Disclaimer: I own nothing and make no profit.

Acknowledgment: Rpeh for the Beta work

Fantasy

The ship was called the Fantasy. It was a massive Muggle creation with rat ears on the side. Sylvie wasn't sure exactly why such a thing existed, or what the point of it was. But here she was. Of course, it hadn't been her choice.

She leaned against the railing on their balcony and peered out over the sea. Their room, a Royal Suite or something of the nature, was large enough to be tolerable. But still not quite what Sylvie had in mind when it came to a vacation. There weren't many of them on the ship, apparently. And the newly christened Boyles were in one of the other ones. Still Sylvie's first experience with Cassie's family hadn't gone well.

Her parents seemed to think they were entitled to the other room because of their familial proximity to the bride. They, and her three younger sisters, fifteen, twelve, and ten, weren't thrilled with the smaller suites, plural, Boyle had booked for them. They'd wanted to change. But Sylvie had refused. Which had started things off on the wrong foot.

Quintus teased her about it when they were alone. He claimed he agreed with her, although his actions made her doubt that. Still he at least said she was in the right for not wanting to relinquish the room they'd paid for. But, he laughed, they'd obviously not had any idea what they were getting into asking the Princess for something.

Sylvie didn't like that implication.

Still, it was obvious they didn't know much about her as one of the first things they commented on was how good her English was for a French girl. And she overheard the elder sister talking with someone about how she couldn't believe a hottie like Quintus liked Eurotrash. Sylvie was proud of herself for not making an offhanded comment about how Quintus didn't like plump Americans with no manners.

Then again, he had dated Clara for years. So maybe she didn't know quite as much as she liked to think about his preferences. Of course, she sighed to herself as she peered down at the water, Quintus seemed fairly nondiscriminatory in his attractions.

It hadn't all been bad, really. Mostly she was just sour because they'd lost their last match before the two-week spring break in league play. And it had let Montrose crawl back into striking distance of the top spot on the tables. And she'd had the entire seven-hour flight to stew on it. Because of course they couldn't take a Portkey.

She'd half debated just telling Cassie the big secret herself to save a day of travel time from London to the exotic land of Florida, where apparently some crazy man named after the state got up to all sorts of shenanigans. Sylvie kind of wanted to meet him.

But they were only there for a day before they boarded the ship. Why Boyle wanted to do it on a boat was beyond her. Really, she was fairly sure it was Cassie's idea. But it was more fun to blame it on Boyle. And she still wasn't sure why it wasn't going anywhere. Just around in a big circle for a week, apparently.

Once they'd boarded, they were introduced like they were at a fancy ball. When they announced 'welcome aboard Sylvie Potter and Quintus Button' Sylvie was sure a few people up in the verandah peered down at them in surprise. Which figured, she thought, even on a muggle boat they were recognized. Of course, that meant there were other magicals on the boat.

It amused her though, when not much later a small boy ran up to her and asked if she was a Princess. She held a finger up to her lips in a 'shh' gesture to him with a smirk. He blushed and immediately ran to his parents. Sylvie saw him tug on his mother's shirt and exclaim, excitedly, that he'd found a Princess. She smirked and looked away from the family.

It amused her less to find out that, apparently, there were Princesses on the boat. Although no one seemed to be able to tell her just where they were Princesses of. And she got funny looks when she asked.

They spent the first couple of days exploring the ship and getting to know each other. Sylvie found the Americans to be, well, American. And that in and of itself was insufferable. Made worse by the fact that about three quarters of Cassie's guests were colonials. While she'd known Cassie had family across the pond, she hadn't expected so many of them. So, she spent most of her time in the adults only area. She was very popular there. She liked to think because she was a charming, charismatic, and energetic French lass. But she knew it was because of the bikini.

Quintus spent far too much time with Boyle. But she couldn't blame him. He had duties. Her duties seemed to be to make sure all of the children made it to their boutique appointments on time. Which she wasn't quite sure why that fell to the unmarried and childless member of the coterie. She had middling success at it at any rate. She was the odd woman out at the bachelorette events, not being particularly close with any of Cassie's friends, or really, Cassie.

She tended to disappear from them for stretches of time. And no one seemed to notice. Which all attributed to her finding herself incredibly lonely and empty. But her new friends at the bar liked her company. And, given how efficient she was at spending Quintus's money, that didn't surprise her.

She really only saw Quintus at meals. And given that they all seemed to like doing the buffet, a concept that utterly disgusted Sylvie, for breakfast, she tried to limit her time there. So, she'd sit with the main group and poke at whatever Q brought her. But it gave her an excuse to drink mimosas! Even though the orange juice to champagne ratio was way off.

Part of her wondered if she could like, summon Kreacher and have him hide away in the kitchen. Maybe he could spend a few days lounging in the sun while making her two meals a day. How bad would that be for him? But she didn't try it.

Dinners were okay. There was some sort of rotating schedule they were supposed to adhere to but Sylvie hadn't paid attention when it was explained to her. Because, frankly, that's what Quintus was for.

But that had been his only real use on what was supposed to be this vacation. Although perhaps she was thinking about it wrong. But still, Quintus told her which restaurant she was supposed eat at and when to show up. He was often there, waiting for her when she appeared.

It was supposed to be their alone time on the cruise. But they always seemed to be around the same people, who always seemed to want to flirt with Quintus. And they seemed to be Cassie's friends, too. So, she couldn't just be bitchy to them until they got the hint.

Not even after she'd heard what they said about her while she was stuck chaperoning the kids. Cassie, to her credit, told them to shut up. But added that she wasn't 'that bad' and that they could 'put up with her' for the cruise for her sake.

It got much, much worse on their third night on the boat, when Quintus was dragged away from their table to join in some photographs. Sylvie had been in the bathroom at the time and when she came back to their table, Quintus was nowhere to be found. But his dessert was half eaten, so she figured he'd return.

It was an American couple in their fifties from Iowa that told her where he'd gone. She waited for fifteen or so minutes with no luck and was about to leave before the couple started talking to her. That distracted her for a half hour, and they were nice. They asked all sorts of questions about France and England. They ended their conversation with a teasing joke about how they wished their son could meet a woman like her. Sylvie raised her brows and asked dryly if he was on the ship. Which made the older couple laugh.

After they left she spent about fifteen minutes looking around for Quintus but neither he, nor anyone else in the wedding party, was anywhere to be found. She remembered there was supposed to be some sort of event at one of the adults only areas on the ship so she figured it couldn't be that hard to find.

After a half hour or so of walking aimlessly and realizing she had no idea where anything on the boat was, past her room. She poked at one of the monitors in the hallway that she'd watched muggles use for directions. But the thing turned staticky every time she touched it and didn't go to the correct menu no matter what she hit. Which added to her annoyance as neither Boyle or Quintus seemed to have the same problem with getting around.

She was saved by a dapper looking mouse in a Captain's hat. She asked him for directions and he responded by taking her arm and leading her to an elevator and then to the part of the ship she was looking for.

But she didn't find the wedding party in any of the places she looked. So, she ducked into what claimed to be an English pub. It was a close enough emulation. She thought it looked like the sort of place where Quintus would hang out. She ordered some sort of gin tea drink and sipped at it until someone spoke from her side.

"Are you Sylvie?" a man asked. She looked over at him. He was tall and blonde with pale blue eyes, an earnest expression, and an American accent. He was holding a beer and flushed crimson as he looked at her.

"I am," she said.

"My parents bet me fifty dollars I wouldn't ask you to go dance at the club with me," he said.

"I see," Sylvie responded. She looked at him for a few moments before slamming the rest of her drink. "You should buy a girl a drink first. The gin one."

"Well, okay," he said. He moved away from her and to the bar. He came back a moment later with another drink. She took it from him and sipped it.

"Aren't you a little old to do what your parents tell you?" she asked as he came back.

"I mean it's a no-lose situation for me. Worse case I say you told me to get fucked and I make fifty bucks," he said.

"Best case?" she asked.

"Well, the night is young," he shrugged.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Mike," he said. "I'm in medical school. I want to be a doctor."

"You and my brother," Sylvie said.

"Oh? Where's he studying," Mike said.

"France," Sylvie said.

"I see," Mike said. "Is that common for the English?"

"I'm French," Sylvie said.

"Sorry," he said. "You just have an English accent."

"I've spent most of my time there since I was twelve," she said. "I'm from Bordeaux though."

"I've heard it's beautiful there," he said.

"It is," she responded. They were quiet for a few moments. She watched highlights of some muggle sport on one of the nearby televisions. She didn't understand what was happening in the game at all.

"Well, I think I'll be going then," he said. Sylvie looked at him and raised her brows.

"That's a weak way to lose a bet," Sylvie commented as he started to walk away. He turned back and looked at her.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You said the bet was for asking me to dance," Sylvie said. He looked at her for a moment, he looked confused. But after a second it seemed to click.

"I never asked, did I?" he asked.

"You did not," she responded and took another sip of gin.

"Well, Sylvie, would you like to go dancing with me?" he asked.

"Why are you on this boat?" she asked.

"My parents invited my girlfriend and I to join them. Then I caught her cheating on me a week ago and, well, it was paid for," he admitted. She raised her brows at him but didn't comment. He sighed deeply, sipped his beer and asked. "You?"

"A wedding," she said.

"Yours?" he asked.

"No," she said.

"Are you alone as well?" he asked.

"No," she said. "My boyfriend is with me."

"Where is he?' he asked.

"I don't know," Sylvie said.

"Well, I'll leave you alone then," he said. "It was nice talking to you."

"You don't have to do that," Sylvie said as the only one who was paying any attention to her started to walk away and the empty feeling of loneliness crept back into her being. He turned again and raised his brows at her.

"I don't?" he asked.

"What's a dance or two?" she asked. "It's harmless. And it'll give you something to tease your parents about."

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Why not?" she said and finished the second drink. They really needed to put more alcohol in them. Mike nodded and they left the English pub and moved to a separate area themed into that of a night club.

She danced with him for four or five songs before they leaned against the bar and talked for three or four drinks. And then they danced for a few more songs. He tried to kiss her at the end of one slower one but she slipped away from him before his lips could touch her skin. She didn't blame him, really, he was drunk. Although that thought didn't sit well with her. Still, he got the hint and eventually they left the party together.

He stayed with her until the elevator stopped on her deck. She thanked him for the fun and bid him a good night and stumbled to the end of the hall and her suite. She couldn't get the lights to turn on once she got inside. She remembered there was something she needed to do to make them turn on, but she couldn't remember what it was. So, she cheated.

"Lumos," she muttered holding up her index finger on her left hand. It started to glow and she walked into the cabin. There was no sign of Quintus and everything was immaculate, an elephant made of towels wearing her large powder blue aviators rested on her bed.

She stripped for it, slowly, giggling as she stumbled around the cabin, putting on as much of a show for the elephant as she could. In her mind it was incredibly sexy as she slowly peeled off her dress, kicked off her shoes, and slipped her underwear from her body. She suspected her drunken movements weren't as fluid as she made them in her mind.

She wondered if the fact that the only lighting in the room came from her finger added to it. She could choose which parts of herself to illuminate, and which parts to hide. She bet that Quintus would love it. And that was the problem. She was Sylvie Potter, after all. She wanted someone to see. She wanted to put on a show. And all that got to see her efforts was a fake elephant and a large plush of a mouse. She sighed and dug out a nightgown and tossed herself down next to the elephant. She extinguished her finger and summoned the mouse to be a cuddle buddy. She fell asleep with a hand in her own hair, twirling it gently, wishing it wasn't her hand.

Quintus still wasn't there when she woke up. And judging from the fact that no one, including the mouse, had decided to get her into the bed rather than on it, she didn't have much faith in his returning. She pushed mouse off the bed and got up. The cabin rocked a bit, but she wasn't sure if that was the sea or her head.

She saw a note on the dresser and peered down at it. It was just a few lines that he stopped by to shower and change but went to breakfast. He'd missed her at the pool party the night before. He didn't want to wake her, but if she was up before ten, she should join them at the buffet. The clock said eleven fifteen.

It was quarter to noon by the time she dressed and made her way to the buffet. She didn't recognize anyone from the wedding party there. But she did see Mike, looking as hungover as she felt. He looked fairly surprised when she sat next to him. But in the fifteen minutes before his parents showed up, he did not go and fetch her food.

And it only took a couple minutes, and some quiet snickering about seeing them together from one of the other bridesmaids entering for Sylvie to decide it was time to flee. She knew she was supposed to be somewhere. But she couldn't remember where. So, she went to the pool area, cast a quick sunblock spell on herself, and spent the afternoon lounging in a deck chair, mostly asleep.

She was shaken awake by Cassie. The bride to be had a faux veil on her head while wearing a swim suit.

"There you are V!" she laughed. "We were wondering where you disappeared to."

"Sorry, wasn't feeling so hot," she said.

"You okay?" Cassie asked with genuine concern. "I know some people get ill on cruise ships but it usually goes away quick."

"I'm fine," Sylvie said, ignoring the giggling bridesmaids whispering to each other behind Cassie. She found herself joining in the festivities then. They spent an hour or so at the pool before exploring most of the ship. Cassie had a schedule to adhere to, to keep them away from the boys.

And it was a fun night, filled with a great deal of champagne and dancing and Sylvie didn't even mind that Cassie was the center of attention for the evening. But the festivities ended when the bride had too much to drink, and they escorted her back to her cabin. They all slept there. Sylvie didn't really get it. She wanted to sleep in her bed, not on some pull-out couch. Nothing about pull-out anything appealed to her. And she wanted to sleep with Quintus. Who she hadn't had sex with on their entire vacation!

She tossed and turned the entire night and was stirred awake by the others rising early around her. They were greeted at the door by a very friendly attendant who made sure they made it to their spa and salon appointments on time and had plenty of water and aspirin.

Sylvie enjoyed being pampered and preened. She always did. By eleven they were all dressed, the five bridesmaids in matching seafoam dresses, with their hair done in matching bobs. Sylvie looked the best of them, she had no doubt.

And then, when Cassie was finally ready in her elaborate white gown, they moved as a group off the ship.

There were all sorts of photos taken on the ship, with plenty of costumed people as well as the crew. Cassie's parents fawned over her as they made their way to disembark. Even Mike showed up, although she suspected by accident. One of the other girls smirked at Sylvie and commented that she was glad the French girl was having fun. Sylvie didn't have time to retort as they were led off the ship.

The ceremony itself was on a small island. There were thirty or so chairs set up with a view of the pier and the ship. Sylvie stood at the far end of the bridesmaids as Cassie walked down the aisle. She stole glances at Quintus and Boyle through the ceremony. Both looked amazingly happy. She used their faces as a basis for her own fake smile, feeling oddly alone on the island as the ceremony continued. But she didn't want to look too out of place for the pictures.

And there were a ton of pictures. It took way longer than the ceremony. All sorts of arrangements and different shots of families, bridesmaids, groomsmen, the entire party, the boat, people in front of the boat, both mice, fake princesses that Kreacher would have hated and it just seemed to go on and on. She thought it must have been the longest she'd gone on the vacation without a drink in her hand, excluding time she'd been asleep.

Eventually they made their way to a seaside cabana with drinks and snacks aplenty. Everyone talked of how beautiful everything had been, and how happy they were for the young couple. And how thankful they were to be invited. Quintus stayed near Boyle the entire time. So Sylvie stayed close to Quintus. But she didn't find herself included in much of the conversation and instead just sipped at the champagne every few moments. The staff, at least, seemed quite efficient at making sure her glass was never empty.

Quintus, she thought, looked supremely happy. He was smiling from ear to ear and chatting amiably with anyone who would speak to him. Well, anyone except Sylvie. Every time she'd remind herself that she needed to look less sullen, to try to be a gracious guest, she'd pipe up with a comment and it would feel like all conversation would stop, everyone would look at her, and then after a word or two, go back to whatever they were talking about before she'd tried to be witty.

She gave up on conversation not too long after. Instead she watched Quintus. She wondered what he was thinking. And then, almost by accident their eyes met. She blinked away quickly, ignoring the thoughts of herself in a far more elaborate white and gold dress than Cassie had worn.

It had to be a natural thought, she convinced herself. What man would be at such an occasion and not wonder the same thing about his date? Was that something he really wanted to rush into? It wasn't like Buttons were known for their decision making ability. Did that say something about her?

She sighed.

Of course it did. She knew what she was.

And she'd found…well it didn't matter. He wasn't going to be dumb enough to ask while they were….well…he was a Button maybe she shouldn't assume that. She sighed again, drawing a look and a frown from Quintus. But it only lasted a moment before he went back to smiling at Boyle and talking with the other groomsmen.

After sunset and some fireworks they were led back to the boat. The party was to continue at one of the adult only Europa clubs, Sylvie didn't bother figuring out which, later in the evening. Although she suspected Boyle and Cassie were going to be late.

Quintus excused himself to shower and change out of the tuxedo he'd been forced to wear. Sylvie thought about joining him in the shower. But in the end, she didn't. Instead she moved to the balcony of the cabin instead.

And that's where she found herself now, staring out over horizon, leaning against the railing in her seafoam dress. She idly wondered if she could make it sexier out of literal seafoam. That could be a neat trick with magic. But those thoughts quickly vanished when she realized there was no one around to appreciate it.

"Are you wearing that to the afterparty?" Quintus asked as he stepped onto the balcony as well. He'd changed into black jeans and was drying his hair with a towel.

"I hadn't thought about it," Sylvie said.

"Really?" he laughed. "You hadn't thought about it?"

"I hadn't," she snapped.

"Okay," he said.

"Do we have to go?" Sylvie asked, turning to face him, leaning back against the railing and doing her best to look enchanting. Quintus raised his brows at her and she got the feeling it didn't work.

"Yes," he said. "I'm the best man I can't skip it."

"No one will notice," she frowned.

"John and Cassie will," Quintus responded.

"They'll be too busy having sex for at least the next hour. If not the rest of the night," Sylvie pouted.

"We have to go, Sylvie," he said. There was a note of command in his voice.

"Fine," she snapped.

"Why are you so…" Quintus started but he closed his mouth mid-sentence as if he thought better of it.

"Why am I so what?" she spat back. And Quintus made the mistake of rising to the bait.

"Bitchy," he finished. "We're on vacation."

"Yes, and you're having quite the good time without me," Sylvie spat.

"What?" Quintus blinked.

"You heard me," Sylvie said.

"It's not my fault you can't make any friends or have a good time at a party. What did I need to pack some Pixie dust to make you palatable?" Quintus spat.

"Fuck off Q," Sylvie countered. "Go do the stupid party without me."

"Come on, Sylvie," Quintus sighed, sounding more annoyed than anything else.

"Just go," she said.

"And tell them what? That we're fighting? They both already suspect that. So instead of enjoying themselves they'll worry about why we're not getting along. Put on your big girl panties, suck it up, and do one damn thing for your friends and try your best to not ruin my best friend's wedding night," Quintus said.

"Fine," she said tersely. She summoned her wand from the bedside table and waved it over herself. The hideous bridesmaid dress melted into a black dress with a very low-cut neckline and a very high-cut slit up one leg. A diamond bracelet appeared on her right wrist, and a matching watch on her left. Diamond earrings pierced themselves through her ears, shimmering in the moonlight as they dangled down. The jewelry alone could have gotten twenty people onto the boat. And judging from Quintus's groan he knew it.

"Sylvie," he sighed. But she didn't care about his opinion or his protests of how they agreed to be low key on the vacation. If he was going to be such a douche about it she was done with it, and done with him. If he could have a good time on the boat, then so could she. And everyone in the nightclub would know it.

"Let's go," she growled, walking past him to leave the stateroom. She waited for him at the elevator, her arms crossed over her chest and doing her best to look put out about the whole thing.

Cassie and Boyle were not at the party when they arrived, but the rest of the wedding party appeared to be there. And as the party started into full swing and a few of the other passengers trickled in as well. She drew more stares than she expected, but she was well past caring. They'd call her names behind her back regardless, so she may as well put some truth into what they spouted.

Sylvie danced with everyone who would have her as long as they weren't named Quintus. Every time he approached her, she disappeared, sometimes magically, to another part of the club. And found more people to dance with. She didn't care if they were men or women, she just danced and danced.

The party wasn't really private, just where they'd all agreed to meet. And Mike found her early on. She danced with him for three or four songs. They chatted as they danced. She was pretty sure Quintus came up but she couldn't remember for sure. He stared at her while they danced, a sort of awe on his face as his eyes slipped lower. She let him look without comment. She wanted to be looked at. She wanted to be touched. She wanted to be fucked. She was sick of feeling so alone and so empty.

He went off to get a drink and she slipped into the arms of a pouty bridesmaid that was making a beeline for Quintus. The woman tried to get away from her, but Sylvie turned them into the center of attention without much effort. And then she found other women, and other men, and simply didn't stop.

At some point later she was dancing with Cassie. The blushing bride seemed a little confused by the younger drunk woman grinding against her. But she tolerated it with a smile. Sylvie spun them so she could see Boyle and Quintus talking in the corner. Quintus looked frustrated, he was talking with his hands, far more animated that he would normally be in a conversation. Boyle didn't look bothered. He was staring lovingly at his wife and Sylvie realized she'd likely monopolized the woman enough for the evening.

Just as she started to lead Cassie back to her husband, she saw Boyle's lips move. She couldn't make out what he said. But all of the color drained from Quintus's face when he spoke. Boyle, to his credit, kept smiling at Cassie and moments later Sylvie pushed her into his arms. Quintus stepped up to take her place but she evaded around him expertly and found someone more interesting to dance with.

It wasn't until nearly four hours later when she finally messed up and wound up having to listen to him. She was giggling with Mike at the time. He'd just told her an amusing story about an accident with a cadaver and his medical school friends when Quintus spoke from behind her.

"You've made your point, Sylvie," he said. "I'm tired. We should go to bed now."

"We're doing things together now?" Sylvie asked.

"Sylvie," Quintus sighed.

"You must be Quintus," Mike said jovially. Quintus glared at him.

"We should go," Quintus said.

"You can go," Sylvie said. "I am having fun. I made a friend."

"Sylvie," Quintus growled.

"Bye Q!" Sylvie giggled and spun Mike away from him as she continued to dance. When she looked over her shoulder Quintus was gone. She thought that should have made her feel better. But really, she just felt empty.

"He could kick my ass," Mike said.

"He's harmless," Sylvie said.

"If you say so," Mike laughed.

"He is," Sylvie shrugged. They finished the dance and then Mike hugged her.

"I'm going to turn in," he said. "Thank you for tonight. It was fun."

"I had a good time too," she smiled, causing the color in his cheeks to rise. She leaned up for a kiss but he hugged her and then he left. Leaving her alone on the dancefloor once more. She spent another song or two in the club before leaving as well. But she didn't want to go back to her room. So instead she wandered to a secluded part of the ship and slipped onto a comfortable couch. A notice-me-not charm was all it took for her to not worry about anything as she stared up at the night sky.

She must have dozed off, but it was still dark when she snapped to. She saw Cassie and Boyle walking around the ship, peering up at the sky. They walked by her without noticing. But as she shifted the charm weakened and Boyle peered over. Which caused Cassie to peer over and then look surprised as she noticed Sylvie, her expression clearly wondering how she missed her. They continued on for a moment but then Cassie broke away from him and whispered something. Boyle nodded and continued down the walk as Cassie came back and sat on her couch.

"So, you're a witch," the woman said. Sylvie thought she must have misheard her so she went with the obvious.

"I am a bitch," she agreed. Cassie rolled her eyes.

"Why do the men get to be great, wise and powerful wizards and the women have to be toad faced, ugly, pockmarked witches?" Cassie sighed.

"Inherent societal sexism," Sylvie said. "Also are you calling me ugly?"

"Has anyone ever?" Cassie snorted.

"Clara McMillan, Chloe Potter," Sylvie countered. Cassie blinked in surprise at the alacrity of her response.

"Well, anyway. John told me a few weeks ago. He didn't want there to be any doubts. He said you're all athletes. You play a magical version of football together on the same team," Cassie said.

"We do. On flying broomsticks," Sylvie said.

"He also says you're the best at it," Cassie responded.

"I'm not," Sylvie frowned. "Not close. My father probably was. But I'm not."

"He mentioned your family was famous," Cassie said. She raised her brows at Sylvie, looking rather bemused by the entire situation. Almost as if she'd expected the response.

"My father is," Sylvie agreed. "My mother wasn't. But I suppose being with my father made her."

"And you," Cassie said. Sylvie shrugged.

"I guess," she said, mostly because it was her turn to talk. The older woman kept peering at her, as if she was trying to ferret something out.

"From what I gather, you and Q were practically made for each other," Cassie said.

"Gross," Sylvie said, making a face.

"So, what are you going to do about him?" she asked.

"I don't know," Sylvie admitted.

"Look, I'm, well, as much of an outsider as can be here. But even I can tell you two are special. But if it's not worth it, it's not worth it. After only a few months I was sure about John. It wasn't long before I couldn't imagine being without him. And, well," Cassie shrugged her shoulders and stood. She started walking back to Boyle before adding. "You'll have to figure it out."

And then the woman was gone. Sylvie stared after her in annoyance. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little happy for the woman and Boyle. She suspected her captain agonized about telling her the truth, but Cassie seemed to accept it.

But thinking about the happy couple annoyed Sylvie. So, she curled back up on her couch and recast her notice-me-not charm. This time, when she opened her eyes again it was morning.

She got up, the entire ship wobbling underneath her as she started to move. It took her a moment to steady herself and fight down the urge to vomit. She made it back to the cabin, hesitating before opening the door, wondering exactly what she would find.

She found nothing. Quintus wasn't there. But the bed had been slept in, the covers were thrown back. Sylvie ignored it and found a bottle of water. She drank most of it and then threw herself onto the couch and fell asleep once more.

When she woke up she found herself under a blanket with a pillow supporting her head. She groaned and hugged the blanket. But after a few moments she sat up and looked around the cool cabin.

Quintus was on the balcony. He was reading something and not looking in through the windows at her. His expression was blank as he read. She saw the sun beginning its descent behind him. She pulled herself from the couch and moved toward the bathroom.

Sylvie brushed her teeth and spent quite a while in the shower. And then brushed her teeth again for good measure upon emerging. She wrapped a bathrobe around herself and moved back into the cabin. Quintus came in as she was looking for something to wear. He looked a little sheepish as he spoke up.

"I made us a reservation at the fancy French place," he said.

"Oh goodie," she said, dryly, before she could really think about it. Her stomach sank and she bit her lip, resisting the urge to apologize even though she felt like she should. Quintus opened his mouth and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. But after that moment he closed it and bit his lip.

"We don't have to," he started, frowning midsentence as if he didn't want to complete that thought. Sylvie sighed as her eyes shifted from the comfortable, unflattering pajamas to the fancier outfits she'd brought. She wondered what his reasoning was for all of this. And if he knew she was completely unable to resist dressing up.

"May as well see how they butcher my country's cuisine," Sylvie commented.

"Come on V, you don't complain about English food. I'm sure their attempt at French will be fine. Others were raving about it. And the food on the ship has been pretty good, really," Quintus said. Sylvie raised her brows at him but didn't dignify that with a response. As much as she wanted to argue with him, as much as she wanted to call him an idiot. The fight just wasn't there.

So instead she plucked a dress from one of the hangars in the closet and started to change. He looked disappointed as he left. But she didn't have it in her to wonder why.

She changed into the retro-styled green swing dress, and found some short heels. She went conservative with the adornments, choosing only a pair of emerald earrings. Had she been paying more attention she would have remembered that they'd been a Christmas present from Quintus.

Once at the restaurant they were led to a table next to one of the large windows where they sat. To her surprise, their waiter's nametag indicated he was from Quebec City. He addressed Quintus first but Sylvie interrupted in her mother tongue.

The man smiled brightly back at her and they had a good three or four minute conversation that she could tell Quintus could follow none of. At some point she ordered the tasting menu and the wine pairing for each of them. The waiter left and she and Quintus sat in silence as they waited for their food and alcohol.

Sylvie spent the time looking at everyone in restaurant except for Quintus. She'd catch him out of the corner of her eye here or there. He continually looked like he wanted to say something. But he also continued to say nothing.

She wondered if it was their competitive natures dueling. She wasn't going to make it easier for him. Because that would be tantamount to his winning. And Quintus would never, ever, beat her. Of course, she thought with a smirk, he should be used to it by now. Before she could amuse herself with more of those thoughts, though, their food started to arrive.

It started with some sort of parsnip amuse-bouche and continued with an asparagus dish for her and a tuna dish for him. And then it continued on with a series of proteins. It wasn't the Starlight Plate, Sylvie thought, but it wasn't bad.

Quintus got her talking by saying she had to try a piece of his tuna. She resisted making a snide comment about not wanting any parts of his tuna near her mouth. But it broke the ice. They spoke of little but the food or the wine for the rest of the night. She was rather tipsy by the time the dessert wine came out.

And even more so by the time that they left the restaurant. Quintus led her somewhere that it took her far too long to realize wasn't back to their cabin. Although, as she realized that she also realized she wasn't sure if she even really wanted to go back to the cabin with him.

Which was a bit of a problem. She wasn't sure she could Apparate off the ship. Kreacher might be able to get her off it but she didn't want to risk him attempting to get to it. And she could already hear his commentary if she vented to him. Mistress has no problems that getting pregnant wouldn't fix!

A week ago she didn't hate him. A week ago she was actually looking forward to going on vacation with him. And now her shoulders were so tense she was pretty sure the team trainer would yell at her for not taking care of herself during their break. She'd have to con her way into a spa appointment, she thought.

Two weeks ago she'd found it. She hadn't meant to. Well, not really. Well, kind of. Well he was being weird it was his own damn fault. And he'd hidden it for shit. And it was all too fast anyway. She wasn't sure if she liked it. It was very vintage, with a floral halo. And vintage wasn't her, she thought, as she was wearing a vintage dress. But she'd only looked at it for a few seconds before snapping the box shut and returning it to the hiding place.

Still, it was all too soon. But even then, she knew what he wanted to ask, and what she would say. But now? Now she didn't know either of those two things.

Her train of thought was derailed as wind hit her face. She blinked the world back into focus as Quintus handed her a putter.

"What's this for?" she blinked at it. He pointed over toward a patch of green on the deck.

"Nine holes," he said. She raised her brows.

"We already ate. What's the prize?" She asked.

"Can't it just be for fun?" Quintus asked. He seemed almost disappointed.

"No," Sylvie said. "It cannot."

"Then think of something," Quintus said as he walked toward the first hole. He tossed her ball to her as he walked. Even drunk, the seeker caught it without even really seeing it.

"Well I don't know," Sylvie snapped. "It was your idea."

"How about Truth?" Quintus asked.

"What does that even mean?" Sylvie said.

"No idea. Sounded fanciful though," Quintus responded. "Ladies first?"

"Then you're up," Sylvie said. Quintus rolled his eyes and took the first shot. It wasn't a very long course. But the alcohol slowed them down a fair bit. And then, finally, she took her final shot on the last hole. It rolled wide.

"Fuck," she said. She walked toward the ball and kicked it in before returning her putter. Quintus smirked at her as he returned his own.

"I win," Quintus said.

"Cheater," Sylvie scoffed.

"How did I cheat?" Quintus laughed.

"By existing," Sylvie said.

"Well I can't do much about that one," Quintus said.

"Debatable," Sylvie countered.

"I'm going to ignore that one," Quintus said. He sounded hurt. Sylvie frowned after a moment and realized she'd just implied he should kill himself.

"Well, you've won the prize of Truth," Sylvie scoffed. "Whatever the hell that is."

"It means you can't lie," Quintus said.

"Because I do a lot of that anyway," Sylvie said.

"Or I can ask you embarrassing questions that you can't roll your eyes and ignore me," Quintus said.

"Because I do a lot of that, too," Sylvie said, rolling her eyes.

"I guess you have a point," Quintus admitted.

"Well, you're the one that brought it up. There has to be something you want to ask me," Sylvie said. She paused then and wondered if it was just some elaborate setup to The Question. Was he that dumb? Had this been his plan? And now, when they could barely get sentences out when talking to each other.

Sylvie took a deep breath and did her best to smile. She knew what she'd say. And, she thought, if she could at least look pretty, smiley, and perfect then maybe, years down the line, they'd forget the tension and just remember the moment.

She turned, expecting to see him down on one knee holding up a velvet box. But he wasn't. He was just standing a few feet away from her. His eyes were looking out over the sea and when he spoke, he blurted out the words.

"Did you and he?" he asked, his voice soft, barely audible over the wind.

"What?" Sylvie blinked. "Who..?"

"The American," Quintus said.

"Mark?" Sylvie blinked. Something felt off about that though. But before she could focus on it too much she felt the color fade out of her. She felt the fight fade away. That was all he wanted to know? That was all he wanted to ask her? That was his only concern?

"The blonde farm boy," Quintus said. Sylvie looked at him. Her vision blurred, her stomach sank. She felt a lump forming in her throat. And she felt the first tear start to roll down her cheek.

"You think?" she sniffed, her breath hitching in her throat as she tried to speak. "You think that poorly of me?"

"Well, you have been known to," Quintus started with a non-committal shrug of his shoulders.

"Fuck you Q," Sylvie said. Angry tears started to well in her eyes and rather than scream at him she decided to storm off. She wanted to Apparate straight back to the cabin. But he could have just followed her. And she didn't want to be near him. And, if she was honest, she wasn't sure she could Apparate from a moving object to a moving location. And, given the alcohol in her system, she didn't want to splinch herself into a wall.

It was all for naught though. It only took her a few minutes to realize where she was walking to. And why shouldn't she? There was absolutely no reason to not. She had every right to. And so, she did.

He hadn't returned to the cabin before her. She lit up her finger again and took off her dress. She grabbed the first sleepwear she found, which covered pretty much none of her, and threw it on. She'd obviously thought the vacation was going to go quite different.

The tears came in earnest then. She buried her face in the pillow and pulled the blankets close around her. She resolved herself to leave the next day. She didn't care what the others would say. She'd find a way back to civilization and go home. And that would be the end of it. She'd never have to think about the stupid boat again.

Well except for whenever she saw Boyle, or Cassie, or Quintus. But aside from those situations, she'd never have to think about the stupid boat again. And, she only had a little over a year left on her contract at Appleby. She'd been miserable for over a season before, she could live through it again.

Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.

It was still dark when someone else getting into bed woke her. She wasn't sure if that annoyed her more than her headache. But she was pretty positive it did. She curled into a ball and muttered into her pillow.

"Go away Q," she said.

"No," he responded.

"Go. Away. Quintus," she said again.

"No," he said again. He reached out and wrapped an arm around her. She squirmed against him, trying her best to get away from him, but he pulled her harder and then her face wound up pressed into his chest and the tears came once more.

She wasn't sure how long it went on for. It felt like an eternity until she was dry. She hated every minute of it. One of his hands traced gently up and down her back, the fingers on the other wove into her hair.

He held onto her as she cried. And continued to once she stopped. She didn't say anything though, and neither did he. Once the tears stopped, she took a shaky breath, trying to calm her nerves and her trembling body. His arms around her calmed her, if she didn't think about anything other than the warmth and security they provided.

Something different assailed her nose as she breathed in. A light, woody scent with traces of citrus and bergamot. It was nice. She took another deep breath, her eyes closed tightly as she inhaled. It combined nicely with him and she chewed on her bottom lip as she let him win.

"New cologne?" she asked softly.

"Yes," he said quietly, almost nervously. His body tensed against hers. She'd thought the old one he'd used was a bit excessive and she'd voiced that opinion to him a few weeks ago. Mostly, she admitted, she was indifferent on it. But it hadn't been her favorite.

"I like it," she said softly, her lips brushing over the skin of his chest as she spoke. There wasn't much avoiding it, given the proximity.

"Good," he said, letting out a long, relieved sigh.

"Still think it's unnecessary though," she argued.

"Of course," he said. His grip loosened around her and, rather to her surprise, she pressed herself closer to him, back into his warmth, the protection he provided from the artificially chilled air of the cabin. He didn't say anything as the silence fell over them once again. She wasn't sure how long she spent there, listening to his soft heartbeat and inhaling him.

But, like most things, it had to end. She grew annoyingly aware of how matted and twirled her hair was, mostly from his ministrations, and how smeared her makeup felt. She shifted away from him to get up but he propped himself up on his elbow and loomed over her.

"Do you need something?" he asked.

"I was going to get some water and scrub off my makeup," she said, wiggling away from him.

"Let me," he said, reaching for his wand. He summoned a bottle of water from the living area of the cabin and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said as she opened it and took a sip. She almost didn't notice him summoning a washcloth from the bathroom and conjuring warm water over it. He finished by conjuring a dim globe of light and letting it float in the corner of the bedroom. He turned and looked at her.

"Oh Jesus," he said. She frowned and felt the blush rise up into her cheeks. She turned to the mirror and frowned. What looked back at her was certainly not a Princess.

"That bad?" she asked, feeling immediately self-conscious.

"It's fine, you look good," he said quietly.

"Maybe if you're attracted to smudged racoons," Sylvie said. She held her hand out for the cloth but he shook his head.

"Let me," he said. She frowned but nodded, laying back down on the pillows. He shifted so he was sitting next to her and brought the cloth down on her face. It was soft and warm and she closed her eyes and let him paw at her. She lost herself in his touch.

She wondered where this Quintus was the entire trip. Why had it been so hard to find him? Why had they been so far apart on everything? Why hadn't he been able to realize that this was all she wanted? All she needed.

She sighed contentedly as he finished with her face and started to dab the cloth down around her neck, shoulders, and chest. It felt wonderful and she couldn't help the smile that curled onto her lips. Her body reacted exactly as it always did when he pampered her. But she kept her eyes closed and her breathing even, hoping to prolong the moment as long as she could. Wondering if touching her had the same effect on him that being touched did to her.

After what felt like far too short of a time he put the cloth away and whispered to her.

"Are you still awake, Sylvie?" he asked.

"Mmm, yes," she said as breathily as she could manage. She half-opened her eyes and peered up at him through her lashes.

"I'm sorry," he said. His breath hitched as he spoke, as if he wanted to say more, but no words came.

"Me too," she admitted, a pang shooting through her chest as she realized it was both the truth and that she didn't want to talk about it at all. She didn't want more confrontation or argument. She just wanted him to adore her for at least one more night.

"We should talk about it," he said.

"No," she responded.

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because," she started, but her mind jumbled and she wasn't sure how to word the rest of the argument, so the words died in her throat. Quintus locked his jaw and glared at her. She could feel the anger rising in him.

"This isn't doing us any good! We can't just not talk about it," he said. His shoulders tensed as he spoke.

"I don't want to," Sylvie said. Quintus balled his hands into fists, the muscles on his arms straining as he looked down at her.

"God damn it Sylvie," Quintus said. He closed his eyes and tried to calm himself. After a moment he added through grit teeth, the words coming out in a gruff staccato. "What do you want?"

"I want you to fuck me," she said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. She didn't even think about it. She just said it, knowing that it was the truth.

"Wait…what?" he said.

"I'm horny," she whined. "I haven't had sex since England. And you're either shirtless or all dressed up every time I see you. And you were touching me. And I've been prancing around in a bikini in front of you at every chance I get…"

"I….don't know that we…" he said.

"Do you not want me?" she said, feeling rejection rush through her. But it was quelled in an instant as Quintus's laughed at the absurdity of her question.

"Of course I want you," he laughed.

"Then let's worry about everything else in the morning," she said. Quintus took a deep breath. He looked like he wanted to argue with her. He looked like he knew what he was about to do was a monumentally stupid decision. But it was his turn to let her win. So he lowered his head to hers and let his lips brush against hers.

Need rose in him instantly and the kiss deepened into more. And then, without much fanfare, he was on top of her, ready to do exactly what she wanted.

Sylvie's felt a wonderful, familiar soreness as she woke. She stretched against his warm body, a smile curling on her lips as memories of the night and morning filtered through her mind. Her legs still felt weak as she stretched.

"Morning," Quintus said sleepily from next to her.

"Is it even still morning?" Sylvie asked. She propped herself up on her side, feeling his hand rest on her hip as she looked around.

"I don't know," Quintus admitted. He seemed to anticipate her needs in the morning and summoned more water from the refrigerator in their cabin. He handed one bottle to her and started on the other. She sipped it and groaned.

"We made a mistake," she said after she finished half of the water.

"What? Why?" Quintus said, sounding alarmed.

"We should have stopped at twice," she groaned, falling back into the pillows. "I hurt everywhere."

"I'm sorry," he frowned. "I might have gotten a bit carried away."

"It's fine it's a good hurt," she said. She paused for a moment then peered over at him and smirked. "Well, except for my ass. How many times did you spank me?"

"I don't remember," Quintus said. "But you kept telling me to do it harder, so."

"Oh sure, blame me," Sylvie said.

"Well if the shoe fits," Quintus teased.

"Don't make me pout," Sylvie said.

"You're cute when you pout," Quintus countered. Sylvie made a face at the comment.

"Little girls are cute," she spat. Quintus chuckled and leaned over, pressing his face into her hair and kissing her head once.

"I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place here. I'm pretty sure however I comment I'm either a pervert or calling you fat," Quintus said.

"Or both," Sylvie commented.

"Even better," Quintus laughed. He paused for a moment and added. "I'm sorry I hurt you."

"I can handle a little rough, Q," Sylvie said. "Although maybe be a bit gentle next time so I can recover."

"That isn't what I meant," Quintus said.

"Hmm?" she intoned, cuddling closer to him, wondering how hard it would be to keep him in bed all day. Not hard, she thought. And they could always order room service for food. Or there were those ice cream bars in the fridge. She smirked to herself, thinking the ice cream might have more amusing uses as well.

"I…well….I," Quintus started. She shifted against him causing him to pause as her body pressed to his. She slid a hand down his arm and took his hand, moving it around her to the back of her head. He took the hint and wove his fingers into her hair, twirling it gently, sighing contentedly at his touch.

"You were saying?" she asked.

"You are incredibly distracting," he said.

"Really?" she teased. She pressed a hand against his chest and started to very slowly trace it downward. "I'm not even trying to be. Would you like me to try?"

"Yes. I mean, no. I mean. Sylvie….I think we need to clear the air," he said.

"That's what the orgasms were for, Q," she countered.

"You are…" he shook his head.

"The worst?" she finished.

"Not what I was going to say," he said. "But I really wanted to talk."

"Then talk," she said.

"I said something malicious to you last night. Something stupid. Something that I think might have ruined everything we had," Quintus said.

"You're dumb," Sylvie said. "If you ruined everything I would not have been nearly as into the sex last night."

"Technically it was all this morning," he countered.

"Are we really going to argue semantics about this?" she asked. "Anyway, it just sort of proves a point."

"What's that?" he asked.

"We argue. We always have. We probably always will," she said.

"We didn't argue when we started dating," Quintus said.

"We were easily distracted by work and bed," she said.

"So every time we're not will turn into this?" Quintus asked.

"Well, I mean, if I'm being particularly bratty I think you've figured out the cure," she teased.

"I'm trying to be serious," he sighed.

"Me too," she said. "And I think we learned that maybe rather than making stupid accusations we should talk to each other."

"And be honest with what we're feeling at all times?" Quintus added.

"Yes," she said. She curled closer to him, seeming to shrink into a tiny ball as she voiced one question that lingered in the back of her mind. "But did you really think that poorly of me."

"No," Quintus said. And she could feel the honesty in his words. The unbridled magic of the truth evident in his conviction as he spoke. But he ruined it by sighing and adding, "I just…"

"What?" she asked.

"The other bridesmaids. The ones that turned up at breakfast and the events. They gossiped about you constantly. Snide comments mostly," Quintus said.

"Jealous cunts," Sylvie said.

"And they talked about seeing you with another man. Dancing with another man. Leaving a club with another man. At breakfast with another man. It was constant. I was…well…jealous and annoyed," Quintus said.

"So you thought," She started.

"No," he said. "I didn't. Not really. But no one would defend you."

"That's your job," Sylvie said.

"I know. And I did it. But they just kept talking. And you just kept not being there. And I was too stupid to do something about it. Too obsessed with making sure Boyle had a great time. He actually told them to shut up once or twice. But mostly they learned to just not comment around him," Quintus said. "And he pointed out your little dance party trick."

"I was just mad, there wasn't a trick," Sylvie said.

"Still, he asked me who I thought was more important. Every single person that you danced with without a care, or the one that you wouldn't but would always be in sight of," Quintus said.

"I don't think I'm that deep," she responded. "Although I did want to remind you of what you were missing."

"Well, it worked," he said. "And after that I wanted us to go back to being us. And dinner and golf is, well, us."

"You got the order wrong though. Golf first," Sylvie said. He chuckled into her hair.

"I never claimed to be perfect," he said.

"And your silly truth thing then," Sylvie said.

"I'm not even sure why I said it. I didn't have anything in mind. And then that question just sort of came out. It must have been bothering me more than I realized. I regretted it immediately. I knew how stupid it was. As soon as I said it, I knew I didn't believe it. I wanted a time turner to go back half a turn and just slap myself. I thought I'd ruined everything with it," he admitted.

"Well, you didn't," Sylvie said. "Not yet at least. I will tell you one thing, though."

"What's that?" he asked.

"As long as we're together anyone else that I sleep with will be a mutual decision for all parties involved," she said dryly. He snorted.

"I only want you," he said, sappily. She rolled her eyes but smiled at his words. "You'll have a hard time getting anyone else approved. And I'm certainly not into guys."

"Two guys seems like a lot of work if they're not into each other," Sylvie said. "Another woman can be a nice change of pace, though."

"You are absurd," he said, pressing his face into his hair as the obvious thoughts filled his mind. But he shook them away easily enough.

"And you're easy to tease," she said.

"I guess I am," he said. They were silent for a moment before she spoke up.

"Do you want to know what I thought?" she asked.

"Always," he responded, but he tensed against her as if he expected to be yelled at or a lecture.

"I thought you were going to propose to me after the golfing," she said.

"What?" he asked, positive he misheard her.

"You know, ask me to marry you," she said.

"Gross," Quintus responded, shamelessly stealing her favorite line. Sylvie tensed against him, her hand sliding off of his stomach, her brow furrowed as she glared. To her surprise he looked legitimately confused. Well, she thought, more so than normal at least.

"Excuse me?" she spat.

"You don't propose to someone at another couple's wedding party, Sylvie. That's like etiquette one-oh-one," he said, his own brows raised as if he couldn't believe she didn't know that. "It's their celebration. Let them have it."

"Oh," she said, feeling like a complete dunce. She buried her face back into his chest, hoping he wouldn't see or feel her blush. Reminders of her own selfishness filled her head. Had that been why she'd wanted it then? Had she not even realized exactly what the timing of such an act would be seen as? Did she even care? His hand wove back into her hair as he held her. He took a deep breath before speaking.

"What would you have answered?" he asked.

"Yes," she mumbled against his chest. His breath hitched in his throat and he tensed for the briefest of moments before relaxing.

"Even after…?" he let his voice trail off into the cabin.

"Yes," she said again. And then he tugged on her hair, forcing her to look up at him. He stared into her wide blue eyes for what felt like hours but could have only been moments before he pressed his lips as softly, as lovingly to hers as he could manage.

"Gentle," she whispered. And he obliged.

Hours later they cuddled together in bed, the blankets strewn lazily about them. At some point, and Sylvie didn't remember when nor was she quite sure how, the large plush mouse wound up there as well. They were quiet, awake, and enjoying silence.

At least until a strange buzzing filled the room. Sylvie lifted her head up, kicking the mouse off of her and Quintus as she looked around. The noise came from Quintus's phone on her bedside table.

Boyle had made them both get one. They needed them to appear more normal around the Muggles, or so he said. Sylvie thought it was stupid so she ignored his advice. Quintus, however, bought two. He'd spent far too long trying to figure out what the accessories and cases were for and had settled on a basic black case for himself. But he'd gotten Sylvie a pale blue one with rhinestones that was about as pretty as a plastic covering could be.

Still, the thing barely worked when she poked at it. The touch screen didn't respond to her nails, so she'd press her thumb fully against any icon hoping it would do something. Most time that something was flashing at her and turning off. It annoyed her that Quintus and Boyle did not have the same problems.

Still, she'd lost hers after five days. That wasn't strictly true, really. She'd been poking at it one night on her couch, sort of getting some matching gem game to work when Kreacher started watching her. Eventually, the game froze on her and she put it down on the table out of annoyance. Later, she would hear the same noises from the game coming from Kreacher's nest.

Quintus found the entire situation silly. And part of her knew she'd have to take the device back from the elf. But she certainly wasn't going to do that until she got him his own.

"Ignore it," Sylvie groaned as it buzzed again. But Quintus was already leaning over to check it, or at least make it stop buzzing. He peered at it for a few minutes before resting back on the pillows.

"Jonathan and Cassie want us to join them at Palo tonight. They have a reservation for four," Quintus said.

"Do they still think we're fighting?" Sylvie yawned, rolling onto her side and pressing her body against his.

"Presumably. I haven't spoken to them since last night," Quintus said.

"Mmm. What time?" Sylvie asked.

"Little over an hour," Quintus said.

"Not giving me much time to get ready," Sylvie said.

"You want to go?" Quintus sounded surprised.

"Well I'm hungry," Sylvie said.

"Me too," Quintus said. "But we can order in. Or go to our scheduled dining."

"If you want," she shrugged.

"I mean I'd probably prefer to do the group thing," Quintus said. Sylvie rolled off of him and stretched her arms above her head.

"Okay," she said.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes. Now go shower you reek of sex," Sylvie said.

"So do you," he countered.

"Excuse me?" she said. "I never."

"Right, sorry, must just be me," Quintus rolled his eyes. "Join me in the shower?"

"No," she said, sitting up in bed.

"Awww, please?" he asked.

"No," she said, frowning. "You'll just con me into sex and I'm way too sore for that. Sylvie needs a break."

"I won't," Quintus said. "I just want to pamper you."

"Promise?" she asked.

"Promise," he said.

"Well, tell Boyle we'll come then," Sylvie said. She slipped off of the bed and moved over toward the bathroom as Quintus responded to Boyle. He joined her moments later, as the water warmed to the perfect temperature.

To his credit, he did pamper her, washing her slowly and gently, caressing every inch of her in such a loving way she melted against him. When he finished with her hair, she felt so blissfully loved and relaxed that she couldn't think of anything to do except wash him. She let her hands wander as she did, figuring that he'd done such a good job he deserved at least a little reward.

When they finally emerged from the shower it was alarmingly close to their reservation. She frowned as she entered the bedroom and saw the clock and took the easy way out, summoning some underwear before looking at the dresses she brought with her.

Sylvie was thumbing a conservative blue maxi dress when Quintus made a disappointed noise behind her. She turned and saw him standing near their bed in perfectly fitted dark jeans and nothing else. She couldn't help but chew on her lip as she looked at him. Then it occurred to her that he looked almost disappointed so she arched her brows.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said, looking away. She raised her brows at him.

"Didn't we just talk about not talking?" she asked.

"Yeah but it's stupid," Quintus said.

"So?" Sylvie countered.

"Well, do you have anything else like what you wore the other night?" he asked.

"Of course I do," she raised her brows. "But we're supposed to be low profile."

"Yeah fuck that," Quintus said. "I want to show you off."

"I'm something for you to show off now?" she snapped. Quintus raised his brows and stared at her.

"No. But," he started but he seemed to fumble over the words then. Sylvie giggled at him before twirling around. While she spun she conjured a slinky blue dress. The slit wasn't quite as far up her leg as the one from the previous night, but it left virtually nothing else to the imagination.

"Well?" she asked.

"Wow," he gulped.

"We're going to be late," she said pointedly.

"Right," Quintus said. He finished dressing himself as she dug out some appropriate jewelry before they ventured back out to the ship.

The Boyles looked rather concerned when they met up outside the restaurant. Cassie kept stealing glances at Sylvie and Quintus, pressing her lips together but not commenting. It wasn't until part way through dinner, after the general pleasantries, that the new bride broached the subject.

"So, you two are good," Cassie asked as the appetizers came out.

"Well, as good as anyone can be when Quintus is around," Sylvie said.

"Ouch," Quintus said.

"Seriously though," Cassie said, frowning as she speared a shrimp.

"We're fine," Sylvie said. She raised her brows and turned her gaze to Cassie. "Unless there's some sort of offer forthcoming that might amuse me more."

"Uhm," Cassie blushed.

"Sylvie," Quintus groaned.

"What?" Sylvie asked. "It could be fun."

"I'm sure," Quintus said. "But perhaps it's best if you don't mortify the newlyweds."

"Fine," Sylvie whined. But her petulance had the desired effect. And once Jonathan and Cassie were done blushing the mood returned to normal. And it wasn't so different than any of their other dining excursions.

After the meal they found themselves on one of the decks, at some sort of party with far too many glowing neon lights and far too much loud music. Sylvie loved it, naturally. She fluttered around the makeshift outdoor dance floor, keeping herself entertained with anyone who would dance with her. It was mostly Quintus, but Cassie, Boyle, and some of the other bridesmaids earned her attention as well. Most of them didn't seem thrilled by it. But Sylvie didn't mind.

At some point, after twirling another of the bridesmaids around, one who seemed oddly giggly by dancing with Sylvie, she found herself with a drink in hand standing next to Quintus as fireworks exploded off the side of the ship. They watched the show, Quintus sliding his arm protectively around her as they sipped their drinks. When it was over they moved to sway to the music but were interrupted by a familiar voice.

"Sylvie!" Mike said. He smiled warmly as he walked up to the two of them. His eyes were bleary but his cheeks flushed. Quintus slid his arm off of her and turned to face the Iowan.

"You must be Mark," he said, offering his hand. Mike paused and looked at him. They were similar heights, and probably close in age. But Quintus, Sylvie noticed, managed to look far more confident, older, and…well. She bit her lip as Mike responded.

"It's Mike, actually," he said, frowning as he took Quintus's hand. "You must be Quintus."

"Oh, sorry," Quintus frowned. His gaze shot over toward Sylvie, she gave an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. He shook the American's hand and continued. "I am. Pleasure to meet you."

"You too," Mike said. "I was going to trouble Sylvie for a dance if it wouldn't be a problem."

"None at all," Quintus said. He managed to keep his tone positive as he looked back at Sylvie. "It gives me a chance to get us another round."

"Actually, I don't need another drink, Q. I'm pretty exhausted." Sylvie said.

"I'll leave you alone then," Mike said.

"But if you're looking for some fun," Sylvie blurted out in a moment of inspiration. Quintus raised his brows at her, looking almost worried at what Sylvie would find fun.

"What?" Mike asked.

"See the blonde over there? Green dress?" Sylvie said, pointing at the giggly bridesmaid. She was probably a couple of years younger than Sylvie, but prettier than most of Cassie's American contingent. Which, Sylvie thought, made her about half of a Sylvie.

"Yeah," Mike said, looking over that way.

"Her name is Ashleigh. She's really into smart guys who aren't total nerds as she put it. And I think she's from Indiana. Which is sort of like Iowa," Sylvie assumed.

"Not really," Mike laughed.

"Go flirt," Sylvie teased.

"She is pretty cute," Quintus said, peering over at the young woman.

"Well, okay," Mike laughed. "Don't be a stranger though, okay?"

"Okay," Sylvie said as the man walked away.

"What was that about?" Quintus asked.

"He's nice," Sylvie shrugged. "She's not awful. Someone should get laid tonight."

"I take it I am not getting laid tonight?" Quintus said.

"Don't feel bad, I won't either," Sylvie said. Quintus leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"You sure about that?" he whispered.

"Sooooooore," Sylvie whined. Quintus kissed her head again.

"Were you making excuses to get out of a dance, or are you really tired?" Quintus laughed.

"Super sleepy," Sylvie admitted with a yawn.

"Shall we?" Quintus asked.

"Are the fireworks over?" Sylvie asked.

"I think so," Quintus said.

"Then okay," Sylvie nodded. Quintus leaned over to kiss her before they walked back to their cabin.

Despite how exhausted she felt sleep didn't come. But she didn't have the energy to do much else. So they laid in bed together, watching some film where a pretentious man claimed he was a sorcerer purely because it was on when they turned on the television.

Sylvie nestled against him, letting her eyes droop even though she knew sleep wouldn't come. He ran a hand through her hair, letting it slide around his fingers as he watched the show. At some point his hand found hers, and his fingers toyed with hers. He absently ran them around her left ring finger and Sylvie didn't need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking about.

"Soon," she whispered, brushing her lips over his neck as her eyes closed and she tuned out the movie.

"Soon," he agreed, wrapping an arm around her. She couldn't help herself as she smiled against his skin. Part of her wondered what took them so long to get to where they were. It had to have been his fault. Certainly nothing she did would have delayed it.

She had to wonder, would it have worked any other way? If she'd been Clara would it have lasted? If she hadn't adored Quidditch would they have even spoken? Would she have truly fallen for him had they not wound up on the same team? Did a part of her owe her current happiness to her misery in Wigtown? The thoughts flooded through her as sleep crept closer.

But she knew it didn't matter. They were where they belonged. And in the end they'd gotten there. And now they'd cleared a hurdle. She couldn't know what the future would hold, although she had the strangest feeling she'd be outnumbered by Buttons. But, she did know they would be together for it. And they'd be stronger because of it.

Author's Note: This wasn't going to be published originally but then I figured screw it. It's done, and mostly edited, may as well toss it up.