A Perfect Pureblood Party - Only, not quite

Notoriously, Pureblood parties were dull and the Wood family, as a rule, had very little time for them. Once in a while, in a blue moon if you will, they were called from their Scottish roost and pressed into the scenic society that they had little time to miss during the wee hours they had for a little R&R. Oliver and Baldric had been working on the boat the former had been building since spring when the owl arrived and while Alicia wasn’t exactly thrilled, she managed to extract some joy and excitement out of it for it meant that she would be in charge of dressing all of them so they at least looked the part. That didn’t stop Baldric from adding his own personal touch, of course.

They arrived at the Krum estate in Yorkshire and were greeted by a harried looking young woman whose eyes were glazed with a similar false tone that her smile wore. She hurried past and soon enough they were faced by a much more charming edition of the Krum household, a young Quidditch player named Georgio who Oliver certainly recognised but Baldric didn’t take the time to really look at. The pair bantered between them as they were led into the ballroom and quickly, Georgio apologised for the estate’s size. According to him, it was much smaller than the one in Bulgaria and therefore rather an embarrassment but would do for such a small, intimate party.

If small and intimate consisted of well over eight hundred people, Baldric would eat his hat. A manor house with over thirty bedrooms was also, in his opinion, not small. His three bedroom cottage he called home was small and at times ad misery to have to live in if someone was in a dark mood. The estate was colossal but to the Krum family, Baldric supposed it would seem small.

“Oh to live a life of leisure,” Oliver quipped satirically after Georgio breezed away. He chuckled and looped his arm around Alicia’s waist before leading her off, leaving Baldric to his own devices - which was as he tended to prefer them if there was something to be explored.

Needless to say, Baldric was out of his comfort zone but soon enough he found a familiar face amongst the wine and the food scattered about on the buffet tables lining the side of the room: his uncle Titus who wasn’t really his uncle but he was a good family friend and therefore was, sort of, his uncle.

“Kefir, my boy, it’s good to see you!”

Uncle Titus was as tall as he was round, a great sphere of a man dressed in expensive suits that were dirtied with crumbs and wine stains. Tonight, it appeared as though he hadn’t gotten far and as he embraced Baldric, nothing sticky and jam-like made its way onto the young man’s suit and for that he was infinitely glad.

“How are you keeping? Still working in Diagon Alley for those slave drivers are you?”

Uncle Titus supped at the goblet of wine in his fat grasp and Baldric managed to raise a smile to his lips.

“I love work, Uncle.” He assured the man, his heart not really up to the argument that Titus wanted to begin. “We can’t all be wealthy, after all.”

The man scoffed, as though the idea was preposterous and prodded Baldric in the shoulder.

“Then you had better find yourself a wealthy witch and be a kept man, Kefir. The good looks go if you work too hard. I should know.”

Uncle Titus puffed out his chest importantly and Baldric smirked.

“Oh really?” He queried, his smirk morphing into a broad grin.

“Why, yes. Do you know that chap Arian Krum?” Titus asked, his eyes widening as Baldric shook his head. “Worked on the docklands for twenty years - looks completely ruined. He could never look as good as me, lad, and he’s half my age!”

Baldric could barely contain himself but managed to utter what Titus wanted to hear.

“Yes, Uncle. I’m sure.”

Yet again, Penny was being subjected to the torture of a pureblood get together. Her parents were either oblivious to the torment these events caused her, or they sadistically enjoyed the tortured expressions that escaped their daughter's pale face. She always felt the urge to comfort eat the closer she drew to the parties, which was an issue because her mother typically forced her into some terrible outfit that she could not breathe in - more evidence for sadism.

Penny had taken a guilt trip to her kitchen, before talking herself out of doing the dirty deed of eating the last slice of blueberry cobbler from the night before. On her way back, she passed her father's study, which was ajar. She halted as she heard her name. "Penny and Baldric?" She approached the wall and out an ear to the crack. "The Wood boy? They're not very... What do you always say of the Krums?"

"Distinguished? I know he's not a Krums or an Ivanov, but your daughter seems absolutely opposed to an advantageous match. He's an acceptable option. He's pure blood and he had money. We are running out of chances with her. We have more chance arranging something with the Ivanovs or Krums with her sister. Let's just see tonight, alright darling?"

"I suppose I have no say in the matter anyway."

Penny hurried from the door, tripping over a vase and then running flat out to her room where she remained locked up until Dotsy came in to prepare her for the party.

Baldric was a friend if hers! Her parents were so wonderful at ruining her social life. She might have even been capable of growing fonder of him, had they just not guaranteed that she would now be avoiding him like the plague.

The time to leave approached and Penny was whisked off to the party. She arrived, fear flitting across her brow as she attempted to fix what was meant to be a comfortable smile onto her nervous lips. It was simple : survive.

She wasn't certain she could do it.

Her mother placed her hand on Penny's shoulder. "Isn't that your friend - oh, what's his name? Baldric?"

Penny swallowed. "I'm going to get something to drink." And she walked as quickly as was proper to the beverages.

“I loathe these parties.” Uncle Titus gruffed beside Baldric as he supped down another three fingers of Firewhisky.

Baldric smirked. “It’s a wonder you can remember them, Uncle.”

The man in question didn’t seem to get the dig but smiled nonplussed instead, pouring himself some more Firewhisky as though still in the throes of working out what Baldric had said. After a moment he hummed thoughtfully and lifted his glass in a nonsensical direction, tapping Baldric on the arm and encouraging him to look.

Baldric followed the man’s eye line and raised his eyebrows when he found that Uncle Titus had been looking in the direction of one of Bae’s friends - Penny Macnair.

“She’s purty, i’n’t she?” He queried with a small, secretive smile on his broad, unsubtle mouth.

Bae shook his head, not out of disagreement but out of sheer disbelief, and sidled up the length of the drinks table, looking in search of something that wouldn’t leave him with a splitting headache come morning. Besides odd looking fruit cocktails that were possibly more killer than the Whisky, there was sparkling water that was a fools game depending on whether you picked the vodka jug or the water one - and he was sure they’d changed every time.

Just as Bae was beginning to reach for a jug, Penny arrived at the table and he looked at her, appraising her slightly old but no less pretty choice of attire.

“Good Evening, Miss Macnair, I trust you’re having fun,” Baldric teased, grabbing the jug and a glass as he moved to stand beside her. “But not too much fun of course. Never too much fun!”

He grinned doggedly before nudging her shoulder with his own. “How’ve you been, Pen? I haven’t seen you for ages!”

Penny always attempted to stray from alcohol, as she seemed absolutely incapable of drawing any courage from it, and only ever managed to turn her face a strange shade of red, increase her klutz factor exponentially, and make her much more honest than she really should be. The girl had too many thoughts considered undignified or improper of a pureblood girl to have for her to risk airing them out in front of everyone. So, as she drew near the table, her eyes scanned looking for any drink that would not send her over the deep side. Though it seemed the party had been catered by her mother, who thought her daughter might need a little help getting the night started, for there seemed to be an excess of alcohol and a shortage of other drinks, like, y'know... water.

She reached out to grab what looked like the solitary glass of water among all of the hard liquors and fruity beverages all the classy people liked to sip at as they mingled and conversed, treating the party more like a business mixer, rather than a social event. Penny supposed it was her mindset, however, that made her observe this, rather than it being the truth. She was a bit of an old soul, and none of this seemed to make sense for her.

Her hand was just about to fasten around the water, when a familiar voice found her, the very voice she had hoped she might be able to avoid. If it was possible to break out into spontaneous sweating, she might have right there. Her hand did, however, slip from the glass and, to pass off the movement, her hand fastened around one of the deadly, fruity drinks and she immediately swallowed most of it in an attempt to look casual - making her look as though she had just fallen off the wagon, of course. 

Choking down the drink and already turning pink, she turned to look at her friend. He bumped shoulders with her and she might have fallen right there, hoping the earth would open up and gracefully accept her into its welcome crust, but she managed to stay upright. "I-I'm okay, just y'know. What can I say?..." She paused, and the silence began to get awkward. What COULD she say? "Summer vacations... am I right?"

What Penny needed to really do was shudder and quiver without any real rhyme or reason as to why; then her body would reflect her thoughts, perhaps.

Baldric, ever the young man, was completely ignorant to her horror and her fear and he looked at her quizzically, sensing something was wrong inherently but unable to quite determine what was wrong.

He decided she just needed some Dutch courage, parties never being her thing, and merely smiled sweetly at her, indulgently.

Baldric took a sip of his own drink, considering her for a moment before deciding that the right course was to compliment her - and quickly. Hopefully that’d settle her, he thought dumbly.

“You look very nice tonight, Pen.” Baldric told her. “The green really suits you.”

There, that was better, he was sure. Perhaps he could make her smile with that.

Setting his drink down, Baldric turned and looked at Penny. “Have you been on holiday yet?” He asked her kindly. “My parents want to go to Gibraltar. I’m not so sure.”

He informed her that she looked nice and, if she were a more violent type, she would have hit him. Why was he ruining their innocent little friendship, by forwarding the terrible idea her mother had concocted? Was he in on it? Was he supportive of it? She didn't like the idea of Baldric going along with such a plot and, though her rational side assured her he must be ignorant of the dilemma unfolding, she could not help but be a bit panicked by the mere idea of his approval.

Why would he want to marry her? Why would he consider something so terrible as that?

"Thanks, you too," she said, cutting herself off by taking another deep drink of the unidentified glass of alcohol in her hand.

"W-we went to Caribbean," she said. "With the Ivanovs. They... They're very nice people. I like nice people. But I only like them." She was digging a hole for herself. "I can consider someone to be nice, but only in a friendly sort of way. You understand?"