And so this is Christmas

[notquitefacist.livejournal.com]

*Remarkably, the simple concept of maintaining a façade has remained almost universally successful as a way to convince others that everything is merry and bright, even in the darkest of times. Tonight, in one of London's grandest Wizarding hotels, everything certainly looks the part. Enormous deep green wreaths decorate the walls, elves circulate the room dressed as very small porters carrying trays above their heads, and soft dots of snow swirl down from gilded ceilings only to fade away before reaching the guests, their delicate passage not at all deterred when passing by the great chandeliers holding hundreds of candles each that wash the Ministry's finest in gleaming candlelight. Even Bernadette looks rosy and almost healthy in their glow, and his son would too if he would hold still long enough for anyone to tell. For once, however, Barty is not the person he is least pleased to see enjoying the fruits of his position.

Though he keeps a weather eye on his son, that prize belongs to the members of the aristocracy tonight - those with enough money to hold great influence and enough arrogance to presume that makes them neighbouring forces in the political world Crouch Sr. has dedicated his life to controlling. Their presence here among the men and women who have done more than donate and bribe to achieve their power, himself being at the top of this list, occupies a great deal of his obsession tonight. He, like all those with authoritarian blood running in their veins, is a hypocrite, and believes that this façade of righteousness should be his alone to exercise. After all the fear the attack on the ICW had fuelled, tonight is to remind those present and the public at large that no government in it's right mind would celebrate after disaster unless it truly had the upper hand and had utmost security even when threatened.

Christmas to him is the public relations opportunity of the year, and he will spend it in plain view of all, watching the moves of everyone in the room who he knows have some hand in trying to destroy him. They may be protected, wrapped in various different ways in this world of reputation and power, but he will see them all with their defences stripped as his grow stronger. Crouch Sr. celebrates this cheering thought of the season with a drink.*

Comments

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*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.livejournal.com]

*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.livejournal.com]

*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.livejournal.com]

Don't they just?

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

Rita Skeeter, a pleasure.

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

*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.livejournal.com]

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

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

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

[beetlebitch.livejournal.com]

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.livejournal.com]

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

[beetlebitch.livejournal.com]

*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.livejournal.com]

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

[beetlebitch.livejournal.com]

*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.livejournal.com]

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.livejournal.com]

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

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

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

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

[beetlebitch.livejournal.com]

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

[consumptivewife.livejournal.com]

I couldn't say, but they're not the type to say otherwise without reason and I'm sure they wouldn't have any of that for anyone here. There are so many journalists but so few seem to come out of their woodwork long enough to enjoy the holidays.