Not Formal

Being at Hogwarts without Phineas was strange.

Of course, Elladora had plenty to occupy herself with. There were her N.E.W.T. classes, for one. She'd put up a better showing in her O.W.L.s than anyone expected, coming out with five 'Outstandings', three 'Exceeds Expectations' and two 'Acceptables'. Phineas had outshone her, but then he always did. Her grades weren't anything to be ashamed of, and they'd got her into the advanced subjects she wanted to do.

Then there were Prefect duties, which often had her up late at night, either working on schedules for the other Slytherins or taking her own turn at patrol. She couldn't deny that their weekly meetings with the Head Boy and Girl were less stressful now that Julius wasn't there to send her into a tizzy with his beautiful smile, but they were rather less exciting too.

All in all, some of the shine seemed to have gone out of life without her brother there to offer a dry sardonic comment or solve a Transfiguration problem for her in half the time she would have taken. And maybe she missed Julius too. She'd deny it if asked, though. Other girls might giggle to each other about their fancies, but Blacks kept things private.

She hadn't spoken to Iola, either. Julius had written her after the disastrous dinner, assuring her that he didn't hold her sister's behaviour against her and starting up a thrilling correspondence that made him seem not quite so far away, but Elladora could still feel the hot flush of humiliation from that evening. Iola hadn't even apologised!

One lunchtime she was nibbling at a sandwich in the Great Hall and trying to cram for her Defence test that afternoon when a shadow fell across her page. She looked up as her sister slid into the seat across from her.

Iola had picked her moment carefully: Elladora was alone, as most of her friends had foregone the noon meal to revise, and the seats around her were empty. Elladora fixed her eyes on her textbook and stayed quiet.

Iola took a cucumber sandwich and sat quietly for a while before reaching across the table to her. A little emerald gleamed on her middle finger, making the small white hand look surprisingly mature. Who'd given her the ring? Phineas, or someone else? She was surprised at the little flash of jealousy that flared inside her.

"I'm sorry, Dora," Iola said softly. "I never meant to upset you, and I'm sorry."

"That doesn't make it alright, though, does it?" Elladora said, trying to keep her voice sharp.

"I suppose not," Iola conceded. "But won't you forgive me, Dora?"

Her voice trembled, and Elladora looked up at last. Iola wasn't crying – she cried entirely too much, Elladora thought sometimes – but her wide green eyes were soft and imploring.

"Of course," she relented. "It's hard to stay angry at you. But you mustn't ever do anything like that again."

"I won't," Iola promised. Then she leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. "But, Dora, don't you find Livia annoying too?"

Elladora bit back a smile. "Yes, I do," she admitted. "But you mustn't say things like that aloud, Iola."

To her surprise her sister's eyes suddenly hardened. "No, I mustn't," she said, and then she got up and left, her cucumber sandwich lying abandoned and forlorn on her plate.

-B-

13 September 1866

Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place

London

Dear Elladora,

My thanks for your last letter, and for the birthday presents. I can't imagine how you got hold of Euclid's Numerology when the original was only just printed this January, but it is very much appreciated and I have already made a start on translating it from the Greek. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to publish an authoritative translation sometime next year.

That seems to be the only work I will be publishing any time soon: the paper I sent to Arithmancy Today was rejected. The letter they sent was the sort of kind platitude you might give a child when you take away his toy broomstick; I've never read anything so patronising in my life. The gist of it was that even an Outstanding N.E.W.T. in Arithmancy isn't sufficient preparation for an academic career, and so I shall have to shelve that ambition – for a little while, at least. I have some other plans brewing in the cauldron, although I will wait until you are home for Christmas before sharing them with you.

In other news, I have been playing the part of the idle head of the family to perfection. The boys and I have already met up thrice for evening drinks in various clubs; we have an outing to the theatre planned for next week and there are talks of a full ten-course dinner at one of the higher-end places in Diagon Alley, maybe Blowtorch's. Of course you'd be thrilled by all of that, but I must confess it is a very dull prospect without you.

In answer to your extremely subtle questioning, I have not seen Livia a great deal, and whenever I do manage to glimpse her, her brother is there, glowering at me like a mother dragon guarding her nest. Perhaps he should think twice about being so protective: I fancy I have something he'd rather like for himself, after all.

But tell me, how are your lessons going? It's hard to miss Hogwarts, with all the silly little Mudbloods running round the place and getting underfoot, but I do wish I could access that great library from time to time. Are you settling in well to your N.E.W.T.s? It can be a change, but I thought it a stimulating one. Of course you have your Prefect duties to be getting on with too, but I hope you aren't letting your standards in class slip at all. Your O.W.L. results were very satisfactory.

Well then, this is certainly a "nice LONG" letter for you, and I hope it meets your exacting requirements as to style, detail and penmanship. My ink bottle is nearly empty.

My regards to Iola – I do hope she's conducting herself properly.

Your affectionate brother,

Phineas

-B-

In Slytherin most people wore robes all the time – their school uniform during the week, and neat wool or muslin in sober colours during the weekend. There was the odd girl who'd try out bright orange or hot pink, but that was about as adventurous as clothing got, really. In other Houses, Iola had seen people go about quite happily in Muggle clothes during the weekend, but she hadn't really made a study of what they were wearing.

She'd never been self-conscious about her clothes before. Phineas always bought her the best of the best, and she didn't worry about her appearance nearly as much as Elladora did anyway. But since that terrifying encounter with the Muggle boys over the summer, it had been on her mind far too often.

"Do you own any Muggle clothes, girls?" she asked her dormitory-mates one Sunday evening, in the middle of a general homework scramble.

"Of course," said Sadie Goyle, looking up from her Potions textbook in surprise. "How else would we get around in Muggle places?"

"But they're so... inferior," Iola said, falling back on one of Phineas' favourite adjectives in her bewilderment.

Alice Travers snorted. "Well, it's not that we like it. Robes are so much nicer. But if the penalty for not breaking the Statute of Secrecy is putting on a dress underneath them, I'll do it. It's the lesser of two evils."

"I quite like Muggle clothes," Rosemary Mulciber piped up. "I wear them when I'm spending the day at home. They're much more comfortable than robes."

There was a moment's silence while everyone rolled their eyes. The Mulcibers weren't really the same class of wealthy pure-blood as the rest of them, and Rosemary showed it.

"Eet all depends on where you buy your clothes," Isabelle Rosier said, tossing her wealth of brown hair. She and her family had only moved to England from Paris a few years ago, and she still spoke with a throaty French accent. "I 'ave ze most beautiful long dresses – almost like robes, you understand, but fitted perfectly to my figure. Zey are quite as fine as some of my dress robes."

"That's absurd," Alice said scornfully. "Muggle clothes can't ever be as fine as robes. Why, they have to stitch them by hand."

"And ze results can be magnificent," Isabelle said disdainfully. "I suppose your family does not know eenough to buy you ze most fashionable Muggle clothes." Alice flushed scarlet. Isabelle smirked and turned her attention back to her Transfiguration questions.

"But it's against the law to wear robes in Muggle areas, Iola," Sadie said quickly. "You'd violate the Statute of Secrecy. How do you get to Platform Nine-And-Three-Quarters without them?"

"We Apparate, of course," Iola said, now feeling distinctly wrong-footed. "Straight onto the platform. Phineas brings us."

"And you've never been anywhere else in Muggle London?" Rosemary sounded amazed.

"Or any other place where Muggles might see you?" Alice added. "You have to wear Muggle clothes if you go to the Quidditch World Cup, you know. Too many Muggles milling around."

"It's worth it," Sadie said with relish. "We went for the quarter-finals this summer. It's so much fun! And if the Muggles get in your way your parents can just hex them, it's not as though anyone's going to notice." Rosemary giggled as if she'd said something hilarious.

The comfortable feeling of camaraderie had evaporated from Iola. Why was she pretending? She didn't have anything in common with these girls: no international trips and certainly no parents. As usual, she fell back on derision. "Blacks," she said scornfully, "don't go grubbing around in tents like Mudbloods. It's degrading."

"Oh, I see, my lady," Alice said. "Our blood's just as pure as yours, you know."

But Iola had already jerked shut the green velvet hangings around her bed. She lay back on her pillows and tried not to cry.

-B-

The first Hogsmeade weekend of the year rolled around. Elladora had been planning on going down to the village with her dormitory-mates – they'd always gone as a group before, making a day out of lunch in the inn and an afternoon in Gladrags, but now Emily and Maria and Eudoxia had all found significant others to be going with.

"I'm still here," Sissy Crabbe said breezily, threading her arm through Elladora's. "Don't sulk, darling, it'll be fun! A single girls' outing."

As a rule Elladora was very fond of Sissy, but the exception had to be when she called her single. It was such a humiliating word, as if Elladora was unwanted. Undesirable. And she was sixteen now! Maria was already engaged to Hardwin Fawley, for Merlin's sake. At the rate she was going Elladora would be an old maid. Did Julius' smiles and scorching looks really mean anything, now that he was so far away from her? Maybe not. He hadn't written her all week.

So it was in a dull, drizzly mood – a perfect counterpoint to the clear October skies – that she followed her friend out of the gates and down the road to the village. Undaunted, Sissy kept up a steady stream of chatter, switching without pause from the dress robes she had her eye on to how good-looking their Astronomy teacher was to the amazing new novel she was reading to how hard it was to buy birthday presents for her little brother. Elladora made occasional, noncommittal replies, but Sissy was content to prattle on uninterrupted.

"Where first?" she asked Elladora as they finally reached the outskirts of Hogsmeade. "We could get an early lunch, or head to Honeydukes – though really, I need to watch my figure – or... Elladora?"

Elladora had stopped dead in the middle of the road. There was a tall figure striding towards them, cutting through the crowds of students streaming in the other direction. As he got closer there was no mistaking the expensive silk of his robes, the broad shoulders, the white-blond hair.

"Julius," she breathed, too quiet for anyone to hear. She knew what she had to do, knew she was supposed to act disinterested, keep him dangling – but she couldn't help the beam of joy that unfurled when he got closer, eyes only on her.

"Elladora," he said. There was a hard, intense sort of look on his handsome features, and for one wild moment she thought he would sweep her up in her arms and crush her against him. He hadn't called her by her given name since they first met.

Instead, he just raised her hand to his lips, but the kiss he pressed to her fingers was far from brief or formal. Elladora wasn't sure what was burning more, her face or her hand.

"You're here," she said, and try as she might her voice was almost reverent. "How – why are you here?"

He smiled his beautiful smile. "To see you, of course," he said. "I missed you, Elladora."

"I missed you too," she whispered. It was hard to imagine another time she'd been so happy. And to think she'd been sulking only ten minutes ago!

Throughout all this Sissy had been standing awkwardly by Elladora's side. Remembering her now, Elladora hastily nodded in her direction. "My friend, Sissy Crabbe. Sissy – Julius Malfoy."

"Pleased to meet you," Julius said, executing a sharp bow. Elladora noticed he made no move to kiss Sissy's hand. Then he turned all his attention back to her. "Would you like to have lunch with me, Elladora?"

Elladora thought her face might actually split open if she smiled any wider. "Of course!" She was on his arm so quickly he might have Summoned her.

She glanced back at Sissy as she was led away, but to her relief her friend was smiling roguishly at her. "Go," she mouthed, and then winked.

Julius took Elladora to the Hog's Head, the village's only pub, though he sniffed disdainfully at the crowds of schoolchildren milling around inside. "Merlin, what a horde," he said as they settled down. "Look at all the little Mudbloods everywhere."

"Oh, you learn to ignore them," Elladora said airily. She leaned across the table to him. "So... how much did you miss me?"

He laughed. "It wouldn't be proper to say it in public," he said, and Elladora felt her blush deepen. Would it mark her permanently?

They'd been writing each other regularly all term, but somehow they didn't run out of things to talk about all through their mediocre lunch. ("I heard they're thinking of opening a new inn here," Julius said drily at one point. "I should give them some money for it, it'd be a public service.") Once they'd eaten they went for a stroll, to the very outskirts of the village where Hogwarts students didn't usually venture. It was quieter here, and prettier too, the orderly little front gardens giving way to wild Scottish mountains and a stream that burbled like it had its own beautiful, private secret.

They walked along it for a little while, though Elladora's high-heeled shoes weren't really suited to the pebbly path and Julius' weren't much more practical. Now they were silent, but it wasn't the awkward silence Elladora was only too familiar with, when after fifteen minutes you'd said all you had to say to a particularly dull acquaintance. This quiet was content, almost peaceful, and yet pregnant with suspense. Elladora's heart was beating like she was on the verge of a huge discovery, a moment that would change her life.

At last Julius paused, when the village of Hogsmeade was growing indistinct behind them. They could be the only people for miles – for all Elladora knew, they were the only people in the world. He put his hand in the small of her back, twining her curls around his fingers and simultaneously pulling her closer to him. With his other hand he cupped the side of her cheek. That intense look was in his eyes again, but for a moment he didn't say anything, just looked her up and down.

"You're the prettiest thing, Elladora," he murmured, and then he leaned in.

Elladora didn't close her eyes. She wanted to remember everything, fix the moment in her memory forever: the hand in her hair, the clean scent of the breeze that whipped her robes around her, the heat of Julius' mouth pressed against hers. The kiss started out chaste, but deepened and brightened until she thought sparks must be flying from her lips.

It was not formal. It was not proper.

It was perfect.