"And when you meet him?"
Mimosa internally sighed. This had to be the tenth time her mother had asked her. "I'll smile politely, extend my hand, and say 'how lovely to finally meet you'." Scratch tenth, she had to have repeated those words fifteen times; so what if she drew out 'lovely' just a tad this time.
The mother's left eyebrow twitched and the hand resting on her daughter's shoulder stiffened. "I certainly hope I did not just detect sarcasm in your words."
"Of course not." Her face painted with innocence, masking her inner disgust. "You and father have thoroughly explained the gravity of making the right first impression."
"Yet clearly the importance has not sunk in. Your betrothal is the key to our family gaining protection; you must live up to the proper standards of a young lady, showing the House of Avery that you, and by extension the House of Santora are acceptable."
She rolled her eyes. "Really Mother, it's not like they'll kill us for forgetting to curtsy. And don't worry, I'm a veritable angel."
Her mother's eyes flashed dangerously and her fingers clamped down on her shoulder painfully, the long nails digging into her skin. "Mimosa, we need this. We have sacrificed so much to be here, to have the chance to be protected. Without this He will find your sisters, and he will take them. This is our only chance. She released her grip and turned to leave. "You will be expected if the foyer in ten minutes to greet the guests. Do not keep them waiting."
The teen gave her reflection one last glare. The whole situation was borderline Machiavellian, ruthless schemings of how to heighten one's power at the expense of others. Honestly, the word 'engagement' could be replaced with 'political alliance' and both the meaning and connotations of the arrangement would be unchanged. How could her parents condone her marriage in return for a membership in Backstabbers Anonymous? Would those power hungry bottom feeders really protect them? And how could they force her into such a virginal white dress? Eyeing the lace collar and sleeves, she briefly considered shredding them, but decided against it at the remembrance of her father's words, just hours earlier...
"I know you don't like this. We need a familial tie to get in and this is the only way. Mimosa, this is war, and in war everybody loses, it's just a matter of siding with those who lose the least. Your mother and I, we're asking so much of you, to grow up so fast; just know that your sacrifices now will keep you and your sisters safe. These next few years will be rough and it makes me so proud knowing that you're providing us with security."
The thought of her father's beaming face brought a smile to her lips and a warmth to her heart. She may not love Castor Avery, she scarcely knew him, however, she did love her family. She would do this for them.
Avery was undeniably late. There was no question about it; had it been ten minutes it would be forgivable, but Mimosa was pushing forty-five minutes of shaking hands and smiling demurely. She could understand being fashionably late, or even taking a few extra minutes to perfect an outfit, but this was ludicrous. If she had to kiss one more Great Aunt Griselda on the cheek, or introduce herself to one more second cousin Phineas she is going to scream.
Yet another hand was thrust, almost accusingly, in her direction. The appendage belonged to one elegantly stern witch, somewhere between the headmistress of a young ladies' finishing school and the heir to a small, Eastern European kingdom. "Mimosa is it?"
She nodded. The woman just oozed intimidation, and judging by the way her family hung back behind her, the girl wasn't alone in her impression.
"The Most Ancient and Noble House of Black offers congratulations on behalf of your engagement."
"Thank you." She murmured, slightly bowing her head.
"BANG!" The double doors of the foyer blew back on their hinges with a crash. The young man waltzed in and flicked his hair back, giving the room a cursory glance. "This is it?"
Mimosa could practically taste her mother's indignation. "Mother? Shall I go see to my dear fiancé?" The word tasted like battery acid as she said it.
She nodded, fists clenched. "I do believe that would be wise. Why don't you go keep your 'dear' fiancé occupied."
"Hold up," the older Black boy spoke up, "you're marrying that utter knob?" He started to say something else but was quickly silenced by his mother's swift death grip to the back of the neck.
She chose to ignore the comment, despite agreeing and attempted to inconspicuously rush over to the man of the hour. "Castor, you're here!" Words such as 'finally' and 'so you made it' narrowly escaped her sentence.
"Mimosa. Well, at least you're nice to look at." He smirked as if he had just said something quite clever.
"...I-I guess you're nice too?" She managed to mumble while making a valiant effort to pluck her jaw from the floor.
"So, have any food in this dump?"
Her hands were aiming for her hips, her mouth poised to ream him a new one; then near future of her parents' disappointed faces flashed through her mind's eye and she recalled her duty. This was for family, she was doing this for the better of her family. "It's right this way, just in the main hall."
Castor glowered at the wide array of food. The menu had taken weeks of planning, and the meal itself was an entire day's work. "I can't believe you don't have chips. It's wrong."
"It's our engagement dinner party. It's supposed to be fancy." Mimosa deadpanned. She had given up trying to reason with him two courses ago.
"Yeah it's my emengagement, so I should get what I want, and what I want is chips. So run along now and go tell the elves to make them."
She cocked an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"You're excused, now go."
"No, I won't be going, I am your fiancé, not your servant."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her in close, his voice dropping low. "That's right, you're my fiancé, soon to be my wife, and I, you're loving husband, will live with you until death do us part. So best keep me happy." He patted her cheek. "Run along."
Mimosa stood frozen for a moment, shocked by the complete 360 of whiny child, to intelligent schemer. She realized he was right, she was trapped. As she walked down to the kitchen she pondered what had just happened; it didn't seem real, as if she had detached from reality, but there were two things she knew: Castor was a spoiled brat, but he was no idiot, and she was trapped with him. She placed his order and returned just as dinner was starting.
She took her seat on Castor's right, assigned and predetermined, like everything else in her life. His hand gripped her thigh, his nails cutting into her. "Smile, Dear." He whispered through gritted teeth.
She smiled, sat pretty, and giggled at every lame joke and mildly insulting phrase. This was her life now. This was the rest of her life, her and Castor forever and ever and ever... The sharp ring of a utensil against glass brought her back to Earth with a start.
"I'd like to propose a toast, to the young couple, may their bond last an eternity. Castor is like a son to me, and I'm so proud he's found such a fine young woman."
She didn't know this man, she didn't even recognize him, she had never seen three-quarters of the guests in attendance, yet here they were, wishing their union be long. Why? Because it looked good. Her chest heaved, she couldn't stand it, she couldn't say here with phony 'May your bond last an eternity' chorusing around her. She needed out. "I-I'm going to the bathroom."
Her fiancé nodded and waved her away.
She bolted from the dinner and flew around corners, she had to get away, as far away as possible. Tears pricked at her eyes. This wasn't happening. Running down a flight of stairs, she missed her landing and felt her heart rise to her throat. As she flailed mid-air she had the thought, perhaps busting her head open and bleeding out was preferable to an eternity with Avery. She collided with an "Oomph!" Floors didn't go 'oomph'.
"What the fuck!?" A dark haired youth lay sprawled under her.
Oh, that makes sense. "S-sorry." She sniffled.
"Merlin! We're you trying to kill-" recognition dawned on him. "You're the girl marrying Knobhead."
She nodded while a sob escaped.
"Hey, hey, don't cry. I hate it when girls cry."
That just made her cry harder.
"Sorry... I... Do you want a smoke?"
"D-d-do I w-what?"
"Look, I never know what to do when a bird cries; usually I go for a hug or something, but, well, that might be weird. So do you want a smoke?" He offered a pack of cigarettes.
She gingerly plucked one. "Got a light?"
He passed her a zippo and stuck one in his mouth. She lit hers and gave the lighter back. They smoked in silence.
"Feel better?"
She let out a noise halfway between a laugh and a sniffle. "A bit, yeah."
"Like I always say, a good smoke can cure everything except cancer." He smirked.
"You don't really say that, do you?"
"Sure as shit, I do." He leaned back on the stairs and watched the smoke curl up towards the ceiling. "I'm Sirius, by the way."
She took a drag and joined him on the stair. "Okay, I believed you the first-"
"No, it's my name. Like the star, and I know, my parents must've had very little foresight at my birth."
She shrugged. "I don't know, I think I'd rather be serious than an alcoholic beverage, you know, Mimosa.
"Wow, that is bad." He admitted with a chuckle.
"It's all these stupid star names, I mean, I'm marrying a guy named Castor, like the oil."
Sirius shifted uncomfortably at the mention of her fiancé. "Can I ask you a personal question?"
"I guess so."
He turned to her, his stormy eyes watching her expression intently. "Was Avery why you were crying?"
She gave a heavy sigh. "Yes and no. It's just the whole situation with this marriage, I feel like I'm staring down the rest of my life, and I don't like what I see."
"Then change it."
"She will be changing nothing." Her mother's accented voice carried down the stairwell.
Mimosa rushed to extinguish the cigarette and jumped up. "Mother!"
The stern face of Lupe Santora appeared over the landing. "Mimosa, come with me."
One hand on her wrist, her mother pulled her through the house to her room. Her mother was going to kill her; the house elves would be picking bits of brain and bone from the carpet for weeks to come. "Mother please, I can explain."
"There is no need."
"But it wasn't all my fault, I swear!" She pleaded, the tears started to return to her eyes.
"Sit down, Mimosa. You're not in trouble." She gestured to the bed, then took the stool at the vanity for herself. "Have I ever told you of my engagement to your father?"
Her head shook no. Her mother rarely spoke of herself, especially in terms of the past.
"When I came to this country I didn't know a soul and didn't speak a scrap of English. When I met your father, I couldn't even pronounce his name, but we fell in love. Then we found out about you, and your father insisted we marry. I was planning on it anyway, so I said yes!" A smile ghosted at her lips. " on the night of our wedding, my heart was racing and I was so nervous I threw up. Needless to say, I couldn't take the pressure." She moved to her daughter's side on the bed. "It was wrong of me to push you so hard to succeed where at your age, I certainly could not. I've told the guests you've taken ill, you need not return. Mimosa, you've made me proud tonight and I love you, I don't think I say that enough. I didn't prepare you for today emotionally, that failure is on me, and come your wedding day, I promise I will not let you down."
Mimosa was enveloped in a gentle hug. "Mother? I don't think I tell you I love you enough either."
A/N Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this, believe me, I know it's rough, so if you have any tips, then I would much appreciate it. I'm rather new to writing anything that other people read, and therefore am quite green when it comes to stories and editing. Thanks again for reading, and please tell me your thoughts!/p