Grapevine Fires

Spoiler:

Augustus Rookwood sat lounging in the East Parlour of Rookwood Manor, nursing a headache with nothing more than another glass of Absinthe. He was chronically dependent on it now.Yet, it wasn't as if circumstance called for it. Sure, he had picked the habit up during the madness of his more exciting years with the Dark Lord. He ran on that, as if it was a tool of encouragement in the face of uncertain promise. Afterwards, the drink was nothing more than a means of escape from the pain of the present. The man had recovered from it all, though. Still, this one was to be an unchanged custom.

Augustus had left his wife, a woman who now persisted in giving him a cold shoulder, after lunch in the dining room. He was sure that she had departed to the garden, yet again, tending to the space allowed her, for her to while her time away as another typical Rookwood wife.

Figuring that he was not going to be wanted around her anyway, Augustus headed to the parlour, picking up the day's edition of The Daily Prophet, before easing himself into an armchair. It wasn't long before a glass of his favourite drink was poured by a House Elf that barely got any attention from the man. Not surprisingly, Augustus was engrossed in the Prophet's article on the adventure he had partaken. Well, he wasn't the star, of course not. He was supposed to have retired. His record was still kept in Azkaban. The man smirked now, reading the details of the attack on the Muggle village, pleased at how successful it was, as if it could be anywhere near the good old days.

Her profession was that of a glorified prostitute but despite this Maia’s activities had been decided upon by her own person. This was not to her delight though, rather her absolute despair. The novelty of being about to pick and choose what she did to fill her time had soon worn off and she found herself afflicted by the most terrible boredom, a boredom which saw her refusing to rise from her bed until the late afternoon so that the hours could be whittled down to a finite amount that could be filled with meals and brisk walks around the grounds until the time came to return to the bed that she had come to be so familiar with. She’d developed something of a routine in that sense, a routine that allowed her to consume time but never really live through any of it. It suited her better that way; it allowed her to believe that time had barely passed between her arrival and Augustus’ return.

Granted, she had not been as isolated as she had liked to think. She had in fact spent some time with the son of the man that she had come to be in the possession of. He had shown her around the complex that was owned by the Rookwoods and she found that there were some places she was better off not visiting: like the dungeons, for example. Most of Maia’s time was devoted to the guest room in which she stayed. It was sparsely decorated but that allowed her to prevent any build up of clutter – not that she had enough possessions for the room to develop clutter.

What little she had brought with her she unpacked with the first hour of being escorted to her room by one of the funny looking dwarfed people with saucer-sized eyes and odd, floppy ears. They were keen to converse with her and, for some unknown reason, she seemed to understand them better than the humans in the household that spoke standard English; perhaps, she thought, it was because their formation of sentences were so bad you could not help but understand – even in small ways. Though, how that worked she was not entirely sure.

The morning was darker than most, a sign of the coming winter, and she rose at an oddly early hour, her sleep having been broken and a trial to achieve. She spent an hour and a half languishing in the bath tub that was drawn with piping hot water by the elves that she’d come to refer to as “her little friends”. It was there that she remained, peppering her skin with sweet scents that would linger in the rooms she entered for at least half an hour after she had gone and it had grown cold with emptiness. Once her fingers bore the beginnings of prunes, she removed herself from the warmth of the water, wrapping herself in a large, endlessly soft towel that she used to rub her skin dry of the dampness of the water.

Upon moving back into the bedroom she found awaiting her a dress that bore the same hue of robin’s eggs. Spotted with white butterflies and framed at the waist with a bold white belt that drew the colours together, moulding them so that they fit without dispute. The material was a soft cotton that felt almost like silk, curving itself around her frame and accentuating the correct areas that improved the assets she already possessed and did nothing detrimental to their appearance. As she shimmied into the dress, careful not to crease the fabric, she found herself mentally complimenting again the exquisite taste of the elves; and once her feet were slipped into a pair of easily stained white pumps she departed from her bedroom and took to the grounds where from there she began her aimless stroll.

The young woman returned to the house just after lunch, having dined outside with her little friends who were keen to provide her with meals that were more functional for the outdoors considering her time spent out there. She checked her watch immediately upon stepping through the back doors into the kitchen. She did not know who the owner of the watch was but she had found it, dust clogged but still ticking, in one of the drawers into which she was placing her things. She’d cleaned it up as best she could with what she had to work with – even the Elves had helped her scrub at the metal – and in the end she was left with a relatively shiny clock face, the strap of worn but thick, dark leather.

It was still early, she realised, much to her dismay, and lowered her arm before lifting the picnic basket onto one of the clear counters. The elves took it away almost immediately and she smiled gratefully before treading carefully through the kitchen so as not to disturb their progress and stepped through the open door into the dining room, closing it quietly behind her before quickly moving through there, taking herself out into the foyer. She ascended the staircase quickly, able to tread lightly and agilely but with some pace, taking herself up onto the first floor, a floor which she’d severely neglected during her exploration of the manor.

It felt incredibly bizarre to be exploring a home that was not her own – but then, she’d never really had a home that was her own so really should have been used it by this time. Yet, Maia could not shake off the feeling that by exploring she was being incredibly rude and so she was careful about which rooms she went to. Any that were not sat on the latch or that were unlocked but firmly closed she did not dare entering. But she realised that if she kept to the East Wing of the house then she was less likely to run into anyone that she did not know or knew of her existence enough to be distasteful of her presence. She figured out quite early on which rooms Cordelia liked to take to and so she adjusted her choices of rooms depending on those factors.

But of course, there was one person who was not around enough for her to cater her room choices to and that was Augustus; and ironically, it was into the room he was situated in that she walked.

Maia stalled just beyond the doorway, her hand caught behind her on the door that she would have closed behind her had she not set her gaze on the man who had brought her there and plunged her into that utterly painful boredom she was experiencing. Yet, apart from his endlessly irritating son, he was the only familiar face and Maia could not help but smile at him.

“I do not understand how you drink that.” She spoke without preamble, deciding to forego the niceties. “It is like oil.” Maia smiled impishly before inquiring hesitantly, unsure of her words, “When did you come?” And, utterly unaware of the double-entendre, she pressed the door closed behind her, lulled into a false sense of security at the idea that she had said correctly what she had meant when in reality, ‘back’ was an incredibly important verb – or was it a noun?

Rookwood Manor was excessive. Yet, it served a household of four major stems of Raghnall's sons, each one already an umbrella of smaller units of families. The demarcation was simple to explain. The grandest of wings was occupied by the Head of the Rookwood Clan, accompanied by his eldest son, who really counted as the next head of the house anyway. Following that, the familial units under Eamon and Cedric were bursting the capacity of the West Wing, thanks to sons of the two. This meant that the South was slowly but surely being filled with theirs too. It was no wonder, then, that the space occupied by Augustus' was, really, barely filled. There was the man, his wife, Kendall, Katarina, Aurelia, Cecelia; and then now, Maia, who finally graces one of the almost untouched Guest Rooms of the East Wing. Well, it was certainly touched during generations older than this one. The Rookwood family had been critically and unwittingly scaled down to size.

Raghnall certainly wasn't happy with that. He wanted a bursting population of Rookwoods, carrying the burden as a Head of House should be expected to. And this undoubtedly began with the presence of sons. Despite the joy of Kendall, Augustus was the poorest in form in that department. There was never a day that his mind didn't fuss over the fact that he was the only one of his brothers who only had one son. Cordelia had always been put to pressure on this matter. Yet, it was nothing compared to the atrocities done to the wives of his other brothers. After all, one was murdered, another was made to stay and watch a successor do what she couldn't do, and all suffered miscarriages. Cordelia, on the other hand, was relatively unscathed.

The bad news was that Augustus wasn't getting much younger. That wasn't news, really. It did, however, never fail to alarm the deepening creases on the man's forehead, as his patience was beginning to run out on his and Cordelia's biological clock. He had, of late, been finally getting down to piling the pressure on his wife. He needed another heir. If something was to go wrong with Kendall, or that he should be eliminated from existence, Augustus would be left with nothing but immense failure on his hands. There would be no respect left, something of which was already rather scant, for his share in the family pie.

Augustus knew how it must have looked to Cordelia, discovering that there was another woman in the house associated to her husband in ways that could certainly spell the end of her reign as his sole partner. After all, wasn't it customary? The Rookwood males never kept to one woman; and although Augustus has had his fair share of fun away from Cordelia, it had always been unbeknownst to her. To have Maia so blatantly positioned next to her husband at a crucial familial dispute seating ... Augustus couldn't understand his wife's recent depression. She didn't want to cuddle anymore these days. She spoke fewer words to him, and ate too little during meals. She didn't want to talk about the issue of Maia, too, preferring to be ignorant to what she presumed to be the worst.

Augustus had given up trying, although, admittedly, he did very little to try. He loved Cordelia, in his own way. Even so, he didn't think anything warranted for him to explain himself to his wife. He was a Rookwood man. He was boss. And as much as he liked Athena Goyle, the man had spoken earlier to his son about this pressing issue. Kendall needed to reign her in. Augustus had seen the signs. Kendall was going to be like him and actually love his wife, unlike most of the other Rookwood men. And that was the problem. It was a romantic quality, and romance was barely tolerated in the household. No, Augustus wanted Kendall to assert his ways on Athena. She could keep most of her ways, but she must compromise on familial fronts.

Fortunately, Augustus was kept from fussing over the matter for too long. There was a whiff of fragrance unlike the smell that usually filled the East Parlour, and it didn't take long for him to notice the presence of the girl. Augustus parted his lips, as if to speak, but closed it quickly, deciding against it first. He nodded, as if to encourage her to stay. He had been distracted, as of late. Had it not been for the House Elves, or even Kendall, no one would have noticed the presence of the strange girl. Cordelia had ensured that she remained invisible to her daughters, and hopefully, to the other members of the Rookwood Clan. It was humiliating to have her around. Augustus smirked now, amused that he had forgotten the gift that was supposed to bring some sort of delight to his days. At least, that seemed to have been what Shabaam was promoting.

"Does this mean I can't tease you in English now?" Augustus chuckled, still eyeing the girl in amusement, curious about her new-found ability with the language that she had, not too long ago, seemed completely clueless about. "Oh but it's rude for me not to to address your concern." And he winked. "Absinthe is for real men, Pappy." He took a sip and let it burn. "It's what happens when you come out of Whiskey, and then it looks like child's play." He gestured to the seat next to him. "It's unceremonious to leave a lady standing, even if it's fun to keep them waiting, or on edge." He chuckled, as if there was a private joke somewhere in the recesses of his mind. "I come every night, last night too." The mirth in his eyes was hard to hide. "But yes, I'm now free of any obligations, bar the simple pleasures of home." And then he pointed to the decanter that was set near him on the table. "A drink, perhaps? You must tell me everything you know now, now that I understand you." He smirked. "Cocktail?"

The little English that the young woman had come to learn was a side-effect of having to listen to Kendall Rookwood twitter on and on about the different aspects of the house knowing full well that she was bored but continuing on anyway on the assumption that she didn’t understand him anyway so he might as well continue. It had also come from speaking with the House Elves who were more than happy to help her on her way with the language as they boasted openly about their abilities to speak properly like their masters so they were more than happy to help her along.

Really, it was just so they could feel as if they were above someone in rank – which, in Maia’s case, they most probably were – and though they genuinely helped her, they couldn’t help but feel smug at the idea of a human was so far below them in ranking in the household. To the elder House Elves it was reminiscent of the times when the other live-in mistresses entered the house for the first time; it was similar to their isolation before they found a place amongst the Rookwoods.

Maia’s place in the house was hard to define. She was not sleeping with Augustus but she did not appear to be there for any other reason. Yet, she seemed nice enough and she wouldn’t harm a fly from the look of her so it was difficult to find reason enough to dislike her. But of course, the elder House Elves found a reason. Advocates of House Elf Rights and generally all around bitter, they found a reason to hate her: she was a witch, just like the rest of them – not that she was aware of this, though.

In a house surrounded by wizards, you would think the repressed magical core would act up; and make no mistake, it did. The core did not make itself known though. The magic was as subtle as her presence around the house, present but not wholly noticeable. And so Maia continued in her naivety and ignorance, believing herself to be what wizards understood to be ‘Muggle’ – magic-less. She had recognised from the word go that they were different creatures, god-like in a similar manner that Shaabam made the girls treat him. They had similar powers yet they did not demand the same of her that Aaron had done. In fact, they ignored her.

To talk to another human that was not Kendall was a blessing for Maia. Though the boy’s company had been pleasurable enough, even sought after during the days where he’d find himself some entertainment of his own, it was not the same as Augustus’. It was not that Maia shared a special bond with the man or anything of the like; no, it was just simply because she knew him first. It mattered. She felt somewhat secure with him though she could not clarify exactly why. Perhaps it was because he did not turn her away as Aaron had done. Perhaps it was because he kept her; but more importantly, kept her safe.

So it was with a smile that Maia crossed the room to take her place beside him. Once seated she realised how weary her legs were and relaxed into the softness of the arm chair, leaning into it and propping her head up on her hand as a certain laziness came about her.

“I do not know huges,” she confided in him before insisting, “I am learning.”

Maia wrinkled her nose at the drink and looked at the decanter with obvious disdain. She then looked over at him, her eyebrows furrowing with confusion at his words. She reached up, her fingers combing through her hair as she tried to get to grips with his words and she asked: “Why have I not seen you?”

The girl’s eyebrows rose at his offer and she smiled. “Not yours,” she told him, looking at his glass. “But yes,” she added before hurrying along with, “please.” Maia, finally, looked at him quizzically before asking: “What?” in question to his insistence that she tell him things. “What is to know?”

Augustus almost forgot about the girl. He had gone for that party in the dowdy Muggle Village, and then there were the after-parties with the men he had once banded together with, hunting for prey, stocking up their dungeons with toys. Everything was nostalgia now. And he wasn't even that old. What happened along the way? It was a pity to surrender one's energy that early in life. While he might be in the process of finding his footing back into the business, it would never feel the same again. Augustus blamed Azkaban. The sentence disrupted his momentum, taking with it the prime years of his life. This was done in repetition now, this lamenting. He wasn't bored of it, no. It didn't help that the man had companions to the fruitless matter, but at least it helped take his mind off things.

Unfortunately, Augustus was immediately reminded of his wife's displeasure upon his return to the Manor. Cordelia did not greet him like she would on his returns, and this stark contrast in habit rather perturbed him. What was the point of returning when he did not find her waiting for him anymore? Mildly offended, he had suffered a silent night, a continuity from the nights after the showdown between the clans of Rookwood and Goyle, where the trouble with Cordelia started. Augustus had been happy to leave the house after a couple of days of that, when he also had avoided seeing the girl that was gifted by Shabaam. Now, though, frustrated by his wife's stubborn silence, the man took delight in finally finding himself in a private space with Maia again. Cordelia was just being troublesome. Couldn't she just accept that, sooner or later, he was going to need someone younger? Besides, he wasn't replacing his wife, was he? He was merely trying to have a bit of fun. Sheesh.

Augustus let out a chuckle that he couldn't contain, when the girl spoke again. "Much," he muttered softly, more to himself, as he continued to smirk. "Well, no learning can go on without a bit of drink." And with a snap of his fingers, a House Elf appeared. "Get the lady a drink," he ordered, without much thought, then picked up his glass to take a sip again. Then, as the House Elf went about his business, Augustus took up the conversation again. "I've been busy, playing with Muggles. They're quite nice, aren't they? You got Muggle friends, eh? I remember some lovely looking ones." He licked his lips, in obvious thought. Without wiping the cheeky grin off his face, the man turned his attention back to Maia. "Shabaam. What a man. Gave me the loveliest of the lot." He leered at her now, leaning closer, a hungry expression evident on his face.

"Like, how do you like to play?" Smirk ever present. "Would you like to play?" The House Elf returned, handling the drink over to Maia. Augustus waved for its dismissal. "Has the house suited you? You must be comfortable." He eyed the girl. "You must be very comfortable. I wouldn't have it any other way." Then, standing up, he asked again. "So, would you like to play?" There was a hint of mischief in the man's voice. He set his glass down on the table near the armchairs, and strolled to the end of the parlour, where a billiard table stood waiting for the occasional human touch. Thankfully, the House Elves were ever so dutiful in keeping the dust from clouding the table. And so it stood, in ever so pristine condition. "Come, you must play this now. If you don't know how to, I'll teach you." Augustus did little to mask his grin.

It was odd to think that a month before, Maia was safe in the assumption that she was well-loved by the man that had promised to take care of her – the man who would later betray her. The young woman was not entirely foolish. She had done well to listen to what the other girls had told her. Aaron Shaabam had never been a man she could trust and she knew that yet despite herself she trusted him anyway. His doting was not that of a father, of a man who cared – no, it was that of a man who merely wanted to see what lay behind the silken underwear and whatever other sparkly get-ups the dancers were required to wear. Maia had done well to cherish the time she was in his favour but it had been clear for a long time before meeting Augustus that she was no longer what interested Shaabam and that was incredibly dangerous especially considering the fates of the other recognised mistresses he had held prior to her. It never ended well for them.

But in the months leading up to her being so unceremoniously discarded, Shaabam had become errant and inattentive to her, feigning boredom despite her attempts to keep him interested. Increasingly, Maia found that his eyes would wander to the pretty blonde that had taken his attention even on the night where the deal was being decided upon. There had never been competition amongst the girls on that front. Shaabam had his chosen girl and the rest were to attend to the customers. Never had he turned his eye away before ridding himself of the one before. Maia lingered on for a few months before he truly began to pursue the blonde and dote upon her in the way he had once done with her. Humiliated, she was not. Angry, however, she was very much so. Yet she would not dare confront him for it was not her place. No, she merely waited as the others did, to find out her fate. Usually, they were just thrown out onto the streets. Yet Shaabam was intent on looking after his girl, even to the bitter end.

If she was going to admit one thing then she would admit that she missed the company of the other girls. She hardly had friends at the manor and though the House Elves were good to talk to when Kendall was gone or when the boy just grew too annoying for her to be around, it simply wasn’t the same. Yet she could not request the company. Augustus owed nothing to her. She was merely an individual with no identity or worth, one that he had to keep just for the sake of keeping her. Maia didn’t know what he intended on doing with her but she wished she’d find a way to become useful soon, before her mind turned to mush and she truly began to rot a little bit. It was not that she was not grateful for the home because she was. The problem was that she was just bored.

It was for that reason that she was glad that Augustus had returned. Even if the man was slightly brooding and had a horrific taste in alcohol, Maia was glad for the familiarity. She had not missed the fact that his wife seemed to be avoiding her – and him it seemed if the look on his face was anything to show for in that sense. She felt rather lonely, in truth, and she found herself wondering if Augustus felt the same way in his absence. Though of course, she would not dare to ask him.

“Much.” Maia repeated dutifully after his correction, a small smile quirking at the sides of her lips. Maia’s eyebrows rose at his additional words and she jumped a little at the appearance of the House Elf. She still wasn’t used to the way they came and went as they pleased. It was unnerving to her. Yet once the Elf had pressed a glass of something – she was not entirely sure what – into her hands, she was reminded why she was so grateful to them: they were fantastic at what they did.

Maia sipped at the drink, listening to Augustus as she did so. Her eyebrows furrowed a little with confusion and she brought the drink down to rest on her thigh, wiping at her upper lip with her spare hand. She opened her mouth to ask about what he meant but hastily closed it as he leaned closer to her, her eyes widening with poorly suppressed shock at his abruptness. Was he not just moments before a man consumed by his own thoughts? His comment about Aaron struck a chord with Maia and she pressed her lips together, dropping her gaze into her lap before shaking her head. No. If she was the loveliest of the lot then Aaron would not had gotten rid of her. He would have kept her. No, if anything she was the worst of the lot – the easiest to be disposed of.

The house had been more than what Maia had expected though she could not translate that into a language he would understand so she merely nodded, smiling a little before dropping her gaze and having another sip of the sweet drink. She rose just after he had turned away, striding to the other end of the room, and Maia set her drink down, not forgetting to eye his drink with the distaste it deserved. It was then that Maia joined him by the table. She had never really been introduced to such games though she knew some of the rules after having spent time with Aaron, watching him as he played the game.

“How?” Maia inquired gently, looking at the table with a small smile on her face. It was immaculate, if not utterly brand new. It could not have been used much. She moved to stand opposite him on the other side of the table, figuring that that was the way to do it, and shrugged her shoulders a little bit before gesturing to the table, an indication of her desire for him to elaborate.