Spiritus aduro
Part XII
"So, Ria," Charlie began, and Ria glanced up to see him looking thoughtful. "Who are you taking to the Valentine's Ball?"
"I'm not going," Ria told him, firmly. "I hate Valentine's Day. Waste of time and effort, if you ask me. You arrive feeling rotten, leave feeling rotten, and get falling-over drunk in the interim, which means you wake up with a splitting headache the following morning. Why bother?"
"Because it's fun," Charlie explained, patiently. Ria sighed. He was on one of his 'let's plague Ria until she gives in' kicks. "You should come. It'll be a laugh."
"No one's asked me," Ria responded, not looking up from the letter she was writing. "And I'm not about to solicit anyone, so you can scratch that idea."
"Come with me, then," Charlie said. Ria looked at him, startled; she'd imagined he'd take some pretty girl and make the most of a rare opportunity. She was hardly the most beguiling of choices. If he took her then he would know the result. A quick peck on the cheek and a thank you. And that was if he was lucky.
"Did you not hear me say, 'I'm not soliciting'?" she demanded. "Plus, taking me to the Ball will only encourage the Ria and Charlie rumours, which are blatantly not true."
"I'll tell them I'm taking you on Bill's behalf," Charlie countered. "That's perfectly reasonable, and what kind of man would steal his brother's girlfriend?"
"What kind of man, indeed," she replied, her eyes glazing over, and her expression suddenly sobering. "You should know that Bill and I aren't together, though."
"WHAT?!!!" Charlie looked at her incredulously. "Why not?! Who broke it off?"
"I did," Ria said, softly. "Don't look at me like that. I wasn't being fair to Bill. I was only involved in a relationship – if you can even call it a relationship – with him because it offered me an easy option. I didn't have to worry about being hurt. Letters don't constitute love. I didn't love him, Charlie, so I told him that it wasn't working." She pleaded for understanding, but Charlie turned away.
"How did Bill take it?" he demanded.
"He seemed relieved, to be honest. I think he knew as well as I did that it wouldn't work out. And you needn't look at me like that, Charles Weasley. You're not perfect yourself, you know. At least I had the courage to break it off." She knew she was being defensive, but it had taken a lot of courage to admit that she didn't love Bill, even to herself. Charlie smiled at her, tentatively.
"So – there's nothing to stop you from coming with me then, is there? It will be fun, Ria! Come to the Ball with me. Please?" Ria glared at him.
"Did you not hear anything that I said?"
"Sure, I heard everything. But you're coming, even if I have to drag you to the hall kicking and screaming. It'll be fun, and you shouldn't spend all your time moping. It will do Bill good to have a girl break up with him, rather than the other way around. Say you'll come!"
"Maybe," Ria said, grudgingly. Charlie grinned.
"Fantastic."
The Valentine's Ball was held at the reserve every two years. It was a multi-cultural event, offering colleagues from each of the countries represented at the reserve an opportunity to get to know each other. Ria knew Charlie suspected that it was also held to give the female population an opportunity to get dressed up. Merri's obsession with Charmed Couture – every witch's favourite fashion magazine and five times winner world's most peculiar fashion sense according to the front page – served to confirm his suspicions. She wasn't really bothered about such things, but this preconception of his could be used to her advantage – maybe she could talk him out of it.
"You do realise that I don't have anything to wear, don't you?" she said, suddenly. Charlie rolled his eyes.
"If you're trying to tell me that you don't have dress robes then I don't believe you," he replied. "You're the daughter of a very important nobleman. They have to attend official functions all the time."
"I'm the youngest daughter of a second son – granted, a second son with a title of his own, but it's a life peerage, not hereditary – and in the past four years I've been to no official functions. Besides which, you don't generally bring your very expensive designer dress robes to a dragon reserve."
"I did."
"No offence, Charlie, but I doubt your dress robes cost you all of two months wages."
"Bloody Hell, Ria, what on earth possessed you to spend that much on dress robes?"
"My high ranking nobleman father's official functions," Ria replied, smirking. "But anyway, as a consequence of the obscene amount of money I spent on said robes, I didn't bring them to Romania with me."
"Do you only have one set?"
"I had about six sets of dress robes when I was sixteen," Ria told him. "I was considerably fatter at sixteen, though. I've only worn them once – to Gemma's wedding. I don't want to wear dress robes, anyway." What she meant was, I don't want to wear those dress robes again. But she wasn't going to tell Charlie that– he'd only dig out of her exactly why she didn't want to wear them, and she didn't want to tell him that either.
"What on earth do you mean, 'I don't want to wear dress robes'?" Charlie demanded. "What else are you going to wear to a Ball?"
"A ball gown," Ria replied. "I've always wanted one. Ever since Martin's girlfriend wore them to his sister's wedding – in the Mad Muggle Comics, you know. And I hate dress robes."
Charlie just smiled and nodded. It was evident that he didn't know what she was talking about. Ria resigned herself the inevitable. She was going to the Valentine's Ball. Well, if she had to go, she might as well enjoy the shopping opportunity that presented itself.
* * * *
"What am I going to wear?!" Merri wailed, looking positively distraught. Ria fought the urge to laugh – Merri looked so comical – and hastened to reassure her.
"Whatever you wear, you'll look lovely," she soothed.
"But I don't have any dress robes!"
"So buy some," Ria said, matter-of-factly.
"All very well for you to say, but which ones?!" Merri gestured at the magazine in her lap. "I'm too fat for those, and too stunted for those, and too redheaded for those…"
"Stop panicking," Ria replied, peering over her shoulder. "Jade," she pronounced, almost to herself. "That will go well with your hair. Or white…but if you wear white Jon might think you're trying to covertly marry him. Definitely jade." With the air of one much practised in the art of flicking, she found a page with a variety of suitable robes.
"You've done this before!" Merri said, accusingly.
"Of course," Ria laughed. "Well, looked at catalogues, anyway. When I was very small – four or five-ish – my parents went to official functions fairly frequently, so Mums always had a copy of the latest fashion magazine handy. When they were out of date, she'd give them to me. I used to spend hours poring over them, imagining the little old ladies at church magically transformed by the beautiful robes in there, dreaming that one day I'd go to a ball and have the most gorgeous robes myself."
"And did you?"
"Not precisely. By the time I was old enough to go to such things, I'd developed my very own sense of style. Let's just say that Mums and I could never quite agree over what robes I should get. In the end, I designed them and then Mums took them to her tailor, and Genevieve compromised for us." Ria laughed again. "It's just as well that she did, really, because some of my designs were positively hideous. Mums had such a time with me. Lucy, Becca and Gemma were all such girly girls, and then there was me…well, I started out girly enough, but by the time I started at Hogwarts I'd turned into a little tomboy. Which is probably why I'm here now, rather than at home being all domesticated with hordes of tiny children clustering around me."
"What about Aiden?"
"Aiden, Merri, was a bastard. But don't tell anyone I said that." Ria grinned to hide the pain that the name still caused her to feel, even now.
"I didn't mean it like that." Merri was perceptive enough to realise that Ria didn't want to talk about it. "I meant, when you were engaged to Aiden. Didn't that reek of domestication?"
"I don't know," Ria said, honestly. "I don't particularly care." That was a lie. But Merri didn't need to know that. It was time to change the subject. "Those would look fantastic on you," she said, pointing to some feathery-light looking robes.
"I'm too fat," Merri said, easily distracted.
"It worries me that you have these delusions of obesity," Ria said, bluntly. "Repeat after me. I am not fat."
"I know you're not fat. I'm talking about me!"
"Merri," Ria said, warningly. "These robes will look lovely on you. Pretty much any of them would, actually, and I doubt Jon will really be interested in what you're wearing."
"You mean I'm going to all this trouble and he won't even notice?"
"Probably not, no. On the other hand, he's as used to these formal occasions as I am – possibly even more so – and it's standard to compliment your companion on their choice of clothing, so maybe he will. I wouldn't worry. Dress up for yourself; that's what it's all about, isn't it."
"I think there's more to it than that," Merri objected. "I think it's more to do with friends, and relationships, and love."
"Maybe," Ria agreed. "At least, for some people. I think for Charlie it's a good opportunity to combine his two favourite pastimes – other than animals – watching pretty girls and plaguing me."
"You're far too cynical," Merri laughed. "Charlie loves you, you know. He hasn't so much as looked at a girl for ages."
"Sure he has," Ria countered, easily. "It's just that you don't know about it." She shook her head. Merri was looking somewhat pensive. Merri was the Captain of the Ria-and-Charlie-really-should-fall-in-love-and-live-happily-ever-after club, though, so she was probably concocting a plan that would result in the two of them snogging. Snogging – such a horrible word. Coarse, somehow, not at all affectionate. Kissing was nicer. But kissing didn't have the same romantic implications. She kissed her parents, her sisters and her friends. But kissing men – men who weren't related, that is – was different. And she didn't like to think of it as snogging. Ria shook herself. What was the world coming to when she whiled away time contemplating various synonyms for a spontaneous – or occasionally calculated – act of affection.
* * * *
Ria had fought to suppress the sudden swell of excitement that settled in the pit of her stomach when a parcel addressed in her mother's flowery yet readable writing two days before the ball. Her ball gown. Or dress robes. Or a combination of the two. Whatever they were. Grinning like a Cheshire Cat, she slit open the accompanying letter, and between bites of toast began to read.
'My darling Ria, Your father and I were more than a little surprised at your last owl. We didn't realise that they had such occasions in Romania. I must say, darling, it all sounds frightfully exciting, but why you couldn't wear the dress robes you had for Gemma's wedding, I really don't know. They cost you a small fortune, and really, I'm not sure why you had that flash London designer make them for you – Genevieve could have done equally well, and for half the price-' Her mother was right, of course – Genevieve could probably have concocted something much prettier. But that had not been her motive in buying designer robes. It had been a bone of contention for her mother at the time, but Ria had thought that she had forgotten all about it by now. Evidently the maternal memory was not waning any faster than it had been when she was still at school. That is to say, not at all. Ria sighed. She was alone in the house – both Charlie and Merri were on early shifts, both excited because their broody charges were…well, broody. Ria, on the other hand, was working the late shift, and consequently could enjoy her mother's lengthy epistle in peace. '- Oh, and that reminds me – Gemma is expecting again. We're all hoping for a little brother for Jessica, but it doesn't really matter either way, as long as the baby's healthy. It's due in November, and we're all awfully pleased, as I'm sure you will be when the news reaches you. I expect that Gemma has written to you herself, but I thought I ought to let you know, just in case.' Ria wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. She adored her nieces and nephews, and the prospect of another was always welcome. What touched her was her mother's faith in the relationship between her younger daughters. As children they had been exceptionally close, particularly once both Lucy and Becca were at Hogwarts. Gemma had ruined that relationship. Ria could forgive many things and accept even more, but Gemma's actions had been unforgivable. Consequently, correspondence between herself and her sister was minimal, brief and to the point. Reluctant though she was to admit it, two-year-old Jessica had barely seen her maiden Aunt. In some ways, Ria felt like she was cheating the child. She saw as much as she possibly could of Lucy's children; Olivia, Edward and Victoria, and was equally besotted with Becca's brood, Claire, Matthew and baby Louise. But Gemma's daughter was another matter entirely. Ria desperately wanted to sit down with Jess, have a proper conversation, paint, draw, anything. But her very existence was a painful reminder of something that Ria would rather forget, and so she took what was, perhaps, the easy option. She avoided her. Oh, she sent cards for birthdays and Christmas and so on. But she never actually went as far as to bond with Jess, not in the same way as she had with her other nieces and nephews. She hoped that one day she would be able to forgive Gemma. Even more, she hoped that one day little Jessica would be able to forgive her. Until then, she had learnt to live with the split, take solace in her isolation. Use distance as an excuse. She fooled no one, not even herself. But she put on a front, and after all, wasn't that what life was about? She didn't know, and there was no point in wasting the morning worrying about what could not or would not be changed. Once more she picked up the letter. 'Lucy, Geoff and their children have taken Gemma and Jessica with them to Norfolk for a little holiday. Gemma always gets so…I don't know…lonely, I suppose, but that's not the right word, because he's always there.' Her mother knew better than to write his name. 'Anyway, Lucy thought it would be a good idea for her to do something for once, and so off they went. Jess and Vicky will be good playmates for each other, and somehow young Livvy persuaded both Lucy and Becca to let Claire go too. I have no idea how that child manages it – she seems to have the whole adult world wrapped around her little finger – even Geoff, strict father though he is, doesn't seem able to resist those big blue eyes of hers. She's so much like you were at the same age; it makes me feel quite nostalgic to watch her. So, anyway, Lucy ended up taking the Terrible Two with her, as if having Vicky and Jess wasn't going to be enough of a challenge. On the other hand, Claire and Livvy are generally good girls, and really, one can't expect more of children their age.' Rosamunde Rutherford had digressed. Ria smiled, slightly wistfully. Her mother always digressed – always had done always would do. It was one of those constants in life; just as the sun would go on rising and setting, her mother's letters would always follow a different tangent from the line she had intended. 'And Ria, they're such pretty children. We had them to tea the other day, for your father's birthday – he says thank you for the socks. Why do you buy him socks every year, darling? He must have drawers and drawers full by now! – and they were all dressed up in the most adorable party frocks, looking like little cherubs. Claire in particular. I wonder if she'll ever cut her hair…it would be such a shame if she did. Those beautiful blonde curls…grown women would love hair like hers.
I can see you laughing, my dear, at my standard digression. I did start out intending to discuss your ball gown. And I know I've said it before, but really, you should use those that you wore to Gemma's wedding again. They really did suit you. Still, you've grown up with good taste for what suits you, so I shall stop being a nagging mother and leave you to live your life. Just make sure you get someone to take a photograph and send it to me. Your father and I want to see our baby in all her finery.
From the fact that you are going to a ball, I must assume that a man has asked you. I know you, Ria, and I know that you would not go to a ball – and a Valentine's Ball at that – if someone had not requested that you do so. You were never so keen on those things; they were really more suited to your sisters, Gemma in particular. All I wish to say, darling child, is be careful. Just as I know you wouldn't go to any ball on your own, so I know how easily hurt you are. I know you guard your heart with a shield of titanium, but my dear girl; sometimes it's best to let people in. You've been through a lot in the past, I know, and if I had the words to make it better then I would. This man, whoever he is, must be very persuasive, and you must think a lot of him to allow him to take you out on Valentine's Day of all days. So, if he is special, and if you do have feelings for him, then don't hide. Don't let the past ruin the future. Take a risk. You only live once. I want all my girls to be happy, and in my heart of hearts I know that, for all you say that you enjoy what you do, and love your life, you are not happy. You lack the one thing that will fulfil you. Always you have been a person who craves affection, and you are depriving yourself of that. I understand why, but don't let one hurdle on the road ground you forever. You mean so much to your father and myself – we've always thought of you as our very own. I know that meeting the Kettleworths unsettled you. Always know that we will be here for you. Ever your affectionate Mother.' Ria read the words again. Her mother had always been perceptive, particularly so towards her four girls. And she was right about Ria being afraid to love. Even so, Ria had no intention of making any moves on Charlie. Her best friend was just that – a friend. She adored him, and rightfully so, but she could not risk the breakdown of the relationship that had come to mean more to her than any other. Nothing was worth risking it. Charlie was her lifeline, and if something came between them, then surely she would drown.
* * * *
It seemed to Ria that, having agreed to attend the Ball, it was now impossible to escape it. Jon, by virtue of being the boss of the English employees, was actively involved in developing the format of the Ball, and by default, Merri was also included. Consequently, Ria should not have been surprised when she walked in after work one night to find the two of them discussing flowers. However, hatching time involved much hard work on the part of the researchers, and she had been getting the bare minimum of sleep for a week. Sleep-deprived, her natural assumption on seeing the two of them poring over what seemed to be wedding bouquets was shock mingled with joy, which she demonstrated in a typically Ria fashion.
"Merri? Don't you need a ring before you discuss flowers?"
"You what?" Merri turned to her, distracted. Then, realising the gist of her friend's words, she laughed. "These are flowers for the Ball, Ria, dear. Nothing more sinister than that."
"Oh." Secretly Ria was disappointed. She quite fancied the idea of going to Merri and Jon's wedding. Still, in the words of the age-old idiom, all good things come to those who wait, and Ria was sure that nuptials were inevitable.
"Come and help," Jon said, companionably, the conversation thus far having gone completely over his head. "Merri likes the lilies, but I prefer the roses."
"Why not have both?" Ria demanded, perfectly reasonably. "Although," she pondered, "if you have completely white flowers it will look like a wedding reception." She considered the options. "It's a Valentine's Day Ball, right?" Jon nodded. "So ideally, the colour scheme should be pink or red?" Jon looked blank. "Just smile and nod, Jon. I'd say go with pink lilies and red roses, although it will cost a fortune if you do. You could get away with white lilies, I suppose..."
"Have you done this before?" Merri demanded.
"Not quite," Ria smiled sheepishly. "When I was very small, it was customary to entertain regularly in the noble circles - I met Jon at a party when I was five - and there would always without fail be flowers. At Penarddun there's the most amazing hothouse, and I used to watch William - the gardener - cut them and arrange them. Then, as the Dark Lord gained more power, parties became a non-entity. Suddenly it wasn't safe to have large gatherings of people, because surely they would attract Death Eaters by the dozen, and who would want for the Dark Mark to soar above their house? More to the point, who would want to risk a house full of leading Aurors, because I'm convinced that most of my parents' friends were in some way involved with them, although Daddy has never actually told me this. Anyway, as soon as Harry Potter got rid of him, parties were back in Vogue. Not that I liked them - by that time I was a rebellious eleven-year-old - but I picked up a good few tips on flower arranging."
"You really met Jon when you were five?" Merri asked, and Ria got the distinct feeling that she'd not paid any attention to the rest of the conversation.
"Yes," she nodded. "He was eight, and didn't have much time for me. That was the last party before they stopped, wasn't it Jon?"
"It was," Jon agreed. "And you were the cutest and most annoying child in the whole house. You were, I recall, very into dancing at the time, and constantly badgering any available male to waltz with you."
"Shhh," Ria laughed. "I've been trying to create an adventure-girl image."
"Adventure-girl? You?" Jon snorted. "And pigs might fly. Deep down, Miss Rutherford, you'll always be a country girl who's very attached to her home. Not that you'll ever admit it."
"Hark at the psychologist," Ria retorted, suddenly wanting to be alone. "I'll leave you two to argue over flowers, then - I'm starving. Is Charlie in yet?" Merri shook her head, and Ria ducked out of the cosy sitting room and into the kitchen. She leaned her forehead against the cool of the wall. It had been foolish, that flight of fancy, the reliving of her childhood. Memories of the past inevitably caused her to feel the pain of the present and sapped away her hope for the future. She had grown up in dark times - her birth had coincided with the begin of the Dark Lord's rise to supreme power, and for much of her childhood she had worried that her father might never come home.
* * * *
"Ri?" Charlie walked into the kitchen ten minutes later, to find her with damp eyes and telltale tearstains on her cheeks. "Ria? What's the matter?"
"Nothing," she hiccoughed. "I'm just being silly, that's all."
"Ria, you don't cry for nothing."
"I have an allergy," she countered, irritably.
"A plausible excuse, normally," Charlie agreed. "But you were fine this morning, and nothing has changed in here since then. What's wrong?"
"I was just thinking about when I was little," she murmured, burying her face in his chest, and feeling embarrassed for doing so. Not that Charlie seemed to mind, he simply guided her to a chair, and sat down opposite her, offering her a clean handkerchief, and waiting for her to talk. "Do you remember what it was like back then? When every day another family were victims?"
"Yes," he said, shortly, and she was surprised to see that his eyes echoed the fear in her own.
"Were you ever so paralysed with fright that you couldn't even speak because if you did then someone you loved would die?"
"Yes." Charlie was firm. Ria looked at him, surprised. "Tell me?" she asked, softly. He frowned, and she thought he was going to refuse, but then he began to talk.
"I was old enough to know what was going on when it all started," he began. "There was just Bill and me back then, and Mum and Dad, obviously. We weren't really at risk, as such - we were purebloods. But Dad's obsession with Muggles, his 'Muggle-love' as some relatives laughingly called it, was enough for us to be a real target. And then, Dad started disappearing. Initially it was only for days, but as You-Know-Who grew stronger, he would start disappearing for weeks at a time. I may have been old enough to understand that what was happening was bad, but I couldn't work out where my Dad was going. I thought he'd been taken. Until he came home, I thought we'd lost him forever. But I couldn't talk to Mum about it - she was worried enough as it was. And…" Charlie hesitated. "When I was five, Mum had a little girl. She'd always wanted a daughter, and the Weasley line is notorious for sons. Ellie was a dream come true…" he seemed far away, a wistful smile in his eyes, and Ria was reluctant to break into his thoughts. "She was like a breath of fresh air, the sunshine in the rain, you know… Wherever Ellie was, there was laughter."
"What happened?" Ria asked.
"She was beautiful, Ri. We worshipped her, all of us. But even our worship couldn't keep her safe. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the first we knew about it was the Dark Mark. Her best friend's family. But Ellie was playing there. One day. One day! How much harm could come to a little girl playing with her friend for a couple of hours? She never came home." He dashed a tear away from his eye. "The kids don't know about her. No point in opening old wounds and telling them, Mum said, and we respect that. But when Ginny was born, I wouldn't touch her - not for six weeks. I didn't want her to die like Ellie had, with me loving her, and it hurting so much."
"But Ginny isn't Ellie," Ria pointed out.
"No," Charlie agreed. "Ginny is Ginny, a person in her own right. But, when I look at her, I can't help wondering what Ellie would have been like if she'd grown up." Ria didn't know what to say. Her own life hadn't been a barrel of laughs by any means, and being adopted, she could empathise with Charlie's sense of bereavement. But twenty years on, and Charlie still remembered his little sister as if she had been born yesterday. He remembered, and he didn't want to forget, Ria could tell. So, she did the only thing she could. She picked up his hand, which lay limply on the table, and squeezed it in a gesture of companionship.
I'm cruel. Too cruel. Believe me, guys, I hated writing this, but it had to happen, because…well, I don't know. Ask Charlie and Ria, because they have a conspiracy against me right now. Anyway, as always, many many thanks for all reviews. They make writing that much more fun. Next chapter will be up very soon, as I am superb and have written it already.
Hallie
Sorceresses Promoting the Adoration and Reverence of Charlie – a website devoted to Charlie worship!