The Dinner Party

Jack had officially proved that the next time she was irritable about something, it would be better for her to just scamper off, rather than try to even the keel. It had made sense at the time. If Max was going to invite his Ministry contact to dinner to discuss the next steps for her, Jack was going to invite her Ministry contact. The conversation, she realized, had not exactly proved that she was treating this like a normal situation…

“Claire Bishop is going to come over for dinner tomorrow night.”

“What, why?”

“So I can update her on my status.”

“Can’t you send an owl?”

“Why does it bother you?”

“It doesn’t freaking bother me, I just already invited someone to dinner.”

“You did?”

“Pffft… yes.”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Who?”

“Ffffred Weasley. Yep. Fred Weasley.”

“Alright. I guess it’ll just be a nice big dinner.”

“Yeah I guess so.”

“I’m going to go finish getting ready for work.”

“Fine… Sunny, could you go get me some parchment. I need to invite Fred to dinner.”

Jack supposed she could have found a more mature way of dealing with things (not that there was anything to deal with, of course) but she had… not panicked, per se, but she had panicked. She would have been more concerned about her strange feelings towards Bishop if Sunny had no enabled her ill feelings by thinking just as poorly of the woman.

Now Claire sat right next to her. Max was across from her, Fred was diagonal. Charlie and Sunny were eating in the living room while watching some new action movie that had come out. Jack had made some mashed potatoes and pork chops – as in, she had started it and Max had hurriedly come in to keep them all from disintegrating. Their plates were full of food, and a bottle of Firewhiskey accompanied the meal. Jack had already finished a glass for herself and was pouring more.

This was definitely new to her.

Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to invite Claire to dinner. While the pair had been getting closer they were by no means close and their casual acquaintanceship would have probably progressed better out of the awkward bubble of Layabout Lane. Max didn't fail to notice that the last time Claire had been sitting at this table (in that exact spot if he wasn't mistaken) she had come with news of their match. Though she hadn't stayed long that memory was more than slightly uncomfortable.

"So, Fred, how is it working with Jack?" Max asked the man next to him. Small talk had always been a particularly awkward thing for the Max and he almost always managed to either bore or offend those subjected to his attempts. Overall, he tended to have a strange disconnect between work and social situations and always was able to be competent in one and a blabbering idiot in the other. Having guests in his home only seemed to make the discomfort worse but for the sake of both Claire and Jack he tried to give Fred an awkward smile.

Tonight was the first night that Max had officially met the man who now sat at his kitchen table. They had passed in the halls of the Ministry and he had heard stories from Jack but there had never been a reason for a formal introduction. So far he seemed like a pleasant enough fellow but then again Max always thought people were pleasant.

Besides Gabby and family, they hadn't had any guests since the wedding. It was frightening how easily the pair had shaved the group that would be attending the ceremony down to the bones and equally humbling how few friends came to call on them. Max had always considered himself a friendly man but the people he considered himself close to were few and far in-between. It was good for him, and he knew for Jack too, to have dinner with other couples and actually socialize with people older than six. Not that they were a couple. Being married never made anyone a couple.

In fact, Jack's change in job had changed more than their marriage. They ate lunch together on Fridays, traveled to work together out of convince, split the chores like normal, and alternated who had to pick Sunny up from school. The only real 'marriage' change was that they slept closer together now. And now dinner parties would have to be added to the list of new experiences.

A square piece of parchment. That had been all. Enough to ruin Fred's entire evening.

Fred,

Come to dinner at 7:30 tomorrow or I'll take back the Wheezes.

Jack

Honestly. The nerve of some people.

Would it help at all, Fred pondered, to yell at the stupid piece of parchment that he didn't want the bloody Wheezes in the first place?

No. Not at all.

So here he was, in fitted washed denims  and a cream tee and the darned best leather jacket anyone in this room had ever set eyes on, if he said so himself. What an utter waste. The blonde down at Magical Accidents and Catastrophes had gifted him aforesaid jacket, all russet brown and sleek and style, and batted her fake eyelashes at him sweetly and requested him to 'come over' on Wednesday night. It might have been his third British score since he'd returned, but that plan was drenched and squeezed and put out to dry- all thanks to Jack Dyllan.

And now some poor fellow (Jack's husband- Fred almost snorted Firewhisky up his nose at the thought) was trying to make conversation to ease the awkwardness, Jack was poking away at her chops from Merlin-knows-how-long, avoiding all eyes, while Claire Bishop sat opposite to him and glared her heart away. Not literally- she was too dignified for that. But Fred didn't have to be a code-cracking Unspeakable (which he was. Fancy that.) to figure out what the hardened gleam in her eyes meant.

Clearly, none of the four had any experience at these dinner party thingies, and three of them were striving along to pretend that there was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary in all this. Luckily, Fred was too sensible for all that. Or too unrestrained to sit along, playing at house and being civilised.

"An absolute nightmare." He pronounced, stretching his neck to the side to draw out kinks, then lounging back on the chair; or as far as you could lounge on a hard-back. Fred managed extremely well, except for the part where his legs stretched out, and the tip of his boots kicked something by mistake. Claire's heels, in all probability. Fred smiled. "But then again, you did marry the woman, so you'd know better than I do."

"I don't pretend to understand the reason why though." Fred nodded his head, as if in deep thought. Then the canines made their appearance, arranged in a smirk rolled out for Jack's benefit. "Probably because the woman's adept at blackmail."

Jack had robbed him of a shag, and didn't even do him the courtesy of a 'please'. She deserved all he could dole out.

So Fred leaned back in his chair, content in the knowledge that all the people seated at the table, with his own striking exception, were either supremely awkward or enraged. It almost made up for it.

He reached over, and plopped a succulent piece of pork chop in his mouth.

Claire Bishop did not have a social life. To be fair, she had one when Elsie Norton was involved, but without her best friend, Claire did not have a social life. When she got off work, she continued to work. On the weekends, she indulged in her guilty pleasures and changed out of her prim pant suits into sweats and an old boyfriend's sweater, watching romantic comedies with some chocolate souffle and she indulged in letting herself feel. That was what she let herself do in her spare time.

She did not go to dinner parties.

She had not actually realized that a dinner party had been the agreement. Claire had thought that the plan was a quick bite while she explained to Max where he now was, legally, in regards to her. She had not expected his new wife to be Jack Dyllan. (All of her theories about the two of them were under threat of being ruined.) And she had definitely not expected to be joined by Fred Weasley. If she would have known she would have... well, she wasn't exactly sure how one prepared for Fred Weasley, but she would have done something.

Max made an attempt at conversation, and Fred immediately made everyone regret an attempt to speak to him. She glanced at him, sarcastic irritation beginning to make an appearance on his face. She glanced down and took a quick drink of Firewhiskey - Merlin knew she needed it - before she decided to steer the conversation back to less personal topics.

Such as marriage.

"So, Max, you took my advice. I quickly reviewed your file and the marriage law committee seems inclined to accept your marriage without much of a fuss. You definitely have no chance of Azkaban. I'm still having a bit of trouble securing an excuse with my citzenship issues, but I'm certain something will come up."

She hoped.



Max was trying spectacularly, which almost made Jack more irritable. She wanted everyone to have to face how awkward this was for a moment or two, at the least. So people would realize how strange of a group this was, how unnaturally they were gathered. He addressed Fred - Jack had never imagined her old friend meeting her new, oddly enough. She was certain it would be a very strange interaction at the least.

Fred was being a little snot, which definitely put Jack at ease. She sneered at him and continued picking at her potatoes. At the word 'blackmail', one of her feet shot out from beneath her and connected with the other Unspeakable's knee. Then Claire was talking, and Jack's mirth began to decline.

Ten minutes in to the meal and Max's nerves were already shot.

Maybe it was the way he spoke or the way he held himself but something about Fred vaguely reminded Max of Gabby. Though the man was technically his best friend, the comparison did not do anything to comfort him and he sat just as awkwardly as before. Max glanced to Jack as he spoke but her smirk put him strangely at ease and he allowed himself a little grin at the other man's words. Though nothing he said was true, there was a dash of realism to his accusations.

Max had grown used to living with the Dyllan's but there were some aspects to his flatmate that could be described as nightmarish by the wrong person. Just things like, you know, the yelling, cursing, hexing, sassing, kicking, arguing, and hotheaded disregard for other people's opinions. All he could say in her defense was that there had been no blackmail involved in the wedding process (though she was quite skilled in those arts). Before he could formulate a reply that would neither embarrass him or earn him a punch from Jack, Claire spoke up to direct the conversation in an easier direction.

"Well if it doesn't work out you could always take your own advice." Max suggested unhelpfully. "If they took it this easily for me and Jack I'm sure you wouldn't have any trouble if you opted to, um, elope early."

It wasn't strange to discuss these options and ideas with Claire (it was all they had ever gotten around to talking about) but there was an element of awkwardness to have the other two seats at the table full. Jack had always pulled out her worst people skills when it came to 'Blondeship' and Fred was a total stranger who Max assumed couldn't care less about their personal lives. The man was young and, judging by the lack of a ring on his finger, unmarried. Not that traditions like rings and ceremonies really had any meaning anymore.

A very, very hard kick impacted his knee, and if Fred hadn't undergone downright, grueling torture during Unspeakable training, his eyes would have watered.

Fred closed his eyes, slowly, as if begging for patience. Rather hypocritical of him, sure- but it was warranted. No, he wasn't asking Jack not to be violent. Asking Jack not to be violent was like....was like....asking Voldemort really, really nicely if he wanted to adopt Harry Potter. No, all he was asking was for Jack to be a little considerate about the health of the person she was directing said violence against. A couple more inches to the right, and it would have been bye bye to any future possibility of Papa Fred. And that, would be such a devastating loss to the gene pool.

Before Fred could cook up means to suitably retaliate, Claire piped up with her scintillating addition to the conversation. All right, not piped. More like inserted, in such a gloriously, supremely mind-numbing voice that Fred almost mourned the presence of such a sharp, snarky wit within such a drearily boring exterior.

His eyes flicked over her once, cursorily. Okay, only lament the metaphorical exterior then. The literal one was.......satisfactory.

"Well if it doesn't work out you could always take your own advice. If they took it this easily for me and Jack I'm sure you wouldn't have any trouble if you opted to, um, elope early."

"Right you are there, Matt." Fred patted the man on the arm generously, if only to see him twitch. His eyes swiveled back to Claire's, lips stretching out into a provocative smile. "I'm sure you'll find some random, unattached male who could be prevailed upon to.....ah, help out a lady." He didn't even need to say 'damsel in distress'. He and Claire rather excelled in imparting taunts in innocuous words.

Of course, he made the one mistake that every Gryffindor would be counted upon to make- spoke without thinking. The implication of his words, flying away gleefully like arrows that couldn't be yanked back, settled into his mind slowly, almost comically.

Random, unattached male. In this scenario of the Marriage legislation, where almost everyone was receiving their letter of doom. Almost. It would be nice if aforesaid male would be around Claire's age, too. And preferably work in the Ministry, with the same working hours.

What an absolute coincidence that he happened to fill all three criteria.

And this coincidence would not go unnoticed, thanks to his brilliantly unmindful words. Especially by a certain occupant of the room, prone to violence and seizing opportunities of revenge.

Fred turned his eyes to fix on Jack's, resolute and just with that edge of warning. Don't say it. You will not say it.

Jack knew she could have been more polite, but this was her dilemma. If she was polite, then she was being mature and kind and that was a good thing. If she continued to be impolite, however, she was being one hundred percent true to herself, no matter how immature it may come off as. And it was a sign of maturity to stand one’s ground and be true to one’s inner being. So Jack was expressing her great maturity by briefly allowing herself to be immature in this situation. She was just trying to be the bigger person, after all.

She was satisfied to have shut Fred up decently well. She was waiting for the snarky response but Miss Blondeship was too quick, cutting them off with her usual politically prepared speech. Jack settled back, glancing down at her plate before continuing to shovel her food. Some inner clock inside of her was rushing her appetite – as though she knew something would come up that would prevent her from eating the food that she Max had prepared. And she definitely did not want to skip out on dinner.

Max spoke and almost immediately, Jack’s eyes happened to look up at Fred, putting the pieces together. She could have kissed Max for giving her such a wonderful, malicious idea. It took Fred awhile to catch on, but he did, and Jack smirked, feeling oh so victorious.


Claire nodded her head at Max’s words and raised a shoulder – that was the largest public shrug any of them would either see. “I suppose - I had not considered that in full, yet, but I suppose it is time to look at it as a possibility.” Unfortunately, the only men that came to her mind were Robin (now attached, awkwardly enough, and of course, still not on good terms) and Elsie’s brother, but that would end in catastrophe – anything involving a young Norton was always destined to end in wonderfully amusing catastrophe.

“Max,” Claire corrected, as Fred seemed to have a problem remembering the Morrison man’s name. She glanced up to see an odd malicious look in Jack’s eyes. The moment their eyes met, the redhead’s gaze dropped from that of the blonde’s and fixed upon her food. Claire’s eyebrows briefly touched in slight confusion, before she decided to move past it, as the Dyllan woman was not one to find rational answers in.

The moment her gaze dropped, a snarky voice rose above the rest. “Fred – wouldn’t you call yourself a random, unattached male?”

Claire looked up to see Jack smiling triumphantly at Fred. Jack ticked her head. “I’m being gracious with the term male.”

The breath released through Fred's teeth in a long, drawn out, hissing sound. Not very attractive. Didn't matter, he was in no mood to be attractive.

Jack Dyllan you little twit I will murder you and feed you to giant killer turtles and revive you with necromancy and torture you in Medieval dungeons and you will die begging for mercy.

Fred wasn't one to make idle threats. He had no objections to going to Azkaban on charges of homicide; he had broken the icy North Sea prison's wards as his final qualifying Unspeakable test. He'd smuggle out the books on necromancy from the Black library. Medieval dungeons- replete with torture instruments- were open to tourists all year round in a culturally rich nation like Great Britain. And the Miller fellow in the cubicle down the Department corridor had been experimenting on giant killer turtles for more than a year.

But....he was a man of the present. And thoughts of revenge could wait while aforesaid mentioned victim of revenge was grinning away wickedly at him; as if expecting him to stumble and stutter and retract his words hastily like the mistake they obviously were. She should have known him better than that.

"I'm being gracious with the term male." She said.

Giant killer turtles and hellfire and Muggle gas and Crucio and-

Fred cleared his his throat slightly. His gaze alighted on the shocked, and definitely mutinous looking face of one Claire Bishop.

His lips pulled up into a smile.

"Jack, I almost swear you read my mind." So confident. Never before had a bluff been so in-your-face confident. "Of course I would. A damsel in distress.....I was born for this moment." Yes, he did use that phrase. Allowed his lip to curl lasciviously, gleaming eyes fixating on Claire; when you were pushed into a tight spot, you used all the cards in your reach. "I have no objections to doing anything in my power to assist Miss Bishop. Even if it is pretense of holy matrimony."

Because....he had nothing to worry about. Jack's potshot at him had gone in vain. Claire Bishop would accept his hand in marriage over her dead, rotting body.

The gleaming amber eyes swivelled to Jack next. He wouldn't be surprised if there were images of iron racks and other assorted torture instruments swirling about in their depths. Because, right now, all he wanted to do was leap up, point his index finger at Jack's face and yell triumphantly, 'Ha!'

Oops.

He had said something, hadn't he? Max always managed to say something. Now poor Fred's eyes were closed in some discomfort and, judging by the smirk on Jack's face, he had just been assaulted under the table. Before the man had time to overcome his physical wounds, the entire table, excluding the eternally shell shocked Morrison, was chiming in to a very odd conversation. Each members tone was as hostile as the one before them - even Claire had a certain strike with her tongue. Max wasn't sure who should feel the worst for. Fred was simultaneously being attacked and mocking, Jack held his loyalty by default, and Claire must be feeling mortified by the scene before her.

In the end Max chose to feel the most sorry for himself as he sunk lower and lower into his seat. He had barely noticed the mispronunciation of his name until Claire had corrected Fred, causing Max's cheeks to flush with a deep pink color. The entire dinner was beginning to feel like he was back in the cliques and house wars of Hogwarts. Gryffindors had always and would always forget his name. As a badger, he was accustomed to being at the bottom of the social food chain and had been trained to just disappear when the more headstrong houses had gone head to head.

They had never taught you what to do if you married a Gryffindor.

Max wanted nothing more than to somehow redirect the conversation away from Fred's possible marriage to Claire and calm everyone down again but he couldn't bring himself to. Sitting at a table of loud personalities, the Morrison quickly became a mute. He simply took small bites of his pork chop to occupy himself as the terrifying scene unfolded in front of his eyes.

((OOC: So late. I apologize. Just starting to find my muse again.))

Oh, they were terrible people.

Claire was certain of it. She could not fairly lump Max with them, of course, because he seemed incapable of causing harm - but he also let them run amuck. Fred and Jack were very possibly sociopaths. She was definitely feeling the odd woman out and secretly wondered if they had planned this dinner for the sole purpose of driving her insane or making a fool out of her. Of course, she did not think this was purposeful to embarrass or harass her, but they were doing a great job of it as well.

She kept composed. Fred Weasley was typically very good at one-upping her. She was never sure how to respond to Max Morrison. And Jack Dyllan was always a surprise to her. If her decorum and poise was supposed to fail at any time, it would be now. But this was the one time that failing could be the most painful, the most lasting, and the most mortifying. What choice did she have...

But to beat them at their own game.

"So, it's settled then. Fred and I will sign the certificates, I'll get my papers for here, and when I prove my case, it'll be nice and annulled. Just business. Thank you, Fred."

She took a sip of her drink.


Jack was mostly looking forward to seeing Fred's wrath, but a little irritation out out Miss Blondeship would also be a perk, for sure. She was solely focused on Fred (who was probably trying to light her on her fire with sheer willpower) as Max and Claire suffered through their discomfort. Fred began speaking and Jack's eyes twinkled. She'd love to see him dig himself out of this hole now.

"Very kind of you, Fred. So kind. Don't you think so, Max?" She turned to see that he was looking absolutely mortified. She had to pause her path of destruction to give him a bracing smile, assuring him that it was her own pain-in-the-ass personality that had caused this mess, and that he was innocent of all charges. She bumped his knee with her own for further assurance.

And then Blondeship spoke.

Jack looked up to stare at Claire, absolutely caught by surprise by this turn of events. Jack would not say impressed. Not impressed. Just... surprised... was all. Jack immediately turned to look at Fred, eagerly awaiting his reaction.