Winter Solstice Social [OPEN TO ALL!]

[Anastacia Brotherton]

The location was set! Anastacia had picked out the perfect table for her Winter Solstice Social. It was far enough away from both the grand doors and the Professors' table that her invitees would be able to relax and have a good time. As she looked around the room, she had to admit that, for a bunch of professors, they had done a great job with the decor. The icy floor was quite the spectacle for many of the students, and it almost took Anastacia aback when she first stepped onto it.

Anastacia took a seat at the table, taking a chair that put her back toward the wall. If she faced the door, she would've looked too desperate for company; if she sat facing the Professors' table, the problem was doubled. She would've been looking at the professors and wouldn't know who was attending. Yes, her more neutral position made her look more like a hostess, just as she did in her springtime garden parties on the weekends!

Her dress matched the invitation -- purples and blues leaning more on the pastel end of the spectrum, adorned with flecks of silver throughout. Her platinum white hair was styled in a proper up-do with a tiara to tie it all together. While her fellow students were piling in, she looked down at her copy of the invitation and smiled. Man, she was good! She was blowing white feathers toward the reader. Snow was too cold, and feathers were light enough to get the point across. Her proud moment was the clock at the bottom. Clocks could be difficult to read, after all, and this gave a visual to the others who also may have had trouble.

She looked around and saw some students approaching. Giving a wave and a smile, she rose from her seat to greet them. "Welcome to the Winter Solstice Social! So glad you could join me this evening!"


The Invitation

[Owen Fairchild]

Owen still wasn’t quite sure how his name had ended up on Anastacia Brotherton’s guest list. He’d turned the invitation over in his hands a dozen times, half-convinced it was meant for another Fairchild entirely. They hadn’t really spoken beyond the odd word in Herbology last year—when when he’d been wrist-deep in dragon dung compost and she’d somehow managed to look radiant even with puffapods exploding behind her.

But here he was.

And, well—he wasn’t in his usual dirt-stained Hufflepuff jumper either. Nova had insisted he couldn’t show up in that and had made him a set of traditional robes, rich gold and yellow accents woven in to catch the light. Every time he caught sight of himself reflected in a frosty window, he hardly recognized the lad staring back. It made him feel taller somehow—though not quite tall enough to stop fidgeting with the cuff at his wrist.

As he reached her table, Owen caught her wave and smile, and immediately felt his face grow warm. He gave a slightly too-hasty bow—more of a dip, really—before straightening with an embarrassed grin.

“Er—hi! Thanks for inviting me,” he started, then winced at how abrupt it sounded. “I mean—well, you did invite me, right? This wasn’t, uh, some… administrative error with the owls?” He chuckled awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

Glancing around at the shimmering decorations and the icy floor, he let out a low whistle. “Blimey, uh—it looks brilliant here. You’ve really outdone yourself. I'm not usually one for these types of socials - unless you count re-potting mandrakes as a social, which most people don’t, funnily enough—but I, uh…” He trailed off, meeting her gaze with a lopsided smile. “I’m glad I came.”