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Normally a drink request such as Tersha’s would have elicited a strong look of disapproval smothered by a more convincing look of emotionlessness. Tonight, however, it seemed like a smart move and he would have applauded her demands were he the sort to put on such dramatics. “Sitting between the pair of you tonight, I am confident in stating that were there to be any secrets, you or Dorcas would have discovered them and spilled them at some point in the evening.” The witches honestly had gossiped far too much this evening, and how they knew half of what they shared with one another over Dorian’s lap was beyond him. Half the time he considered that they truly didn’t know anything at all and were simply making up details of other peoples’ lives in order to have something juicy to giggle about. Of course, Tersha, being a journalist, had too much of a reputation on the line to deal with known falsehoods.

The waiter returned shortly with a single glass of bourbon for Dorian and a bottle of high-end vodka and an empty glass for Tersha. Dorian thanked the man and said “cheers” to Tersha with a clink of his glass against hers, then proceeded to down the drink in an impressively short amount of time. Several drinks later and Dorian was much more talkative without feeling any relief as he continued to glance down the table at the woman wearing his dead love’s face.

The conversation between the brothers had indeed been stale, and Dorian was grateful for the distraction Dorcas’ presence created, even if she was being a bit of a… well, rather Dorcas-like. Dorian knew to expect such things from her, but he had hoped she’d rein it in a bit since it was Christmas and Julian was a guest. Dorian still considered himself a guest in the Meadowes’ home but he was well aware that Andre, Emily, and Dorcas viewed him less as a guest and more as some strange sort of family. He liked the idea, but it unnerved him all the same. Family was a dangerous commodity for an Auror and the house was quickly filling with more collateral. Emily’s voice sounded from the other room, using a nickname he’d seen Dorcas make a face at many times before. The younger witch liked to tease him about the face he pulled whenever she got too annoying with him, but she had her own face and Dorian was no stranger to witnessing it in this delightful cottage. He very much doubted that Dorcas was even aware of the expression she made when “Cassie” was used so lovingly.

Passing Julian, Dorcas held Ariel out for Dorian and he gladly accepted her. Turning her around to sit on his knee, her back in the crook of his arm creating a little chair for her. He kissed the top of her head and then tilted his head to look at her face. She was gazing in Julian’s direction while shoving her entire first into her mouth like a slobbery dummy. Julian hadn’t asked to hold his niece yet, which Dorian found odd, so he kept the sweet angel on his lap and made cooing sounds back at her, jiggling his leg so that she bounced and giggled with delight. Spending time with Ariel was much preferred to forcing conversation with his half-brother but he couldn’t bring himself to ignore the man altogether. That would have been rude and no way to mend this strange family they were a part of. The doorbell rang just as Dorian looked to Julian, about to speak, when Geralina appeared practically out of thin air and began cooing over Ariel who responded in kind with big blue eyes that lapped up the attention and tiny, saliva coated hands that reached for Geralina’s dark curls. The witch scooped up the infant and Dorian was once again relieved of baby duty whether he appreciated it or not.

“Happy Christmas, Geri,” Dorian said with a smile, as the woman sat in a chair between the two men. Dorian watched as Ariel responded to the melodic voice of the witch holding her. “Hopefully Santa did not go too wild,” he said knowingly. Geralina positively adored little Ariel and Dorian had a feeling that her copious amounts of affection did not end with cuddles and baby-talk. "We're already a very spoiled little miss, aren't we?"

Overall the night was going as well as to be expected, given the surprising turn of events. Julian, and his date for the evening, Lunete were a shock to see together and despite the convincing display the pair put on for the evening, Dorian had a heavy feeling that Julian’s intentions with the young Auror were not completely on the up and up. A more egotistical man would think Julian’s interest in Miss Dearborn were only a targeted ploy to gain access to another aspect of half-brother’s life, but Dorian didn’t know Lunete well enough for that to be any solid connection for Julian to sniff out. The more troubling question then became what Lunete saw in the wizard sitting next to her, and if she had any inkling of the layabout werewolf she was apparently dating. If not, she was in for a nasty shock when she discovered the real Julian, and if she did know that he was the sort to disappear and leave his family when times became difficult, then what sort of character could she possibly have?

Ignoring the deeper look into the couple’s relationship was made easier, though no less frustrating, by being sat smack between the two best friends, Tersha and Dorcas. Dorcas would whisper insights into Julian’s life for Tersha to hear and Tersha would respond in kind with her own witty remarks. It might have been fine dinner chatter between friends except for the fact that Dorian was seating in between them with little room to escape to gossip. Still, Dorian thought the night could have been worse and he was rather pleased with the evening as a whole thus far.

His jaw tightened as Dorcas’ hand ran up his thigh. She made a joke to entertain herself and Dorian replied “right,” in a more casual manner than he felt. There was no use asking her to stop – that tended to make matters worse and playing into it was simply out of the question. Redirection, he had decided, was an appropriate route. As Dorcas left the table, Dorian turned to speak to the person sat on her other side, but the view he was granted with in Dorcas’ absence was a most unsettling one.

Chocolate eyes stared at her, for longer than was appropriate but it took several moments for his thoughts to finally catch up with his suddenly racing heart. He blinked a few times, cleared his throat as he turned back to his meal, and then looked back in her direction.

Paris.

Of course, he knew it wasn’t her. She was gone, and it had been nearly a year since he’d last seen her, but there she was, sitting a far length down the banquet table from him, smiling as she spoke. It was the smile that really gave it away. Paris’ smile had a different quality than Vienna’s, it was more honest, more attractive. The resemblance, however, was unmistakable and it took Dorian’s breath away to see the woman he loved back from the grave, embodied in her twin sister. One of the waitstaff passed by and Dorian caught their attention, requesting an Old Fashioned. “Would you like anything?” he asked Tersha, trying his best to keep his voice even despite his racing pulse. If he was going to drink in order to cope with seeing the ghost of his dead love, he would need company.

Ignoring the crude remark disguised as a fun comment or even a possible compliment toward Dorcas and Tersha, Dorian smiled, his jaw set. “Forgive my rudeness,” though it wasn’t his rudeness that should need to be forgiven. “Julian, this is Tersha Knight. A journalist and fine writer.” He looked from Julian to Tersha. “Tersha,” he gestured at the blond man across the table, “Julian Blackthorne. My brother. You’ve met Lunete at the Ministry, haven’t you?” he asked Tersha, not wanting to be rude by not introducing the women but almost certain he had seen them around the Auror department while Tersha was interviewing agents on a story at some point. “And of course, you all know Miss Meadowes.” Merlin have mercy on him if he forgot to remark on the little brunette witch sitting next to him, despite her knowing each of them better than Dorian knew any of them, aside from his brother who Dorian could admit he didn’t know much better than Dorcas did.

Dishes began appearing on the table, each one different from the one beside it for the most part. It was quite an undertaking on the Minister’s part to have provided so many options for her guests but Dorian had decided to be simple and had requested the soup. An elegant bowl appeared in front of him, the soup within piping hot. Dorian would have been pleased for the distraction the food might have created were it not for the fact that he knew first hand, from far too many occasions, that food would not keep his date’s inappropriate conversation topics (which were bound to come out sooner rather than later) at bay. Throughout the meal, Dorian attempted to keep conversation rather neutral and, given the company, he listened more than he spoke, nodding and making thoughtful noises every now and again.

The tug on his arm was unneeded as Dorian was more than happy to head inside the Minister’s home for dinner. He had nothing against Tersha. She was pleasant enough but she towed the line on being nice and being flirty, and Dorian didn’t need her style of flirting. Much like Dorcas, Tersha was over the top with it all. Mercifully, Dorian knew that neither Tersha nor Dorcas were legitimately interested in him. They both just found it humorous to make him uncomfortable. He was already dealing with Dorcas for the duration of the evening, as he had somehow managed to be wrangled into being her date for this event, he was happy to not have to deal with the two of them while he ate.

Escorting Dorcas inside, the couple was shown to their seats; little placards designated their assigned placements and a quick scan of the script made Dorian’s heart sink just a little. Not only had he not escaped the duo or Dorcas and Tersha, but he was seating right smack between them. Dorian wondered if perhaps he had done something to offend the Minister and this was her way of getting revenge. Keeping his features schooled, Dorian sat at the table and looked across to the empty seats on the opposite side. Perhaps someone more professional (or “grown up”) would be nearby, and Dorian could have a sophisticated conversation about the Minister’s work thus far for the country, and the future of Britain during this civil war. Real party conversations.

The couple across from Dorcas were younger, they looked to be adults but only just. The man was ogling Dorcas, and Dorian turned to look down the opposite side of the table. An older couple, mid-forties he assumed, sat directly opposite them and Dorian struck up a light conversation. A short while later a familiar voice interrupted their talk of taxes, claiming her feet were hurting and leaning in front of Dorian to speak to Dorcas. Dorian pushed his body backwards to create a miniscule amount of space between himself and the young journalist who as she spoke practically on his lap. She straightened herself and then spoke to Dorian next, commenting on the place cards. “The thought hadn’t occurred to me,” he replied.

The empty seats at the table quickly filled, though the pair opposite Dorian remained unoccupied. Dorian spoke a little more with Tersha about the décor, a true nightmare of a topic, in his opinion, but the sound of chairs gently scraping against the floor caught his ear and he looked up to find his half-brother and the Auror-in-training sitting down across from him. Minister Galanis surely was out to get him. “Good evening, Julian, Miss Dearborn. What a pleasant surprise to see you both here.” Together. What was Julian doing with the young Lunete? He hadn’t wanted to think much on it when Dorcas pointed it out earlier, she was attempting to get him to engage in gossip and he wasn’t the sort, but it was a curious pairing nonetheless, and one that could hardly be avoided as they were staring him in the face.

Dorcas was settling in as Dorian knew she would, and so he turned back around to finish up Ariel’s bath time routine. A fresh diaper and some powder were the first order of business, knowing from experience that allowing the little munchkin to crawl around bare bottomed was a recipe for disaster. Dorian set her in the middle of his bed and magicked the pillows to create a bumper barrier around her, giving the little girl enough room to move around without having easy access to the floor and a bruised head. Ariel had her own little area in the corner of Dorian’s room. She was quickly growing out of space, but the flat was only a single bedroom and there was no where else to put her. Dorian knew the time was coming and he would have to resign himself to finding somewhere else to live. Someplace big enough to raise his niece properly. She was an active little girl and she enjoyed being outdoors. The rooftop garden wouldn’t satisfy her for long. She needed a proper garden to play in, and her own bedroom.

Turning half way, Dorian pulled on the drawer of Ariel’s dresser, and pulled out an outfit for her to wear. It was not her first one of the day, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Ariel went through more clothes per week than the contents of Dorian’s entire wardrobe, and the man owned a lot of suits. It would have been easy then for Dorian to give up on trying to make Ariel look presentable. Perhaps if she were his own child he would feel at ease to fall back on letting Ariel wear a simple onesie every day, but this was not his own daughter. She was River’s daughter, and while he had only known his sister for a short while, he knew that she would have put the utmost care and effort to ensuring her little angel was always presentable. Without the feminine eye for baby fashion that new mums seemed to instinctively have, Dorian tried his damnedest to make sure Ariel was cared for in a way that would make River and Bert proud. Today’s outfit, or this morning’s outfit to be more realistic, was a pale purple checked romper with lace on the bum and a white peter pan collar. A pair of matching purple socks were added to keep her feet warm as she crawled around the living room while he and Dorcas spoke about whatever it was she had come over to speak to him about.

Little Ariel in his arms again, her soft blonde curls framing her chubby angelic face, Dorian gave a sweep of his wand and sent his pillows back to the head of his bed in an orderly manner as the pair exited the bedroom. Dorcas was standing near the dining table, Ariel’s nappy bag having been pulled out of the cloak closet and the door still standing open. What was she up to? “Sorry about that. We were just finishing up a bath.” His gaze moved noticeably from Dorcas’ face to the nappy bag resting on the table. “Might I inquire as to your plans?” He sensed something coming that would surely make him on edge.