“I can’t be there on my own,” Irina Krum begged, not for the first time that evening. Elijah smoothed back her silver blonde hair with his practised fingertips and pressed into the bun he’d twisted up for her a handful of pearl grips. He took the last one from between his lips and pressed it in carefully before picking up his wand, placing a few sticking charms down so it would all stay in place. Then, when he took his hands away he stood back and admired his handy work. She looked lovely, if he did say so himself – though he couldn’t help but glance at the swaddled child braced against her chest and wonder, not for the first time: how. How did she allow him near her?
“You only have to play nice for a few hours,” Elijah told her, running his fingers through his hair which he’d let get long again, much to his inward despair. “I’ll look after Giorgi and the others.” He gestured to the infant and she reluctantly relinquished him into the strong grasp of his half-brother. The baby sniffled a little bit and immediately Elijah began to rock him to and fro in the crook of his left arm, his right hand coming up to pick off her dress from the top of the mirror. He handed it to her expectantly and she sighed, sliding behind the French screen.
“Please, Eli,” she began again. “Your father is dreadful when the entire family is together.” Irina deposited her clothes on the top of the screen before hastily donning the dress, stepping out and turning her back on Elijah so he could zip her up which he did without question. She turned to him and put her hands on her hips, furrowing her brows at him expressively, begging him with her expressive grey eyes to go with her. Elijah felt himself budge a bit and he knew that if he gave her an inch, she’d take a mile. A beam lit up her face. She’d gotten her mile too.
Inexplicably, Elijah found himself walking into his old home – a pariah once more but no less well received for it. He was thrust from embrace to embrace and even spoke at length with Tatiana and Andres who, surprise, surprise, were adding to their family. After that he found Irina again and wound an arm around her waist, popping a kiss absently to her temple. He inquired after her countenance and she replied in kind, expressing it to be dismal. Elijah barked out a laugh and kissed her again as they moved over to another group – this time to his father’s little circle.
“Evening, Viktor,” Irina smiled for the benefit of her husband and she changed embraces much to Elijah’s immediate disdain. He stayed cool and merely narrowed his eyes as Viktor leaned down to kiss his wife on the mouth. Folding his arms over his chest, Elijah waited patiently for the businessman to lift his gaze and sure enough he did, a light smirk playing at his lips.
“Hello, Elijah,” Viktor greeted his son smoothly, holding out a hand to him. Elijah looked at it but didn’t move an inch, causing those who Viktor had been talking to – some distant cousin of sorts though Elijah didn’t care to see who it was – to push off. They disappeared into the thrumming crowd and Viktor dropped his hand, narrowing his own gaze at his son who was no longer the boy he could order about.
“What are you doing here?” He asked sharply in thick Bulgarian. It almost tricked Elijah’s ears. He hadn’t realised how used to English he was. He couldn’t believe how times had changed.
“I’m the prodigal son, father,” Elijah informed him, picking up a glass of champagne from the passing tray of a waiter. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?” He asked, taking a sip.