"So, tell me about your parents," Gillian invited, as she set a glass of wine down for herself and then handed Diana her own.
"There isn't really much to tell," Diana whispered sadly, staring down at the glass cupped between her hands. "They died when I was young so I don't really have many clear memories of them."
"Oh, God. I'm so sorry, Diana. I had no idea."
"It's okay. You weren't to know," she assured her friend. "I was raised by my aunts, but we never really had a traditional kind of relationship either. I still call them Sarah and Em, instead of Aunt Sarah and Aunt Em. What about your family?" she asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation towards safer grounds.
"It's just me and my mum," Gillian explained. "My dad took off when he found out that she was pregnant with me – but it's okay. We get along well and we've got a lot in common – so that helps. I think she misses not having me in the house, though."
Diana nodded her understanding because even though Sarah and Em had each other, she knew that they missed having her around too. Sarah wasn't the best at voicing her emotions but Diana could hear the wistful tone her Aunt's voice developed, every time they spoke on the phone.
"We uh … we're pagans," Gillian randomly added, almost like she was testing her friend's reaction to the news. "So at least I'll be able to see her soon, when we celebrate Mabon."
"Really? My aunts are pagans too so they raised me as one, but I don't really follow any of their traditions anymore. Small world, huh?"
"Why did you stop following the traditions?" Gillian asked, genuinely curious about her friend's nonchalance over the subject.
"I'm just not sure how much I believe in that sort of thing," Diana argued. "I remember that my mother always used to tell me bedtime stories about witches and princes. She was convinced that there was magic in this world and that it was a beautiful thing. But after she died, I guess I stopped seeing it. Don't get me wrong, it's fascinating to study, but I think that's probably as far as my interest in that kind of thing goes. Sorry."
"Oh, don't be," Gillian assured her, as she drained the last of her drink. "We'd be very boring people if we all thought and believed in the same things."
Diana nodded her head in agreement but she could tell that her friend wasn't being completely honest with her. Something about her answer hadn't been what Gillian was expecting, and she honestly couldn't put her finger on why.
She gave up trying to work it out when she felt a familiar, cool fluttering sensation along the back of her neck. Diana didn't need to turn her head to see who was watching her. She had only ever felt that sensation once before. But when Gillian stood up to excuse herself and head for the bathroom, she couldn't help but shift slightly to give herself a better view of the pub.
It had gotten much busier since the two women had first arrived. The tables were now filled with small groups of students and faculty, chatting amongst themselves as they sipped at cheap beer or glasses of wine. But it was one of the tables along the back wall that caught her attention, along with the familiar face sitting at it.
Professor Clairmont was positioned between a man and a woman that Diana had never seen before, with a glass of deep red wine in his left hand. His head wasn't turned her way and he looked for all intents and purposes to be fully focused on the slightly younger man to his left, who appeared to be telling a rather animated story. But Diana could tell that the professor's full focus didn't truly lie with his companions.
She could still feel the cool whisper of his gaze as it passed over her body.
"Sorry about that. Did you want another?" Gillian asked, pulling Diana's attention away from the table at the very back of the room.
A part of her wanted to say yes, just so that she could continue to observe Professor Clairmont as he interacted with his colleagues. But the more rational side of Diana's brain reminded her that she still had deadlines to meet before the week was over.
"Maybe next time?" she offered, as she drained what was left of her wine and stood to grab her jacket from the back of her seat. "Do you wanna head back with me or are you staying?"
"Ugh, I guess I should be a responsible adult and finish this essay," Gillian sighed, as she reached for her own coat and followed her friend from the building.
The effects of Professor Clairmont's icy stare followed Diana all the way back to New College before finally wearing off in the warmth of her room.
"It's time for bed, Diana."
The young girl finished brushing her teeth and dropped the toothbrush back into the little cup that sat on the side of the sink. After wiping her mouth with a soft towel she ran through to her bedroom, where her mother and father were already waiting for her.
"Will you tell me a story?" Diana asked, as she climbed up onto the old wooden bed and underneath the patchwork quilt that her mother had made, while she was pregnant.
"Of course," Rebecca Bishop chuckled. "Which one do you want to hear tonight?"
"Tell me about the prince again," she begged, reaching for her beloved stuffed bear to cuddle him close to her chest.
The stories about the dark prince and his witch had always been Diana's favorites.
"Okay." Her mother took up her usual position at the side of Diana's bed as her father slipped quietly from the room and down to his study. "Once upon a time, there was a little witch with a great deal of power …"
The way the breeze blew the loose strands of her hair around her face as she pulled and then pushed her way through the water, had always been one of Diana's favorite parts of rowing. She liked to close her eyes and just let the familiar movements guide her as she made her way smoothly down the river. It was the perfect opportunity to switch off completely, leaving the troubles of her life behind as she simply focused on making those instinctual movements to get herself from point A, to point B.
But that morning, as she sped underneath Donnington Bridge, something tugged at the edges of Diana's awareness. Her eyes sprung open just in time to pick out the figure of someone standing above her, shrouded in the early morning darkness.
To anyone else, the sight probably would have been startling - but Diana wasn't scared. The icy brush of a familiar gaze had all of her instincts screaming that she was safe, so she simply closed her eyes once more and lost herself in the serenity of the early Oxford morning.
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