She was furious.

Cordelia Rosier nee Parkinson glared at the letter that had been penned from her grandson, Elliot, that morning. The boy had made it painfully clear that he wanted nothing to do with her family, as had his brother just last night, but he'd still taken the time to inform her of her idiotic son's actions. The fact that Evan thought he could go behind her back and arrange a match for Katherine, tying her to another with a proelia bond, made Cordelia see red. An engagement was one thing. A proelia was unforgivable.

In the floo parlor, the fireplace roared to life. Cordelia glanced up from the letter she'd been penning to her daughter to her youngest grandson as he entered the sunroom. She arched an eyebrow at Aldon's sudden appearance. He looked as unhappy to be there as she was to see him. He was the one who'd gotten them into this mess in the first place, even if Evan was the one who'd exacerbated it. Cordelia had thought she'd taught her son the importance of family, but obviously, Elias's lessons on distrust and revenge had made a bigger impact on Evan.

"Are you aware of what happened last night?" Cordelia asked as she sealed the letter to Helena and handed it over to Dilly to send.

Aldon shifted uncomfortably. "My actions last night were thoughtless and-"

"Please give yourself more credit than that. You knew exactly what you were doing, Aldon. Just as your father knew exactly what he was doing, but, in the end, it seems he values the opinion of a sycophantic politician more than his own family."

"I was protecting our family!" Aldon protested. "I know I didn't go about it the best way, but there's no way that Katie would've mentioned her dalliance with Marcus Flint if I hadn't done what I did."

"And now, because of that charming little piece of information, your father has bound her in a proelia with the man."

A small feeling of satisfaction swelled in her chest as horror dawned on Aldon's face. At least he hadn't known, Cordelia thought. She didn't want to lose all of her family because of her son's decisions despite her telling him to leave his sister's family alone. Hopefully, she wouldn't have to lose Aldon even as she disinherited her son. Cordelia Rosier didn't make idle threats, and her son would face repercussions for his actions.

"Father tied her to Flint?" Aldon asked. At Cordelia's nod, Aldon sank down in the chair closest to him. "I knew that Lord Riddle was pushing for an alliance between our families, but Father's been ignoring his requests for years."

"And he's fallen out of favor with him because of that. Whether he did it to get revenge on Helena, or to regain Riddle's favor, it does not matter. He went against my direct orders, placing politics before family. What you did was stupid and foolish—you will be working to regain the Bell's trust for a very long time—but it can be excused because you were doing it for the good of the family. Your father, on the other hand…"

"You're disinheriting him, aren't you?" Aldon asked.

Cordelia nodded. "I am heading to Gringotts as soon as we are done talking. You are nearly a man, Aldon. I need to know: will you follow in your father's footsteps or will you forge a path of your own?"

Cordelia watched her youngest grandson digest her words. Aldon didn't adore her as he once had Elias. Their relationship was professional at the best of times and passive-aggressive at the worst, but it worked for both of them. She understood Aldon in a way she never would her other three grandchildren. Elliot was too closed-off, Gilbert was too loud, and Katie was too forgiving, but Aldon was like Cordelia. He understood the importance of family in a way his father never had.

"Mind if I accompany you to the bank, Grandmother?" Aldon offered Cordelia his arm.

A slow smile spread across Cordelia's face as she accepted it. "It would be my pleasure."

She hadn't buried her husband in a wizard graveyard. She'd considered doing it for a moment after he'd died but had decided against it in the end. Franklin had loved many things about the magical world, but he'd despised more. He'd want to be buried in the same graveyard his father had been buried in, and his grandfather, and every Bell since the family began. Helena knew that Franklin wouldn't have wanted to be consecrated in a magical plot, or, Merlin forbid, the Rosier family graveyard. She'd buried him in the graveyard beside his childhood church, and she'd bought herself a plot right beside him.

Helena didn't like visiting the grave. It reminded her that Franklin was dead. Everything reminded her that Franklin was dead and he wasn't coming back. She was trying so desperately to do the right thing for her children—for her family—but she was lost without him. She couldn't remember how to navigate a world without Franklin Bell by her side, so when her mother had asked her to come back into the family and her brother had seemed to welcome her, albeit a little resentfully, she'd accepted. She should've known that something was going to go wrong. She should've known that Evan hadn't forgiven her for abandoning him. She should've known better.

Placing the flowers in front of her husband's headstone, Helena sat down cross-legged on the cold ground. Franklin Bell, 1939-1994, Loving father and husband. It was such a short insignificant summary that Helena wanted to scream. He had been so much more than that. She knew that Franklin would be pleased by the words on his gravestone, but Helena wasn't. He had been so much more. He'd been her rescuer and partner, her rock and her heart. He'd always known the right thing to say. He'd know what to do now. He'd have a plan and a course of action, even if it was simply to take deep breaths. He'd know what to do.

"I've really screwed things up," Helena said. She stared at the gravestone willing her husband to appear. Instead, a brown and silver pigeon perched on the top of the gravestone. Helena didn't have the energy to wave it off. She continued talking, "I thought reconnecting with my family was a good idea, but it wasn't. Evan still hasn't forgiven me for running away with you. I thought that we could get past it. He seemed to accept us back into the family, but it was all an act."

It was all an act.

Helena was probably the last to find out. She doubted she wouldn't have found out before this morning if Karl Broadmoor hadn't sent her a note last night about what he'd witnessed at practice. Katie had spent the night at Gilbert's, who'd thoughtfully called Alicia Spinnet to keep an eye on Katie while he and Elliot were at practice. Katie, Gilbert, Elliot, Alicia—they'd all known before her, as well as the entire Falmouth Falcons quidditch team. Elliot had only written to her this morning to give her a brief overview of the events the night before.

Helena wanted to hex her brother after what he'd done, but he'd taken preemptive matters to ban her from the familial estate. The only comfort she had was that her mother had been nearly as livid at Evan's actions and had promised Helena she'd take care of it. Helena was going to let Cordelia handle Evan for now. She had to focus on her daughter. Her sweet, innocent daughter who'd been forced into a proelia with a Flint.

Helena couldn't think of anything worse.

This would've never happened if Franklin were still alive. A part of her wanted to scream at her husband for leaving her so soon, but mostly, she just missed him. She missed him with her entire being. She missed him the way a drowning woman missed air: completely and totally. It was hard to breathe without Franklin.

"I don't know what to do," Helena muttered.

She looked first at her husband's grave, then at the pigeon sitting on it. The bird stared at her through its beady black eyes, undoubtedly wanting some birdseed she didn't have. She didn't have the answers. She didn't know what to do.

"I don't suppose you have the answers?" Helena asked the bird. It flew away from its perch, heading south towards London. Helena watched it go. "I thought not."

"Your uncle sounds like a piece of work, and that's something coming from me. I'm related to the Malfoys and the Lestranges."

Tonks lay back on Elliot's couch, her pink hair cushioned by the arm and her combat boots resting on a pillow. Leaning over the arm, she watched Elliot move about the kitchen, assembling lunch for the two of them.

Bill was originally supposed to join them for lunch to go over the research Elliot had compiled and the gossip Tonks had picked up thanks to dust-spinners in the alley, but he'd had to cancel at the last minute. Tonks had considered canceling too—there wasn't really a reason to swing by Elliot's if Bill wasn't there—but she wasn't about to pass on Elliot's cooking. The man could've become a professional chef if quidditch hadn't worked out. The Witch Weekly article she pretended she hadn't read may have gone on and on about Gilbert's coffee, but they'd obviously never tasted Elliot's cooking.

"Get your boots off of my couch," Elliot ordered without looking at her.

"How do you know my boots are on the couch?"

"Because I know you, and you're a heathen who puts her boots all over my furniture." Elliot turned to her with a sly grin. His eyes flicked to her boots, which were on his couch. "Move them. Please."

"You ever gonna pull that stick out of your ass, El?" Tonks asked even as she complied, tugging her boots off and tossing them to the side before returning her attention towards Elliot. Her stomach growled at the smell of the blackened fish tacos he was making.

"I'm not rigid," Elliot protested. "I can be fun."

"Letting loose in the bedroom with Sybill is not the same as being fun," Tonks snarked because she was used to being surrounded by male aurors-in-training who liked to joke about sex as much as adolescent boys (given the boss wasn't around, of course). She noticed the look of discomfort that flickered across Elliot's face. This wasn't the first she'd seen it either. She wanted to know what was going on there. "Do sex jokes make you uncomfortable?"

"I play professional quidditch," Elliot said.

"That's not an answer," Tonks pointed out.

"I'm fine with sex jokes."

Tonks nodded. "So, it's specifically joking about your sex life that makes you uncomfortable?"

"I don't have a sex life." Tonks didn't think Elliot meant to say that as he turned back to the salsa he was preparing immediately.

That surprised her. Elliot Bell was a quidditch star, and Tonks would never call Sybill Shacklebolt a slag but she definitely enjoyed sex. They weren't friends, and they hardly ran in the same circles, but everyone knew how sex-positive Sybill was. It was one of those things about her. Tonks knew that Bill found Elliot attractive, but she didn't really see it. Yes, he was aesthetically appealing to look at, but he reminded Tonks a little too much of a lost puppy. Then again, Tonks knew she wasn't the most sexually typical person—what with her preference for people she only had an emotional bond with. By all standards, Elliot should've had an incredibly active sex life.

"Really?" Tonks asked.

Elliot shifted uncomfortably. "I'd rather not talk about it. Not with what happened to Katie last night." It was an excuse, but Tonks was going to let him hide behind it. What had happened to his sister was the stuff of nightmares. Tonks was honestly surprised that he hadn't canceled on their lunch before Bill.

Before Tonks had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door. Tonks glanced towards Elliot with an arched eyebrow. "You expecting anyone?"

Elliot shook his head. "Probably a solicitor. Can you tell them to-"

"Fuck off?" Tonks suggested.

"I was going to say 'go away,' but you can do that too."

Tonks laughed. Walking across the floor in her kitten-covered socks, she pulled out her wand even as she approached the door. Elliot lived in a nice halfblood neighborhood in Newitch, not far from the house he'd grown up in, but one could never be too careful. Tonks froze as she opened the door.

Standing on the doorstep was a silver-haired witch in lavender robes that were much too stylish for a Newitch neighborhood. She had the unmistakable air of a pureblood about her. Standing behind her was a dark-haired teenager in equally fancy robes who looked uncomfortable standing on the front step of Elliot's cute cottage. Tonks doubted he'd ever used a front door in his life.

"Uh, El!" Tonks shouted back the direction she'd come, refusing to take her eyes off of the witch.

"What?!"

"It's not a solicitor!"

There was the padding of Elliot's footsteps before the tall man appeared over her shoulder. He stiffened behind her. Tonks didn't have to glance at him to know that he was frowning. He knew who the people on his doorstep were, and he wanted nothing to do with them.

"What're you doing here, Cordelia?"

Well, that answered why he didn't want to see them. Tonks didn't want to see most of her relatives most days. Having Lucius Malfoy suddenly appear on her front step would be an unwelcome surprise too. The woman was Cordelia Rosier, which meant that the teen was probably Aldon, Elliot's cousin.

"Aren't you going to invite us in?" Cordelia asked.

Emotions warred on Elliot's face. Finally, he stepped aside. "Come on in. We're having fish tacos for lunch."

Not sure what else to do, Tonks followed Elliot into the kitchen as his grandmother and cousin stepped into his house. Tonks grabbed two plates from the cabinet and set them on the table. With a flick of her wand, empty glasses joined them. What on earth was Cordelia Rosier doing here?

"Do you want something to drink?" Elliot asked. "I've got beer… water… cider?"

"Water will do," Cordelia answered as she sat down at Elliot's small kitchen table.

Elliot filled a glass with water and handed it to his grandmother. He pulled a pair of beers out of the fridge, opened one, and tossed the other to Tonks. She caught it clumsily and opened it. She'd need all the help she could get if this dinner was a tenth as bad as Elliot said the one last night had been. Elliot didn't offer Aldon a drink and the boy had enough sense not to ask for it. Any refreshment offered to Aldon by Elliot would probably be poisoned anyways.

"I received your letter this morning," Cordelia told Elliot as he set the frying pan on the table. Blackened tilapia sizzled inside. Elliot pulled a tinfoil-wrapped package of tortillas out of the oven, passing them to Tonks. She set to work assembling her tacos as Cordelia tried to converse with her grandson. "I came to let you know that the issue has been taken care of."

"You got rid of the proelia?" Elliot asked.

"No."

"Then the problem isn't solved."

Aldon accepted the tortillas from Tonks and began assembling the fish taco the same way he'd watched Tonks assemble hers. "Do you have any silverware?" he asked quietly.

"It's finger food," Tonks and Elliot said at the same time. Aldon nodded. To Tonks's surprise, he lifted the taco to his mouth and started to eat. Caelum and Draco never would've been caught dead eating food with their fingers, Tonks thought.

"The proelia is not gone," Cordelia said. "Only three people can get rid of it, and I know that Flint will never agree to any requests I make of him. I'd rather not go up against Riddle. That leaves me with the arduous task of changing Evan's mind."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I disinherited him," Cordelia said. "Quietly, of course. I don't want to cause a scandal." Cordelia nibbled daintily at her taco. "By the end of today, Evan will have been removed from the ancestral properties. I have no doubt that he'll try to pass the move off as visiting Madeline's family in France. You are the primary heir until Aldon reaches majority, at which point the two of you will split the majority of the fortune."

Elliot's taco fell from his hands. "What?"

"I've ensured that Gilbert will receive the portion traditionally allotted for a second son. I've established a secret bank account for Katie so that she is not dependent on the Flints. I cannot stop the proelia, but I will do everything in my power to ensure that the Flint boy has no control over her."

"I don't think Marcus trying to control Katie is gonna be an issue," Elliot muttered, "but I appreciate the gesture."

"So they really are friends," Cordelia mused. "Tell me, Elliot, is he taller than our dear Katherine?"

"Yeah," Elliot said.

Aldon snorted. "That's an understatement. The rumors of troll blood in the family might have some credibility. Flint's huge."

Cordelia sighed. "Well, at least there's that." Tonks sent a curious glance towards Elliot, who shrugged. He didn't understand what Cordelia was saying any more than Tonks did.

Katie found Marcus precisely where Nilsy said he would be: flying through the air of the Falmouth Falcons quidditch pitch with alarming speed. Katie had brought her own broom when Nilsy had told her that Marcus would be. She mounted the Breacher and took off into the air. Her gaze remained firmly fixed on Marcus as he soared through the air. The cold winter wind whipped at her hair, trying to pull it out of its tight ponytail. Reaching up, she tightened the ponytail and waited for Marcus to notice her.

The proelia bond itched underneath her racing outfit. Alicia had healed the scar as much as she could, but it still remained—angry and red—a reminder of everything that had gone wrong in the course of a night. She'd admitted to Aldon that she loved Marcus. She hadn't even thought about it. The answer had simply spilled from her lips. She had been aware of the possibility that she could fall in love with Marcus for a while now, but she hadn't realized that she was in love with him until the veritaserum had forced the answer from her lips.

Loving Marcus wasn't a loud thing. It wasn't like the love she'd read about in books. The passion was quiet. The romance was nonexistent. The feelings were based on the knowledge that Marcus would always be there for her. She loved Marcus, even if he didn't feel the same way.

And now there was a proelia bond.

Katie hated the bond. The mark on her wrist bound her magical core to the man that she loved, but Katie didn't want it. It hadn't been his choice. She hadn't been his choice. He was being forced into an engagement and a marriage with her that neither of them wanted. Yes, she wanted Marcus, but not like this—never like this.

"Hey." Marcus stopped a foot away from her, hovering in the air on his Flintlock. Katie took that as a good sign. If he was still riding her broom, then he couldn't be too angry with her.

"Hey," Katie said in response. They sat there for a moment—each of them sitting on their own brooms—neither of them daring to say a word to each other. Finally, Katie broke the silence, "Was that a Hubble twist you were doing?"

"Yes." Marcus nodded. His dark eyes bore into Katie's light ones, trying to peer into her soul. He sighed. "Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you ?"

"Because…" Marcus raised his wrist. Angry red lines formed the Rosier family crest with a tiny bell placed in the heart of the rose. Katie didn't think about what that meant.

She shook her head. "No. I'm not mad at you for that. I know you wouldn't have done it of your own free will. You didn't have any more choice in the matter than I did." Something Katie didn't want to name flickered in Marcus's eyes. Pain? Regret? Guilt? It didn't matter. She plowed ahead. "So… we're engaged."

It was the first time she'd said those words out loud. There had been plenty of talk about the dangers of a proelia bond, but she hadn't dared to speak about what it really meant: a lifetime with Marcus Flint by her side. It wasn't a bad thought. In fact, it was a bit of a dream come true, but not like this. A proelia was about overriding free will by entangling dangerous magic with their cores. No amount of love for Marcus could save him if their cores weren't compatible.

"We are," Marcus agreed gruffly.

Katie hesitated for a moment. There were so many things she wanted to say. She wanted to apologize to him—to confess her feelings—to ask him how he felt. She didn't say any of those things though. Instead, she said, "If it had to be anyone, I'm glad that it's you."

Marcus nodded. "I'm glad that it's you too."

I love you.

Katie offered Marcus a smile. "You wanna race?" Marcus agreed and they took off into the sky, flying shoulder to shoulder.

She wondered if she would ever say those words to Marcus. Had the proelia ruined any chances she had of forging a solid relationship with him? Would they be okay? With the rest of the world seeping into their relationship, it would be nearly impossible for them to simply remain Katie and Marcus. The world would see them as the Flint heir and his halfblood fiance. Would it be possible to ever return to the easy friendship they'd had before?

Katie didn't know the answers, but she did know that, if she'd been given the option to tie herself to one person for the rest of her life, she would've picked Marcus. Would he have picked her?