And so this is Christmas

[notquitefacist]

Comments

[consumptivewife]

*After several hours of socialising, Bernadette's smile remains intact but it is propped up by exhaustion. There is no need for a fuss but her head feels light and she makes her way slowly to a somewhat secluded bench on the wall, weaving politely through the partygoers looking as though everything is going wonderfully until she is able to take a seat.

Sinking onto the cushions she takes the last sip some the flute glass of sparkling water and allows herself to close her eyes - only briefly, to rest. Just getting off her feet helps but it also makes her realise how much effort it is to be on them. Still, behind her eyelids the room still seems enchanting. Being the centre of a party was never Bernadette's motivation to make the holidays good, but still she enjoys these evenings so much more genuinely than her husband does. She has been watching him all evening, remembering fondly how he had never had much spirit around Christmas. Not much has changed there, it still endears her just as much as it did then.

Her glass is empty but she touches it to the back of her hand, the cool glass reminding her to only rest for a moment.*

[beetlebitch]

*The cushions bob with the weight of something new as Rita joins her, her glass is still full and she nurses it with feigned sophistication.*

You look marvellous tonight, a real belle of the ball if you don't mind me saying.

[consumptivewife]

*Her eyes open, but she covers her surprise gracefully despite the interruption.*

Oh - why thank you, that's kind. I think everyone looks their best tonight.

[beetlebitch]

Don't they just?

*She offers her free hand, nails pointed and painted.*

Rita Skeeter, a pleasure.

[consumptivewife]

*She switches her glass to the other hand and takes Rita's. Only the faintest of bells go off in her head from half-recalled conversations with Henrietta and Madrona, she doesn't make it a habit of keeping up with the type of news Rita has been known to report on in the past.*

I think I've heard your name before, but haven't had the pleasure.

[beetlebitch]

Well I've certainly heard yours. It must be fascinating, being married to the Minister for Magic himself.

[consumptivewife]

Oh, well, he's a great man but he wasn't always the Minister. Barty and I met in school.

[beetlebitch]

Simply precious.

*Rita of course knows all of this already, however a little rehash is necessary to start the flow of conversation.*

Hogwarts sweethearts, the public's always loved them.

[consumptivewife]

There don't seem to be as many these days as there were then, do there. Whole new generation out on their own.

[beetlebitch]

*This is derailing away from where Rita would very much like to go. She decides it's time to reel back the fish.*

Mhm.

Speaking of being out and about, what brings you to this shadowy corner?

[consumptivewife]

Oh just... having a bit of a sitdown. Feet pay a price for holiday shoes.

[beetlebitch]

*Peering down at Bernadette's footwear, Rita nearly raises her eyebrows in distaste. She'd hardly call those heels.*

Oh, I know. Exhausting things, really. I don't know why I bother with them.

[consumptivewife]

Oh it's worth it, just nice to get off them here and there.

My sisters in law are both in the journalism business. Have you ever worked with them?

[beetlebitch]

*She looks genuinely surprised. Here she was thinking she'd escaped recognition.*

Can't say I have. We work in very different streams.

[consumptivewife]

That's a shame, they're wonderful people. I think they're why your name sounded familiar.

[beetlebitch]

Talked about me, have they? I trust they said good things.