.
The tango is a dance that - when done with the proper amount of feeling - is physically exhausting. Having spun and slinked and grabbed and thrown, Siobhan clings to Jas as the music strains to an end, the orchestra taking a momentary break to re-tune instruments and get … water, it seems, since the punch has been declared unsafe. Clinging tightly to her dance partner - and seemingly not at all bothered by his … strategic placement of hands - Siobhan takes deep, gasping breaths, her chest heaving and straining. "Okay, next time no tango in a corset," she gasps, just loud enough for Jas or those closest to her to hear.
She is just beginning to catch her breath when the sound of her name hissed in an all-too-familiar voice steals it right back from her. Still bracing herself for balance against Jas, she lowers her leg to stand upright and turns to regard Snape. There is undisguised heat in cinnamon eyes and the long, slow look she gives him promises so many things without a single word. Letting go of Jas, she stalks the last few feet, completely forgetting that there is an audience and completely missing the reason why spiked punch is apparently important. Pushing into his space - and highlighting the seven inch difference in their heights - she looks up at him with a fierce set to her jaw and hisses in return. "Say it again."
That probably depends on ones definition of uncomfortable. Claire's cleavage will almost certainly provide poor Cianan with something he shouldn't be thinking about. He's just better at not directly staring right into the view. As for what Pieranova did? Cue up the boy's best sulky look. "He took you away. To dance." And that was more then enough, apparently. "I never come to these things. And this punch is terrible. I know you can't have any of it. But trust me. It's bad."
And Jas is — suddenly — abandoned, nay, forsaken on the dance floor, mid-chuckle at Siobhan's comment about the corsets. His response — something about how he tries strenuously never to tango in a corset, himself — dies on his lips as he stares at her stalking of Snape, yes, Snape, and the way she looks like she's — about to throw herself upon him entirely. Oh, dear. She definitely got some of the punch, didn't she? Probably the most concentrated part of it, too. Damn. And her a professor! Jas hurries over — taking just a moment to snap a series of body-bind curses at various pairs (and one threesome) of students fully engaged beyond any measure of decorum — and ends up by McGonagall, instead of by Sio and Snape. Discretion being the better part of valor, and all of that. "Where is Dumbledore?" he demands of her. "Why isn't he controlling this chaos?"
Minerva stands up to her full height when Jas walks up to her, demanding. "Headmaster Dumbledore was called away on another one of the meetings that your Ministry so enjoys calling at the /worst/ times." she replies, looking past her glasses in such a way that even if he is shorter, she will appear to be looking down at him. "So unless you are offering to help, do stop encouraging displays of affection by keeping your hands off of the faculty members?" she requests, in a clipped tone that is all business.
Pearlescent eyes blink as Perpetua realizes where she's at. "AAAH!" She backpedals, errr, backfloats out of the table, hovering a foot off the floor behind it. The elves carting off the punchbowl get a curious look. Definitely a better party than the last one she attended. Just her luck, hmm? "W..what?" she asks Pierrick, a look of confusion on her face. "Bless you? Cause it sounds like you sneezed."
"I bet it is. All sweet things generally are, when I try them," says Claire, who is not considering that they taste bad to her as a physical defense mechanism against her actually consuming them. She is so not thinking about that right now. "And I hate parties, too. But I'm here now, so you can just hang out with me. And we'll just laugh at everyone else." That's how party haters do it at parties!
Severus Snape is suddenly dealing with ghost-freeze on his nose, and then personal space full of amorous woman. "Siobhan," he hisses, "Calm yourself. " Unfortunately, this may have just the opposite effect. "I oppose all such fancy on principle alone, especially in students so young and already plenty foolish." He's of the opinion that leaving the students alone to their own devices never bodes well. "I am currently," oof, he steps back a little to a little to try to put some space between them, "unable to retrieve…" He snaps his fingers, calling a school elf to himself. Directions given, he is able to deal with the woman currently in his face.
Jas' comments about Dumbledore make him grimace. He understands what's going on, but he definitely does not like it. It is another layer of complication on top of an already complicated evening.
"Mistress McGonagall," Jas replies, his tones /just/ as clipped — except, in a Lancastrian drawl, even more so than McGonagall's Scottish brogue — "Believe you me I am doing what I can to limit this — this mess! And I am hardly the one calling Dumbledore away, on this of all nights! Has this school not suffered enough troubles on Halloweens past, without the man in charge leaving? As for the tango, I would suggest you instruct your orchestra not to perform such music if you don't wish it to be danced to!" So there! He looks at her just as sternly, albeit without the benefit of glasses to glare through or over. "I was not aware of this wretched misbehavior when I responded to Professor Noble's invitation to dance," he adds in a low almost-hiss. Again, in his accent, it's just wrong somehow. And, again, a knot of students falls prey to a body-bind — hey, at least they can't keep groping each other when they're stuck ramrod-straight, can they?
"That's Professor McGonagall. Or, Deputy Headmistress." Minerva clarifies, her tone even. If still clipped. "I don't recall saying anything about you personally calling any meeting. But you should certainly possess the intelligence to obtain all your facts before flinging accusations." is pointed out, coldly. "You do remember how to say the word 'no' do you not? Now, excuse me. I have work to do." And indeed, she gestures at Jethro, to get him to help her. So that she can leave Jas standing there.
Jethro, regretting wearing his 'dress blues' to the ball, moves from his place on the wall to McGonagall's side, waiting for instructions. "Any idea who the culprit might be?" He listens to the comments, then frowns. "He's yankin' your chain, Ma'am." Jethro comments. "Let it go. Focus on gettin' the kids the antidote and gettin' 'em to bed."
"Should we point and laugh. Or just laugh." Cianan wonders, saving a smile for Miss Claire when she admits to hating parties as well. "Maybe we should start a club. All party haters sign up before hand. Wear pins. And be creepy at parties." Like him. What? It's a solid plan!
Pierrick frowns, confused, at the ghost. "No, I did not sneeze," he answers her, plainly puzzled. "I wished you a good evening, yes?" At least he doesn't sound quite so gloomy. "Have you been enjoying it, I hope?"
Unfortunately, yes, Snape; that has exactly the opposite effect. Letting her eyes slide closed, Siobhan does nothing to suppress the shiver of delight that races up her spine - and even causes a slight catch in her breathing. She slowly lifts her eyelids, letting dilated brown eyes lock up on deep black ones. "Oh, I'm calm enough, Severus." The sibilant sound of her voice manages to make the name sound like liquid sin. When he takes a step backwards, she takes a step forwards, keeping their proximity entirely the same. "You, on the other hand, look entirely too tense…" Truer words were never … er, purred.
Claire is staaaaring at Siobhan and Snape now, and then winces. And then just puts her face entirely inside her cupped hands and groans softly for a second without even lifting her head. "This is not gonna be good later," she mutters into her hands, before taking a deep breath and sitting up again. "Yeah, I think pins would be a good plan from now on. Also notices that recommend never, ever drinking the punch."
"Obviously the Weasley twins are going to be accused. But their pranks are more along the lines of how this potion affected the youngest children. So I think we should be looking elsewhere." McGonagall replies, her voice remarkably warmer now that she's not dealing with accusations. "Of course he is." she agrees, giving a brief nod for both the observation and the suggestion. "Get one of your Aurors to peel Siobhan off of Severus if you would. She is going to be mortified tomorrow. And a few more can help me organize getting the children off to bed. Alone." Drawl.
GAME: Save complete.
Looks like the entire ball's going to need a few memory charms to keep the gossip tongues from wagging at this rate.
Those aurors might just be too late! Because already Jas is right up there, behind Sio, gently taking her arm and murmuring in her ear, and nowhere near daft enough to try to step between her and the object of her — er — attentions. "Sio," he says, softly enough to keep anyone else, yes that means you, Snape, from hearing it in the loudly-complaining hall, "he's not going to be able to respond to you here, you know. Why not leave the Hall, and wait for him elsewhere?"
"OH," Perpetua says, her cheeks darkening a bit in embarrassment. "Sorry, I forgot there were so many French students here. Thank you, I think so. I'm not sure. I'm just confused right now. Nearly Headless Nick was throwing his usual Deathday Party downstairs, but I left it early to pop in up here, and it looks like I missed some excitement, or maybe I got here just in time. I'm not sure. You? Oh my.." Her mouth drops open as she finally notices the proximity of Siobhan and Snape. "Myrtle might be upset she's missing this. I don't think anyone's gotten within snogging distance of Professor Snape, ever."
Cianan sort of gulps when he looks over at Siobhan and Severus, with eyes as wide as saucers. "Uhm… uhm. Wow." Jaw drop is next. And then he puts his glass of punch down slowly, pushing it away from him, turning pale. "Gotta go. Bye!" And, he flees. Because he totally cannot look at Claire. Nope, can't. Caaaan't!
In fact, that was probably Phee who had retruned from running a last minute errand about something, saw the two professors and turned around and walked right back out. Who knows, all that glitter might get blamed.
Snogging distance? Professor Snape? Cue Pierrick wheeling about, trying to focus in on whatever Perpetua's talking about, and nearly falling off his chair when it's that close to him. Oh, the horror! He's going to have nightmares about this! And he's liked Professor Noble! So if he, too, is maybe bolting away — well — nobody's going to blame him, are they? The poor, unfortunate, sober-and-unaltered-and-rejected Casanova that he is.
"Oh man, if I slept, I would so have nightmares the rest of my life… as it is I am so not able to unsee this.. aw.. he ran away," Perpetua looks a little disappointed at the nice French boy bolting away. Was it something she said? Maybe he realized she wasn't just a clever costume. Isn't that just her luck?
"Do not give her ideas, Lancaster." Severus hisses. He is only happy to have Jethro's assistance at separating them. Just about the time Jethro begins pulling them apart, two house elves appear with phials. "Siobhan. It would make me — exceedingly happy," although he looks anything but, "for you to share this potion with me. I shall give you some first, then, I shall take my own." He gestures to the elves to hand the potions to Minerva and the other teachers around. And then, Severus Snape does something that is rarer than Night-Blooming Black Orchid stamens. He says, "Please."
"I didn't say I gave her any ideas at all," Jas says calmly, giving Snape an equally-calm look. Serves him right for spoiling the Dark Lord's plans, doesn't it? He didn't have to go and reveal the potion so quickly! It could have just been teenaged lust and rebellion, at least for another hour or two, dammit! "I suggested she'd feel a bit better if she left the room, that was all." Liar. Supremely skilled liar. Snape can't exactly cast Legilimens on a Ministry official in the middle of the Great Hall on Halloween, now can he? And Jas has done such a good job of ironing out any of his merely physical tells.
Siobhan stiffens at the first touch of Jas against her arm and back and neck. When Jethro touches her to separate them, she jerks her arm away and flings her body to one side. Clouds part overhead and the illusion of the full moon draws wild brown eyes up to the ceiling. The fizz and burn of the venom rising to meet the moon in her veins fights against the dull, cloudy ache of the potion doing the same. For just a brief moment, Snape may recognize Sio in her own eyes, clear and in pain. She's so used to looking to him for help that she doesn't hide the plea in her gaze and takes the vial with a shaking hand. It's tossed back in one gulp and the empty vial shatters as she hurls it to the ground, the shaking in her limbs only intensifying. Just because her better sense is now unclouded doesn't mean the um, side effect of the potion has gone away. Only now it's made worse by the restlessness of the wolf's poison mixing with her body's own … chemicals. So strong is the tide of energy consuming her body that she's unable to say anything, unable to do much except to grab her wand - where did that come from? - and transfigure her gown into jeans and a jumper and turns without a word to walk unsteadily out into the Entrance Hall. And then turning to the right. Towards the door. Sans shoes. Oh, Sio… Goodnight, everyone.
Severus breathes a sigh of relief, visibly relaxing when she takes the antitdote. However, he glances around, seeing the people watching them. "Don't you have anything better to be doing?" He looms over the younger ones, and nearly all of them scurry off. He turns swiftly, the swirl of his robes a testament to his general mood.
"Nope, not at all. Sir." Perpetua says gleefully at Snape before zooming off to gossip frantically with other students in desperate need of eyeball scouring and bleaching.
"You know, Frenchy," Bean says, sitting and watching the chaos turn back into order, "There's really only one thing to say to this…" He stands up, climbs onto the little table, and says, rather loudly, "If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended, That you have but slumber'd here While these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, No more yielding but a dream, Gentles, do not reprehend: if you pardon, we will mend: And, as I am an honest Puck, If we have unearned luck Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue, We will make amends ere long; Else the Puck a liar call; So, good night unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, And Robin shall restore amends. " He makes a grand, flourishing bow, then snickers. "C'mon, Frenchy. Let's go get this stuff off and go to sleep, and I'll tell you about…" And his voice drops as he starts regaling his best friend with all the … interesting things he's seen.
A wiki page with everyone's costumes has been set up. Costumes