Part Nine
Poppy stirred slightly. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and then shut as a pale beam of winter sunlight fell through a crack between her bed curtains. She sat up, her night cap falling onto her back, and pulled the curtains open. The day outside was gray, foggy, and dull. After
glancing at the clock and seeing what time it was, she stood up, stretched, and began to change.
As she was putting on her shoes, there was the gentle sound of small feet padding down the corridor towards their doorway. She thought it must be one of the first year girls (all of whom she adored, and received as much affection from them in return), but then there was a gentle knock at the door. In a panic, thinking one of the girls had taken ill (there was a cough going around), Poppy fled to the door, and opened it to find no one in sight. At her feet was a large (not enormous, but large) bouquet of lovely red and yellow wildflowers. They were tied with a bit of string, and a piece of parchment lay on top. Picking them up carefully, Poppy looked at the parchment, and found only her name written in dark red ink.
Astounded but very pleased, Poppy closed the door behind her and carried the wildflowers into the room. She conjured a vase for them, and set them on her nightstand, where they looked very pretty. Then, speculating from whom they might have come, Poppy turned to the mirror and pinned up her hair.
"Oh Poppy!" A voice said as one of the girl's woke, "How lovely! Where did you get
them?"
The other girls stirred at the sound of her voice, and before Poppy could answer, were all exclaiming over the flowers and wondering who they were from, and where the mysterious sender had got them at this time of the year. They did this for the next half an hour as they dressed, and all the way down to breakfast, until they took their seats and were distracted by their repast.
In Herbology, Poppy was planting some large, purplish seeds in a corner, when one of her dorm mates, Delila Carfarow, a pretty girl, leaned over from her tray and said, "I think I know who the flowers are from."
"What are you talking about, Delila?" Poppy returned, not taking her eyes off the seeds in her hand.
"You know who they're from just as well as I do," Delila continued in the same, confident whisper, "I daresay there was another note on those flowers that you took off and have hidden away in your pocket so as to keep it a secret."
"Delila, please, if I knew, I would not keep any secrets from you or the other girls. You are my closest friends and I would not conceal anything of this nature from you, for I know it would delight you so to hear about it."
She would have continued on, but Professor Parlhod interrupted and drew their attention away to some shrubs that were growing just outside the greenhouse door. Poppy was relieved, for she thought she did know who the flowers were from, and though it might be obvious, no one would speak his name until she absolutely disclosed the information to her peers.
For the next two weeks, unfailingly, every morning there was a bouquet of wildflowers waiting outside the door of the dormitory when Poppy awoke, and, just as consistent was the lack of any clue as to who they might be from. Each morning, the previous day's flowers were turned upside down and hung from her bed frame, and the new day's flowers placed in the vase. Delila and the other girls were in a flutter over the Mysterious Sender, or M.S. as they were beginning to call him, but Gabriella looked daily more and more put out by this constant attention to Poppy's personal affairs.
Poppy noticed this, but she was so shy and reserved that she did not know how to approach Gabriella on the matter. She supposed that, if Gabriella wanted to discuss it, she would have no problem whatsoever bringing it to Poppy's attention. With this confidence, Poppy returned home to her cottage for the holidays.
Albus did not look out the carriage windows as he drew nearer to his dear home, Drakelane. He was eager to return to his family and see his mother and father, however, he did not want the pleasant picture of his home ruined by the eager face of Lord Stairfawn and Mrs. Stairfawn, or the dull, uninterested, unaware face of Dominique Stairfawn.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and the footman appeared, opened the door, and Albus stepped down. As the carriage pulled away, he looked up at his magnificent manor ; The great stone walls, the wide doors, the windows which now reflected the black clouds that were rolling in. Smiling to himself, glad to be home, he went to the door, opened it, and walked in. Immediately, a servant ran up to him.
"Mister Dumbledore!" He said, "I am terribly sorry! I did not hear your carriage, otherwise, I would have opened the door for you!"
"It is quite all right, Harold, do not be at all distressed. Where is my family?"
"In the drawing room, entertaining visitors," Harold took Albus' hat, "Of course you know that the Stairfawns are staying with us until January, but also the Whitfelds, from Sussex. Your parents are having a Christmas ball, of course."
They were walking down the narrow hallways in the back of the house, taking the long route to the drawing room.
"And The Stairfawns? What have they been doing all this while?"
"Well, I have heard many a secluded conversation between your father and Lord Stairfawn, and he is putting a good deal of pressure for your engagement to Miss Stairfawn. Mrs. Stairfawn is pressuring your mother, likewise, but in a more subdued manner, merely suggesting it over tea and bringing up the subject of how a 'lovely girl like Dominique needs a handsome, intelligent man,'" Harold put on a high-pitched voice with a French accent, "And of course the girl just sits there and looks out the window. She is not smart enough for cards, even, though she does like pictures. For an entire evening she once sat and looked at the picture your dear friend Miss Farrows drew of the garden in the spring, and she loved it. She is a splendid dancer, as well, and quite the favorite of all the young men who have visited."
At this, Harold stopped, for they had reached the drawing room door. It was open, and Albus could hear the sounds of his parents talking with the Stairfawns and the Whitfelds. There was the sound of a piano, and the constant running of juvenile feet across the carpet. Harold entered, and the conversation stopped.
"Mister Albus Dumbledore," Came Harold's voice.
Albus entered as Harold left, giving his faithful and favorite servant a hearty wink.
His mother, Mrs. Stairfawn, and Mrs. Whitfeld were all sitting around a table, absorbed in a rubber, and his father, Lord Stairfawn, and Lord Whitfeld were all by the fire discussing politics. Somewhere in the back, near the window, sat Dominique, looking lovely as usual, and the Whitfeld's children. They all bowed to each other.
"Albus dearest!" His mother said, coming forward, arms open, "How we have missed you darling."
"Hello mother," He said, stooping to kiss her cheek.
"Albus, my boy, you look very fine indeed," His father, who was a portly man with a powdered wig sitting slightly askew on his head, came forward and shook his hand, "Surely you remember the Stairfawns, and the Whitfelds?"
"Of course," Albus replied, smiling a very pained smile. He shook hands with Lord Stairfawn, Lord Whitfeld (a very jolly man with a sunny disposition), Mrs. Stairfawn and Mrs. Whitfeld.
Albus was once again introduced to Dominique, who, having just realized he was there, stood in a hurry and knocked over a figurine on the table. In her rush to apologize, she almost knocked over the table as well. After gathering herself, she shook hands with Albus, smiling coyly, and asked him if he had been at the manor long.
The Whitfelds were some of Albus' favorite people, for they were always full of jokes and laughter, and enjoyed nothing more than a gathering of friendly people for dancing and visiting.
"It is so wonderful to see you again," Mrs. Whitfeld said as he kissed her cheek, "Come, you have not seen Rebecca or Jared in so long, they have missed you very much."
"Albus!" A little voice piped up from somewhere in the corner.
Albus stooped and caught in his arms the small, gangly boy that was Jared. Jared was very brown from the sun, his blonde hair standing almost straight up on his head, his face freckled, and wriggling with excitement.
"I have not seen you, sir, for quite some time!" Albus exclaimed, as he crouched so as to look Jared in the eye, "We have some catching up to do! I daresay that a ride about the estate is due for you to tell me all about your life!"
"Yes!" Jared yelled, jumping up and down.
"It is unfortunate that you are nine years younger than me, for in two years you would be coming to Hogwarts, but I will already be graduated. I would love so much for you to come and I would show you all around - Provided you were in Gryffindor, of course."
"All of our family have been, Mister Dumbledore, I do not think that will be a concern," A feminine voice said.
Albus looked up, and saw Rebecca, standing in front of the piano. Albus, who had not seen her for three years, was shocked. Standing where there was once a skinny, clumsy, awkward young girl was now a beautiful, blossoming, graceful young woman. Her hair was the lightest of reddish-blonde, her eyes deep green in her handsome face. Her figure was graceful and she stood over him, gazing down at him with one brow raised.
"Miss Whitfeld," Albus said as he rose slowly, "How lovely to see you again."
He shook hands with her.
"Mister Dumbledore," She smiled, "Is something the matter?"
"No," Albus shook himself, "You have grown quite lovely, if I may say so, and you are most certainly not the young girl that I once knew, who got her hems caught on the rose bushes and danced on the fountains."
Rebecca did not blush, only smiled openly at him, obviously enjoying the attention, "I am no longer that young girl, I agree, and you are no longer that young boy."
"I do not think it proper for you to call me a young boy, when I am two years your senior," Albus said, smiling back.
"You were once thin and gangly yourself, and I daresay that you still are," Rebecca looked at him as though daring him to reprimand her.
"Albus!" His mother's voice rang out, "Albus come sit and visit! Let Rebecca return to her music, for we enjoy it so much."
"Yes, mother," Albus replied without taking his eyes off Rebecca's. He bowed slowly, turned, and rejoined the main party.
Albus' holiday was a very odd one, indeed. He spent much of his time visiting and being purposely left in rooms with Dominique. She had not improved her mind any since their last visit, and did not seem aware that her parents were fixing to get her married off. Albus avoided being left with her at all costs. He did, indeed, go riding with Jared every day, all around the park, down to the seashore and up and down the green hills. They were so near the ocean that they did not get snow, though they were trapped in a few days during violent storms.
Rebecca was a very mysterious girl indeed. Albus had no idea where she disappeared to during the day, as she only showed up for meals, and in the drawing room after dinner she would sit at the piano and play the entire time. Albus wanted to talk to her more, and sometimes would force her away from the piano (politely, of course), and they would visit for a moment or two. She did not go to Hogwarts, she went to a private school in the country, and she wanted to study music for the rest of her life. She was a bit stand-offish and rather full of herself, but in a charming way; However, Albus soon resorted to spending more time with the general company.
Four more families came to stay with them, and Albus spent much of his day with their sons, who were his age. They were Muggle families, so wands and spell books were hidden away, and Hogwarts was never mentioned. On Christmas day, in the late afternoon carriages started arriving for the ball. Albus spent the night flirting and dancing with every pretty girl, and with Dominique four times, for she was a splendid dancer and they were thrown together quite often. Albus saw Rebecca once, sitting, half-hidden behind a curtain, looking beautiful, but obviously not inclined to visit. He suspected she wanted very much to go into the billiard room to talk politics with the men, but that was not acceptable.
Halfway through the ball, Albus saw a young man of about twenty-three approach her, and they were engaged in polite discussion for the rest of the night, though Rebecca was never persuaded to dance. Albus thought this behavior very curious, for Rebecca was not one to be shy or withheld in any manner.
The next morning, Albus looked out the window of his chamber and saw Rebecca walking aimlessly amongst the hedges. He dressed quickly, ran down the stairs, and out the door without breakfast.
"Rebecca!" He called.
She turned and saw him running towards her, and stopped her walking.
"Rebecca!" He repeated as he stopped.
"You should not call me by my Christian name, Mister Dumbledore," Rebecca replied in a severe voice, "It is no proper."
"Oh, do not be prudent with me now, Rebecca, you were born in my house and I have known you ever since. I have not seen you in three years' time, but that is unimportant. I still consider you a dear friend."
"I hold you in the same regard," She answered cordially.
"I am glad. Now tell me, why did you not join in the dancing and merry-making last night?"
"I do not enjoy spending time in such pursuits with Muggles."
"What difference does it make?"
"Not much, but they are ignorant and boorish."
"Was the young man you talked with for so long not a Muggle? I thought he was."
"No, he is Wizarding."
"And what is his name?"
"Samuel Parson. He graduated Hogwarts six years ago."
"I do remember him! He was Head Boy in my first year! A Ravenclaw, I believe?"
"Slytherin."
"And how are you acquainted?" Albus hoped he was not prying to much.
"His father is an old schoolmate of my mother. They once courted but were never engaged, and have remained friends these many years," Rebecca's eyes were very red, Albus noticed, "He is my fiancee."
"What?!" Albus yelled.
"Please, Albus, keep your voice down!" Rebecca said, putting on hand on Albus' chest, as if to stop him from running away. Her brows were drawn together, her chin trembling very hard.
"I must have not heard you correctly, Rebecca, your fiancee?"
"No, you did. We have been promised to each other. Of course," Rebecca bit her bottom
lip and blinked very hard, "We will wait until I am graduated, and then I will be married to him, the summer after my last year."
"You are only sixteen!" Albus exclaimed, "Surely...And your parents?"
"They think it is wonderful," A tear slowly slid down her cheek, "It is not as horrible as I make it seem, Mister Parson is a wonderful man, he is good and he loves music as I do, it is not a bad match at all."
"Then why are you so upset?"
Rebecca turned away from him, but Albus caught her hand, and forced her to look him in the eye.
"I just wish that my parents would have let me have my own choice, for I wanted a bit of freedom. Men do not understand what it is like to be used in order to gain honor and respect and power. I wanted to study music for some years before I settled down."
"Your parents would never use you in such a way as that!" Albus said, "Never! I know
your parents, and they are absolutely not the sort of people who do such an atrocious thing. Did you have no say?"
"I had very little. They made it clear to me that they wanted to see me settled, and they let me choose whom I wanted...I would have chosen Mister Parson in any case, for I could not have you."
Albus' head was spinning, so though he heard what she had said, it was a moment before that comment sunk in, and when he looked up at Rebecca, she was staring over at the sea.
"Dearest, how horrible," Albus said. He took her hand, and kissed it gently, "But we must make the best of it, right?"
Rebecca nodded, another tear following the trail of the previous one.
Poppy stirred slightly. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and then shut as a pale beam of winter sunlight fell through a crack between her bed curtains. She sat up, her night cap falling onto her back, and pulled the curtains open. The day outside was gray, foggy, and dull. After
glancing at the clock and seeing what time it was, she stood up, stretched, and began to change.
As she was putting on her shoes, there was the gentle sound of small feet padding down the corridor towards their doorway. She thought it must be one of the first year girls (all of whom she adored, and received as much affection from them in return), but then there was a gentle knock at the door. In a panic, thinking one of the girls had taken ill (there was a cough going around), Poppy fled to the door, and opened it to find no one in sight. At her feet was a large (not enormous, but large) bouquet of lovely red and yellow wildflowers. They were tied with a bit of string, and a piece of parchment lay on top. Picking them up carefully, Poppy looked at the parchment, and found only her name written in dark red ink.
Astounded but very pleased, Poppy closed the door behind her and carried the wildflowers into the room. She conjured a vase for them, and set them on her nightstand, where they looked very pretty. Then, speculating from whom they might have come, Poppy turned to the mirror and pinned up her hair.
"Oh Poppy!" A voice said as one of the girl's woke, "How lovely! Where did you get
them?"
The other girls stirred at the sound of her voice, and before Poppy could answer, were all exclaiming over the flowers and wondering who they were from, and where the mysterious sender had got them at this time of the year. They did this for the next half an hour as they dressed, and all the way down to breakfast, until they took their seats and were distracted by their repast.
In Herbology, Poppy was planting some large, purplish seeds in a corner, when one of her dorm mates, Delila Carfarow, a pretty girl, leaned over from her tray and said, "I think I know who the flowers are from."
"What are you talking about, Delila?" Poppy returned, not taking her eyes off the seeds in her hand.
"You know who they're from just as well as I do," Delila continued in the same, confident whisper, "I daresay there was another note on those flowers that you took off and have hidden away in your pocket so as to keep it a secret."
"Delila, please, if I knew, I would not keep any secrets from you or the other girls. You are my closest friends and I would not conceal anything of this nature from you, for I know it would delight you so to hear about it."
She would have continued on, but Professor Parlhod interrupted and drew their attention away to some shrubs that were growing just outside the greenhouse door. Poppy was relieved, for she thought she did know who the flowers were from, and though it might be obvious, no one would speak his name until she absolutely disclosed the information to her peers.
For the next two weeks, unfailingly, every morning there was a bouquet of wildflowers waiting outside the door of the dormitory when Poppy awoke, and, just as consistent was the lack of any clue as to who they might be from. Each morning, the previous day's flowers were turned upside down and hung from her bed frame, and the new day's flowers placed in the vase. Delila and the other girls were in a flutter over the Mysterious Sender, or M.S. as they were beginning to call him, but Gabriella looked daily more and more put out by this constant attention to Poppy's personal affairs.
Poppy noticed this, but she was so shy and reserved that she did not know how to approach Gabriella on the matter. She supposed that, if Gabriella wanted to discuss it, she would have no problem whatsoever bringing it to Poppy's attention. With this confidence, Poppy returned home to her cottage for the holidays.
Albus did not look out the carriage windows as he drew nearer to his dear home, Drakelane. He was eager to return to his family and see his mother and father, however, he did not want the pleasant picture of his home ruined by the eager face of Lord Stairfawn and Mrs. Stairfawn, or the dull, uninterested, unaware face of Dominique Stairfawn.
The carriage slowed to a stop, and the footman appeared, opened the door, and Albus stepped down. As the carriage pulled away, he looked up at his magnificent manor ; The great stone walls, the wide doors, the windows which now reflected the black clouds that were rolling in. Smiling to himself, glad to be home, he went to the door, opened it, and walked in. Immediately, a servant ran up to him.
"Mister Dumbledore!" He said, "I am terribly sorry! I did not hear your carriage, otherwise, I would have opened the door for you!"
"It is quite all right, Harold, do not be at all distressed. Where is my family?"
"In the drawing room, entertaining visitors," Harold took Albus' hat, "Of course you know that the Stairfawns are staying with us until January, but also the Whitfelds, from Sussex. Your parents are having a Christmas ball, of course."
They were walking down the narrow hallways in the back of the house, taking the long route to the drawing room.
"And The Stairfawns? What have they been doing all this while?"
"Well, I have heard many a secluded conversation between your father and Lord Stairfawn, and he is putting a good deal of pressure for your engagement to Miss Stairfawn. Mrs. Stairfawn is pressuring your mother, likewise, but in a more subdued manner, merely suggesting it over tea and bringing up the subject of how a 'lovely girl like Dominique needs a handsome, intelligent man,'" Harold put on a high-pitched voice with a French accent, "And of course the girl just sits there and looks out the window. She is not smart enough for cards, even, though she does like pictures. For an entire evening she once sat and looked at the picture your dear friend Miss Farrows drew of the garden in the spring, and she loved it. She is a splendid dancer, as well, and quite the favorite of all the young men who have visited."
At this, Harold stopped, for they had reached the drawing room door. It was open, and Albus could hear the sounds of his parents talking with the Stairfawns and the Whitfelds. There was the sound of a piano, and the constant running of juvenile feet across the carpet. Harold entered, and the conversation stopped.
"Mister Albus Dumbledore," Came Harold's voice.
Albus entered as Harold left, giving his faithful and favorite servant a hearty wink.
His mother, Mrs. Stairfawn, and Mrs. Whitfeld were all sitting around a table, absorbed in a rubber, and his father, Lord Stairfawn, and Lord Whitfeld were all by the fire discussing politics. Somewhere in the back, near the window, sat Dominique, looking lovely as usual, and the Whitfeld's children. They all bowed to each other.
"Albus dearest!" His mother said, coming forward, arms open, "How we have missed you darling."
"Hello mother," He said, stooping to kiss her cheek.
"Albus, my boy, you look very fine indeed," His father, who was a portly man with a powdered wig sitting slightly askew on his head, came forward and shook his hand, "Surely you remember the Stairfawns, and the Whitfelds?"
"Of course," Albus replied, smiling a very pained smile. He shook hands with Lord Stairfawn, Lord Whitfeld (a very jolly man with a sunny disposition), Mrs. Stairfawn and Mrs. Whitfeld.
Albus was once again introduced to Dominique, who, having just realized he was there, stood in a hurry and knocked over a figurine on the table. In her rush to apologize, she almost knocked over the table as well. After gathering herself, she shook hands with Albus, smiling coyly, and asked him if he had been at the manor long.
The Whitfelds were some of Albus' favorite people, for they were always full of jokes and laughter, and enjoyed nothing more than a gathering of friendly people for dancing and visiting.
"It is so wonderful to see you again," Mrs. Whitfeld said as he kissed her cheek, "Come, you have not seen Rebecca or Jared in so long, they have missed you very much."
"Albus!" A little voice piped up from somewhere in the corner.
Albus stooped and caught in his arms the small, gangly boy that was Jared. Jared was very brown from the sun, his blonde hair standing almost straight up on his head, his face freckled, and wriggling with excitement.
"I have not seen you, sir, for quite some time!" Albus exclaimed, as he crouched so as to look Jared in the eye, "We have some catching up to do! I daresay that a ride about the estate is due for you to tell me all about your life!"
"Yes!" Jared yelled, jumping up and down.
"It is unfortunate that you are nine years younger than me, for in two years you would be coming to Hogwarts, but I will already be graduated. I would love so much for you to come and I would show you all around - Provided you were in Gryffindor, of course."
"All of our family have been, Mister Dumbledore, I do not think that will be a concern," A feminine voice said.
Albus looked up, and saw Rebecca, standing in front of the piano. Albus, who had not seen her for three years, was shocked. Standing where there was once a skinny, clumsy, awkward young girl was now a beautiful, blossoming, graceful young woman. Her hair was the lightest of reddish-blonde, her eyes deep green in her handsome face. Her figure was graceful and she stood over him, gazing down at him with one brow raised.
"Miss Whitfeld," Albus said as he rose slowly, "How lovely to see you again."
He shook hands with her.
"Mister Dumbledore," She smiled, "Is something the matter?"
"No," Albus shook himself, "You have grown quite lovely, if I may say so, and you are most certainly not the young girl that I once knew, who got her hems caught on the rose bushes and danced on the fountains."
Rebecca did not blush, only smiled openly at him, obviously enjoying the attention, "I am no longer that young girl, I agree, and you are no longer that young boy."
"I do not think it proper for you to call me a young boy, when I am two years your senior," Albus said, smiling back.
"You were once thin and gangly yourself, and I daresay that you still are," Rebecca looked at him as though daring him to reprimand her.
"Albus!" His mother's voice rang out, "Albus come sit and visit! Let Rebecca return to her music, for we enjoy it so much."
"Yes, mother," Albus replied without taking his eyes off Rebecca's. He bowed slowly, turned, and rejoined the main party.
Albus' holiday was a very odd one, indeed. He spent much of his time visiting and being purposely left in rooms with Dominique. She had not improved her mind any since their last visit, and did not seem aware that her parents were fixing to get her married off. Albus avoided being left with her at all costs. He did, indeed, go riding with Jared every day, all around the park, down to the seashore and up and down the green hills. They were so near the ocean that they did not get snow, though they were trapped in a few days during violent storms.
Rebecca was a very mysterious girl indeed. Albus had no idea where she disappeared to during the day, as she only showed up for meals, and in the drawing room after dinner she would sit at the piano and play the entire time. Albus wanted to talk to her more, and sometimes would force her away from the piano (politely, of course), and they would visit for a moment or two. She did not go to Hogwarts, she went to a private school in the country, and she wanted to study music for the rest of her life. She was a bit stand-offish and rather full of herself, but in a charming way; However, Albus soon resorted to spending more time with the general company.
Four more families came to stay with them, and Albus spent much of his day with their sons, who were his age. They were Muggle families, so wands and spell books were hidden away, and Hogwarts was never mentioned. On Christmas day, in the late afternoon carriages started arriving for the ball. Albus spent the night flirting and dancing with every pretty girl, and with Dominique four times, for she was a splendid dancer and they were thrown together quite often. Albus saw Rebecca once, sitting, half-hidden behind a curtain, looking beautiful, but obviously not inclined to visit. He suspected she wanted very much to go into the billiard room to talk politics with the men, but that was not acceptable.
Halfway through the ball, Albus saw a young man of about twenty-three approach her, and they were engaged in polite discussion for the rest of the night, though Rebecca was never persuaded to dance. Albus thought this behavior very curious, for Rebecca was not one to be shy or withheld in any manner.
The next morning, Albus looked out the window of his chamber and saw Rebecca walking aimlessly amongst the hedges. He dressed quickly, ran down the stairs, and out the door without breakfast.
"Rebecca!" He called.
She turned and saw him running towards her, and stopped her walking.
"Rebecca!" He repeated as he stopped.
"You should not call me by my Christian name, Mister Dumbledore," Rebecca replied in a severe voice, "It is no proper."
"Oh, do not be prudent with me now, Rebecca, you were born in my house and I have known you ever since. I have not seen you in three years' time, but that is unimportant. I still consider you a dear friend."
"I hold you in the same regard," She answered cordially.
"I am glad. Now tell me, why did you not join in the dancing and merry-making last night?"
"I do not enjoy spending time in such pursuits with Muggles."
"What difference does it make?"
"Not much, but they are ignorant and boorish."
"Was the young man you talked with for so long not a Muggle? I thought he was."
"No, he is Wizarding."
"And what is his name?"
"Samuel Parson. He graduated Hogwarts six years ago."
"I do remember him! He was Head Boy in my first year! A Ravenclaw, I believe?"
"Slytherin."
"And how are you acquainted?" Albus hoped he was not prying to much.
"His father is an old schoolmate of my mother. They once courted but were never engaged, and have remained friends these many years," Rebecca's eyes were very red, Albus noticed, "He is my fiancee."
"What?!" Albus yelled.
"Please, Albus, keep your voice down!" Rebecca said, putting on hand on Albus' chest, as if to stop him from running away. Her brows were drawn together, her chin trembling very hard.
"I must have not heard you correctly, Rebecca, your fiancee?"
"No, you did. We have been promised to each other. Of course," Rebecca bit her bottom
lip and blinked very hard, "We will wait until I am graduated, and then I will be married to him, the summer after my last year."
"You are only sixteen!" Albus exclaimed, "Surely...And your parents?"
"They think it is wonderful," A tear slowly slid down her cheek, "It is not as horrible as I make it seem, Mister Parson is a wonderful man, he is good and he loves music as I do, it is not a bad match at all."
"Then why are you so upset?"
Rebecca turned away from him, but Albus caught her hand, and forced her to look him in the eye.
"I just wish that my parents would have let me have my own choice, for I wanted a bit of freedom. Men do not understand what it is like to be used in order to gain honor and respect and power. I wanted to study music for some years before I settled down."
"Your parents would never use you in such a way as that!" Albus said, "Never! I know
your parents, and they are absolutely not the sort of people who do such an atrocious thing. Did you have no say?"
"I had very little. They made it clear to me that they wanted to see me settled, and they let me choose whom I wanted...I would have chosen Mister Parson in any case, for I could not have you."
Albus' head was spinning, so though he heard what she had said, it was a moment before that comment sunk in, and when he looked up at Rebecca, she was staring over at the sea.
"Dearest, how horrible," Albus said. He took her hand, and kissed it gently, "But we must make the best of it, right?"
Rebecca nodded, another tear following the trail of the previous one.