Twenty-Five

"A cool breeze flows but mind the wasp
Some get stung it's worth the cost
I'd love to stay
The city calls me home
More hassles fuss and lies on the phone."

Morcheeba, "The Sea"

Lavinia:

Mh… I know I should open my eyes, because I'm dimly aware of the fact that I'm not sleeping anymore, and not in a bed at that. But the pillow seems warm and there's a blanket and just the general feeling of not wanting to fully wake up just yet. So I just put my hand on the pillow and wriggle a little under the blanket; which is when I realize that something else is lying on my shoulder. Something warm and… Now I do open my eyes and look directly at the dying fire in the fireplace. Wait. That means I'm not in my bedroom. And under my head is not a pillow. Oops.

Still a little dazed from sleep I sit up and look at a very awake Orion. "Good morning", he drawls and gives me a little half-smile. Now I remember how I fell asleep. With my head in his lap and his hand on my shoulder. That was… nice.

I try a little smile myself. "Good morning." Then I realize that he seems a lot more awake than I, which means that… he must have been sitting here for quite some time, with nothing more to do than… well, sitting here. Oh. "Look, I'm sorry… I should have…"

Before I can continue, the smug half-smile vanishes and he looks a little awkward. Then: "It's okay. I should be sorry. You're my guest and I let you sleep on the sofa." Oh, the stiff aristocrat is back again. It seems like he's the automatic response when something he doesn't know how to react to happens to Orion. I want to say something, but he just claps in his hand and calls two of his house elves. The inevitable Bongo and one that's called Fifi.

The two appear and Orion tells them: "Bongo, accompany Mrs. McNeil to her room and to the morning room on the first floor. Fifi, I need breakfast there ready in about half an hour." I want to protest but then I remember the encounter with Aunt Carina and suddenly I have nothing against being escorted by Bongo. He turns back to me. "Do you wish anything in particular for breakfast?"

Mh. Do I? Oh well. I think I haven't had a proper English country breakfast in… ages. I grin. "Oh yes. Toast and beans and sausages and… well, the whole nine yards. All this country breakfast stuff." Orion doesn't say anything, just sends Fifi a pointed look and waves his hand at him. With a plop the elf disappears, whereas Orion suddenly jumps up and excuses himself to his room. What the…? Oh. Oh. Mr Yaxley is a little embarrassed that we fell asleep on the couch together. Just like back at School in the broom closet… Oh well. I turn to Bongo.

"Hey, uh… well, let's go to my room, huh?" The elf doesn't say anything, just bows and I get up to follow him. While he leads me through the corridors with all those portraits that send me creepy looks and everything I wonder again about those things Aunt Carina said to me. The one with Orion and "his disgusting little elf friends" somehow stuck in my brain. Maybe… maybe I should just grab the bull by its horns and ask about it. At least it's worth a try.

"Bongo… how long have you been… employed in the Yaxley household?" The little elf puffs up and indeed seems to become a little taller than before.

"Since my birth, Mrs. McNeil." His voice is ridden with pride, and there's no mistaking that he sees it as one big privilege to serve the Yaxleys. Oh well. I'll… never understand house elves, I guess.

"And… how long have you been serving Orion?" Easy now, McNeil, one question at a time.

"Since Master Orion's birth." If this wasn't a house elf – a creature that is known for its servitude and subservience – I would have said that this sounded indignant. I could even almost hear the "What else did you think, you stupid human?" I clear my throat.

"Oh that's… pretty long." Now, the right question. How to phrase this right for a house elf obviously very loyal and very dedicated to his master? "Did he… no, wait. Um… what was he like when he was a kid? You know, before he came to Hogwarts?" Come on, tell me what I want to know. Tell me he had a happy childhood, with more toys than any kid could ever play with. Tell me he didn't have to rely only on his house elves to feel loved and accepted.

He doesn't answer straight away, though. He throws me a look that's a little wary and then finally says: "Bongo cannot answer that, Mrs. McNeil has to ask Master himself." Oh. Bugger. Obviously avery loyal and discreet house elf. Which makes me wonder… does he care for Orion? And where does this come from? I realise that are a lot of things I still don't know about Orion.

I want to tell him I didn't mean to pry, but we have arrived at my room, and he bows. A little awkwardly I thank him, somehow hoping he won't tell Orion what I asked him or even hold it against me that I had the impertinence to use him to find out something about his master. With a sigh I enter the room.

When I'm done with my morning routine I clear my throat and call for Bongo again. I still feel weird doing this because it's just so…pure-blood, but he doesn't really give me time to actually dwell on the feeling because he apparates right in front of me. We set off for the morning room. Okay, McNeil. Your last chance to ask him. And don't blow it this time or else you will always feel terribly embarrassed when being in a room with this elf.

"Bongo… Master Orion… he thinks a great deal of you, doesn't he?" He puffs up again. Oi.

"Bongo is hoping it. Master has always entrusted Bongo with very important missions." Very important…? Merlin, I'm dying to know what he means with that, but I bet he won't tell me. Bugger. And seems I actually have no idea about the relationship between house elf and master. It surely doesn't seem as if Orion is mistreating Bongo in any way or as if Bongo feels enslaved. I'dlove to ask him if he ever thought about how it would be to be free but I have an inkling that he doesn't even know that he actually isn't free. Okay… well then, say something else.

"Wow, that's great. I take it you like your master?" He gives me one of these not-indignant looks again – I mean, one of these looks that would be indignant if he wasn't a house elf, because house elves don't give guests indignant looks.

"Of course!" He even raises his voice a little, and that tells me that I just nearly insulted this little fellow mortally. Then he suddenly looks away from me and adds "MasterOrion is a very kind master." and I wonder why he puts so much emphasis on Orion's name. Seems he knew another master who wasn't kind. Merlin, this house is so full of riddles and intrigue and strange paintings and ghosts… I think I can understand why Orion chose to take up my offer. I would have done it if I'd been in his position.

Then Bongo stops, bows and magically opens the door in front of us, saying: "The morning room, Mrs McNeil." Curious, I enter and… fall in love with the room as much as I did with the small salon downstairs. Instead of a fireplace there's a big blue and white tiled stove in one corner, and the light of the rising sun filters through the windows on the other side. There's even a window bay with a padded window seat and cushions… outside there's still some fog on the ground and the pale winter sun… and the sea. I can't help myself and before I know it I've already blurted out: "Oh, it's beautiful."

"I'm glad you like it. Take a seat." I jump a little. Argh. Nearly forgot Orion was in the room, too. He's standing beside the table – Merlin, the table's laid out with beautiful porcelain and looking exactly like I always envisioned it when I read about 19th century meals in those Jane Austen or Bronte novels – and smiles his smug little half-smile again. What's so funny, mister, huh? Oh well. It's still too early to get sarcastic and snappy.

I walk over to the table and immediately he rushes to the chair and pulls it out for me. Argh. Why the hell does he have to be so bloody well-mannered? That always makes me feel so weird; which is why I can barely hold back a grimace when I thank him. When we're both seated – thoughtful host that he is he places me at his right side, directly facing the windows and the sea-view – he gestures towards food on the table and tells me to serve myself. Then he raises his eyebrow and says: "So, what are your plans for today? You still haven't seen the seaside." A short look outside which I follow. No, I haven't.

I put some toast and backed beans on my plate and answer: "Mh, nope. But I'd love to. I mean… you… don't happen to… have some time for a walk?" Sheesh, McNeil, what are you? Fifteen?

He doesn't look at me, just gives me an absentmindedly sounding "Certainly not." For a moment, I actually feel crestfallen, but then I see that he struggles to keep his face straight while cutting some bacon. The… bastard. A well-placed hit on his arms makes the gleeful grin that had been developing disappear. I stick out my tongue.

"Serves you right for trying to twit me." He does look a little shocked there. Probably hasn't seen many women sticking out their tongue at him for quite some time. Mh… come to think of it… maybe he'snever seen a woman stick out his tongue at him. I mean, like this. I… won't think about other occasions involving tongues… Merlin, McNeil, get a bloody grip. Suddenly… he's laughing. I mean, really laughing. Not this sophisticated sarcastic sound he usually makes or this humourless parody of a laugh… no, a real heartfelt laugh. Second time in two days, at that. Honestly can't remember having heard him laugh like this so often before.

In a mock insulted tone I ask him: "What's so funny now?"

He's still laughing a little – even wiping his eyes – when he answers me: "You actually believed me there, for a moment. I've merely tried to figure out what important business I could have... The second day of Christmas?"

For a moment I'm tempted to remind him that he still has a wife which might require him to spend at least a small amount of his time with her on Christmas – at least that's what's considered to be proper, and Orion always likes to do things considered proper. But apart from the fact that this is hardly fair I have absolutely no desire to even think about the tiny little fact that he's still married. So I resort to the thing that's obviously most important to him: His work.

Seeming to take more interest in my scrambled eggs than I actually have, I shrug and say: "Well… since your work is very important to you I figured you might… want to catch up on all those important news you missed the last days or something. I mean… you practically live for your work."

He puts away his cutlery and is totally sober now again. Obviously something I said was not the right thing. I let my hands sink down and risk a look at him. He opens his mouth, wants to say something… but closes it again, only to give me a little self-ironic smile. "If you weren't here today, I would probably have done that. But I assure you, I prefer taking a walk with you on the seaside. So... that's settled." Oh. Uh… huh? And here I thought he'd take his work over everyone. Must have been a wrong assumption. Maybe I just misjudged his dedication to his work a little.

"Good. I trust you to know where to take a lady to." He doesn't say anything, just looks away and… is that a blush I see creeping up his face in the morning sun? Huh? What's this supposed to mean? I mean… he is a gentleman, and I always thought gentlemen knew how to treat a lady. He clears his throat and between two bites of buttered toast he says: "We'll see." Oh well. After a short pause he finally seems to have collected himself again and says: "What about you? Do you have to go back to your family?"

Ah… not the best change of topic, Mr Yaxley. Now it's me who's clearing her throat. "Erm… well… yes. I promised my parents and grandpa I'd be back after the wolf pack's left, so… yes, I think I'll visit them tomorrow." I want to add "What about you?" but that would bring about the inevitable wife-topic, and I'm still not in the mood for talking about her. I doubt I'll ever be and that slightly disturbs me.

He's taken up eating again, but his interest seems to have been peaked by something. "The wolf pack?" He raises one of his eyebrows. I sigh.

"Well… aunts and uncles and cousins… and everyone either intent on cheering me up or giving me advice on every aspect of my life. Or trying to find out about the latest Quidditch transfers and stuff like that. Have you never been to family gatherings? I mean… the Yaxleys aren't exactly a small family, are they?"

He waves his hand dismissively and just tells me: "Oh, you know... keeping up appearances..." Not many words, but I think I got to know him well enough to know that there's a lot more to that whole topic than he lets on. Mh… should I press my luck a little? Ah… what the hell.

"You really want to tell me you haven't had those family meetings with lots of raucous children running around and adults talking about the latest family gossip like who married whom, who died, who's expecting and everyone eating lots of stuff and all that?" I eye him a little incredulously when he actually shakes his head.

"No. It was rather sitting upright around a large table, discussing very politely all the important events inside and outside of the family and lamenting the loss of prestige of the pureblood families in general and the Yaxley family in particular." The last part is said in a slightly ironic tone. My, my, Yaxley, mocking your own pure-blood peers… and family at that? Who would've thought?

"So… in short you did the same thing we do but without all the fun?" Argh. Can't you just for once keep your big mouth shut, McNeil? You did so well until now. And now you have to go and spoil it all.

I already want to speak up and apologise, when his mouth quirks into a resigned smile. "Exactly." Then he takes up his napkin, throws a look out of the window and says: "If you don't mind I'd like to get out soon, while the sunshine lasts." Well, an elegant way to cut a topic short. But I don't mind since I'm done as well and actually dying to get outside to the clear winter air and the stiff sea breeze. I take up my napkin as well.

"You're right, we should. I'm finished anyway."

Orion:

Shortly after breakfast, we're standing in front of the house in the cold winter morning. I squint in the bright sunlight reflected in the mist. I'm glad we've got something to do to forget the awkward situation that had arisen after we had fallen asleep on the sofa of the small salon. I don't know how it had happened. Somehow, it seems we had been so tired after our late meal that we… forgot to get up or something. If my father would know… my, how furious would he be.

We can't change that, however, so there's no use in dwelling on it any longer. I take a deep breath and glance sideways at Lavinia. "There are of course several different ways to get to the seaside, but if you allow me, I'd like to show you one of my favourites… one I made myself when I was younger."

She isn't answering right away and I can clearly see that she's holding back some sort of no doubt snide remark. Then, it comes, anyway: "You... or the house elves?" I start walking towards the stables and roll my eyes.

"Prejudice, my dear", I say, opening the small gates to the pasture behind it. Small patches of last week's snow are still covering it; it would be muddy if it wasn't frozen. "Believe it or not, I'm actually able to do some things on my own."

With that, I'm leading her on the path or rather small imprint in the meadow that's my own secret pathway to the beach. "Oh, I know you are. I was just under the impression you don't want to", it comes from behind.

We're now slowly following the serpentine path that eventually leads on the embankment that's holding back the sea on high water. "I'm in the advantageous position to be able to choose what I want to do. Making paths used to be fun… more fun than staying indoors, listening to my parents pushing around house elves for no reason." Commenting on my intolerable behaviour is more likely, but I'm not going to tell her that. Lavinia has already heard enough complaints about my late parents.

"You know..." her voice sounds reflective, "for some reason I always thought being a rich kid practically determined one to have a fantastic childhood". I actually stop short and slightly turn around to look at her.

"It depends on how you define a fantastic childhood." I say, smiling vaguely. I step aside and offer her my hand to help her over the last big step that would bring us on the road that runs on the embankment.

I half expected her to refuse my help, but she silently takes my hand and reaches the road first. There's a freezing cold sea breeze blowing up there. I'm surprised Lavinia doesn't mind the cold. She's standing there firmly, watching the still distant waves breaking on the beach, her long red hair streaming in the wind. I'm reluctant to destroy this view by climbing up myself.

When I'm standing beside her, she's smiling and even thanking me for my help. That's a change in attitude! But while we're walking on, downwards on the other side, she's taking up the topic again: "Oh... you know, tons of toys, the fastest brooms, the coolest trips, the most beautiful Christmas trees..."

I have to catch up with her before I answer. I'm smirking at her when she looks back at me. "That's how you've imagined it?" I pretend to think hard. "Let's see… my father didn't approve of toys, they were only littering the house, we had horses, no brooms, that was more the expertise of…" I stop short. I have to take more care. I nearly told her… it's with all the talk about childhood, you get carried away… before she's able to say something, I accelerate my pace and continue talking as if I hadn't just stopped in mid-sentence. "My parents didn't like travelling around, we've normally only visited distant relations and important connections… but with Christmas trees you're right, I assume. My mother always saw to that."

Beside me, Lavinia sighs. "Mh. One out of four. A pity. But... you didn't have to sit around that dreary big house all the time, did you?" I laugh and jump down the last few steps of the stairs that lead to the beach. I give Lavinia an encouraging look.

"Why do you think I liked making paths? Come on, I have to show you something." It's enormous fun having someone here with me again. I don't know for how many years I have come here alone. Bryony had never particularly warmed up for the place.

Instead of jumping like I did, Lavinia walks down the steps, rather dignified. She seems a bit sceptical over all: "Show me something? It's not some demented family ghost, right?"

I frown. "I take you've already met Aunt Carina. She's, to my knowledge, the only ghost under our roof", I'm not sure if she had been serious, I doubt it, but leave it. "I want to show you my beach house… well, cabin", I indicate the small house standing at the shore in the distance. Its white paint is peeling off all around it and the three window fronts to the south, east and north, need cleaning, but it still looks beautiful to me.

"If you are so eager to know where we have spent our time in childhood… this is the answer". There's no answer at first and Lavinia seems a little startled.

I'm already trying to figure out what it could mean when she finally talks again, very non-committal: "Well... uh... looks... cosy."

Right. Doesn't she like it? "I should of course send the house-elves to clean it if I wanted to use it more frequently in the future, it used to be in a better condition", I say and open the door to let her enter. It has only a small table, two armchairs and a long bench in it, along with a closed cupboard where we used to hide our little treasures and the moulds and blades for the sand.

Unconsciously, I smile at the memory of this place, then I suddenly get the impression that I've let Lavinia see quite enough of my past. So while I sit down in my usual armchair and look out on the agitated sea, I ask her: "How did you spend your childhood?"

Instead of answering, she's walking to the window, looking out. When she turns to me again, she shrugs. "On brooms. Mostly... on brooms, I think", she tells me and suddenly, she's grinning again. "No, okay, not really. Some time was spent on horses, too." It's interesting that we should have this one thing in common… but I can't comment on it, because she goes on: "Oh, and every time we visited Dad's extended family we had to conceal that Mum is a witch and that I inherited that. I loved to torture the cousins."

"Really?" I look up at her in surprise. "You tortured Muggles?" I have the suspicion that she means something else by torture than my dear pureblood friends did. At least, I have a hard time imagining Lavinia doing something like this.

At first, she's looking at me obviously shocked, but suddenly, she starts laughing. "Merlin, for a moment I thought…" she's wiping tears of laughter out of her face. I can't say I actually follow her here and give her a questioning look. "Never mind. I just played tricks on them. They never discovered who was behind them. Well, not until I was eight, anyway."

I snigger a bit, too. "That's not very nice of you, you know…" I say and sit up a little straighter. She's still standing beside the window. "Anyway, what happened when you were eight?"

"Well", she's making the word exceedingly long. "It turned out that one of Dad's cousins is a witch. She'd been abroad until I turned eight, and then one day she was back again at some gathering. You really can't imagine Mum's and her faces when they met. They'd been at Hogwarts in the same year. Anyway... she caught me while hexing one of my cousins and turned me over to my parents." With that, a slightly malicious grin appears on her face like I've hardly ever seen one on her. Seems there's a lot more to Lavinia than I thought… "Which in turn ended with me exposing her as a witch."

Wait… I have to digest this. She has what? "You exposed her as a witch to a family of Muggles? How did they react? Did they find out you and your mother were witches, too?" That's fascinating. Up to now, all I had known about topics such as this had come from pureblood sources that had lead me to believe that exposing witches and wizards to Muggles is an absolutely fatal move for at least one party involved.

"Errr... they didn't believe us. At first, I mean. You do know that the times when witches were burned are long gone, right? Today people prefer just to refuse seeing the truth." is her reply.

I frown. "Yes, alright. But when they came to believe you? What did they do? And do they know about you?"

She's rolling her eyes now. What? Did I pester her too much with my questions? I can't help it. "Yeah, they do know about Mum and me. And at first they were all like "Ooooh, can you do this? Can you do that?", but after a few months it just became... normal. I mean... this is family. Sure, there are always individuals who harras you or ridicule you... but after all... family just... accepts, you know."

Her last words trail off in the room and somehow remain in the air. I watch the sea, my head suddenly full of thoughts. I'm barely aware that Lavinia is still in the room. Family just… accepts… Does it? How come my family never…? Were we really that different? It strikes me that she's speaking something like that in such a self-evident way. The silence is highly awkward when my focus gets back on Lavinia. "Maybe you're lucky with your family, after all."

A sympathetic smile, maybe a little sad, appears on her face when she's turning to me again. "I guess I am. Listen, Orion... I'm sorry I picked up that topic. After last night I really should have known better."

I merely smile back and slightly shake my head. "Never mind", I say and get up from my chair again. "I wouldn't want you to think that my family was all bad." I shake my head again. "No, they weren't… if you overlook the fact that they were incredibly adamant in everything they thought and did, they only had my best interest in mind."

"Uh... I'm sure they did. I just... never mind", she's answering and I wonder what she wanted to say and didn't. But I'm not prying anymore.

"Let's get back, shall we?" I ask and open the door again. As soon as we get out into the open and away from the wind protection that is provided by the house, it's getting freezing cold again. I even start to shiver a little and automatically quicken my pace.

Only when we reach the bottom of the embankment stairs again, I turn to talk to her again. "Do you plan on attending the British Magical Press Ball on New Year's Eve this year? I know you're on the guest list."

In a mock gesture, she's raising an eyebrow, eyeing me suspiciously. "Oh, Mr Yaxley did his homework. And why would you know that I of all people was on the guest list, mh?" I'm not even blushing, even though I looked her up especially to plan my evening. She doesn't have to know everything, right?

While I walk up the stairs behind her, I explain myself: "You were originally short listed for the "Player of the Year" award", I tell her. "After the last disaster with that interview they are forcing me to improve my knowledge on their domain." I smirk. That isn't the entire truth, to be honest… I rather did it to be informed about her field of activity.

She's turning around, extremely nervous… or is she only pretending to be? "You wouldn't know who was elected in the end, right?" Well, well, who wouldn't want to know that? I shake my head and grin.

"No, I don't. It's a secret the sports department is guarding very well", I overtake her when we reach the top of the embankment and add: "And I wouldn't have told you if I knew. On my honour."

Great. She's pouting now. "Oh come on, Iknow I won't get the award. Wait, let me guess. Oliver Wood? Cormag McLaggen? Angelina Johnson?" I laugh and shake my head again.

"I really don't know. I can tell you who's going to win the "Outstanding Service to our Community" award, but I figure you can guess that yourself…"

"That's boring. Everyone knows that." she's replying, equally shaking her head and while we're descending down unto the meadow again, I hear her whispering. "I really hope McLaggen won't get that stupid award. He's already insufferable enough." That's the Quidditch circus for me – almost as full of egos as the pureblood society.

When we reach the pasture, I suddenly realise she actually hasn't answered my question at all. "Anyway", I start again, "you haven't told me if you'll be there or not."

She's taking a deep breath. "I... I haven't decided yet. You know it's just... I'm not a big fan of these social events. I mean, it's always the same... you wear clothes that practically strangle you, you spend three hours for a hairdo that will be ruined in only a half, you have to be nice to people you absolutely can't stand..."

"That won't do", I reply, slowing down a bit and leading the way into the stables instead of around them. "You can't hide in your closet forever; you have to get out sometimes. And I think it will be fun. It's one of the most important social events of the year. You certainly have nothing to hide." I give her an encouraging smile.

Oh… look at this. Is it just me or is she actually blushing slightly? "It's not about hiding, Orion. It's about not wanting to waste an evening", she's suggesting, but I think that's a rather lame excuse.

"And what better plan do you have, that's not wasting the evening?" I turn to look at her. "Don't tell me you prefer staying at home, sitting in front of that flickering Muggle-box."

A little disgruntled, she's murmuring back: "Well, that's certainly better than having to be in the same room with Chiverston or Lucinda Carrow for a whole evening." She's hopeless, sometimes.

"Come on, Lavinia", I say to her, while I'm checking on the horses. "There will be other people, even some worth the acquaintance. Plus, I'll be there, too, if Bryony confirms she's accompanying me. I could even invite you on a drink later on, in an unsuspicious environment... and we certainly would have something to talk about the next weeks…" I suddenly pause. It had been evident for me that I'm going back to live with her in London, but we never actually talked about it. I clear my throat. "Assuming that… I'm still welcome at your place."

"Of course you are still welcome." I sigh in relieve. And finally, there is some movement on her position, too: "But... you don't really think we'd be able to sneak away when you're there with yourwife, right?"

I grin. "I said nothing about sneaking away. She's only coming with me – if she agrees – to avoid further scandals. We always use to split up after the ceremonial parts of the ball and go our own business. It would be quite save to talk to you on occasions during the evening, if I take certain precautions… like, hinting heavily to the sports department that I'll be trying to organise another interview with you for them." I take a breath. "They wouldn't expect me to succeed, so… no pressure."

A small sigh comes as a reply from her side. ""Orion... I don't know about you but I remember a certain article by a certain witch implying certain things between us."

I frown. Of course… it had slipped me because the other article that hadn't just been implying things was a little too present. "Alright…" I sigh, too. "So this maybe isn't such a good idea. But I'd still like you to come." I open the box of my favourite mare Side and pat her to greet her.

"You know..." her answer comes rather reluctantly, "if you'd like me to come you could have just said so, without all this other stuff." I take my time to turn back to her, stroking the horse and merely raise an eyebrow when I do. I wouldn't have thought that that's reason enough for her to come.

"So you'll be there?" I ask, closing the horse's box again. There's an obedient sigh coming from her direction.

"Yes.But I'll go when I feel like it, even if it's not midnight yet", she's précising and I don't complain.

"That's okay with me. Now, what about lunch?"

A/N: And here we go again, hoping that someone reads and likes this story. Yes? Please?