Someone once said, “All that glitters is not gold.” That same someone would be terribly mistaken if they were lucky enough to attend the St. Mungo’s Grand Ball. One of her underlings had called the theme ‘Russian Gatsby’, but Varvara Stepanovna didn’t know nor care to know what a Gatbsy was. The Head Healers at St. Mungo’s had been asked to be the ones to plan everything about the celebration; if those in charge looked like they were involved and wanted their subordinates to enjoy themselves, they would be far more likely to attend. It made sense, and Varya had been itching for something to do. The man she had been seeing had passed, so she had found herself with some free time on her hands.
It didn’t take too long to find out that most of the Head Healers had gone into their profession because they were unsuccessful in pursuing interior design. So Varya had taken the lead on decoration, nearly always picking the gold option when presented with one. The few exceptions to the golden rule were the
sparkling black tablecloths and the
centerpieces, white orchids and oversized black feathers in ornate vases. The menus were extensive, having nearly any dish one could possibly want. The plates (gold, of course) had been enchanted to present whatever was asked for -- a hassle for the kitchen crew, but it certainly made menu planning easier for Varya.
After the main course had been served, the place settings had been cleared to make way for dessert plates, coffee cups, and more golden flatware. Trays of desserts began floating around the room,
gold macarons,
chocolate (and gold) covere strawberries, and
golden truffles the woman at Honeydukes had called ‘disco chocolates’, among other things.
The music had been mostly jazz throughout dinner, but once dinner was done and the dance floor had been opened up, it transitioned waltzes for a while (to please the older, more traditional crowd) before transitioning yet again into something a little bit more uptempo (to please the younger, more fun crowd).
There was sure to be no shortage of alcohol. The main attraction was what appeared to be a large water fountain, adorned with crystals and gold accents, flowing not with water, but the finest Zhruavlev vodka. There were large shotglasses, magically chilled, floating in the air around the fountain, just waiting to be used. To each side of the fountain were
tall towers of champagne glasses, filled to the brim with champagne. There were other bars on either side of the room with countless other options (and even some non-alcoholic ones, much to Varya’s displeasure).
The silent auctions were set up in the hall just outside of the ballroom, everything from a spa trip for two to dinner with a quidditch player to tea with the Minister himself. The hospital's donors had outdone themselves with their generosity, and they wanted everyone to be aware of it. In addition to the auctions, there were additional raffles throughout the evening, with smaller gifts like Honeydukes chocolates, bottles of champagne to take home, and a surprise 'free day off' from the hospital (certain restrictions still applied, of course).
The end of the night would be marked by a fabulous indoor
fireworks display, but that was still hours away. There was plenty of alcohol, plenty of dessert, and plenty of music left to enjoy before then. It was almost enough to forget that this whole thing was for charity.
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