Disclaimer: I do not own the HP universe.
AN: Thank you for your patience; I never abandon anything...I just...wander...stray until I can deliver the goods? I've really appreciated your reviews. Thank you Kotilda, Bren Gail, marinavelamberti, Good Idea, wandering on the road of life, drmeck, KChertkoff, ninjakilla, and all my lovely named and unnamed guests.
Chapter 11: Romantic But Stupid
Walburga sighed and illuminated her wand with a soft "Lumos" to read the clock-face.
It had been over three hours since her disastrous evening ended and she still couldn't will herself to sleep the way she used to when she was young and Mother was awful and she knew she needed her wits about her if she was going to handle the next day with some manner of tact if not grace…and she could just shut her eyes.
Her door creaked open.
"Mistress?" Kreacher inquired.
"What?" she replied irritably, extinguishing the light.
"The other house elves are at a loss of what to do, Mistress."
She turned over to better hear. "What?"
"Young sir, Orion, won't leave the porch without seeing Mistress."
She gasped; he was still out there?! That was dangerous! They didn't even leave the dogs outside overnight!
She threw the covers off and hastened out of her room, nearly tripping over her servant in the hall. She moved down the stairs—jumping the last five and ignoring the jolt that went up her legs.
That imbecile! It only proved he never listened to her warnings about the dangers of gargoyles.
Not to mention the autumn air was icy.
Even the stone floor here, guarded from the outside gusts, was chilled beneath her bare feet.
She could only imagine sitting on the porch for hours-he'd be half-frozen.
She wrenched the great door open and Orion fell back with a soft oath; apparently, he'd been sitting against it.
She swallowed an instinctive apology because the fool deserved it.
Yes…yes, he most definitely did.
Somehow, seeing him in all his evening finery in the moonlight made the night rush back to her and she rounded on him. "You! Do you have any idea how dangerous-"
He blinked lethargically at her for a moment. Had he been falling asleep?! Was he a victim of the falling temperatures? Idiot! There were perils to be wary of!
"What are you doing here?" she demanded as he stared up at her. She set her hands on her hips and loomed over him haughtily. "I say again, what are you doing here?"
He sat up.
"Your elves wouldn't let me in," he grumbled as he stretched a crick out of his neck.
"Well naturally...Father's not home," she answered. Earlier, the servants had probably seen her running with him behind her and had assumed he was an... unwanted suitor and barred him entrance.
He slowly found his feet and stood up. He brushed at his clothes. "And that makes it alright to just forsake me-"
She crossed her arms and realized in that instant that the other reason she was feeling so bitterly cold was that she hadn't bothered to change into a nightgown. When she'd come home, she'd raced upstairs, cast her dress and jewelry off in a frenzy of frustration, and thrown herself onto her bed.
Which meant now…
Good Lord...she was standing in front of an open door in a chemise.
Thankfully, Orion seemed too tired and annoyed to notice or comment.
That was good. Now, she just needed him to go.
"I didn't tell you to stay," she remarked flippantly—hoping that a terrible attitude would hasten his departure. "And you shouldn't have assumed they'd hold the doors for you."
His eyes flashed and she hoped they weren't adjusting to the dark space she was standing in.
"Was I supposed to break my neck climbing up to your bedroom at the dead of night, woman? Was-"
"No. You were supposed to do the decent thing and realize you were an utter idiot and leave me be," she snapped.
That made him flinch.
But it didn't give her much satisfaction.
He sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and sighed again. "...Fine...that's just...look...I sent the carriage on hours ago and I'm too tired to Apparate. May I at least trouble you for some Floo powder?"
That wasn't terribly unreasonable and she moved from foot to foot wishing to close the door already-the wind from outside was making her all gooseflesh.
But it meant letting him in and…
All those stupid romance novels she'd taken to reading flashed through her mind's eye. She abruptly thought of the kiss he'd given her at the Ministry. Her face heated accordingly.
"I...I…"
"For pity's sake, woman," he growled—volume increasing, "do the decency" he threw the words back at her "of at least offering me some hospitality even if you won't grant me an opportunity to right our misunderstandings-"
"The floo' ."
"W-walburga?"
She moved back but not before the elves lit a few sconces to better light the hallway for their guest.
"Walburga, what the dev-" He glanced over her in bewilderment.
She felt her face warm even more and she hastily wrapped her arms around herself and stuttered out defensively, "I didn't know-had to hurry down—I s'pose they thought you'd just go but you didn't and they said you—gargoyles-didn't grab my dressing robe-"
"…" He nodded, then closed the door and locked it—his eyes never leaving her face.
She moved another self-conscious step back trying to conceal herself back in the shadows but he followed her there.
Would he do something rakish? Would that toe-curling sensation descend on her again?
Her heart hammered in her chest and she felt oddly rooted to the spot—as if an immobilius spell were on her.
In the gloom, he removed his cloak and coat and draped both about her shoulders.
"I'm sorry," he murmured in a far softer tone than he'd been using a moment ago.
"It was...er…dangerous...for you out there…you know?" she faltered as he took her by the elbow to guide her. Where was he leading her?!
A plague on silly romance novels, her imagination was following through various heroine's fictional encounters!
"H-hey...I am speaking..." she protested halfheartedly.
They wound up in the manor's Great Hall and he got a fire going in the hearth with a crack of his wand.
She was not disappointed.
No.
It was a logical place to take her. For him to take himself. Because…they were both cold and he was going to Floo away.
A few dogs growled as they moved past.
"Shut it!" she hissed and the hounds whined and bowed their heads.
One had to be firm with beasts or they took all sorts of liberties.
She expected Orion to maybe embrace her, or squeeze her hand goodbye, or give her a short but pretty farewell.
But instead of making use of the Floo and being on his way, Orion steered them over to a sofa where they both sat down heavily without the airs of usual propriety.
Still…
He didn't press into her or pull her to him.
He merely slumped against the pillows. She tucked her legs under her and used his cloak to cover…everything.
He looked worryingly overtired and she hoped he wasn't taking ill. But at least, if the firelight could be trusted, he no longer looked vexed. In fact, he wore an almost infuriatingly tragic expression on him.
"What?" she demanded.
"You've been crying," he stated miserably.
She went very still.
Damnation. Damnation! Good Lord! She hadn't bothered with removing her makeup and the streaming mess was probably all over her-
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
No wonder he hadn't commented on her lack of dress.
Fool that she was…
Thinking herself tempting…
"Don't-just don't look-" She angled herself away and had half a mind to put the fire out. "I'm not one of those woeful ingenues who look glamourous when I-"
But he gently tilted her face back towards him and very carefully maneuvered his handkerchief under her eyes as he repeated himself, "I am so very sorry. You must believe me. I would never injure you deliberately. Never."
His grave air was ridiculous. One would...one would think he'd done far more than simply tread on her feelings and insult her intelligence and taste.
Injury.
That was…that was a melodramatic way to phrase it.
For goodness' sake, he'd never raised a hand against her in his life!
Still, her heart did contract painfully when she thought of his tirade earlier.
No.
No. They were both overreacting. She wouldn't be overrun by emotion a second time in several hours.
"Look, you had plenty of things to tell me a few hours ago and more I expect now after being stranded here. Don't let this stop you."
He cupped her face.
"…Walburga…"
He looked wounded.
"Let's just get this over with, shall we?"
"…I never see you cry. Only once in my life before now…your mother's funeral-"
"Whatever you need to say to feel vindicated, do so and then-"
"That's a choice on your part, isn't it? It isn't that you don't-"
"Say what you must and-"
"You just don't let me see-"
"Orion…" she swallowed, "my eyes might betray me, but my ears won't. I'm not so weak I can't take your anger. Go on and say what you-"
"…I have nothing more to say on the matter," he stated quietly while he stroked her cheek. "I made my…feelings known and I…I profess…regret that I couldn't…articulate them in a-a-a way that didn't feel…confrontive. This…that…wasn't what I wanted…at all."
"Y-you don't need to mince words with me."
That agitated him. "I'm not a brute. You can tell me when my words are too sharp. I will endeavor to-"
She pulled his hands from her face and held them tight in her lap. "And I'm not a child. You don't have to be gentle-"
"I want to be gentle," he insisted as he interlocked their fingers. "God, Walburga, I just feel awful."
He freed his hands and used them to pull her close and she froze, a bit unsure of what was happening. "W-what are you…?"
He rubbed and patted her shoulders. It wasn't…unpleasant but it was…odd.
The moment didn't seem romantic or companionable or anything like the myriad of other experiences between them. The nearest thing she could remember was dealing with him after various misadventures…spending time with him or letting him tag along for chores or doting on him with a dessert. The physicality of the present moment was very different. And slightly disconcerting. If she didn't trust him so inherently, she'd have pulled away immediately.
He seemed to grow impatient at her lack of reaction. "Walburga?"
"I don't know what you expect me to do," she answered candidly.
"…what?"
She repeated herself and he drew back and stared at her for a moment.
"You're…" she fidgeted slightly. "You're trying to-to console me, aren't you?"
He paused and then nodded. "I'm attempting to do so."
Good. She felt rather pleased with herself. She'd read about this before and said so. That didn't seem to relieve him though.
"In an opera, this would be the part where I'm supposed to throw myself into your arms and cry. But I've already cried tonight and I don't feel like doing so again," she stated.
Still, all those theatrical scenes she'd scoffed and scorned in times past didn't seem as ridiculous as they once had. The embrace was rather warm and gentle. It didn't make her pulse race or anything and she couldn't call it passionate but…
He stroked her hair tentatively. "Walburga…when something…distresses you…whom do you confide in?"
"You," she answered readily and pulled back to make eye contact. "I complain to you all the ti-" She winced at how that sounded. "I…well…I do…though I'm trying to do better and not bother-"
"No! No, no, you are never a bother. You may always seek me out, or stay with me when you're distressed, or send for me…I will come to you."
She frowned at his rushed words. "That's…charitable but impractical and I…I cannot hold you to that-"
And yet…again, she felt her heart contract and her spirits flag—it would be too much to demand such. She knew that and yet a strange longing to pin him by such a promise needled at her heart of hearts.
"You shall or I'll go mad," he muttered.
She laughed—abruptly brought out of the dark feelings besieging her by the flatness of his delivery. She then surprised herself by boldly moving back into his embrace. Perhaps there was something to being held after all? His arms tightened. He was so pleasantly warm…
And her home was always cold…
"Orion?"
"Hm?"
"I am comforted. Your attempt succeeded."
He snorted lightly near her ear.
Orion stretched carefully as he awoke too early by wane morning light. The sofa had been a narrow space to fall asleep on, but he couldn't complain when it meant Walburga had been very intimately nestled against him.
Maybe his arm was a touch numb from her resting on it but…
She'd stayed!
That was…wonderfully shocking.
He remembered thinking that when she first nodded off against him instead of retiring to her room. When he began to drift himself, he braced himself with the likelihood that he might awake to find her gone-that matters of propriety would prompt her to leave him during some time of the night.
She'd stayed.
New levels of intimacy and trust were being reached!
He was still reeling, however, from her woeful lack of experience with consolation.
Yet…it explained so much.
He'd known for a long while that her father wasn't particularly…kind…and that he was ill-suited for providing affection and concern.
But now…
It seemed apparent that her mother hadn't been a source of that either. Which seemed criminal. Luca was very close to their mother—the bond offered much warmth.
Was that why Walburga had cried all those years ago? For a bond that had never been?
What sort of household let a daughter grow up without being held during moments of anguish? She'd been genuinely caught off guard by his support.
Were they a family that never embraced?
He thought hard on it and…couldn't think of a single birthday, holiday, or funeral where he'd seen Walburga hugged or led by the hand by any of her immediate family.
She and her siblings weren't particularly affectionate to one another…though he knew she went to great pains to select them gifts for different occasions. He'd assumed they were fiercely private and tenderness was reserved for less public displays.
He realized now…they didn't happen.
They just…didn't...happen.
He thought hard.
Even acquaintances and other relatives only gave fleeting faire le bises, handshakes, and hugs—often preferring to stand apart.
Her childhood…and even her adulthood…was looking bleaker all the while.
It damn near stunned him and gave him awful new insight into what being her "dearest friend" might mean.
As children they'd always been very affectionate and open to one another…so it wasn't that she was against forming such bonds.
They'd run about everywhere holding hands, had played all manner of games from tag to chess, and gone on a plethora of imaginary ventures as they tested out their budding magic.
She'd even confided to him that she liked him playing with her tresses; a hobby of his that had started long before and that he couldn't be broken of even when his parents warned him that she might not like it. Though not having her permission bothered him until he pointblank asked her.
An eleven-year-old Walburga had been lying on his lap and he was brushing her hair with a very fancy silver comb he'd nicked from his mother's vanity which looked, in his opinion, much prettier against his cousin's darker hair.
As his fingers moved, his parents' warnings echoed in his ears and, fed up with them ruining one of his favorite past times, he demanded answer from his fair playmate.
She sighed contentedly as he pulled the comb's teeth through—gentle with the tangles-"Yes, I like this game…Like I'm a queen and you care about all of me. Even my hair."
Then mid-adolescence began and the family began harping on her to be more "ladylike" and her hair got pinned beyond his grasp.
And that bothered him because it was such an easy way to show he cared.
As an adult she became increasingly more reserved and less physically demonstrative though she regularly doted on him with gifts and thoughtful services—he abruptly thought of her typing for him.
She was always very careful though…with everything; with what she confided to him, with what tasks she required his aid for, she never leaned too heavily.
Anything she did ask was always to be done "at his leisure." Anything that needed swift action, she tackled herself…regardless if she was the best person for it or not. Or if it would lead her into dangerous waters.
She…wasn't used to depending on…
He looked around the lonely estate.
Anyone.
Had resigned herself to it.
If last night's little speech was anything to go by, she tried very hard not to feel much at all and whatever overflowed either came out in venting or was dealt with by cloistering herself away.
It was a lonely, cold, piecemeal way of living that Pollux had likely modeled.
It didn't suit her. She was far too passionate. She needed more.
She shifted—taking advantage of the heat of his body and sighing contentedly as she moved her arm over his chest.
He set the strap of her slip more fully on her shoulder before pulling a blanket more securely over her.
House-elves must've supplied them with bedding at some point.
Her warm weight and her even breathing were lulling him back to sleep.
They could talk and philosophize more later.
"You see how ridiculous I get when you leave me?"
That plagued him.
"It may take a few years but…he is my dearest friend…I can wait."
Damn, it bothered him fiercely.
"I am so glad you came."
She wanted him in her life; that much was certain. And she was going to great pains now to show him he was appreciated. But it was strange to think she'd been deluding herself for ages…adamant that she could be satisfied by simply having him near in any capacity of shallow friendship…when there was an undercurrent of her wanting more.
He wasn't an innocent in the realm of attraction and while her mouth spoke of platonic platitudes of companionship, the rest of her bespoke different desires.
He gently ran a hand down her back and felt her press into him as she "hmmed" in satisfaction.
Her body knew he was more lover than friend.
O she'd harness and muzzle herself to try and deny it, but then…if she was dreadfully repressed and naïve…and truly believed she'd "ruin" things between them by allowing their relationship to evolve…deepen…mature…
Her rejection of him (gutting as it still was when he thought about it) made more sense. When he refused to reinstate their status quo and shut her out while he recovered, she'd…
He looked down at her slumbering form.
She'd suffered.
And that hurt him.
But it also…changed things.
She was trying new ways to express her affections for him…
"…If you don't like it, I'll stop…"
And she was responding to him differently.
But he needed to be patient. Make sure she wasn't moving into territory she wasn't prepared for in a misguided attempt to soothe him.
He didn't want to take advantage of her.
He wanted…
Several hounds were whimpering but he couldn't be bothered to care why.
Her with him. Yes. He wanted her with him. On every level.
He sighed and ran a hand over her long hair.
Hadn't he fantasized waking up to this vision of loveliness since third-year?
Everything could be sorted later.
He needed to enjoy the moment.
He chastely kissed the top of her head and she cuddled into him. He'd longed for this. He slipped his arms around her waist.
Her lips brushed against his collarbone.
Oh yes. This could be a wonderful new normal.
You would be my queen and never need feel anything but cherished for the rest of our lives, he thought determinedly.
Why had he woken up at all? When everything was so near perfect?
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Right.
More dogs whined as it became known that there was someone at the front door.
Right.
One dog howled and others joined in.
Walburga groaned. "Someone's at the door."
She moved and her curves pushed more deliciously against him—her form settling in places nature intended. He grunted as she propped herself up and forward on her elbows. They were nearly nose to nose.
He swallowed. "Yes, but I don't think we need bother-"
She blew a lock of hair out of her face and yawned. "Father's on assignment. I have to answer. It could be about him-"
Orion frowned at the suggestion; she was NOT dressed for that. "I'll go in your stead."
She blinked and looked down at him and her hair pooled around him.
Good God, she was beautiful.
"Thank you, dear," she mumbled as he shifted himself out from under her as much to answer the door as to remove himself from temptation. He damn near flew down the hall and away. What good were all his high-minded reflections about not rushing things if his body was keen on betraying him?
The cold air rushing by as he opened the front door was welcome.
"Hello, Ms-uh-" a chorus began and then stopped.
Orion glowered at the two Ministry men standing opposite of him.
They openly stared.
Annoyed, he asked them to identify themselves.
"We…we're from the Beast division of the ministry."
"Is there news about Pollux Black?" he demanded.
"Who…who are y-"
"Do you have something to drop off?" he tried again.
They didn't wish to tell him anything of note, yet they wouldn't just leave either.
It became an irritating conversation of answering questions with questions punctuated by long pauses as they stared each other down and answered in the vaguest of ways.
Unfortunately, the silence and tarrying begat new complications.
"Orion?" Walburga called as she approached. "Orion, who was it? Did they leave-"
He couldn't wave her away in time and misunderstandings abounded as immediate connections were made.
Her hair was loose and mussed. She wore only a thin slip and Orion's coat.
On realizing the visitors were still present, she hurriedly pulled the male garment closed.
But the damage was done.
The two men hastily tried to explain their presence. "We…we'd heard about the night…before and wanted to make sure you'd be…well enough for your work shift…today."
"Oh…w-well, yes. I will be. Thank you?"
They gave her stiff nods, him venomous glares, and then disapparated.
"That was all very odd," Walburga noted.
"You should've waited, love." He closed the door and bolted it. He ran a hand through his hair and then scratched at the stubble coming in along his jaw. "You wearing what you're wearing. Me wearing…last night's clothes…" He swore. "They're going to think…well…they're going to assume…" He couldn't look her in the eye. "…that we were…together."
"We were."
Lightning may as well have coursed through his blood as he felt heat rise in him. "N-no, we-" he swallowed "-were near one another…company and no more…"
"…Oh…" she fiddled with the cuffs of his coat and worried her lips between her teeth.
God, he wanted to kiss her.
"So…my reputation is…" Her large silver eyes sought his.
Ruined.
Her reputation as a lady was ruined.
They both knew it.
And it wasn't in the slightly scandalizing but ultimately harmless category of stealing kisses in a bookshop.
No.
This was…
People would say…horrible things…
Damnation. Why did he answer the door? He did this.
That cooled his ardor and filled him with guilt.
Life was about to be terrible for her.
Straight-laced thing she was.
She wasn't one of those coquettish witches he'd spend whirlwind weekends with. The kind who would laugh off jibes at her appetite for carnal attentions and batt her eyelashes seductively at naysayers.
His poor darling would be scandalized.
"I can…see what I can do…tell them I was making sure Flint didn't bother you…but it doesn't help that we had no chaperone. Blast…your father isn't home…I should've had Lucretia come over. Blast, should've left them knocking. Walburga, I'm sorry. I'll do what I can to salvage-"
She set a hand on his arm.
"I should've had a house-elf answer! I-"
"You didn't do anything ungentlemanly, Orrie."
He flinched at the hated nickname.
Ruined.
And they hadn't even done anything of merit to earn it.
She leaned against him. "How much can two men gossip?"
The answer was a lot. Quite a lot.
Three days after, when he was out for an evening drink at the Knights' Stronghold, Derek asked him rather flatly with more than a hint of disapproval if it was "worth it."
Orion's head jerked up and he glared.
Derek's lips thinned. "Not everything you hoped for then?" He took over for the bartender and poured Orion's drink himself—setting the bottle down hard.
Orion gave a potent frown. "I warn you, man, don't play games. What are you on about?"
The man's nostrils flared. "Walburga. I have long defended you because you are my friend. But this…I draw a line here. She was a true lady and an innocent. And I know you longed for her but…but…O, Orion don't tell me you used her cruelly. As a-a trophy, a notch, a means to prove to yourself-"
The glass Orion was holding shattered.
His friend's expression cleared. "O thank God. I can tell just from your face..." He calmly cleaned the shards up with a wave of his wand—depositing them into a waste bin. He leaned forward with interest. "Were you afraid Flint would return?"
He nodded. "And we had an argument…I hurt her feelings. I…I had to…fix it." He slumped against the counter. "I shouldn't have answered the door for her that morning-"
Derek made a noise of interest.
Orion frowned and shook his head. "I…I was angry that anyone should knock so early. I should've had an elf turn them away. But she thought it might be about her father…" He rested his head in his hands.
"Well, my wife will be relieved. Walburga's always been a great customer. Our girls are fond of her—she is an incredible duelist. And she's been awfully patient, signing all of their things. Honestly, we didn't know what to think when we first started hearing about it. I mean, Rion…we…we shared a dorm, whether I wanted to or not I knew you'd always fancied her. You talked about her constantly and you dreamed-" The man made a face and shuddered.
Orion raised an unimpressed eyebrow.
Derek wiped the counter down with a towel. "But…I also heard she was pretty er… friendly with you at that ball. Which is great news for you, mate. Always rooting for you. But I feared you might've been made too enthusiastic by your turn of fortune." He lowered his voice. "I don't mean to sound offensive. But I always sort of figured if you…if you managed it, your wedding announcement would be in the morning paper."
Orion's face heated up.
"And when it didn't…"
"You assumed the worst of me."
The wizard shrugged apologetically.
"Do you have an owl I can borrow? I need her to know the rumor has spread."
"Of course."
He kept his note brief and sent the owl on its way; her response came far quicker than he anticipated and in rushed handwriting.
She was about to duel and then had an interview scheduled after with a panel (supposing she triumphed which, the letter assured, she would). He was welcome to see her. Always.
His face warmed. Always. It said that. He pointed it out to Derek, who patted him on the shoulder and wished him well.
He stopped to buy flowers and arrived too late for the duel and he couldn't decide if that was a relief or not.
The bouncer he'd met months earlier barred his way.
"There-there were interviews?" Orion tried to explain.
The man crossed his arms. "Only family is…wait…I've seen you before…you're Black's beau?"
He shamelessly agreed—he might as well use the rumor while it was in effect.
The wizard opened the gate to let him pass and was told to continue through various tent tunnels and take two rights.
It opened up into a larger ceiling-ed tent where various private niches were set up here and there to accommodate duelists. No doubt the dwindling number of contestants meant more luxury could be provided.
Walburga entered with Malfoy trailing after her; her dress was ripped in rather provocative places.
And for a moment, Orion was truly stunned.
"I'm no stranger to being punched in the face by an insecure wizard!"
They'd ripped her dress…
They dared rip her dress!
Fury boiled in his blood at the affront. Had that already been happening? Or had that started since the rumor?
He made his way to her, fumbling with the clasp on his cloak—eager to drape it over her and offer some respite.
She performed a tailoring spell that melded all the remaining fabric into a new design; what had been a tame Victorian gown was now a halter style dress with a low back. And a rather low front for that matter.
Malfoy scoffed. "Trying to steal all the attention from the rest of us at that panel?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"Why not just trot out in your stays?"
"What a wonderful idea!"
Malfoy blanched. "I-"
"Another word from you and I'll lower the neckline," she warned. "Well?"
"…did it meld everything you were wearing?"
"Hm?"
"You were wearing stockings and bloomers before…and now you're…" Malfoy swallowed. "Not…did it meld…everything?"
Every wizard's eyes in the vicinity were on her then.
"Does it matter?" she asked too innocently.
A muscle ticked in Malfoy's jaw. "No."
She shrugged a bare shoulder. "Then it doesn't matter." She began to sashay away when she caught sight of Orion.
"Orion!"
"…W-walburga…"
What the devil was she playing at?
"Orion!" She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into what turned out to be her dueling station. It was bedecked in ribbons and other girlish odds and ends. She charmed the space for silence and magicked the privacy curtain closed.
"Orion," she near-gasped in delight.
He stared.
She giggled almost giddily as she took the flowers from him and breathed them in. "Lovely, thank you."
"…Right…er…Walburga? It's…it's come to my attention that a rumor-"
"O yes, yes, yes. It seems as though your reputation has worked wonders for me!"
He stared. "Wot?"
She giggled once more. "In a moment you will understand why this is so hilarious."
He truly doubted that.
She beamed. "I am no longer 'frigid' and this is considered normal behavior for you."
"…"
"O Orion, I have had more attention these past few days than the past 15 years! I'm no longer 'off limits' as it were. You've made me approachable." She threw her arms around him and rested herself against him. He stroked her hair even as he was bewildered by all her chattering.
What in the seven Hells was happening?
She looked up at him and grinned. "And everyone knows your habits." She toyed with his cravat, eyes sparkling with a mischief he'd never known. "So you see…you and I can be enamored with one another for a month or so but still have wandering eyes. And then you can leave me. Your family can pursue your courtship with Leonora. I'll have plenty of sympathy and interest as I go into the final rounds of the tournament. And we'll both achieve what we want. O it's so perfect."
He swore vehemently and not even in a coherent fashion—simply linking expletives in no particular subject-verb order.
She shushed him and splayed her hands playfully against his chest. "I know, I know, dear. It puts you in a spot." She traced her hand against his jaw and his heart nearly stopped. "I know you and your family are trying to win over the Selwyns. Think of it like a play. A tragedy. It's not like we're courting officially. Neither of our families have given their consent into us being together so it's all rather scandalous and ill thought out and doomed to fail. Which makes it romantic but stupid. Like those books you read."
"W-w-wot?" His brain was trying to make sense of all the strange things she was telling him. A difficult feat when she kept touching him in ways that made his flesh tingle.
"Just a month of play-acting. We both like kissing. So I don't think that will be a problem for us. And you are still the best that I've known thus far. Not that I'm particularly experienced, but I will say I've now gotten some better appreciation for the skill-"
"Wot?" he growled. She'd kissed someone else?! In the brief span they'd been apart? Who?
The curtain pulled back and Malfoy mouthed something at them.
She turned the silencing charm off.
"We're needed," Abraxas stated bluntly. "The interview's about to begin."
"Of course. Of course." She stood up on her toes, pulled Orion down towards her, and kissed him deeply.
Two months ago, she had not been able to kiss like that.
And he couldn't even properly appreciate it because it meant…
It meant there'd been others.
There'd been others.
She curled her fingers into his hair behind his ears.
There had been others since him…
There were several catcalls from passing duelists.
Her lips curved into a smile as she realized they had others' attentions on them.
Which was her plan.
Just as she wanted.
"I will see you after." Her silver eyes sparkled.
Effectively stunned and helplessly jealous, Orion watched her go until Malfoy closed the curtain on him.
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