A/N: I've had one of the crappiest mornings of my life. I don't want to talk about it. Sorry if this chapter is too long.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


Chapter 7: Bonfire

Sitting in a chair near her window, Rowena gazed longingly out at the sunset, observing all its pastel colors. The first few stars glinted and winked at her, giving her this desperate urge to go outside as soon as possible. She wasn't sure, though, if she should sneak out to the Michaelmas celebration over at the village. Devon told her about this celebration the other day while she and Lucrecia had visited him. It had taken quite a bit of convincing on Rowena's part, but three years ago, she had finally managed to talk her older sister into coming along. As it turned out, Lucrecia hadn't held a grudge but had simply chosen not to come all those years.

Oh, how things changed, Rowena thought with a fond smile.

She was now sixteen, in her prime as a young woman, and yet she feared growing up. True, she would become one of the best witches of her time (as her parents often gushed), but she felt like she would still miss certain opportunities. Although she fretted that this seemed superficial, she sometimes wondered if she would ever have a beau. Lucrecia, at age nineteen, had already had two, but she resolved to wait until she would pursue her next one. Meanwhile, Rowena put in her time and efforts on developing her magic, which was far enough advanced. There was hardly anything left to do to perfect it, considering her mastery of various spells.

For one night, for one magical Michaelmas night, she wanted to live like a Muggle.

She doubted her parents would object strongly to this desire, but would they ever allow her out once it was late at night? Perhaps they wouldn't trust the Muggle villagers for the fear that they could hurt her. They permitted her to go down to the village every now and then, but they had become increasingly cautious compared to their attitude during her childhood. The unfortunate reason being was that non-magical rulers and members of the clergy believed all wizards and witches to be satanic. Some of them had already been torched or drowned to death because of this nearly pandemic paranoia. It had become quite massive. However, Rowena knew she would leave her wand here, so that no villager would be aware of her magic. If only her parents were less overprotective over her. After all, she could trust her best friend Devon with her life without the slightest worry of dying. She was too young to die, frankly.

Besides, the Muggle version of the celebration of this autumn day would prove to be a great deal more entertaining. Earlier this evening, Rowena had had to dine with her family during the traditional feast. But, that was all it consisted, merely eating and talking like it was no more than a paltry dinner. She wanted to get away, to mingle with the other Muggles and Devon, for she wasn't as shy as she used to be. If memory served, she would have sworn that that awful Salazar boy had unwittingly altered that trait of hers. She rarely thought of him since the Serpent King's ball in spite of this change. How could she when he had been so cruel to her? Though the fact she had thought of him in the past unnerved her—she maintained her assumption that there was so much more to him than his insufferable pride.

That boy had grown up without a mother to act as a sort of calming force in his life. His arrogant father, judging from that ball those years ago, had surely, undoubtedly warped his perception of people. If anything, she continued to feel nothing but pity and compassion for him. She could only speculate as to whether or not he deserved even that much from her. No matter, the hapless prince aside, tonight would serve as the most memorable night of her life. She would ensure that she would throw her few cares aside for the occasion.

Without much more internal debating on the subject, Rowena proceeded to descend the main flight of stairs to the lower story of the castle. A few minutes later, she was free of Eaglewood for the time being to enjoy being an adolescent girl.

Picking each and every pin out of her bun (her mother had wished for her to look more refined), she let the brown waves of hair cascade over her shoulders. It was as though she was a young girl again, playing pretend that she was a little Muggle child living contently in her native village. For a moment, Rowena was also tempted to rid herself of that trap otherwise known as a corset but ruled out the possibility. She would appear indecent if she dared to take it off at this point. Sighing huffily, she wished she would have thought of that brilliant idea sooner. Oh well, it would matter little whether she wore a corset underneath her light blue dress or not. She would meet Devon at one of the fields outside the village, where the bonfire would take place.

She glimpsed the incandescent sparks of flame before she saw the roaring fire itself, bright orange contrasting against the fading hues of the day. Some Muggles simply sat about it while others danced in a circle. Her eyes widening, she was in disbelief that something this incredible could be real. And it was indeed surreal, standing here and witnessing a true celebration that meant more than a feast. This was magic beyond anything she performed with her trusty willow wand, how fire could attract these people to it like they were moths. Almost beginning to daydream as she habitually did for as long as she could remember, she jumped slightly when a hand touched her shoulder. Once she discovered that it belonged to Devon, she promptly relaxed.

Upon hearing his hearty chuckle, Rowena could hardly resist the urge to smile at that rather unique sound. It was charming, compelling to hear from leagues away. Though it had been on the side of hours since she last saw him, she was pleased to be near him again. Devon was her dearest friend here, and she planned on enjoying every second with him tonight. While she wore that light colored dress that appeared very elegantly sewn, he wore a white homespun shirt and brown breeches that had a couple of patched-up places. If she had based their friendship on status, she doubted it would have ever happened. However, she was not one to judge in terms of physical looks.

Of course, in his case, not judging was in terms of his clothes not his appearance. He had grown so tall that she almost had to stand on her tiptoes to gaze into his light green eyes that always twinkled and shone. And he was undeniably handsome as well. Rowena was indeed aware of that but dismissed it at the same time. Most likely, he had selected a lucky village girl to be his. Who was she to interfere with a potential match?

"You startled me," she pretended to scold him, placing her hands on her hips. "I will firmly ensure that you do not attempt to do that again."

Giving her a roguish grin, Devon ran his hand through his hair. "Oh, milady, I apologize for trying to amuse you. It will not happen again, I promise."

"You are not a proper gentleman, my friend. I doubt I could take the word of such a man."

His act of being ashamed and guilty of startling her was fairly easy to expose from Rowena's perspective. He chuckled again in spite of himself.

"I am glad you have come," he told her warmly, behaving more seriously now. "I did not anticipate your arrival, since you are constantly wealthy and preoccupied."

"Only if preoccupied entails doing meaningless things," she replied, smiling wryly at him.

"Well, I am certain that the comforts of wealth more than compensate for boredom," Devon assured, though a small frown formed on his face.

His reaction concerned Rowena. Perhaps all the potential resentment he had held for her all these years would bubble to the surface tonight, rather inappropriately at that. A celebration turning sour had not been in her plans—she couldn't have foreseen it.

Somewhat irritated that her best friend would dare to question her loyalties to him, she chided in a more somber tone, "You needn't be so envious of me, Devon. Each and every one of us was born into various backgrounds. I never asked to be wealthy. I never asked to have to learn pointless dance maneuvers or embroidery or the ever tedious etiquette. You cannot understand."

"You're quite right, I presume," he snorted, slowly losing his temper. "I very much pity you."

"Sarcasm does nothing to improve my temper with you."

"Since when were you so selfish, Rowena?"

How did banter devolve into full-out arguing in a matter of minutes? Hurt beyond words that he had sardonically brought up her Ravenclaw wealth, she strode off without saying a word. No wonder Lucrecia had been unsure to the extent that she had declined to come with her tonight. She wasn't used to fighting with Devon. Ever since that incident that had brought them together in the first place, they had scarcely argued. On the contrary, they had gotten along swimmingly. Why had he bothered to say words that wounded her? Usually, she was the one who could use skillfully words to hurt feelings.

She thought she heard him call her name, but she kept walking as she wiped at her eyes. Her pride was damaged enough without her shedding tears over it. Was she as selfish as he accused? Her blue-gray eyes stung a great deal before a hand touched her shoulder.

Involuntarily, she shuddered at the warmth of his already familiar hand, the heat practically penetrating through the satin fabric of her dress. Sighing heavily, Rowena knew she had instantly forgiven him before he opened his mouth. As her only close friend in the world (her sister technically was excluded), she would hate to sacrifice him over a petty spat. She hardly resisted leaning into his touch and enjoying this warmth that currently spread throughout her body.

"I apologize, Ro," he murmured into her ear. "Sometimes, I can get rather carried away. And I also cannot believe that, after all these years, you haven't tired of me."

Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed the deep sincerity in his eyes. "I accept your apology, Devon. I was only...perturbed that you would mention my wealth. Money truly doesn't matter to me."

That seemed to satisfy Devon perfectly, for he grinned gratefully at her for forgiving him before leading her back to the open bonfire. Everyone was talking about a variety of topics that included their daily lives and what went on with them. Somehow, Rowena preferred this welcoming, candid atmosphere to the one back home. It wasn't as though she lived the life of that dour, sarcastic prince, but she did feel limited in terms of freedom. Here, it was abundant.

"I would never tire of you," she said to Devon once he caught up to her. "You're my friend, not a possession. If you weren't around in my life, I fail to comprehend what I'd do."

Staring at the fire longingly, he turned his head toward her. "I assume that perhaps I've misjudged you then."

Rowena nodded to acknowledge this but also reached out to touch his elbow out of a desire to show the depth of her loyalty. "Yes. And I hope that never happens again."

Something passed between them then, a moment in which everything seemed to freeze in place and that nothing existed but the two of them. Suddenly, she felt her heart pound faster and more persistently than it had ever pounded before. Heat rushed through her cheeks, which reddened and not from the fire. There was an emotion in his emerald green eyes, a pure emotion that conveyed...attraction? Rowena blushed modestly from the thought. Why would it be her, not Lucrecia? For some impulsive reason, she also longed to be as close to her childhood friend as possible—and not just on the scale of proximity either. Words that formed on the tip of her tongue evaded her. She was numb with this strange feeling.

One of Devon's other close friends Thomas interrupted this silent exchange between them. Pretending that nothing had occurred, Rowena quickly withdrew her hand.

"Greetings...Rowena, is it not? Wherefore does your sister not join us?" Thomas inquired, curious.

"Oh…She is indisposed. I suppose she wants to work on her mag—her embroidery—again."

"I venture you were about to say magic."

She was highly aware that she had just been caught; the wide-eyed expression on her face was evident. Their family secret was exposed by a mere slip of the tongue. She doubted they could forgive her for this, and sooner or later, the peasants would scheme to burn them at the stake.

She inanely stuttered, "N-No, I was not—you must have misheard. Magic is non-existent as far as anyone is concerned."

Meanwhile, she had her hands, bone white at the knuckles, behind her back. If only she had chosen to take her beloved wand with her. A simple Memory Charm would have wiped Thomas' memory clean of ever uttering what he conjectured. And she was shocked that both he and Devon were laughing at her. What exactly did she say that was so amusing?

"Excuse me, but why are you—?"

"Laughing?" Devon finished for her. "You needn't worry, Rowena. You can entrust us with your secret. Besides, Tom here is a wizard."

Muggles could be wizards? Bewildered beyond relief, she could only let out an odd squeaking sound.

Her friend elaborated for her, "Tom was around eight years old when he was given his wand. Hardly anyone else knows about it except for me. I assure you that he had to thoroughly convince me in order for me to believe him."

"Aye," Thomas agreed, continuing the story. "I knew from the puddle incident that you had done your first bit of magic on him. I proved my magic to him by dropping him into a similar mud puddle. And his unfortunate happenstance of falling twice is not mere coincidence."

Rowena nearly shook with a mixture of awe and excitement. To discover yet another magical person outside her family was an excellent find. Not only that, he was a Muggle of all people, too! Though, she thought to herself, it wasn't as if all Muggles were Squibs.

"Fascinating," she commented, a wide smile overtaking her face. "So I suppose I cannot hide anything from either of you."

Thomas idly crossed his arms behind his head, observing the other Muggle villagers dancing around the red-orange flames. "Nay, I suppose not. And Devon wouldn't tell anyone about my secret. He certainly won't reveal yours. For, he is a most trustworthy confidant."

"Enough of this complimenting!" Devon very slightly joked, his eyes twinkling as he soon offered his hands to Rowena. "Tis not the night of Michaelmas without dancing. Rowena, would you do me the honor?"

Curtsying overdramatically, she bestowed him with one of her demure yet mysterious smiles that she unwittingly captivated him with. "I would be honored, of course, Your Majesty."

He chuckled from that long ago memory. "I shall lead, village girl."

Without hesitation, Devon grabbed her hands and performed twirls with her at a safe enough distance from the fire. Rowena could feel many villagers' observing eyes on them, and she vaguely wondered what they were thinking. Did they watch two friends sharing an inside joke or was it more? She found herself grinning with the resolve that she would leave it up to them to decide. They could speculate all they want, but they would never drag anything out of her. At one point during their almost ridiculously fast-paced dance, Devon lifted her into the air. She allowed herself to be free around him, to laugh without making it polite around him. No restrictions caused her to be a wholly different person.

Their wild dance concluded, with the both of them panting heavily from the rush of adrenaline, they soon sat down by the fire. The flames crackled gleefully, and other villagers danced as well. It was a beautiful sight, seeing these people celebrate a day that really didn't apply to them. Yet, all the same, they made the most of it for the sake of a memorable, exhilarating time. Rowena would remember this night for years to come, of that she was certain. Meanwhile, Devon gazed at her like he had before Thomas interrupted, noticing the vivacious sparkle in her eyes and the pink flush of her cheeks from the exertion of dancing. To him, she was at her peak of beauty. Before he realized that he was being impulsive, he rested his hand atop her smooth one. Abruptly, she turned her head to look into his eyes with that precious intelligence he had always found admirable.

As for the girl herself, she felt that her breath fled from her body once she received this intimate gesture from her close friend. They had sought companionship and friendship in each other for nearly as long as she could recall. They had conversed together, played together, laughed together—how could it become better than that? The answer to this question wasn't something her clever mind could dignify with a response, as it usually did with such riddles. Instead, the answer was somewhere else, clear in a pair of alluring eyes and a slight smile.

"I hope you enjoyed yourself. Did you?" he asked softly, his voice no louder than the quiet breeze that stirred now. The hand covering hers gently squeezed. For once in her life, Rowena was seized with a terror that cut into her serene calmness.

Normally, she could be collected with her choice of words, managing to present the appropriate reply at precisely the right time. She wasn't accustomed to her reliable vernacular failing her. And yet, this was the second time tonight in which she found herself too numb to say anything. Was she experiencing love that the heroines in her beloved stories often faced? How could something like love, so strong and so fragile in its own mysterious way, possibly come to her? She doubted she had ever truly loved anyone beyond friendship or family before. No young man in the world thus far seemed to believe she existed. Here was one, though, her closest friend and confidant. A knot formed in her stomach, one of nervousness.

"Of course, Devon, I couldn't imagine anyone else I would have preferred as a dancing partner," she tried to reply as smoothly as she could, and she was truly relieved to discover that no tremors could be detected in her voice.

Closing her eyes in the hopes that her heart would beat less erratically, she sighed gratefully for her decent acting abilities. However, Rowena did not remain at peace, for that whispering breeze from before picked up to become a gust of chilly autumn wind. How idiotic she had been to neglect bringing a cloak with her. Eventually, she started shivering no matter how near she was to the fire, its heat not radiating through her like it had. This also reminded her of how much she despised autumn and its temperatures that would foretell of a frightfully cold winter ahead. Once her shivering became very noticeable to him, Devon picked up his forgotten gray cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

His fingers merely grazed her neck, yet Rowena felt this overwhelming surge of warmth that didn't come from the cloak alone. She turned ever so slightly to face him.

"Devon," she said, disbelieving of his sincerity that went beyond friendship. "I don't understand."

"What is there to understand?" he inquired as he placed his hands on her shoulders. "All there is tonight is you and I. It is as simple as it can possibly be."

That same emotion from earlier that night flashed like lightning in his green eyes, so tender and passionate that it practically gave her goosepimples up and down her spine. No one had gazed that way at her, as if the person genuinely cared about being near her. Upon the morrow, the world could come to a screeching halt, and they would not even be remotely aware of it.

Maybe Devon was right in remarking on how simplistic it was, with the two of them exchanging both words and meaningful glances. She imperceptibly leaned against him, taking some time again to stare at him. Yes, he had grown to be fairly handsome since those childhood days. Despite his crooked teeth, he still looked remarkably perfect to her. The eyes especially were what appealed the most to her as far as his physical features went. They were the most expressive pair she had seen in a person, and she could recognize his plethora of emotions. With a playful glint, she could tell when he was teasing or joyous. An indifferent glaze to them implied boredom. And what she saw in them now was something beautifully caring.

She wished to know what had happened to bring about this emotion she was quickly getting acquainted with. Perhaps romance didn't quite differ from being friends, after all. Stars twinkling and the wind whistling, she appreciated this lonely autumn night for all its enigmatic beauty. She sighed, this time more comfortable with this current situation and this potential alteration to her life in general. As a wise, educated young witch, she knew she could only be a young adolescent once. This last chance at innocence before the far more realistic, less fantastical part of life otherwise known as adulthood would come along—she planned to enjoy every second of her teenage years, never taking them for granted.

Distractedly smoothing back strands of her brown hair, she elaborated on what she previously said. "You look at me in a way I have never seen anyone look at me before."

Some of his blond hair fell gracefully into his sparkling eyes as he moved closer to her. She could sense his breath trailing over her skin, causing her to relax against him while he responded with, "Rowena...I have...Over the past few years, I have wanted us to be so much more than friends. There exists this intimacy we share, and I wish to explore it further. You have always been around, even when you didn't have to be."

"But, we bickered earlier about my status," Rowena bluntly pointed out.

He sighed deeply, shaking his head. "Aye, tis true. I've sometimes expected you to stop visiting me at any given moment. You never stopped. And I've never stopped having...having these feelings for you, Ro, feelings I didn't think could exist."

Devon gently stroked her hair, and she patiently watched him weave his long calloused fingers through it. How could this young man beside her be a best friend? He was so much more than that to her too, she realized. She could reciprocate his emotions.

"I...I...," she started, blushing shyly from knowing how real this moment was. "I thought you preferred Lucrecia. You have sometimes spoken of her."

"It means not a whit," he whispered in her ear, cupping her cheek with one hand. "You have always captivated me, not your sister. You're intelligent, you're witty, and..."

He trailed off to seemingly give Rowena suspense to suffer through.

Please, she silently begged of him, just simply get to the point of all this. She needed to know why he appeared to be very much enamored with her.

"Absolutely stunning," he breathed, his soft pink lips brushing hers.

The warmth within her positively glowed, she swore, as she immediately wrapped her arms around him. And to feel his lips moving against hers was perfection. This could be love between them, this stirring, incredible emotion that set her soul on fire. Being close to him was what mattered now as well as to be irrevocably content. Slowly, reluctantly, she broke the kiss and stroked his dusky blond hair as he had stroked hers.

"I'm pleased you share the same sentiments as I do, Devon," Rowena warmly told him.

As a reply, he smiled back before leaning his forehead against hers while the flames cast shadows upon their faces.


A/N: Well, review if you want.