[Declan O'Dwyer]

There were quite a few things Mrs Malfoy-Rosier said that Declan found very distasteful. Gold digger. Reaching. He was fighting every instinct to not just jinx the old lady. Who talked to somebody they barely knew in such a way? Instead of giving the older woman the satisfaction of his outrage he faked an indifferent smile while letting the words wash over him. None of this was unexpected. People always talked. This was precisely why he didn't enjoy these occasions too much.

Thankfully, Mrs Malfoy-Rosier grew tired of them rather quickly. For now, anyway. Declan doubted they'd truly seen the last of her, but while she regrouped her thoughts and gathered her wits they had a window of opportunity to just enjoy themselves. He was determined to make the most of that.

Farren meanwhile seemed surprised that he had handled the situation without loosing his temper. He gave a sly little grin. "Well, I am glad you approve." As she mentioned some of the ladies he nodded. He knew the sort, thinking that they could become a somebody by power of association. It was annoying and regressive, but there was usually very little one could do other than plead ignorance.

"Don't worry," he reassured Farren, "I don't usually solicit the company of folks I've not been introduced to. But thank you for the warning. I don't attend events in London enough to know which faces to avoid."

He was happily talking on when Farren mentioned her mother. Declan gulped. Mrs Abercrombie was a fierce lady and he was sure she wouldn't be as easily managed as Mrs Malfoy-Rosier. Hopefully they would get a little stay of execution before bumping into her. He had no doubt that a confrontation would be inevitable, but maybe they could delay a little before facing the music.

"I think I'd rather have the next dance," he told her honestly. "You can meet my friends and acquaintances later. I doubt they'll be going anywhere," Though he didn't say it he also fretted that Farren might not approve of his friends. He found himself very much wanting to impress her tonight, which was easier said than done.

"I say if we stand up for the next waltz, we'll give those old biddies something to talk about that's actually worthy of the rumours and vitriol they like to spread."

The way he said those words almost held a seductive quality and there was a bit of mischief in his eyes. It was a side of him coming out that Farren probably hadn't seen much of as they were rarely at the same function at the same time. He did take a particular kind of pleasure in offending people and playing with people's preconceptions. If Mrs Malloy-Rosier saw him as outrageous and reaching, he'd give her a damn fine show just to flout convention and rub it in.

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold struggled to keep his focus on the steps - especially through the gallop segment of the routine - while trying to think through Rose's comments. Reporting unauthorised time travel to the ministry would only do any good if, well, they wouldn't be incriminating themselves in the process. In any event, the ministry does not actually pay nearly as much attention to it as one might think they should; they police it by way of having the raw materials protected and under lock and key, for the most part.

As the routine changed and gave them relative space from everyone else, he spoke quickly. "Under other circumstances I should completely agree - the proper authorities would be better placed to deal with someone being somewhen they ought not." He paused, allowing for the turn and the steps in their proper places. "That said you rather clearly saw us - therefore we must have taken matters into our own hands. I just can't for the life of me understand why."

Harold tried to remain calm - no sense getting into the heat of the moment, even if Rose, for now at least, seemed on board with the situation. That was a good first step; while she had every right to be infuriated at such a thing needing to be taken care of here, he had truly hoped to have been able to have a regular social occasion with her without loitering, or information gathering or secret missions, and just to simply enjoy the thing.

At the notion of 'owing her one', he faintly smiled. "Perfectly reasonable."

Their steps on the floor came to an end, and Harold sidled back towards the end of the room, on his way to the hedge maze - the one place he knew that the displaced version of them had to have been. Perhaps one or other of the dials would give him some clue as to what was going on.

As he did so, he passed Gayle again - she was rather deep in conversation with Mr de Lancie and waved slightly in his direction, as if to suggest that he should rejoin the conversation. He smiled back, nodded, gestured with two fingers at the drinks table at the end of the room, as if to convey that he were simply stepping away to refresh his drink after the turn about the room.

All in all, he could do with a gasp of fresh air - between whatever was about to happen with Rose, plus Gayle being the overbearing motormouth that she was, plus turning about the room with more vigour than he had in a while, it was enough to make a man faint.

As he arrived near the table with the drinks - behind which would lead him out to the garden, he heard a single faint chime. The dull flat chime of a bell that would normally be in the cloisters of a cathedral.

"What the deuce?" he muttered under his breath. He flipped the watch open and frowned at the dials. Well, that was that: he and Rose would depart any moment from now to approximately fourty-five minutes into the past, to when Rose would see them. He would have been in the middle of that near-interminable conversation with Gayle. It had felt like hours.

He looked back into the room, searching for Rose.

[Rose Pemberton]

Their dance finally ended and Rose was dreading what would happen next. Even if she was coming around to Harold's line of reasoning regarding the necessity of them investigating the supposed time travel incident, this of course didn't stop her from feeling intimidated. She'd never used time travel in her life. Quite frankly, it was magically beyond her. Like most things, she thought with some amount of bitterness. Though she knew it wasn't true in general, she hated how she probably affirmed the believes of quite a few bloodist thinkers in the room. Meek, muggle born and mostly magic-less. It was not a good look.

Her sense of dread and foreboding was increasing as she followed Harold to the drinks stand rather than the hedge maze. Had he decided on a change of plan? Oh well, she wasn't upset with getting a little stay of execution. She supposed the fact that she had seen herself meant that she had somehow mastered the required magic, though she couldn't imagine that it would have been easy. Harold would probably end up being quite disappointed with her in a couple of minutes when he found out that she had no idea how to work a time turner.

"I'm right here, Hal," she said when he turned around searching for her. "And I suppose there's a confession I have to make." She cast her eyes down, not quite ready to face what she had to say. "I don't have even the slightest idea how to use a time turner. You'll have to teach me the necessary spells. And.... um... I'm not very good with a wand. It might be a bit of a struggle."

There. She'd said it. Rose hoped the ground would open up and somehow swallow her before Harold could say anything or even worse laugh at her incompetence. They really couldn't be more different if they tried. He was this brilliant mind academically and she was just a very average witch who was good at baking. Her inner voice unkindly reminded her that he was likely to grow bored of her before long. And maybe that would be for the better.

The way she looked at him made it pretty obvious she felt afraid. It was taking her effort to keep the little composure she had left. To her own surprise she found that she was also curious. What did any of this mean and how had they ended up in this weird situation? Would doing this thing together solidify their strange friendship - if one could call it that - or drive the final wedge between them? She already thought they were on the brink of falling out and snapping at each other.

"What do you think we will find?" She asked nervously. "I don't understand what is happening."

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren realized as she was standing in front of him, his attention wholly on her, as the social butterflies of London flitted around their perimeter that she was actually very glad to have him here. Her Grandmother In-Law was not a good omen of how things would go for them. The old bat was too old to remember her manners and too wrapped up in her as a financial investment to care about being courteous. But she was likely just voicing the opinions and questions that would be whispered behind fans all evening and over water coolers tomorrow once the papers came out. People loved to gossip. Life was peaceful in the wizarding world for the most part and falsely salacious news and gossip did well to keep everyone occupied. It was something she'd grown used to but something he surely was not familiar with. Standing up to Mrs. Rosier without flinching was a good start.


The mischievous glint in his eye was another good indication. If she was going to shock them all by bringing a date for the first time ever they'd better damn well have fun making jaws drop. "Mmmm, you have a lot of work to do if we're going to truly ruffle tail feathers," she responded with a hint of a smirk. "Though a waltz would be a perfectly respectable way to open the evening." She picked up the dance card hanging from her wrist checking the order of proceedings. "After this polka," she confirmed smirking.


"Farren!" Oh dear. Another intruder. This was how it went of course, she could hardly enjoy a moment's peace in public. Though this voice was familiar and she turned her gaze away from Declan slowly but without look bothered.

"Charlotte!" she echoed back at the woman approaching her. Strawberry blonde curls piled ontop of her head Charlotte Yaxley was still young enough to be considered beautiful despite being the mother of two girls already in school. Farren embraced her friend and for a moment the women cooed happily over each others gowns. "Declan, this is my friend, Mrs. Charlotte Yaxley," she said turning to again face Declan and include him in the gaggle, "Charlotte, this is my good friend Mr. Declan O'Dwyer."

Charlotte offered a low, casual curtsy in greeting out of formality, "Mr. O'Dwyer, pleased to meet you officially, though I was at your shop the same as Farren the other week. You were so busy I didn't want to force a meeting." There was a subtle suggestion that Charlotte knew what had happened when he and Farren disappeared for nearly an hour at his grand opening. Unlike Mrs. Rosier though Charlotte was not one to act out in public or put her friends in awkward positions. "We all loved it, so clever," she said of the shop her smile wide.

Farren pursed her lips smirking her eyes darting up to Declan. Was she not supposed to tell her friend about that evening? Surely it was OK? He was here now either way. For a moment she wondered if he would judge her for being friends with Mrs. Yaxley. Her husband was decades her senior and their marriage famously rushed with the appearance of twin girls shockingly soon after. Charlotte hailed from an upper middle class pureblood family, her marriage and daughters launching her into the upper echelons of society at the young age of 21. To more conservative types she was uncouth, her marriage little more than a scandal, but Farren had always been fond of her. Introductions made the ladies exchanged a few brief words about the splendor of the ball and the welfare of Charlotte's daughters before she politely excused herself, the red head's eyes daring to dart suggestively between the couple before politely dismissing herself.

The orchestra had finished the polka and couples were drifting from the floor. "I think the only place we won't be interrupted constantly is the dance floor," she quipped offering him her arm. As they moved out to the dance floor she could feel eyes on them. A fiddle player in the orchestra tuned his violin signaling to the crowd they were going to start soon. Around them couples assembled. It was surprisingly nerve wracking standing here on the dance floor with him, the eyes of London upon them. She'd done this a million times with Pyxis and other men of society but this was different. This dance would be their first dance together and the first time as adults they'd been so physically close. Somehow it made her nervous. Thankfully the order of operations was drilled into her so deeply she was sure she could waltz in her sleep. The gentleman bowed, the lady curtsyed, the lady would step forward towards the gentleman and he would take her hand, their hands against eachother's backs. Step, step, step, turn. On and on.

As the music started her eyes were set on his. She smiled as she performed her curtsy and stepped forward towards him waiting for him to take the lead.

[Harold Prendergast]

"If I am entirely honest, I am not certain what we shall find either. As for needing to master spells, none is required. The mastery of the charms in question is in the manufacture of such devices. With a normal time turner, one simply wears the thing and spins the hourglass on its axis."

He reached the drinks table. What he was about to do was more than a little dangerous - at least if he was wrong. But one that spends enough time, pun not intended, around time and motion will undoubtedly become sensitive to its ripples, and he had spent too long. He hadn't actually needed to have heard the chimes of his watch to know something was going down. Just, drat it, why this evening of all evenings?

He had only brought his watch in case of an actual emergency, such as being unexpectedly late and not wishing to give the appearance of standing Rose up. And now he seemed to be playing detective.

"Here," he brandished a drink in Rose's direction, whilst sipping hurriedly at another. "If you've never done this before, well, you might want something to brace yourself with."

Finishing his own drink, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his watch, and with a smooth practised motion, flipped the lid open.

"This watch also contains the necessary charms for turning time, though I rather disliked the hourglass construction myself. Much prefer a classical fob watch." He evened his tone, trying to project as much warmth and calm as he could. "You don't need to cast any spells, all you need to do is hold my hand or arm, whatever you prefer, as I adjust the dial. Judging by what we've seen I shan't set it back more than an hour and a half, that should be plenty of time to work out... whatever is at hand here."

He paused, "Shall we take a turn about the hedge maze?"

[Rose Pemberton]

Rose eyed the drink she'd been given suspiciously, but eventually decided to down the sparkling contents of her glass. She'd have to have a talk with Harold sometime about her preferences. He seemed entirely too fond of fizzy beverages. Were there people who actually liked those and didn't just drink them out of a polite sense of obligation?

Once fortified with alcohol, she set the glass down and took Harold's arm. She was trying to put on a brave front until once again her gaze landed on Marlow Winterbourne who seemed to be headed in their direction.

"If it's all the same to you, Hal," she said to him quietly, "let's get going before we're forced to have a conversation with that gentleman. I can assure you that he knows nothing that would be off use to you and he is a deeply unpleasant person."

She scooted closer to Harold and leaned into him. It was a bit forward, given that they weren't really a couple, but Rose couldn't stand the idea of Marlowe playing an even bigger part in this evenings' events than he had already. Maybe, making it appear as though Harold and her were a couple would discourage him from wanting to say hello. While she didn't consider it above Marlowe to try and humiliate her once again, but perhaps he would refrain from doing so if there was a witness.

Rose ushered Harold out of the room with a little put on giggle, practically racing towards the hedge maze. Once Mr Winterbourne was out of sight again she let go of Harold putting a more appropriate distance between them.

"I'm sorry," she stumbled nervously. Heat was rushing to her cheeks. "I know that wasn't.... I just couldn't face meeting him..." she struggled to offer Harold any reasonable explanation for her behaviour, but hoped that the panic in her eyes left him with an impression of how dire things had to be for her to act out like this.

"Just please don't leave me alone with that guy. I'll explain it later, okay?"

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"I'd kinda resolved not to ruffle feathers tonight, for your sake." His tone remained light and humourous, but what he said still rang true. "But I've never been very good at resisting the temptation to be a bit of an enfant terrible. You should think carefully before encouraging me in that. You know better than I do what a bunch of hypocrites we have here tonight." His eyes slowly drifted to an older lady dressed in white. ,,Take her over there giving us a disapproving look. She's Áine O Broin. Her eldest married a muggle, but here she is behaving like her family has the moral high ground."

He scoffed, then let the thought go. There was no point in elaborating on the reasons he usually shunned these occasions. It was just that he wanted Farren to understand that he wasn't as clueless as society may have made him sound and that his reputation was mostly the result of him offending on purpose. Being considered a bit of an unhinged genius limited the amount of folks willing to step up and risk a conversation or association with him.

"I'm looking forward to the waltz though. Sounds like fun." He wasn't sure if she meant to dance that polka with him or another gentleman, but before he could cast a discrete glance at her dance card they were being interrupted by a friend of Farren's. A bit of casual chatter between the ladies ensued, comparing gowns, before a formal introduction was made.

"My pleasure to meet you, Mrs Yaxley." He was rather amused to learn that the strawberry blonde in front of him was a keen observer of things. "I'm sure we can rectify that some time. I'm unused to playing the host, so you must forgive my oversights." It was a bit of a fib, as Declan did host some gatherings in Ireland from time to time, but he doubted Mrs Yaxley would challenge him on this statement. Surely she'd catch his intention of giving a polite excuse for shirking his duties as a host for a while. "I am glad to hear though you enjoyed the evening anyway."

As Mrs Yaxley lapsed back into conversation just with Farren he wondered just how close friends these two women were and what exactly Mrs Yaxley knew. It probably wasn't anything to worry about. Farren had a better handle on society than him when it came to judging a lot of the people in this room. There were only a few Declan knew well, while most of the others he'd never had a deeper conversation with. He supposed it was best to just trust Farren. She navigated this pond of sharks regularly.

The ladies' chat wrapped up just in time with the music which meant it was their turn to step onto the dance floor. Declan suddenly felt a little nervous. Though the steps to the waltz were easy, the speed and amount of spinning could make it difficult. With the amount of eyes on them, the last thing he wanted to do was mess up. He bowed, Farren curtsied, before assuming closed position. For a moment his mind was so preoccupied with the technical execution of the dance, the rest of the world melted away.

One, two, three. In his mind he kept counting as they performed the steps. It all rather reminded him of taking dance classes as a teenager, except that this time getting it right seemed to matter a little more. Farren was a wonderful partner. She was elegant and light on her feet, making it easy to guide her trough the steps. Seeing how she agreed to give people something to talk about he lead her into an underarm turn and let them closer to the centre of the floor after to continue their dance.

He noted with some amusement that for the days leading up to this ball he'd often been thinking about dancing with Farren, but now that it was a reality he found himself wishing they had some time alone. Holding her close his thoughts drifted to how it might feel to kiss her. Was it too soon? Would such an advance even be welcome? He couldn't decide just yet, so maybe more waiting was in order.

The music swelled to a loud crescendo, letting him know that they were nearing the end of their dance. He didn't really fancy going back to making polite conversation, but he supposed that was what was expected of them. "Do you still want to meet my family, or should we make it one more dance?"

[Farren Abercrombie]

Farren didn't know why she kept being surprised by how well Declan handled himself. He had made nice enough with Charlotte and as they stepped into the dance he led them around the floor gracefully. Of course it should have been expected. He was just as rich as her and just as well bred. Maybe she should feel guilty for doubting him at all but it was a nice surprise to find that he was just as easy to get on with at this horror show as Pyxis was.

As he swept her around the floor she tried to focus on the moment and not the crowds around the dance floor watching them. It was not abnormal for her to dance with men other than Pyxis at these events but this was obviously different. Declan had been entirely clear that he wanted to explore something more than friendship. He wanted to find something long term, hopefully between them. He was too much of a gentleman to have been more direct than that but now that they were so close she wondered if he was wondering what was possible between them.

This was the point of dances anyways wasn't it? To thrust young men and women together. Close, moving in unison to romantic music, their bodies closer than was generally socially acceptable. Was there something about this dance with him that was stirring things in her she hadn't expected? She wasn't sure. Mostly she was just curious about how he felt and what he was thinking. Did he feel some kind of stirring being this close to her? Was being this near to her creating some sense of lust or desire? If she wasn't careful she was going to end up blushing just thinking about it. But they didn't have the luxury of such reactions nor the luxury some other dance partners might have, a misstep that allowed the man to pull the lady against him to steady her, a brush of the cheek against his cheek, a gentleman's hand wandering a few inches out of place against her body. None of that would be acceptable at such an event, not when they had to put on such a show.


The song closed, the couples around them stopped moving as well and she was left unsure of what she wanted to do. She was generally rather satisfied to make rounds at these events. Afterall it was good intel more often than not. Snips of political news, social gossip, and new introductions were the only thing that kept these events remotely entertaining. But somehow this was different. She was less than keen to leave the dance floor. "I think we should have another dance, though certainly after that we'll need to play nice and go chat with some folks." She smiled as she stepped back a bit from him. The band was already rustling their sheet music to pull the next tune.

"If we have more than two dances in a row I'm sure people will start to speak ill of us or just make up their own stories about us like my Grandmother In-Law is surely doing as we speak." Farren turned towards the crowd, her expression neutral, scanning the crowd for more familiar faces. All the usuals were here. These people she saw on a regular basis. She wished Pyxis were here so he could listen in on some of their thoughts. Most of society just assumed that one day she and her dangling bachelor of a cousin would marry. It made sense, they were best friends, he'd been her constant social companion since Clive's death, and him being a cousin would solve the concern of naming heirs for the Abercrombie family. But now she assumed everyone was making up new stories.

"Not that I'm trying to avoid your family," she said with a small smile turning back to him. Couples were joining them on the floor. She glanced at the dance card dangling from her wrist, "The reel," she confirmed. "Rather more lively than the waltz. Are you quite prepared to keep up and make sure my skirts aren't trampled?" Of course she was mostly teasing, Declan had proven himself a worthy escort and she suspected being Irish and all their liveliness at parties he was more than prepared for this task. A couple coming onto the dance floor looked their way, a young raven haired woman with a fair young man. They nodded politely as they passed but the woman seemed to let her gaze linger on Farren.

"Nelaphelia Carrow and Artemis Bulstrode. They were two years behind us in school. Slytherins. We expect them to become engaged by the end of the year. However, Artemis has been attempting to court me since Clive died so Nelaphelia is not my biggest fan." She smirked slightly. Not that there was anything wrong with Artemis but he was not particularly handsome and the Bulstrode family were not particularly well positioned in comparison to the Abercrombies. Her apparent rejection of him would be an obvious one but that had not detoured him initially. "Rumor has it that she has forbidden him from asking me for so much as a dance. Apparently despite them not even being engaged yet I am somehow a homewrecker."

Turning towards Declan she smiled. "Are there any young ladies I will be offending by dominating your attentions as of late? I'd like to know in advance if I'm developing enemies unbeknownst to me. Not that I mind," she caught his gaze a hint of sparkle in her eyes, "The fight would be worth it if it came to that I think." 

The music started and she stepped forward into his path bowing slightly as was called for in the dance. They linked arms and spun and she turned to look at him with a smirk, "I assure you, you are making a great many enemies tonight." Again they separated, joining the line of dancers opposite each other. As they rejoined, their arms linked turning to the music she continued to tease him. "Almost every man in this room who is not wearing a wedding band and is under the age of 40 has tried to capture my special attention at some point in the last two years."

Joining hands they bound down the floor and she couldn't help but grin. Again they spun. "I told you, you were the first one I've allowed to accompany me besides Pyxis but you're also the first one I've allowed to capture my special attention." Glancing over her shoulder at him smirking she took the arm of the next gentleman in line and he spun her to the music before releasing her back to Declan in the order of the dance. "I doubt it will come to a fight but I am sure you will be getting some nasty looks in the gentleman's lounge later on."

[Declan O'Dwyer]

"Yes, unfortunately," Declan commiserated. Not that he was all that fond of dancing, but having her in his arms was fun and he wouldn't mind spending more time like that. Going back out into the fray to brave further socialisation seemed just a little bit daunting still. Yes, he could handle it but he made no pretence that he found it exhausting. He wasn't the kind of person who got energised around other people. If anything, the opposite was true. Still, he didn't regret attending this little soirée with Farren. She was wonderful company and he enjoyed proving to her that he was just as sophisticated as London society when he wanted to be.

"I wouldn't mind dancing with you all night," he said in a low voice. "Alas, I am afraid we'd never recover from the scandal that would cause. No doubt we'd be rushed to the altar at wand point. Not that the notion of that is disagreeable, but perhaps a little premature. And I think I pictured my wedding involving a little less violence. At least, not that kind." He gave her a seemingly innocent smile, but something about how he quirked the corner of his lips allowed for a less than innocent interpretation of his words.

"Hmm, a reel? Oh, I don't know about that," he teased gently. "Will I be in trouble if I mess up your gown?" His words were more playful that serious. While by no means an exceptional dancer, he was fairly confident in his ability to comport himself with dignity. He'd spent enough time duelling with his father to have pretty good reflexes. It was always surprising how often that really came in handy, covering anything from potion brewing to, well, dancing.

He smirked as she told him about Artemis Bullstrode. He didn't know much about the gentleman other than him being from a respectable family and not a bad prospect. Declan thought his features seemed a little butch, but that was hardly a reason to think poorly of the chap. It gave him a little boost to know Farren chosen to spend time with him over considering Artemis' attentions.

"Damned if you do and damned if you don't," he commented on the situation with Nelaphelia. "It's one of the many reason I don't make frequent appearances. That always gives so,embody the wrong idea. I dare say you are relatively safe from anyone wished you ill." His gaze moved to a lady in a lavender dress with long, raven-coloured her. "I know her, Aoibheann Ní Dálaigh, but I don't think she has an interest in me. Our mothers have spoken once of twice and I've been invited to a very stilted and awkward afternoon tea - but I've not heard from her since. Thankfully."

"Other than that, I am mostly fancy free." Of course there was a list of families his mother would have prefer he'd find a suitable wife from, but he didn't expect to meet with much resistance going against it. Sometimes, not being the favourite son had its advantages. He didn't feel like telling Farren about it though. She probably had an idea of that anyway. What pureblood family didn't meddle at least a little in the romantic lives of their children.

The music picked up again, and they stepped back onto the dance floor. Declan was sorely tempted to give some gesture of affection, but knew fine such a move was risky. Still his thumb brushed gently over the back of her hand as they assumed position once more.

"I supposed I should catch you up a little then if we're to socialise with the folks I know here. So Ardan is uncle and my father's youngest brother. We're actually only a few years apart in age. He was homeschooled though, like most of my family. Since he's the youngest son and unlikely to inherit anything he's gone into trade, mostly firewhisky and other alcoholic beverages. His fiancée, Blythe Bannatyne, I think you'd know. Slytherin like yourself I do believe. Now, if we're unlucky my second cousins might come to talk to us as well. I've seen Siobhan and Seamus somewhere. O'Sullivan side of the family and little upstarts eager to climb the social ladder."

He didn't say it, but he was worried one of them might spin some sort of tale to his parents or grandparents just for the sake of being owed a favour. It was probably best to watch out.

[Harold Prendergast]

He wasn't sure quite what prompted Rose's sudden urgency to head outside - perhaps it was the fizzy alcohol? - but his own tingling sense of trouble suggested it was high time they did so. He was aware that Rose had a distinct and particular aversion to the one gentleman in the room, but from his own perspective thought quite little of it as he himself had a number of distinct and particular aversions to many of the people present. He hoped he would not have another run-in with Miss Mordaunt for a while. Preferably not for another, say, pleasant few decades.

As they strode outside and the cool air hit, his mind pieced something together - that... gentleman... was presumably Grace's father. Who else would leave Rose quite so shaken to the core?

They took a turn to the entrance to the hedge maze, and once Harold was reasonably sure there was no-one to see them, he turned to Rose and staring into her eyes as best as he could do with his glasses, was rather solemn. "I promise I will not leave you alone with that gentleman, if you do not wish to be."

Unfortunately, just at that moment his watch started chiming against. Harold muttered, "The cloister bell? Now? Right then."

He fiddled with the dial, offered his hand to her, and said, "We don't have any time to lose - it is, rather, now or never and I should prefer to avoid 'never' if it is all the same to you."

He got the impression that, somewhat surprisingly, Rose was perhaps altogether not entirely sure about this - though it was only an impression. Trying to be reassuring, he went on to - quickly - explain that he'd done many such trips, that it was only a small one, two hours, no more, and that this was the sort of thing that the Department of Mysteries did every day.

"And we can be rather sure to avoid that particular gentleman as we investigate whatever is going on here! But we have to go - now - all you have to do is take my hand."

He again offered his hand, more urgently this time.

[Rose Pemberton]

Bloody Marlowe Winterbourne. They seemed to have shaken the man, but that didn't mean she was safe. He could reappear again at any moment and mess her up even more. Sweet, kind Harold was trying to appease her and the intensity and sincerity of his green eyes was touching. For a moment there, she desperately wanted to believe him; believe that he was safe and would protect her if it came to it. However, letting herself trust was probably a dangerous mistake to make. Her mind kept sounding alarm bells, reminding her that she had mince felt safe around Marlowe as well. It was unnerving that Harold seemed to trigger such similar responses.

But they are different men, Rose reminded herself. Not everyone was out to hurt people. Circumstances were just not in their favour. Harold wasn't purposefully messing with her. He probably had no idea how she felt about anything. What a fool she was making of herself. She had to look like a complete idiot.

Take his hand? Rose felt so unravelled she was quite ready to throw herself into his arms and remain there for the rest of evening. She hated it; her emotions all over the place, her fear, her anger, her utterly inappropriate attraction to Harold. Why could she not stop thinking about him that way? He made her angry, she didn't trust him, there was no hope for anything working out and yet she kept gravitating towards him when really she shouldn't. Maybe, it was time she started to look for another job.

Rose took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then took his hand. This was the last time she'd concede. Starting from tomorrow Harold was nothing to her and she'd focus on her own life and raising her daughter. She'd be a sensible and respectable woman again as opposed to whatever was currently going on with her.

"Let's get this over with," she said resolutely. "The sooner we do this, the sooner we'll be done here, the sooner we can both get home."

[Harold Prendergast]

Harold stared intently at his pocket watch, held carefully in his right hand, as he wound the one dial with his thumb and pressed the button, three times quickly, then twice more with a measured and deliberate pace, before touching the face in a gesture that, if Rose had been watching, she might have identified as almost runic for an hourglass.

"There." He took a deep breath. "You will see the events of the last two hours unfurl around us - no-one can see us as we move backwards, but rather we will see everyone else doing, well, whatever it was they did, but quickly and in reverse. Whatever caused the original version of us to go backwards, we should locate it, and we will need to be back here in two hours."

Harold was intently staring at the watch and so whatever activity swirled around him was lost entirely to his attentions.

He was, however, gravely concerned: he had not seen any reason for them to travel backwards but since they had already observed themselves, there must have been a reason for it.

After perhaps a minute, maybe two, Harold was vaguely aware of the swirling around the pair of them having stopped.

"Here we are - or rather, should I say, here we were. It is now two hours earlier in the evening - I would have been listening at rather great length to Miss Mordaunt at this stage, and I believe you were speaking to other acquaintances from the Ministry. Now, we should retrace our steps carefully and see who might be about that we can speak to and see if we can't work out what has brought us here in this manner."

He paused. "I had rather hoped that we could just enjoy this evening without it becoming a devilishly mysterious affair. Perhaps there will be time for another dance once we have dealt with... whatever we have to deal with."

[Rose Pemberton]

She see things backwards. Okay. Like rewinding a tape. Rose thought she could probably deal with that. She held onto Harold quite firmly, squeezing his arm just a little as nerves took over. She'd have to look at Marlowe again. Fine, she could handle that.

As Harold explained, she already saw things shifting around her. A young lady walked backwards as her champagne glass refilled itself with sparkling liquid. Elsewhere a couple walked backwards  towards a table in the garden. Black and red. Rose thought they made a rather striking pair. The lady looking so elegant in her gorgeous gown, the gentleman so refined with his dark hair and distinguished features. Unlike Harold and her they were probably here together and enjoying each other's company. For a split second she wished she could exchange places with the lady in red. They had the same colour of hair. Was this who she could be if she'd been born a proper witch with worthy blood?

Her head turned back to the dance floor. Farren Abercrombie and a gentleman she didn't recognise were spinning counterclockwise on the dance floor. Her head was spinning. This was ... surreal. Then she saw herself walking backwards into the garden, through the hedge maze and returning to where she had been watching the flowers earlier on.

"We must hurry, Harold." She said urgently. "That's me over there and I saw the two of us in the hedge maze earlier."

She leaned closer into him, his words on her mind. He'd wanted another dance and ... her heart skipped a little. The gave him a sideways glance as a ridiculous, very selfish thought took a hold of her.

"Hal, if I understand you correctly we must do everything I saw us do earlier, right?"

She stepped into the space in front of him, facing him, putting her hand on his chest.

"If that's true I must ask you for a promise. Hal, there'll be something I'll have to do and... just promise you will forgive me for it one day, okay? Can you agree to that, please?"

[Harold Prendergast]

"It's slightly more complicated than that, I'm afraid, but the broad gist is quite correct. Our past selves did things - you saw yourself, so you must go to where you saw yourself so you, well, can have seen yourself seeing yourself. It is frightfully confusing, I'm afraid, but that is the rub of it. You know the points where you saw yourself and therefore where you must be."

He paused. "I promise that whatever you have to do will be quite alright in the end - we are in a place now where things are in motion and as long as we get out of that intact, everything will be perfectly fine." He wasn't quite sure what she could possibly need his forgiveness for, but as far as he was concerned, that was a problem for later. Right now was getting through the evening.

He looked hurriedly in the direction of the ball; through the window he could vaguely see himself smiling a little too politely in the direction of Miss Mordaunt. He frowned, wondering where the blazes he must be at this point in time - his past self, not his... past self. His past self he could see, but his other past self?

He hadn't remembered seeing himself at any point, not even anyone who looked like him, but that conversation with Gayle had been most interminable and he shouldn't have been surprised if he'd seen anyone, such was his desire to remain standing upright and giving the appearance of listening to the eloquent effluent that was less projected and more sort of ... enthusiastically launched at him in a stream. A neverending, dreary stream of nonsense details events he hadn't been to, about things which he cared even less, relating to people that he couldn't care less about.

Sometimes some people just rubbed him up the wrong way. Had he packed his other glasses in his pocket? He could claim to be his brother - surely no-one here would know his brother, who was even less about in society than he, Harold, had been? Ah, yes, in his other pocket was his spare glasses, a quick change to the thicker-framed pair and he could claim to be his own twin brother, should anyone ask too closely.

He wondered, as he headed back to the ball, if he should try to put some kind of affectation in his voice, or try to alter his habitual speech patterns, but he decided against it. Identical twins that finished each other's sentences weren't unheard of, even in middle age.

Swinging by the drinks once again, he took a small glass of punch - he needed his wits about him at this point - and looked for someone to talk to who might have seen something a bit suspicious, or who might have known about his wife, which was after all the only reason he was actually here.

He saw someone from the Ministry, some mid-tier bureaucrat he half remembered, arriving at the punch bowl as well, and thought it might be an opportunity. "Well, hello, goodness, it's been how long?"

There was a rather startled and confused reaction from the gentleman, a vague flutter of recognition. "Don't you remember, that party we were at in the spring? It's me, Prendergast." Harold shook his hand quite profusely while desperately trying to remember the name.

The name brought a slightly more, or perhaps less, reaction of familiarity - it wasn't clear to Harold which - but it yielded a positive response, a 'how the devil are you' type response, the usual societal niceties the English do to avoid actually talking to each other.

After a few moments, Harold frowned and held his punch glass up a moment. "I say, either this punch is more of a knockout than I expected, or something rather peculiar is going on here. I feel like I've seen ghosts of myself, or reflections or that, what is it the French call it, déjà vu? I feel like I've seen someone coming or going. Does that sound like anything you've seen here this evening?"

Harold was careful to glance over at the other end of the room occasionally and check that his double hadn't turned in his direction - but for the moment his earlier iteration was waiting for an interlude in the conversation.

[Rose Pemberton]

"Hal! Wait. I've got more questions." She didn't understand. Why would she go alone? She had seen herself with him. Rose could already see her past self nearby and the other Rose would start going that way soon. Wouldn't the whole reason for their time travel be erased if they weren't in the spot where she had seen them earlier? And didn't he imply they weren't supposed to change things? She didn't have much of a handle on this situation at all, but she was fairly sure he was supposed to come with her.

Rose desperately wanted answers, but Hal had just wandered off ignoring her. It stung. He'd dragged her into this godforsaken time-travel mess. If he'd left the stupid pocket watch at home, they wouldn't be in this situation. That would be a new rule of their 'friendship'. If he wanted to spend time with her, it would be without that damn thing interfering. Well, who was she kidding anyway. He didn't care about her and he wanted to spend time with Sylvia. Rose swallowed hard.

She took a moment or two before rushing after him, terrified to go back into the ballroom with so many people. Unlike him, she didn't look inconspicuous at all in her massive, statement ball gown. She could feel some heads turn as she walked and it made her skin tingle uncomfortably. Someone would figure out what they were up to and, oh Merlin, they would get it into so much trouble for it. That could not be a thing. She was a single mom. She could not go to prison for unauthorised time travel. Her heart was beating so fast now she felt as though it was almost jumping out of her chest.

Eventually she caught up with Harold who was making small talk with some stranger. Really? What was wrong with him? Had he been dropped on his head as a child? So far she'd had the impression that he was an expert on this time travel stuff, but now it felt more like it was his first trip and he was about as clueless as she was.

Rose sidled up to him and firmly wrapped her arm around is waist.

"Oh, there you are, love. I've been looking everywhere for you."

She gave a bright, fake smile to the gentlemen he was talking to. "You wouldn't mind if I borrowed  this dear gentleman for a moment, now would you?"

She tightened her grip on Harold like a vice, making sure he didn't get any silly ideas about running off again, while directing him back to the hedge maze.

"You are messing this up," she hissed at him angrily. She extended her free hand in the direction of the other Rose. "She is me earlier, right? So she'll have to see us in that hedge maze because that's already happened. I think. Why would you alter that part of the past? Thanks to your strange excursion there we must hurry now."

Rose let go of him to lift her dress a little as it would allow her to walk a little faster. Harold, I hampered by no such issues was charging ahead of her now. Rose tried to follow as quickly as she could. Okay she'd told him to hurry, but he didn't even know where she'd seen them, so where exactly did he think he was going? They'd just reached the entrance of hedge maze again.

"Hal, wait up... I can't keep up with you in those heels."

"Well, uh, actually, I'm sorry..."  He slowed, but then turned into the wrong direction, about to walk left when they had gone right.

"Hal! Let's take this turn here and try this way."

Rose swallowed hard. She'd just said the lines she'd heard herself say earlier. She was fuming with anger, while Harold looked so confused. It was all playing out just the way she remembered it. Catching up with him, she wrapped her arm back around his waist. Clearly, he couldn't be trusted not to make a mess of this. As they walked through the maze the heaviness around her heart was lifting. Maybe, they'd be okay by the end of this after all.

She snuggled up closer to Harold whispering to him. "We're nearly done. Only one more thing in the sequence."

Then, she lead Hal into a dead end. She took a deep breath, stepped into the space in front of him and carefully wrapped her arms around his neck. It was now or never. She was still so unspeakably angry with him, but he had the most gorgeous green eyes and he felt so good when they were close. Yes, blast the consequences. She pushed herself onto tip toes and seconds later placed a chaste kiss on his lips.

"There we go Hal, now it's exactly the way I've seen it," she told him with a crooked little smile on her face.