His hand rested on her back, his fingers almost afraid to touch her skin and pressing against the fabric of her dress instead. He could feel himself sweating despite the cool weather and he knew he was nervous. She, on the other hand, was radiant; and her smile shone with newfound warmth towards her husband. She wasn't past her scepticism towards the man, but so far her observations had been favourable, as she had a better notion of the man she had married.
What remained to be seen was his proper behaviour towards her as his wife, her nerves properly restrained as she intended to set his own nerves at ease with the information she had gathered so far.
The truth was that neither felt uncomfortable in the surroundings. Plush seating, women with beautiful hair done in elaborate displays to show their wealth and their husbands status, men in trim waistcoats and tails, their ties neat at their neck as the chimes of fine china echoed like a warming orchestra, the candlelight hitting just the right amount of brightness and intimacy as the copper hue bathed the ornate walls and tall ceilings with its elaborate chandelier. Whether by witchcraft or expert mugglecraft, one couldn't tell. Which just added to its aesthetic value.
Benjamin nodded at the host, his kilt as neat as his freshly trimmed hair, his beard seen to before he bought her the flowers that now resided on her vanity at home. She had smiled as he knotted his tie before leaving the house, the red and blue pattern bringing out the undertones in his hair and eyes, making him look even younger than he was.
Her dress was a rich navy and bronze creation that made her skin glow and her eyes brighten. Her hair curled and pinned in a simply style, with sapphire combs tucked into the massive nest. He had to admit it, when he first saw her dressed up he felt his heart nearly stop. And even now he
saw every eye in the almost decadent room look to his wife. Both muggle and non-muggle.
Because if the Lords of the Kingdom had managed one thing so far, was to keep magical status well hidden and their place in society stable. For the upperclass of British society, this was the place to go to be seen. And he heard to food was more palatable then the parrich the house elves served in the morning.
The host showed them to their table and Ben thanked him, holding out her chair. She grabbed her skirts and sat with the ease of a woman who had been born in the station and company she currently sat. He took a moment to breathe in and out and sat opposite her, giving her a crooked smile as he tried to settle his nerves. Her eyes met his and her cheeks flushed pink as she returned the smile, although hers was a full and honest one, the nervousness underneath only betrayed momentarily as she bit her lower lip. His hands patted his coat and along his lap, carefully smoothing the lines of his kilt as he immediately felt flustered by the display. "May I bring wine for the table?" The host bowed as he sat the highborn couple.
"Yes," she smiled, seeing Benjamin was worrying his clothes, "excuse my husband, he's had quite a trying day." She dipped her head graciously as the man disappeared. "Benjamin?"
His eyes looked up at her and he smiled warmly, "If I may be so bold, I really would like you to call me Ben."
Her face softened as she nodded, "Ben, pleasure to meet you. I'm Georgie."
He laughed softly as the waiter poured their wine. "Georgie-... Charmed." Taking her glass, she held it up and he tapped his against it, the chime ringing along with the atmosphere of the room. His eyes met hers once more and the words hung on his lips, though he hesitated.
She looked at him, her eyes piercing with keen interest, arching a brow, "What is it?" He shook his head as his hand fell, "Oh no... you had a thought. I can see it shrinking behind your eyes."
"Its-... It's silly."
She smiled, the memory of his frantic look from the shop lingering in her mind, the helplessness that had overcome him when he realised he didn't have enough money to pay the rent. She knew this wasn't new, and she also knew he didn't trust her enough to tell her yet. "You're married to a Ravenclaw," she reached over and rested her hand lightly on his, "never hold your tongue with me-... Ben."
He cleared his throat and smiled, "Then I would like to propose a toast." She lifted her glass, pulling her hand from his, and smiling back, "To a woman who rivals the stars in beauty, and to a happiness yet lived. I do hope we can find something here. Even if its only friendship."
She blushed at his compliment. "To us." she nodded, "Here's hoping for many happy years to come. Whatever we may find between us."
The waiter approached the table and nodded, "Good evening Sir, My Lady." He smiled "Our meal this starts with a -" He droned on, and Georgie nodded as he stared at his wife, taking the time to observe the lines of her face, the rouge on her cheek, a single curl that fell down her collarbone. The raven hair wisped around her face as she spoke, of what he knew not, food couldn't be more interesting than the line on her jaw.
"Ben... Ben?" She chuckled as he was lost, "I'll have the fish, and he'll have the lamb." The waiter bowed, "Very good my lady. Good luck with your husband."
"He's a chemist. I fear his brain is often addled by fumes." She chuckled and waved for the waiter to leave them as it was his time to blush, the man made a visible effort to stop his eyes from moving over her features, he shook his head and looked at her, "Well hello there," she chuckled.
"I am so sorry." He shook his head and smiled, "What were you saying?"
She sighed and looked at him, "I requested the Lamb for you. I hope that suffices."
He beamed, "Perfect. I ah-... I am afraid I was lost in thought."
"I have noticed you have a tendency to do that." she smiled, "As well as you are always stroking your beard."
He turned crimson, "I do apologise... It's just..." he shook his head, not brave enough to say the words, but remembering she had urged him to speak his mind, "it's just that I think you look lovely this evening Georgie. Thank you for accepting my invite for dining together".
She was about to stammer an apology, unprepared as she was to his words, but the waiter spared her the trouble as he placed bread between them and a starter dish, on the house.
"You were right Ben," she smiled as they finished the appetizer, "we are practically strangers. Why don't you tell me about the potion shop? It seems like there's more to it than meets the eye."
He smiled broadly and shifted on his seat, glad to have something to talk about that didn't get him nervous. Potionmaking had been one of his true passions since his early years at Hogwarts, the art came easily to him and it was the one thing he and his father had in common.
Before they knew it they were talking easily, he told her of his relationship with his father, of how he had to manage the shop before even leaving school, obtaining a special permit from Headmaster Dippet to work week- ends and a few afternoons, his heart and soul poured into that little shop in Diagon Alley. She told him of her family, of her weekends spent in France, of how her mother wanted her to attend Beauxbatons and how her father wouldn't hear of it. They discussed school, quidditch, potions and healing techniques used at Mungos.
By the time dessert arrived they were already discussing muggle policies, the state of wizard-muggle relations, and Ben's sister's desires to spend the holidays with them.
"Ben, I don't mind your sister. But don't house her in the cottage." She took a taste of the chocolate truffle, the warm taste overwhelming her taste buds, "That thing is a sty!"
Ben blushed, he'd wanted to repair the cottage to house his mother and sister, the grand house was more modest than the castle itself, but no less than any grand house in London or Glasgow. He looked around the room at the swath of London's upper crust; living in their grand country homes in Scotland while the Queen resided at Balmoral. With her brought the flocks of court and the flourish of new shine to the old sparkle of the grand establishment, wishing he could afford to refresh the cottage like he had the castle. It had suited enough for his wife to hold tea and parties, the grounds tamed from the wild of the highlands once more, but the outer borders were mostly untended to. Debts had to be paid, and the shop wasn't bringing in what he'd wanted it to...
"—Ben? Ben?"
He shook his head and looked at her, "I'm sorry."
She chuckled softly and patted his hand, "You work too hard." Her face softened and she looked at him, "Would you allow me to arrange the cottage?" She smiled warmly, "I could do it as a surprise to your mother and sister." He frowned slightly, trying to think of how to state he couldn't afford it, "The architect that helped Daddy with Vert-Du is assisting Her Majesty presently at Balmoral, but he tells me it bores him and he misses a challenge. I wager I could get him to redesign the entire cottage on a dare he's so tired of the standard." She tittered as she desperately wanted him to tell her of his money troubles, her own wealth sitting useless as her father's allowance to her continued. She could only buy so many pretty dresses, so many shoes, and so many pretty jewels
before the whole mess became dull and boring. She longed for a challenge and so; on a whim, she reached over, looking at him. "You saved my life from fiends. At least let me repay the kindness you've shown me."
"I-..." His mind flashed over Martha, his financials, his own state before looking up, her piercing blue eyes, as blue as Ravenclaw's banner, he sighed and shook his head, "I can't accept your offer." He noticed the disappointed look in her eyes and added quickly; "don't take it as an offence, Georgie, I beg of you..."
She smiled at him and nodded, but her mind was already resolved to go on with the renovation plan anyway.
Once the bill was settled he helped her up from her chair, holding her hand and helping her with her coat as they walked back outside, hands intertwined without even thinking about it.
They appearated back to the grounds of Taileasgcoille. The both of them shivered involuntarily as the weather changed around them, the damp air a tad too cold for the season. He shrugged as if trying to shake off the temperature, glancing over at his wife who was shivering despite her coat.
"It is an unusually cold night," he observed, stepping closer to her, "I was thinking maybe a walk could warm us up?"
She looked at him incredulous and saw he was serious about the proposal, her lip curled and she snorted, "it's a good story..." she attempted to mimic the Scottish burr, "My wife? No sir, she died from the damp, she did always say Scotland's weather was overly bleak."
He chuckled, tentatively wrapping an arm around her, "better?"
She rolled her eyes, but leaned closer to her husband, he was quite warm to be honest, and a walk was a good opportunity to continue their conversation. She wrapped her shawl around her and tucked herself into his coat closer, "You grew up here?" He nodded and held his wife close,
the scent of her hair a warm mixture of vanilla, lavender and a hint of Cypermint, the smell somehow both warm and comforting, and yet fresh and spicy all at once. "Tell me about it?"
He shrugged and sighed, "Not much to tell. When I was a lad, it was just a house. Mrs McGuineas did most of me lessons before school, and mother did some. Me Fa' wasn't around much. Too much drink and gambling. Hunting when he could find a gaggle of twats to fly about the grounds after a stag or heaven forbid he heard there was a Graphorn in the area." She made a "tsk" sound and he nodded, "When he died, I didn't find myself too sad. More angry that he left me this family to raise when I was barely a boy myself."
She nodded, "I remember you coming and going from school. I had just been made prefect and found it strange. But Professor Dippet and Professor Rowle never raised and concerns."
He smirked warmly at her, "I was a tad sly, there's many corners of that castle I learned to slip in and out of. One of these days I should show you." The cold was starting to addle his brain, he was sure, for he believed he may had just tried to flirt with his wife.
"Oh some day I'll show you nooks and crannies." She huffed, and giggled softly looking up, "It does seem so... magical."
He nodded as that gas lanterns were lit to light the way for the Lord and Lady, "It was. Summers by the lake, stealing food from the kitchen-... the elves would always help if we tempted them with something sparkly. Winters around the fireplace in the great hall with Christmas lunch, spring holiday we would always go to Spain with my mother's parents, to this day my sister still loves nothing more than the sun."
"Well that's something her and I have in common." Georgie glanced over the stone that had likely been laid by some muggle hundreds of years before. "There's nothing like being warm."
He heard her teeth start to natter as he muttered softly, "You're soaked my dear, I'm sorry. You are going to catch that cold." He grabbed his wand and muttered, her shawl growing longer and heavier as he coiled it around her. "Lets retire to the house, I'll personally make you a cuppa."
She nodded, grateful that he was done, but mourning slightly the end of conversation. He really was a bright man, with a sharper tongue than she had guessed, and as they walked back to the castle, she was astonished that she was sad the evening was ending, "To the shop tomorrow then?" She asked as they neared the front gates, the doors opening and footmen already bowing.
He nodded, sighing as the thought of his ledger book waiting for him, "Unfortunately I-... Yes. I do believe my presence is required."
She frowned slightly, "Have you ever thought about hiring someone to mind the front while you can make potions? It all seems silly that you do both and are leaving your potions to sit while tending to customers."
He knew she didn't realise what she was asking, so it was fairly easy to temper his outburst as he shed his outer coat, her maid handing her a evening jacket which she gently declined, still too cold as she followed him to the main kitchen, "It's-... the store isn't really busy enough to warrant more than just myself at the present. I'm still trying to figure what I'm going to do with it."
"Has anyone offered to buy it?" She asked. Her curiosity piqued.
He nodded, it had been the hardest thing in the world turning down the offer, "I knew the shop was worth far more. Maybe it was pride, maybe it was a sense of loyalty or even memory to when Granddad couldn't keep decanters on the shelves they were so busy." His lips pursed in thought as she followed him, "I want it to be like that. I just-... My potions just aren't quite there yet." She smiled as they sat at the kitchen table, a large piece of wood that sat four, where the kitchen staff could have their own supper.
"Chetwood? Bring my wife a cup of hot cocoa. She needs something warm and sweet before bed."
She blushed brightly as the man bowed and she murmured a thank you as he shrugged, "My sister would always have a cup before bed. Something about the way they made it helped her sleep, I believe it will help you better than tea."
Georgie nodded and ran her fingers through her shawl, both of them remaining quiet until Chetwood brought two cups with hot cocoa and a plate with biscuits. She seemed to have snuggled back into her coat, all of a sudden looking younger, more fragile. He couldn't help but notice she looked so delicate, as if the lateness of the hour only added to her beauty.
Ben smiled and grabbed one of the cups, blowing gently over it and, "I've noticed your coats and shawls aren't as thick as the weather might require..." He blushed, only then realising he had always been paying a certain degree of attention to his wife, "I can always change it back to how it was-..." He held his cup with both hands, relishing the warmth of the beverage, trying not to think of the warmth that spread in him.
She shook her head, holding her own cup and taking a long sip, smiling broadly as the rich flavours warmed her, "no need to, I do need warmer clothes..." she smiled at him, her cheeks rosy, "this cocoa is delicious, I see why your sister enjoys it so," she hummed, trying to think of something else to talk about, to keep the conversation going, but the hour was late and her brain seemed to care only for the warm cocoa and her soft bed waiting upstairs. Her eyes met Ben's and he blushed as she caught him staring at her.
He was exhausted as well, not only had it been a long day, it had been an emotionally taxing one. He was daydreaming and his eyes had fixated on his wife's features, the warm cup still cradled in his hands as he tried to find something interesting to say. He wanted to keep their easy chat, and
his heart felt like there was so more to this woman than he had initially believed. He averted his glance with a blush and sipped from his cup
His eyes felt heavy and the air was dense with words unspoken, with their mutual curiosity and hesitation to push things too hard or too fast. The thought of having to open the store early the next day pressed constantly on his mind. Reluctantly he took out his pocket watch, groaning inwardly as his suspicions were confirmed. He looked up and met her gaze, not wanting to say the words but knowing he'd regret it in the morning.
"Georgie, It's nearly two..." he sighed softly, "you've got work in the morn' and so do I. It nears the end of the month and the shop has to be open by nine." He found he was starting to ramble and he blushed, getting up from his seat and holding out his hand.
She smiled and drained her cocoa, hesitating for a moment, then holding his outstretched hand, "I know Ben, you need your rest and so do I."
Without realising it they had slipped back into a slightly more formal tone and they both mourned the change to themselves, not daring to express it.
But she held his hand as they walked upstairs.
The castle was too large for a single couple, and their quarters were separated by an entire corridor, hers the last one of the east tower, one of the warmest of the house.
"Would you allow me to accompany you to your suite?" he asked, not daring say more, fearing his emotions might show in his voice. He didn't want to part, but he knew they must.
Her eyes met his once more and she nodded, not trusting herself to speak, suddenly as shy as she had been on her first day at Hogwarts.
So they walked in amiable silence to her door, as she felt the atmosphere thicken with unspoken words, with untold promises, with secret desires.
She took a deep breath as they reached her suite, turning on her heels and looking at his husband, whispering softly, "goodnight Benjamin," her head tilted slightly up to see his face, as he was a few centimetres taller than her, her lips slightly parted almost as if she wanted to say something else, or as if expectant for a pair of lips to wish her good night.
His hand still held hers and he was standing close to her, not realising their proximity, his body naturally drawn to hers. He leaned down, his breath seeming to catch as his lips almost brushed hers. A last minute's hesitation made his face turn ever so slightly, causing him to brush her cheek in a tender and chaste manner as he whispered back, "goodnight Georgiana."
The hallway was darkened and they failed to notice the bright flush on their spouse's cheeks as they each turned around. She walked into her room and he headed towards his own.
Once inside her room she leaned against the door, the pool of her dress encasing her. She felt warm and cold all at once, the brushing feeling of his whiskers on her face, the soft pressing of his lips on her cheek. For the first time in a long time, she had felt like a child, charmed by the idea of a handsome boy... It all made her blush terribly, and as she worked on bringing her hair down from her elaborate do, she thought of what he had shared during their conversation, the impulses of youth giving way to the worries of an adult as her interest continued to be peaked by her husband.
The fire crackled from the hearth as her room warmed her bones, the windows cracked slightly to allow air to pass through creating the perfect atmosphere. It wasn't her Ireland. But it was close enough to be comfortable.
Except for that night she predicted. She had foreseen her night filled with the green eyes and dark auburn curls of her husband. A man she had thought little of this past year, before the last fortnight. After the night at the pub as she lingered during the days in his shop under the guise of his
new pet, all coming to climax with their date that evening. A date she hadn't known what to expect, and was still blown away. She had watched as he ended his relationship with his lover, the beautiful but dark woman both askance and aggravated by her husband's rejection. She slowly got up and made her way to her attached bath, the room her husband had created for her as her sole request to moving into the castle with him.
After they had wed, she had remained at Vert-Du, not relishing the thought of living in the boggy highlands with the man that was practically a stranger. He had first asked her parents, who demanded she go, but she would not move from her palatial bedroom. Finally her husband came to her, asking her to move with him into the newly renovated castle, Taileasgcoille Tower freshly redesigned to had a woman living within once more. He promised her whatever she wanted, within her own suite she could have. She asked for two things. The castle would be designed in soft colours of blues and greens, and secondly, she would have a modern bath adjoining her room. He agreed and returned less than a fortnight later with the changes made. She moved in the next day.
She wouldn't admit, but she loved her room. It wasn't the girlish boudoir she had grown up in. No, it was a ladies chamber. The heavy tapestry over her mantle bore the Rookwood crest of the Unicorn, intertwined with the Grey's crest of the Phoenix. The hues of blues and reds blended effortlessly into the patch wood stone of the hearth, causing her to smile.
She fingered the gauzy curtains that hung around her bed and looked to the bath that was set and still boiling. It was the only warmth she often saw, enjoying bathing so much that she partook in the act nightly. Stripping down, she found her mind still a whirl of activity as she climbed into the large claw foot tub that had no faucet and no drain and filled nightly to the same temperature until she emptied it. On occasion she had fallen asleep and woken hours later with the tub still warm, a charm of her own doing that caused her much pride.
She hesitated for only a moment before shedding her shift and sliding into the bath, hugging herself as her mind frantically moved over the events of the evening, knowing it wouldn't be a quiet night for her.
∼∼.∼∼.∼∼.∼∼.∼∼.∼∼
His step was sure as he trod to his rooms, his hand rubbing at the headache that was forming at his temples, muttering under his breath as he found his door and stepped into the red alcove, leaning against the closed door, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as he banged his head back against the door, muttering to himself about what a dunce he had been, why hadn't he kissed her? She was his wife after all. He loosened the knot on his tie, continuing his rambling mutters as his fingers worked on the rest of his attire.
The room was almost exactly as it had been since his father had died, he had been nothing but a child, and the only difference was the lack of new Puddlemere United posters on the walls, the last five years since he graduated had been less about tending to his whims and more about leaving childhood behind. The crimson walls were faded, as he had refused to change the tapestry, the crackling fire more than enough for him. He opened the windows and stood naked in front of the embers for a few moments, thinking of the woman who so vexed him.
He thought of their conversation as he moved to the bath, she had shown genuine interest in his doings, and he found her opinions fascinating. Instead of proposing he worked harder, she had worried about getting a helping hand, offering her advise and even volunteering her estate to remodel the cottage.
For his entire cavalier attitude, for all the charm his good looks and youth held, he found himself at a loss when it came to charming his wife. It was clear to him that a name and title weren't enough to impress her, and as he doused his face and naked arms with cold water he thought that maybe that was for the best.
Soon his thoughts diverted from her mind and thoughts to the features he had so carefully analysed during their night together, the fine lines that defined her face, her bright blue eyes. He closed his eyes and slipped into the tub, and thought of her soft porcelain skin, wishing he had been brave enough to kiss her goodnight, the warm and sweet scent of her hair. All of a sudden he wished he were bathing in iced instead of warm water, as the memory of her figure brushed his mind, her dress bringing up the prominence of her features.
He realised he wanted to be her husband, to claim his right... But he knew he wouldn't do so without her willing consent. His hands rubbed his face and he submerged his head on the water, brushing back his mane as he emerged, visions of raven hair and sweet perfume assaulting his closed eyelids. He would work out that dilemma, but for that night, a simple brush of her skin would have to be enough as he relieved himself of his youthful desires.
