We must be fools, we must be crazy!

And that was the problem of having the supposed good things in life. They were bad, really. You can never go back from what you know. Well, you could, but nothing would ever be the same again. It wasn’t that Augustus never went after his desires. Yet, it also wasn’t that Augustus ever pursued them. There was no other prevention from disappointment than when one chooses to take the path delineated to him by the powers above. His own father had said that. A child has no wisdom over his father. Unfortunately, Augustus thought, he had failed to be the father that he was meant to be to Kendall. Sure, he had sought to give the best to the boy, especially in protecting him from the harsh realities of the family. Still, the man had never known how to delineate the route for his son. Often, it was Raghnall who stepped in to dictate what should have been done for his grandson, before Augustus knew it was time to make up for what he had not done for the boy. Still, he persisted against handing Kendall over to the care of his own father. Even more adamant was he, when Thaddeus proposed his stewardship over Kendall in the presence of the Head of the House. No, Augustus couldn’t trust the others with his son. Still, he was made to bear the full responsibility for any of the boy’s deeds.

Augustus didn’t plan. He had no preventive measures. True to his ironically restrained spontaneity, he had always been a man who only knew when and how to intervene, when the time called for it. His brothers, on the other hand, were obviously a lot better with the plans. Augustus wouldn’t have witnessed so many schemes see fruition, had it not been for the talent of his cunning brothers. It was a pity that, in the earlier years of his life, his brothers had discovered the delight of exercising their ploys through the vessel of their accidental brother. He was, in others words, their favourite test subject. Later, thanks to his own abilities, the boy was exploited as the executioner of Rookwood plans.

There was no place in the house to be unforgiving for Augustus. It was fortunate for the other brothers that they got the boy right from the beginning of his life, so that it had taken little effort to indoctrinate the acceptance of their impositions onto his life. No one, however, stepped forth to take the fall with, or at least even silently take the blame for, Augustus as he was sentenced to Azkaban. The task for the Dark Lord was never meant to fall on Augustus. Yet, it did, and the Rookwood brothers had gone scot-free, saying nothing even when Raghnall blamed his youngest boy for the embarrassment of the stain of Azkaban on the family name. While any work or sacrifice for the Dark Lord was lauded by the old man before, Thaddeus had gotten to him as soon as the news of his brother’s arrest reached his ears. There was to be no glory for the brother that Thaddeus had never accepted as legitimate.

In knowing these, it was easier to understand the heat of disapproval that Raghnall had projected against the union of Athena Goyle and Kendall Rookwood, had it not been for the influence of one Penelope Goyle. Similarly, the other Rookwood brothers found nothing but loathing and disgust as they sat and squirmed through the process of the day. The wedding made a mockery out of their efforts. Having been robbed of their own happiness, no one else could have it. Yet, right under their noses, Kendall had gotten away with it, and worse, without wiping the smug smirk off his face. It wasn’t the end, though. And even if the boy looked unperturbed by the looming threat, his father’s mind was not spared of it. Fortunately, he began to forget it, letting the swirl of Absinthe and cigar smoke penetrate his veins as he smirked along to the words of Cerelia Avery.

He watched her until, unwittingly, he found his eyes linger at the cream of the girl’s thighs. Augustus lost himself in the details of the marks that seemed to make him watch them dance. After what should have been a wholly surprising moment of infinity, the man was dealt with the fabric that hid the very spirits that had beckoned his attention not more than just a few seconds ago. Time was, indeed, a strange construct. One moment, you could lose yourself in an immeasurable moment of beauty; but, in the next, you were made to feel the very mortality of a second ago. Augustus saw her moles dance even in the magic of the leaf. The music that played in the background began to ring louder against his ears, putting his own muted silence to shame. Yet, he did not rush to speak. Instead, the Augustus watched the girl as his lips fell slightly apart from each other, as if he had involuntarily opened himself without allowing his own speech to taint the surreality of the moment. But just as he was about to regain himself from the consciousness of who the girl was again, Augustus merely watched as she took his hand in hers, placed them around the apple she had conjured, and wrapped her hands around his.

In a state of quiet shock, Augustus watched Cerelia begin to enjoy the apple and felt a familiar stir where there should not have been. A frown quickly set in. While he had words earlier, now, he lost them. His big hand held the small apple that promised a thing that the girl should not have been able to pronounce. Yet, Augustus refused to believe that she knew. Perhaps, he thought, she was merely guessing. After all, she was supposed to be an intelligent young witch, wasn’t she? He was, on the other hand, currently nothing more than being caught dumbfounded. Quickly, though, Augustus attempted to regain his composure, brushing aside the thoughts that should not have been, and began to look for the words that would save that moment for him. The sanity of words soothed him. It wasn’t the fancy words that one could dream about. Yet, they were words that brought comfort to him simply because they resounded with what he thought he knew best.

“Now you’re speaking sense, Cerelia.” He beamed, proud for no reason. “Now, these are the words that Katy needs to hear too.” An empty wish. “But no, no …” He continued in response to what Cerelia said, further. “A girl with your quality, your blood, and standing … a girl like you will not be, must not be, a spinster.” He chuckled, as if the thought of it was a ludicrous wonder of a child’s. “I’m sure your father has someone suitable in mind. Or …” There was a devious spark in his eyes. “Tell me if you have anyone in mind. I will talk to the man himself.” There was a confidence in his voice that really held no promise to the girl. “Besides, there is the ball coming up. I expect you’re ready for it?”

OOC: Brain fizzled out. I may continue when I get it back. WIP? Haha.

The Debutante ball; of course Augustus Rookwood had to mention the torrid affair.

Turning the segment of apple she had left over in her hands, Cerelia shrugged her shoulders. She did not like the idea of the ball for it made clear what she had already suspected: she was utterly undesirable. Only the youngest of girls were presented at the Debutante ball – well, the youngest and those who were too ugly to already have young men in hand and so desperately needed a husband. Cerelia fell into that category and would be alongside a Bulstrode or an equally hideous Parkinson in her rather lovely dress, wondering why she could not be one of the girls already betrothed ahead of her in the train, linked arm in arm with their husbands-to-be. She did not wish to be engaged of course but she wouldn’t have minded it if she escaped the embarrassment of being utterly alone for all to see.

Exhaling, Cerelia put the segment down on a napkin and looked at Augustus with a vaguely curious expression. She had sensed around them a different type of emotion suddenly. It had been fleeting but it had punctured through the haze of love and adoration. It had been fear. Not pure terror but the fear of being found out, the fear that something had been discovered. Cerelia softened her expression and smiled a little before picking up the last piece of apple and placing it in her mouth. She chewed for a few moments, weighing up her options before swallowing and conceding that she was in fact well prepared.

“My grandmother has taken it upon herself to ensure, that in the absence of a fashion-forward female in my life, I have the right kind of dress. It’s quite pretty. I could have managed quite well on my own but I have never really found a way of saying no to my grandmother without her becoming rather upset. I suppose I just have to grin and bear it.”

Cerelia laughed a little and shook her head at Augustus.

“I appreciate the gesture, really, but I do not know what lies in store for me. Nor do I like anyone. They’re all too...well, have you seen what Hogwarts contains? I’ve been hauled round Europe dozens of times and I’ve not seen anyone I’ve liked and, conveniently, anyone that has liked me. I’ll let you know if I find anyone.”

Cerelia smiled at Augustus and looked away for a moment, feeling warmth rush to her cheeks.

“The more I think about it,” She looked back at Augustus. “The more I wonder whether I am suited to domesticity. I don’t think so, however. I think I would be better off running around for my father, doing his dirty work. Doing work at all, actually. But I’m quite worried about this ball, in actual fact. I have two left feet! I’m no good at dancing. My father and grandparents have worked me until I was near black and blue in the past. I still couldn’t get the steps right. My dance teacher was always very ... well; he was quite rough with me, actually. Dragged me around like a stumbling dolly until my hands were all bruised and I could no longer feel my feet. They gave up with me not long after and I don’t think my father intends to give me anymore lessons. I tried to learn but they just didn’t give me a chance.” Cerelia pursed her lips and shook her head again. “I’ll just have to avoid dancing as much as possible. Perhaps I’ll loiter by the refreshments.”

He was seventeen. She was sixteen. He watched her walk out of his life with a man he knew, and who certainly looked, to be old enough to be her father. Her dark locks danced about against her collarbones; the scent of them he had pressed himself to remember from a week ago, and which he fought to keep with the remnants of them hidden in the fabric of the cardigan he had refused to return to her. She was smiling, and he struggled to remember the taste of her lips and the space between where it came up against her nose. He remembered the light in her eyes when she would look at him, the only shade of blue that he could wilfully dive into to lose himself in. Yet, on that day it was green. He watched her exude the grace that she had been compelled to cultivate, displaying the pride of her family with every perfect step and every perfect move. She walked, however, with her hands around the arm of another man. The light in her eyes shone upon him. Her dark locks danced for him. And her laughter, he remembered the spirits that could be lifted with the music of her laughter. Yet, she laughed, for him. Him, not him. There, and then, Augustus knew he was chasing pavements.

He was chasing memories that were fleeing even faster than the steps she took away from him. He watched her. Yet, she began to seem unfamiliar to him. There, and then, too, he knew he would be alright. The love that he had was lost. The love untainted by age and adult motives was lost. She was another person today, and from this day forth. She was not the girl he wanted anymore. She was. But, not anymore. She was, today, the girl her father wanted her to be, and the girl that another man wants, now. Perhaps she had to be, perhaps she had no choice. But, Augustus reminded himself. She was not the girl he fell in love with anymore. He watched longingly her for the last time, then turned away with disgust at the change. Around his arm, instead, was a girl that was to be who he wanted now. Her hands were uncertain, yet locked around his arm. There was fear; he could sense it. Yet, she stuck by him. Just a week ago, too, Raghnall had introduced the couple to each other. Cordelia was quiet and docile, and Raghnall liked that. She was to remain quiet and docile to his boy for the rest of her life. Only a woman like that could be a part of the Rookwood family. She was perfect.

The Debutante Ball was the coming-of-age of any Pureblood man or woman, indeed. Augustus ran the memories through his mind, and smiled bitterly at nothing in particular. It was a milestone check, really. It was where you learnt to give up, and grow up into a figure of cooperation with the ones who gave you your birth-right. Things had changed drastically, of course. Lately, to the dismay of the older generation of elites, there had been cases of rebellion that could not be ignored. There was now a loud murmur of fear that the rebellion, starting from the root of marriages, would undo the entire community.

It was always like this, wasn’t it? Threats to a constructed tradition of marriages strike a hefty fear in the hearts of the ones who are but products of it. It didn’t help that Kendall, a boy sufficiently prominent to the community, given the name of his family, made a mockery of the event. Augustus pretended to suffer the insolence of the boy. Yet, secretly, he could not help but be thrilled even by the memory of what happened. Kendall had drifted about the ball, taking the hand of the different girls, and compelling them to dance with him. By the end of the night, the other men had to break their social protocol and step forth to deny the boy his nonsense. By then, Kendall had had dances with the bulk of the girls who were given away that day. What drove Raghnall mad was that Kendall had left the girl meant to be his betrothed, standing at a corner, weeping. Augustus was ordered to do the damage control. Kendall was sent away for the next holiday season with his father, for the intended purpose of indoctrination. The report that came back to Raghnall about the attempt was glowing, written by the hand of Augustus himself. Little did the old man know that it was the very holiday that father and son embarked on an around-the-world tour that was the highlight of the boy’s teenage years.

By the time Augustus was done with reminiscing about his secret adventures with Kendall, he realised that Cerelia had been speaking for some time already. The man was never really much of a listener. Like Kendall, he was almost only really good at listening to himself. Slightly embarrassed that he had not listened, Augustus smiled and nodded at Cerelia, as if agreeing with whatever she was saying earlier. Fortunately, she continued. This time, he made sure he listened.

“What? Cerelia Avery loiter around at the refreshments?” He chuckled to the girl’s words. "That is a most unfitting disposition for a girl of your standing." Then, he shook his head. "No, that won't do. You can't be that bad ..." The man paused, looked at her, then continued. “There are more of us who are left-footed than you think, Cerelia.” Augustus gestured to himself. “Me.” He winked at her. “But, I was, like everyone else, forced to do it right. Or, I wing it, sort of.” Then, suddenly, he straightened up in his seat. A smirk followed, accompanied by a glint in his eyes. “It can’t be that bad, Cerelia. Come, we’ll see.” Standing up from his seat, Augustus turned to the girl. Then, with an offer of his hand, he bowed slightly and chuckled to himself. “Honour me with a dance.”

The dance teacher had been her grandmother’s choice and neither her grandfather nor her father were keen to step in and stop the foolish charade; they were far more content to smoke, drink and watch their grand-/daughter make a fool of herself as she tried to catch up with a man who knew not the meaning of slow and steady. She had been abandoned right at the end, left to fall ungracefully to the floor. That she had never been allowed to forget, either.

Not only had she failed to catch up with the dance instructor but she was also clearly incapable of any sense of grace and rhythm. They had all delighted in that and she could only do but stare at them, imploring with them to see that it was not her. She was graceful, she did understand music but seeing as she was never going to dance with a gazelle ever in her life, she didn’t see how this was a worthy show of her skills. That retort was not welcomed warmly of course ... naturally.

Her mother had been a fabulous dancer, or so Bastien had told her. She used to glide, regardless of the partners she had, though she would not under any circumstances dance with their father. She used to be the bell of the ball and would charm all of the Wizards and Witches that attended. She had epitomised the word beautiful in her time and no other Witch came close to matching her for her attributes. But of course, Adolphus saw to it that she never danced again when she snubbed him just that one time too many. She never danced again once he had a mind to stop her. It must have been a joyful moment to find that his daughter could not dance; that he had succeeded once more.

In truth, Cerelia had been left petrified of dancing after that experience. She loved to watch others dance but the thought of dancing made her hands ache and her feet sting. Which was indeed why when Augustus asked her to dance, Cerelia looked at him with a horrified expression on her face. But something made her move. She didn’t know whether it was the fact that there was no real crazed jive-like music playing or whether it was because Augustus didn’t look as if he would drag her around but something made her move.

The blonde left behind her shoes under the table and took Augustus’ hand, rising up off of her chair. The floor beneath her feet was chilly but it was a chill that softened the heat of her body. She was glad, in actual fact, that she had painted and kept her toenails trimmed. That didn’t stop her taking a quick glance down, though. But then, once she was sure of herself and once her dress was smoothed down at the back, she looked up and smiled brightly at Augustus.

“I’m going to hurt you.” She warned him. “I’m going to step on your foot not realising it’s your bad foot or something because a coat stand fell on it last week. Something horrendous like that and I’ll be left feeling awfully guilty and I’ll have to send you countless bouquets of overly colourful flowers until you forgive me.” She laughed a little and trod carefully around some fallen petals before adding. “Or you’ll step on me and I’ll be hurt and you’ll have to send me countless bouquets of overly colourful flowers until I forgive you! Perhaps we should agree not to hurt each other,” she amended with a smile.

Amused at her initial expression of horror, Augustus couldn’t keep the smirk off his face. Pleased to see that Cerelia was on her feet, he held the hand that was placed in his, felt again how smooth her skin was against his, and was about to lead her to the dance floor, when she spoke again. This time, he broke into a hearty laughter. Augustus placed a finger against his lips and kept his eyes on the girl. With a wink, he pressed her hand lightly before turning to lead her slowly to the dance floor. The music was slow and easy. He matched it with a pace of patient, paying attention to ensure that they bumped into no one and nothing along the way to where only a few of the other couples were swaying to now. It was a pity that Cordelia was not up for dancing. She was far more conscious about the baby in her stomach. It was, after all, not really hers, but Rookwood property. Augustus merely had a dance with the bride before Kendall stole her back for the rest of the night’s dances, followed by a couple of dances with each of his daughters.

“Relax,” He started, as he turned to face the girl once a spot was found for them. Augustus smirked and chuckled again. Then, he dropped her hand. With both hands, he lifted Cerelia gently by the waist to ensure that both her feet had to land on his shoes. “There,” he continued, holding her closer in case there was no balance to be found on his shoes. “Problem solved.” Augustus grinned. Slowly, he reached for the girl’s right wrist, took it, and placed her hand up upon his shoulders. With his other hand, he reached for her left, and held it with his. Then, he pressed his left palm lightly against the girl’s waist again.

“Trust me,” Augustus winked. And then, swiftly, he began to turn slowly, with the girl’s feet still on his. After a couple of rounds, he stopped, and laughed. Then, rubbing the girl’s waist gently, he explained. “Well, of course you know that isn’t dancing. But I figured that the first step to dancing is trust.” A wink, then another smirk. The man chuckled. Then, placing both hands at Cerelia’s waist again, he lifted her lightly and set her down on the floor. “Now, let’s try this dancing thing, okay? Don’t look at your feet. Don’t worry about them.” He returned his hands to where they were before again. “Trust me.” With that, he began to start a slow waltz, still having to remind himself of the steps even after so many years of decently knowing how to do it.

The music had not been particularly quick all evening and that, Cerelia believed, was due to the bride who had danced quite frequently through the evening before retiring for the night. It was formal but it was simple, calm and nice to listen to. There was nothing outrageous and it was understated. Athena was definitely a girl after Cerelia’s own heart and the music had truly been a pleasure. Cerelia had hummed and moved a little to the tunes but she had never considered dancing. If anything, she’d more discreet than usual so as to avoid anyone taking pity on her and asking her to dance.

Of course, if it had to be anyone, it had to be the father of the groom. It had to be Augustus Rookwood. Cerelia had all the luck. Not. She wasn’t opposed to dancing with him, though. That she wasn’t. That didn’t help her nerves of course. She was sure it was one of those make-or-break scenarios. Her dancing would depend on whether or not Augustus would want to partner with her father again on this venture. She wouldn’t have blamed him if he chose otherwise. Her father was hardly the most predictable of partners – in anything. But she had to at least try. She was sure she’d be locked out of the house if she didn’t go home with Augustus committed to the cause.

Cerelia’s face had burst with colour and by the time they had found a relatively empty part of the dance floor, she was the colour of the red wine everyone had been drinking earlier. She couldn’t bear to look at Augustus, either, for fear of embarrassing herself further. She peeked up through her lashes at him when he spoke to her and she shook her head, feeling as though her chest was going to explode from the worry that was lapping at her confidence, drawing it out to see. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that had sprung, and inhaled a shaky breath. Her eyes snapped open again when she felt Augustus’ hands on her waist and she looked about herself as she felt the soft leather of expensive shoes under her feet. And once again, she felt rather foolish.

The blonde could only manage a small smile despite Augustus’ rather triumphant grin. She was watching her feet, willing herself not to fall off. Of course it wasn’t going to happen. Cerelia had the feet of a child and everyone liked to mention it; but she had strangely long fingers. Disproportionate was one adjective for her. Augustus’ feet, therefore, were huge compared to hers but probably completely normal. This didn’t reassure Cerelia though, she still felt as though she was going to tumble off and die – or something equally as dramatic.

Cerelia allowed Augustus fiddle with her hands and for a moment she gripped at his shoulder for dear life before remembering he’d told her to relax. She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and peeked up at him, finding herself smiling at him despite all of her worry and embarrassment. Of course it was all well and good stood there once she’d gotten some form of balance but eventually they had to move. Cerelia, in those moments, was weighing up the pros and cons of either clawing her way up Augustus’ body and sitting on his shoulders or just grabbing him for dear life and somehow try and get into his waistcoat and hide. Both options were completely undignified and thankfully she did neither. But she did give a little squeal – or was it a squeak? – of fright when he began to move.

Opening one eye, Cerelia peeked at Augustus again, thankful to find that he’d stopped. His chuckles brought more blush to her cheeks, however, and the girl ducked her head, somewhat ashamed of herself but still mortified and so couldn’t worry about whether she’d been a fool or not.

Landing on the floor proved to Cerelia that the wood was not secretly lava in disguise, making her plans of climbing and hiding redundant, and she looked at her feet again. She curled her toes a little and nibbled on her lip, wondering whether if she curled her body like that she could disappear. Augustus was lovely and very kind but that didn’t reassure Cerelia at all. She felt as though later he’d laugh to himself and wonder why he’d taken pity on the silly little blonde Avery. That should have been enough of a thought to make her pull away, put her shoes on and go but she did not and found herself more determined to get it right instead.

Lifting her head, Cerelia released her bottom lip from between her teeth and absent-mindedly licked her tongue across before rolling her lips together. She allowed Augustus to take her back into hold and Cerelia instantly made to look down again but stopped herself before she could. Instead she kept her head up and watched him, making an effort to keep the look of fear off of her face. She replaced it instead with some sort of more pleasant expression but it was one that was thrown out of the figurative window when she released that she could in fact do the dance.

“I don’t think it’s fair to claim you’re not very good.” Cerelia told him, furrowing her eyebrows. “I mean, you’re managing to lead me around without being in pain yet.”

These arms of mine ….. One song after another, the music continued to romance the night. The candles seemed to be dimmer. Yet, nothing could be compared to the formidable darkness that is the manor building. Still, the lack of light helped the faces that would have not had that much of an appeal in the unforgiving scrutiny of light. For whatever reason, nothing shed light for Augustus on Adolphus’ absence. While he was very much enjoying the company of the other man’s daughter, he couldn’t help but wonder at the commitment of his supposed friend. Of course, friendships were a tricky thing. It always was, for Augustus, and for everyone else he knew. Yet, of course, everyone else that he knew was motivated by the very things that drove his own family, too. Well, not that the aspirations were entirely familiar, but the motives were certainly made up of the similar offensive and defensive reasons that governed the decisions with the Rookwood family.

It was no secret, who had more power and wealthy. The Rookwoods were comfortably at the top of the middle. Yet, the comfort that the disposition posed was but a façade. Sure, there was no struggle to validate themselves in the community that they were esteemed in. However, given the ambitions, testosterones, and the egos of the Rookwood clan, nothing was ever going to be enough until one was at the top. It didn’t matter whether it was lonely at the top, or not. Loneliness was overrated. One could certainly be a happy lonely winner, if one was a Rookwood.

“Well, I forgot to say …” Augustus started again, tongue in cheek, “You need a good partner, too. Not just, trust.” With a hand, he reached for the girl’s chin and lifted it up slightly. “Don’t look at your feet, they’re shy now.” And, with that, he led her to a first step, then another, then another … all as slow as the music allowed. “The Rookwoods make very good partners,” Augustus continued after Cerelia spoke, smirking. “I’m sure your father knows that. But, in case he needs reminders, perhaps you’ll concur.” He turned, allowing the girl time to realise what was happening, and to turn along with him. “Pain?” He chuckled. “Perhaps if you were holding your wand I would brace myself for it. But …” He turned again, “I’m safe.”

“So, does your father have a message for me?” Augustus rubbed at the girl’s waist absent-mindedly and tried to remember. “I’m afraid I couldn’t include the details of the proposition in my owl. No one knows when the Ministry intercepts them. It’s still best to see him in person. Well, unless I am meant to use you as his owl.” He smiled, but raised an eyebrow in question. “But if you are, then this is not the place I want to speak with you about it either. It would have to be in my study. The plan is at its root. It cannot be interfered with. It’s what they fear the most.” Augustus watched for any indication revealed in the girl’s face, and still found it odd to see the face of a girl who looked younger than he was accustomed to, when in conversation with, with regards to something as serious as this. He wondered about the validity of the girl’s abilities, even though he could not deny a soft spot for her, now, after their conversation.

The problem with the Averys was that they were not particularly good on the communication front; even for the sake of public relations propaganda. No one told anyone anything unless absolutely necessary. There was no great fanfare; they were an incredibly quiet and retreating family. Cerelia had inherited that trait but only so far. She hated being censured for what she said but she so badly wanted to express herself at times. Yet she was reminded often that it was neither her place nor her concern as to whether her voice was heard in the family. She was a pretty face, sometimes, so her father said, until she opened her mouth, of course. Perhaps it was because she had known Augustus and his family for a long time but she felt as though, with him, he was listening to her. He mightn’t have cared – in fact she was sure he didn’t – but he listened, or pretended to, and that mattered to her.

In this case especially, Adolphus had not equipped Cerelia with much at all. He had ensured that she had to be vague – something she hated in people and loathed in herself – and communicate very little to Augustus – to keep him guessing, she supposed. Cerelia nibbled on her bottom lip as she tried to think of something to say, something that would convince Augustus that she hadn’t really been on a fool’s errand, devoid of true information. Her father had instructed her to pique his interest and ensure that something further would occur. He expressed no intentions of meeting Augustus himself and Cerelia had a funny feeling that would be her job also.

This was not a venture to be taken lightly, of course. Adolphus was planning to put more into it than he could afford. The Averys had never been an overly wealthy family but they spent their money as if they were and that always put immense strain on the household. His brothers had always been careful with what they earned but in believing himself to be a cut above the rest, Cerelia’s father put money where he saw fit. His mother refused to give him a single Knut as a rule though Cerelia knew for a fact that she had lent Adolphus more than his fair share over the last year and a half and he had been selling Talia’s jewellery. Unbeknownst to him though, Bastien and Cerelia had saved much of it and hidden it away in a spare room where they would be safe.

Cerelia looked up at Augustus and pursed her lips before retorting playfully, “Hold on then a minute, shall I go and get my wand?”

The blonde balled back, as if to break the hold for a moment before drawing back in close to him. She lifted her hand out of his and looped it around his neck, lacking her fingers together behind his head. Cerelia smiled shyly and averted her gaze, carefully though to watch Augustus just in case he moved strangely or out of her reach, sending her sprawling towards the floor. She returned her gaze to him again after a moment and turned her head to the side at his question.

“My father wanted to ensure his involvement, I believe.” She told him, honestly. “He left today to finalise plans in the North but pertaining to what, I do not know. He mentioned potion ingredients that the Scottish harbour but that was all. I am afraid I am more of an owl than I would like to be. Hooo.” Cerelia smiled. “I suppose he just wanted to reach out. I am the safest owl you have, though. The rebellion brewing is making the Ministry unsettled. People aren’t happy and I think they are more inclined now more than ever to check owls – especially ours. He has seen fit to busy himself. You will have to put up with me, I am afraid.”

Cerelia nodded to Augustus. “In a few days then. Hopefully my father will meet with you but don’t be too disappointed if it’s me.” She laughed a little and shook her head. The blonde’s eyebrows furrowed suddenly and looked up again. “They?” She asked.

“Cerelia!”

The Avery girl’s heart plummeted into her stomach at the sound of a familiar voice. She closed her eyes and ducked her head towards Augustus’ chest, willing herself not to be spotted. Her name was called again and she sighed, lifting her head back up as she realised that the bubble around them had been shattered and that dark world that had abandoned her for a moment had encompassed them both once again. Cerelia smiled weakly and unlaced her hands, bringing her hands down away from his head. She allowed, just for a second, for her hand to trail and touch the back of his neck but soon they were at her sides once more and the warmth of his body had abandoned her.

“My adoring public beckon,” She murmured, reopening her eyes to look at Augustus.

The girls called her name again but their voices died away on the wind and Cerelia turned a little to see the two brunettes walking away arm-in-arm towards the Manor. Cerelia turned back to Augustus and smiled briefly before bringing her arms up around herself, the chilly air once again biting into her skin.

Cerelia moved forward and brought herself up onto her tip toes. Her hands found Augustus’ and she clasped it in her smaller palms. She pressed a flutter of a kiss against his cheek and pulled away again as quickly as she had moved; making it difficult to ascertain whether she’d kissed him at all.

“Sleep well,” She murmured with a smile. She took her hands away from his, leaving behind in his palm a swollen, emerald fruit and then finally removed herself fully from Augustus.

Cerelia gave the man one last smile before turning and leaving his side.

“Cerelia! Hurry up!”

“Coming!”

When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. - Henri Nouwen