When Cassie stepped through the floo, she was a little surprised to find Síomha at home — curiously, she seemed to be pacing in the sitting room, lurched to a stop and turned to the hearth as Cassie arrived. "Oh Síomha, you're back already? It can't be that late," she muttered, casting a time charm with a snap of her fingers. No, it was just after two in the afternoon, as she'd expected...

Síomha had left home early to go to church with her family, like she did many but not every Sunday. She did attend every Sunday, but depending on their respective schedules and what was going on lately it might not be convenient to go with her family, on those days instead heading for the one up on the Hill. Cassie had never been explicitly disinvited, but she'd never accompanied her before — it'd never really seemed appropriate — but sometimes Violet did on the days she went up to the Hill, as much out of boredom as curiosity. (Apparently the ceremony was in a mix of Gaelic and Latin, made it difficult for her to follow along in places.) When she did join her family, she normally stayed for dinner afterward, which could sometimes go on for some hours. Cassie hadn't been expecting her home until after four in the afternoon, and possibly as late as six — she'd been planning on a late dinner, well into the evening, since Síomha wasn't likely to be hungry before then.

So, she was home early, but maybe she hadn't beaten Cassie by that much — she was still dressed for church. Cassie was aware that there were rules for proper dress, though she wasn't entirely sure what those were, not helped along by different Christian groups having different rules, but she did know that when she was...attending religious things was pretty much the only time Síomha ever wore a skirt. She normally changed back into her usual clothes very soon after returning home, but she hadn't gotten around to it yet — a modest long dress (high neckline, sleeves past her elbows, hem down by her ankles) made of sturdy linen dyed in earthy browns and oranges, rather plain, the most obvious decoration the stitching circling the waist and at the cuffs and the hem. Pretty normal peasant dress, really, this sort of thing was all over the place in poor rural communities, it was still just a little odd to see it on Síomha.

"I left early." Síomha circled around the coffee table to meet her by the hearth. Her hands finding Cassie's, she leaned down for a peck on the lips...

...or at least that seemed like that'd been the intent, but she was hardly a breath away before she reversed directions to kiss her again. Feeling herself smiling a little, Cassie leaned into her, one hand finding the back of Síomha's neck, smooth warm tingles trickling down her neck with each slow, soft press of her lips.

Síomha felt jittery, unusually tense and faintly twitchy — something was going on. So Cassie wasn't surprised when, after a few seconds, she broke the kiss, leaning a little away. "Ah... I have news."

"Good news, I hope." She thought so, but it was hard to say for sure.

"It is."

"All right, then." Cassie tipped on her toes to steal another quick kiss — Síomha was a few inches taller than the height she normally made herself, but that was kind of fun in its own way, so she left it like that — before letting go and taking a step back. "I need to change out of these, you can tell me on the way. Come on."

She dipped by the entrance to take off her shoes, Síomha waiting at the foot of the stairs with a familiar creamy white shawl folded over one arm. (One of those dress rules involved covering the head, though she'd never actually seen Síomha with it on before, just in photos.) Skipping past and up, Síomha grumbling something about running in a corset — that wasn't difficult, Síomha simply wasn't accustomed to wearing them — she stepped into their bedroom, shucking off her overrobe and tossing it over to hang off the back of the vanity chair. She loosened the laces of her corset with a sweep of wandless fingers, and in a moment was down to stockings, pants, and her wand holster, poking through the closet, hmm, they'd probably just be hanging around the house tonight...

Síomha let out a little low scoff. "You wore lacey knickers to a fancy business meeting?"

"Sure, why not?" She turned to throw a smirk over her shoulder — Síomha was sitting on their bed, leaning back on her hands and her legs crossed at the knee, her dress abandoned to leave her in only pants and a vest, which was quite distracting. In a forced innocent tone that didn't match her expression at all, she said, "It's fun to get all dressed up. Besides, it's not like anyone was going to know I had sexy knickers on — it wasn't that kind of business meeting."

"...Is there a kind of business meeting where people might figure that out?" Síomha asked, frowning — in a kind of tone like she didn't know the answer, but also wasn't certain whether she wanted to.

"Not the sort women normally participate in, no." Síomha probably didn't need to know that it wasn't unheard of for business partners or political allies to visit brothels together. Or so she heard, anyway, obviously she'd never been invited to that sort of thing. "Anyway, what was your news? Did something come up, or was it family-related?"

"Family-related." For a moment, Síomha didn't say anything, Cassie turning back to the closet. After that little aside about her knickers, she was feeling a little playful, so maybe something on the flashier side... "Come here and sit down for a second."

Cassie frowned, but shrugged it off. Síomha had said it was good news, earlier. Pulling down a particular red and blue dress — sleeveless, and also backless, because playful — she sauntered over to the bed, spun around and plopped down next to Síomha, her weight hitting the mattress making them both bob a little. "It's big news, I take it, if you want me sitting down for it."

"It is." Sitting up, Síomha hesitated for a second, staring down at the bedcovers next to her knee, apparently trying to figure out how to word whatever it was. "Easter is late this year. I know it will be an event, I don't know how long it takes to arrange these things, but if we can't be ready before March it'll need to wait until the end of April, at least."

"...What?"

Meeting her eyes — her lips twitching, badly suppressing a grin — she said only, "It isn't proper to hold a wedding during Carghas."

Cassie blinked. "Hold a...? You mean, Diarmaid is...?"

Her hold of her expression slipping a bit, she nodded, quick and jittery. "I spoke to my uncle today—" The head of her family, she meant. "—and, I didn't know this, but they've been speaking, and... He suggested we start planning — Dad will be ready in time."

"Oh. Well..." Trailing off, her head abruptly going fuzzy, for a moment she just stared at the wall. "You're sure?"

"I didn't speak to Dad about it myself, but that's what I was told. Hey," Síomha added after a second, her voice dropping a little, her hand finding Cassie's, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just..." Except there was no real way to finish that sentence — Cassie had felt it looming over her, abruptly, but that wasn't a bad feeling. A bit intimidating, yes. It was going to be an event, as Síomha had said a moment ago, and, this might be silly, but Cassie couldn't help the feeling that all the formal theatrical Society horseshite would scare Síomha off, that she would change her mind and...

That would be bad. She hadn't really thought about it, consciously, until that day nearly a year ago now, and since then, with Síomha properly moving in and talking about it and telling people and all...

Technically, they were already married, of course, in countries that would recognise it — which just so happened to not include the one they lived in — but she knew that Síomha didn't truly think that that little civil ceremony on the beach in Italy had counted. Which, fair enough, because it didn't in Britain, and it hadn't been a real wedding as most people from either of their social circles would recognise one, so...

She realised she was being ridiculous but, well, she was used to people leaving her behind. And she wanted this to happen, very badly — the fear she'd fuck it up somehow was irrational, she knew that, but she couldn't help it.

(She was aware that her asking whether Síomha still wanted to do this had gotten annoying, very quickly, so she tried to keep that paranoia to herself.)

But it wasn't just her being neurotic. She was Lady Black, so her marriage would be a significant social event — doubly so given the Family's dramatic near extinction in recent decades — and would also be a subject of prurient fascination and scandal, due to them both being women...and also due to Violet, she supposed. It was going to be a trial, not only on the day itself but going on for months, so looking down the road at that was...bracing.

Not that she was second-guessing, of course not — she did want this. But, complicated feelings, hard to articulate.

So instead she leaned over a little, pressed a kiss to Síomha's bare shoulder. She felt Síomha turn her face into her hair, after a few seconds wormed her hand out of Cassie's, that arm curling around her waist instead, Síomha's shoulder warm against her face. After a couple shifts of position over the next minute, Síomha laid back, Cassie turning to lean half over her, face tucked into the crook of her neck. They laid there for a couple minutes, quietly breathing, Síomha's fingers lightly tracing over her back.

Eventually, Cassie muttered, slightly muffled against Síomha's neck, "I don't know. What all goes in to planning a proper wedding, I mean. I've attended plenty over the years, of course, but I've never been on this side of one. Obviously. We can aim for February, though, that might be enough time."

"Okay. Ah...what will that look like, exactly? I haven't been to a lot of fancy aristocratic weddings."

"Mm..." That was somewhat hard to answer, honestly. Social events like weddings tended to feature extremely conservative elements in some areas, but others tended to be far more open to modern stylistic trends — and Cassie hadn't been to many fancy aristocratic weddings recently herself. She'd have to ask Cissa, or...well, not her old friends and cousins but, say, their grand-daughters, maybe. (At some point, Cassie had become old.) "What I remember may be somewhat old-fashioned. But in my time, there would be a vigil, with only the families, hosted by the bride's family — well, more precisely the family of the one who is leaving their family for the other, sometimes the genders are swapped. After breakfast in the morning, the groom's party leaves for where the ceremony is to be, all parties prepare, guests start arriving. And then the bride comes and the ceremony begins, and then the party after that, normally going well into the night. Hosted by the groom's family, normally."

"Not the bride's family?"

Cassie shook her head, her nose rubbing against Síomha's neck, making her twitch a little. "Think of it like a grand welcoming — the family celebrates bringing in a new member, and also signals to their new in-laws that their relative is welcome and will be well-treated."

"...I see. I guess that makes sense. And, where would we do that?"

"Normally? Ravenhome. But I'm guessing you would prefer to hold it somewhere else."

She could practically feel the grimace on Síomha's face, despite being completely silent, the circling of her fingers on Cassie's back uninterrupted. "No, that place is...a bit much. Pretty enough, but."

"Yeah, it can be." Cassie paused for a moment, thinking — Síomha's fingers rubbing along her spine just above her hips didn't make that easy, letting out a low hum, pressing herself closer against her. "Ancient House. Out on the grounds."

"That might be nice. If it won't be too cold in February."

"We can put up environmental wards. There's an open spot down by the old cider mill that might do nicely."

"Is that where we had Lord Arcuturus's funeral?"

"No no, southwest, along the creek down there. I'll show you later." She blinked, suddenly remembering. "My niece Walburga was married down there. She wanted a...more explicitly religious ceremony — she was quite devout, Venatrix Trivia—" Not coincidentally, the same cult the Dark Lord had been a priest of. "—and those are better done outdoors. There's room, is my point."

"Speaking of, ah..." Síomha trailed off, going slightly tense against her, seeming to hold her breath for a second. "The ceremony itself, what...what is that supposed to be like?"

"I don't care."

"Huh?"

Cassie shook her head. "The Blacks had certain traditions, going back however long, with some newer practices associated with mos maiorum layered on top. But I don't care about that. I figure you're going to have stronger preferences when it comes to that sort of thing than I am."

"...Are you sure?" Síomha didn't sound like she entirely believed her.

"I am. It isn't..." She frowned against Síomha's neck for a moment, thinking how to put it. "The Family is all but dead. There is only me, my brother Pollus, a few women married out into other Houses. We flamed out, hard, in these last generations. I flamed out — I'm not Cassiopeia Black anymore, or at least not who that used to mean. I've been becoming someone new and, as I am all that remains to the Family, it only feels right that the Family is to become something new as well. And not even for the first time, the House of Black has nearly been driven to extinction more than once now, shaped by the disaster into something...not unrecognisable, but changed. If nothing else, the Blacks go on, whatever that means.

"And, well, this new House of Black, you are to be half of it. It's only appropriate for you to have a hand in shaping it as well. Whatever you wish to do, we can say that is the new way the Blacks do it, if you like."

Síomha was silent for a moment, thinking, so intensely that her hand had stopped drifting for the moment, resting lightly on the small of Cassie's back. Finally, she muttered, "It is funny. Sometimes you can be so sweet, sometimes you can be a bit sad — and here you are, being both at the same time."

Cassie snorted. "If you say so."

"Mm. I am..." Síomha paused, tense, when she spoke again it was with a peculiarly delicate tone on her voice, one Cassie didn't know how to read. "Must the ceremony and the reception be at the same place?"

"Most often it is, but there is no reason it must be. Why?"

"...I'd like it to be in a church. If that's okay."

That wasn't much of a surprise, when Cassie thought about it, but...she'd thought there were rules about that? After a second of hesitation, she pushed herself up onto an elbow, so she could properly make out Síomha's face — she looked a bit wary, watching her back, though what exactly she was worried Cassie might say she wasn't sure. "I have nothing against having a Christian ceremony, if that's what you want. Some of my peers might be catty about it but, well, they can get fucked." Síomha's lips twitched, amused, successfully breaking up the unease a little. "But, is that allowed? I thought there were rules about that. We are both women."

With a little, stiff shrug, Síomha said, "It happens. I haven't been to one, but I know people who have. I don't think they're supposed to, the Vatican doesn't approve, but some of our priests will do it anyway."

Oh. Well, okay then...

"I'm not sure," she started, breaking eye contact and sounding a bit uncomfortable again, "but I think you might have to be baptised. Maybe."

Right, she'd thought there might have been something like that. She was hardly an expert, but she vaguely remembered something about Christians having a rule that they were supposed to only marry other Christians — she recalled that was what their initiation ritual was called, so. "I don't know about that. I don't..." She let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through her hair, staring blankly at the wall. "I know this is important to you. I don't truly understand it — I never understood religious conviction too well, to be honest — but I don't need to understand it to respect it. And, in that light, an insincere conversion would feel like an insult, to you. I think."

Somewhat to her surprise, Síomha smiled, her eyes bright. "You're adorable. Adorable, but unnecessary — that's not how it works."

"...I was under the impression baptism was a kind of initial ritual."

"Sure, I guess you could call it that, but it's not—" Síomha cut off, frowned up at the ceiling for a second. "It's complicated. I don't know how to explain it without using language you don't have the background for. I don't think you have to convert."

"I don't understand, I thought that's what baptism was."

"Ah..." Pushing herself up onto her elbows, Síomha hesitated, biting her lip. Cassie could see her take a girding breath before her eyes turned to hers again. "We can go ask, if that's okay with you?"

"...What, right now?"

She shrugged. "Sure?"

With very little in the way of further discussion, they got out of bed and dressed to leave. Cassie returned the showy dress she had gotten out of the closet, and then stalled for a long moment, flipping through her wardrobe — she was certain that one would have been inappropriate, but beyond that she wasn't certain. She had been in a church before, even a Gaelic one, but the culture wasn't something she was very familiar with, to say the least. There were rules, about propriety, but she wasn't certain what they were. She worried about it less when she noticed Síomha retrieve a pair of muggle denims and a button-up blouse. Perhaps, the rules concerning dress were more strict when it came to their weekly ceremonies, but if it was a more informal visit, then it was a bit looser?

Or perhaps Síomha simply didn't care as much when her family and their neighbours wouldn't be around to see her, it was hard to say.

She picked a white and yellow dress that hopefully shouldn't be a problem — Síomha didn't object, at least — and they went back downstairs for shoes. Cassie noticed Síomha loop her shawl around her arm, asked if she should be bringing something to cover her head too — apparently not, all right then. (Honestly, she should probably ask to have the rules written down for her at some point, just in case.) Once they were ready, Síomha took her arm, and apparated them away.

There should be no sense of motion in apparation, but perhaps Cassie had developed some instinct for it over the decades, or had simply been to enough of their country to have a feel for its texture — she knew, instinctively, that they'd moved to the southwest, not far from Limerick and near Síomha's family home. They were standing in a small town square, absolutely ancient-looking, paved in crumbling stone, tightly-packed buildings on all sides in late mediaeval style, brick and plaster with wooden cross-braces. Besides what were likely private residences and businesses, there were also public buildings on the square, one that was definitely a bathhouse of some kind, a public floo, a few sanctuaries.

Of the religious buildings, what was obviously a church had a place of prominence, with a modest green courtyard around it, but that wasn't really a surprise. This would be Ennis — or Inis Laoi as the local mages called it — which Cassie was aware had been a regional centre of Christian scholarship once upon a time, until the English Crown had effectively suppressed Catholic institutions throughout their holdings, not long before the start of Secrecy. In Ennis, the local priesthood had attempted to continue in secret for a time, the attempt to hide them from the English authorities responsible in part for the magical enclave in Ennis isolating themselves somewhat early, partially insulating the local mages from the devastation of Ireland through the 17th Century — when the English had come, at least they'd already had somewhere prepared they could hide.

(She still didn't quite understand the religious conflict ongoing at the time, but that much, at least, had been explained in her history studies back in adolescence, ages ago now.)

Though, now she primarily knew Ennis as Síomha's hometown. Her family were predominantly rural peasants, of course, centred on the farmland deeper west into the county, but she'd actually grown up in Ennis — or, if not Ennis proper, one of the little villages on its fringes that was normally considered a part of it. Before she'd started at academy, when people said they were going into town, they meant this modest little square here, a magical enclave hardly a couple blocks wide. Small enough it wasn't implausible for a resident to be familiar with everyone else who lived here, would hardly rate the designation as a town were it not for its historical importance, and its function as the centre of local government, housing a primary floo hub and the like.

As one would expect from such a minor settlement, the square was quiet, few people walking about, hanging around a teahouse just there. Many of the businesses around were even closed, as Cassie knew wasn't unusual on Sundays in the more strongly Christian regions of the country. Quiet enough that she could even make out the subtle modern industrial noise of the muggle town surrounding them — once a twin of the magical enclave, now dwarfing it by several times, until the mages had been entirely enveloped, forcing them to expand into an archipelago of smaller settlements, tiny villages bound to each other only by the floo. Like so many other magical towns, honestly, the explosive expansion of muggle cities during the 19th and 20th Centuries had simply been too rapid for mages to accommodate in their own planning.

After getting their bearings, Síomha began to lead Cassie to the church, walking across the square arm-in-arm. The church was relatively modest, as one would expect for such a community, but while it wasn't impressive in scale the construction was more complex than she might have expected — old, with the spire and the pointed arches and panes of colourful stained glass, maybe Gothic? (She was hardly an expert, but Violet would know.) There was a gate at a gap in the wall blocking off the church grounds from the square, but it was hanging open, the two of them simply walked in. There were trees around the edges of the grounds, much of the open space covered in grass, but there were also grids of cultivated plants filling significant fractions of the space...mostly herbs, by the look of it, common potion ingredients.

There was a man tending one of these patches — older, likely over a hundred fifty, wearing a simple linen robe, a small round cap warming his close-shaven head — collecting little bundles of sage and thyme. Síomha turned in that direction, once they were at a polite distance asked if there was anyone in at the moment. A Father Caoimhín was in the workshop, Síomha thanked the old man, and turned toward the main doors of the church — also hanging open, Cassie noticed.

Once they were out of earshot, not quite to the entrance, Síomha muttered, "Father Caoimhín has been here since... No, not before I was born, after that. Since before I can recall, at least, I was very young."

"Is this where your family goes?"

"It is." A few metres away from the front doors — tall and double wide, an arching frame around it with little curly elaborations, relatively plain but well-made — Síomha stopped, disentangled her arm from Cassie's. She untied the shawl from around her arm, looped it over her head, both ends coming around to loosely settle around her neck and shoulders (hiding the neck of her blouse) before turning to droop down her back. It didn't completely cover her hair, as Cassie knew some people did, but she assumed Síomha didn't intend it to. "Father Caoimhín is..." She glanced away for a second, hesitating, her eyes eventually finding Cassie's again. "He gave me some advice once — if he'd told me something different, we wouldn't be here right now."

Cassie felt her eyebrows arch up her forehead — she was curious what exactly that advice was now, but this probably wasn't the time to ask. "He's important to you, I understand." Sure, she didn't truly understand religion, but she didn't need to to get that people could have quite strong relationships with their spiritual mentors, she'd seen it often enough. "I'll be polite, I promise."

Síomha nodded and, looking a bit nervous, turned to walk into the building. They came into an entryway, somewhat shadowy, broken up by the light streaking in through the door and the windows overhead, the ceiling higher than she'd expected, filling up much of the tall front face, two stories high. There were spaces to the side, with racks and stacks of things she passed over as unimportant, in the centre in front of them...some kind of fountain? Stone, the basin maybe a metre wide and standing at about waist-height, the construction rather plain save for a repeating trefoil sort of design along the rim, water quietly burbling up at the centre. In passing, Síomha dipped her fingers into the water and made some kind of gesture — Cassie hadn't been looking at the time, missed it — but she hardly even slowed, leading the way to a set of open double doors set into a wooden screen wall ahead. She paused at the threshold for a second, turned to give Cassie a quick shushing gesture, before continuing on through the doors into the body of the church proper.

The main body of the church was, surprisingly, empty. An open space with a double-height vaulted ceiling, rows of stained glass on the second level letting in tinted light, maybe twice as deep as it was wide — she'd expected rows of benches or chairs or something, but instead the floor was empty, showing the stone tile arranged in a colourful geometric pattern, designs at certain spots on the floor Cassie assumed must indicate something. There were windows up on the second level, but the main floor was separated from more space to both sides on the ground level by rows of columns, the space between the columns blocked with a wooden screen, colourfully painted and carved with curly floral embellishments. There were gaps and doors in the screens, Cassie thought she might see some kind of furniture out there, maybe for people who couldn't stand through the ceremony? She didn't think she'd ever seen a church without seating, maybe the design was simply archaic...

Síomha led her ahead through the empty church, so quiet Cassie could easily hear the clicking of their shoes ringing through the open space, the air feeling thick and warm and rich, tasting vaguely of paper and burning candles and smoke. After a short walk — the design was relatively impressive, especially for its apparent age, but the church was still quite small — they reached the end of the screens to left and right, the walls pulling back, making a wide open hall perpendicular to the rest. It looked like there was some kind of shrine to the south and seating to the right, but Síomha kept moving, not giving her much time to look. On the opposite end of the wider space, a thick beam crossed overhead, at about what would be ceiling-height of a single storey, perched at the centre of it a large cross, maybe two or three feet high — one of the ones including a depiction of Jesus nailed to it, which had always struck her as quite morbid? Curiously, a curving metal frame arched around the cross, herbs and flowers woven into it, surrounding the cross in a verdant semicircle. That was interesting, Cassie didn't think she'd ever seen that in a church before...though, not like she was an expert, of course...

There was a shallow step up as they crossed under the beam, the walls pulling back in to about the same width as the main body back there — though it seemed somewhat more cramped, as there was actually seating in here. Not that much, true, a single row of benches to either side, a long wooden rail a short distance in front of each row overly-wide and slanted, perhaps meant to rest books or something on. The benches had more curling decoration carved into them, and the stone of the walls overhead had been covered with a layer of more wooden carvings, geometric and floral designs and here and there human figures. The way the figures were colourfully painted and wreathed with intricate decorative carving suggested they were supposed to be important, but Cassie didn't recognise the symbolism well enough to identify them. (Likely she'd never heard of whoever they represented regardless.) Ahead, the length of the building ended in a curved wall, the ceiling coming into a semi-dome, the surface of the dome and the walls colourfully painted with unfamiliar scenes and characters and gilded with what she assumed was alchemical bronze and steel.

In that semicircular recess, separated from the the section they were walking through now with a waist-high wooden railing, was what was obviously the altar. There was a flat table on a platform elevated up a few steps, the surface covered with a plain white cloth. Behind the altar were were some cabinets, wooden doors decorated with golden (alchemical bronze) tracery, at the centre, high enough to be easily visible, was a shiny gold and silver (alchemical bronze and steel) container of some kind, vaguely chalice-shaped but covered, the surface elaborate with floral knobs and sharp vertical spikes. From its central position, Cassie assumed that thing must be important, but she honestly had no idea what it was. There were multiple candle-holders around, lit and low-burning, which would be where that subtle waxy smell throughout the church was coming from, an iron lamp of some kind up and to the side, glowing with a soft orangish light — magical, she assumed.

It was pretty, of course, but she didn't have the context for the significance of any of it. For example, on approaching the railing blocking off the altar, Síomha dipped to one knee, her hand moving in some kind of gesture — Cassie had no idea why she did that. She nearly asked out loud, wondering if maybe she was doing something wrong simply standing here like an idiot — before she could she remembered Síomha shushing her at the entrance, caught herself at the last second — but apparently not, since Síomha looped her arm through Cassie's elbow, wordlessly started leading her over to the left. There was an exit this way, she'd missed it at first, tucked into a hidden corner just before the start of the curve housing the altar, a sharp right turn bringing them into an arcing hallway looping around behind. About a third of the way along the semicircle was a door on the external wall, hanging open, Síomha led them through. She pulled her shawl back off her head as they passed through the threshold, letting the loop hang limp across the back of her shoulders, apparently unnecessary now.

For the first however many metres, the hallway was narrow and cramped, plain stone, the space dimly illuminated with everlit candles — but then, after a couple turns (fully doubling back to face toward the way they'd come, she thought), they stepped into a somewhat more modern hallway, built of rosy wood, a plain rug down the middle, sunlight let in by a row of windows. There was a subtle hint of tea and herbs and baking bread on the air, Cassie heard the murmur of voices nearby, there were people here somewhere. She thought they were ahead, but Síomha took a turn into a narrower, somewhat darker hallway, doors set into both walls, judging by the spacing perhaps storage of some kind.

The hallway ended at a door, cracked open, the yellow-orange of a flamelight enchantment spilling through the gap. Letting go of Cassie's arm, Síomha stepped up to the door, lightly knocked on the wood before leaning to poke her head through the gap. "Good afternoon, Father. Am I interrupting?"

"Síomha Shorcha, good afternoon. No, this can wait, come on in."

Cassie recalled that the older man outside had referred to this as the workshop, though it seemed to share duties as a library and an office as well. Windowless, but brightly lit with everlit candles and a powerful enchanted lamp, the walls were absolutely covered with bookshelves and cabinets, an obvious potions station in one corner, in another corner a writing desk which also held enchanting equipment, blades and lacquer and magnifying lenses and the like. There was no sign of dust anywhere, the air clean with only a slight alchemical tang from the lacquer and an earthy-sour tint of apothecary smell, presumably kept free of contaminants by environmental wards. A man was seated at the desk, middle-aged, auburn hair cut very short and face clean-shaven, wearing trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, both made out of plain but sturdy linen. Setting a dip pen aside, he said, "And what brings you back so—" He cut himself off as he turned to look over his shoulder, spotting Cassie. "Ah, Lady Black, I presume," abruptly switching to accented English, tipping up to his feet.

"Just 'Cassie' is fine," she said, in Gaelic.

With a crooked little smile, he drawled, "Very well, if you insist. And what brings you two to see me this afternoon?"

"Ah..." Síomha hesitated for a moment, glanced back her way. "You know Cassie and I are getting married?"

"I may have heard something about that, yes. Congratulations, by the way." There was some kind of tone on his voice, perhaps suggesting something, that Cassie didn't know how to read.

Whatever it was, Síomha suddenly looked flustered, her face pinking and fidgeting a little. "Yes, ah, thank you, Father. Mm. We had some questions about, ah..."

"I see, of course. Come sit down, then — I'll find you some chairs, one moment..." A pair of folding chairs were retrieved from where they rested against a wall in a corner — hand-made by the look of them, a wooden frame with swivelling iron joints, bolted-on cushions embroidered with herbs and flowers — arranged them near the desk. The priest waved them down, but he didn't take his own seat right away, moving to one of the cabinets along the wall. "I think such an occasion calls for a drink, doesn't it? Ah... Would you conjure some glasses for us, Cassie?"

...Either Caoimhín hadn't a wand of his own, or he simply didn't trust his conjuring skill to be up to the task. She couldn't tell what was in that bottle he was holding, but it seemed vaguely wine bottle -shaped, so she conjured a trio of wine glasses with a flick of her wand. The liquid he poured out was an odd dark greenish colour — some kind of herbal liqueur, maybe? Caoimhín handed a glass each to Cassie and Síomha, before replacing the bottle in the cabinet and returning to his own chair.

Wow, okay, that was a hell of a thing. The base was mead, maybe, but the flavouring was mostly herbal, and a peculiar mix she couldn't quite sort out. There was definitely a pine-y flavour in there that she thought might be fresh rosemary, and a cool wash of mint competing with the bite of alcohol, but there was more in there, very complex. Not entirely certain whether she liked it or not, but it was interesting, at the very least.

"So," Caoimhín sighed, sinking back into his seat. "What are these questions you have for me, then?"

"Right, ah..." Stalling, Síomha took a sip of her drink — by the way she did, how she held herself in her chair, Cassie could immediately tell she didn't like it, but she was trying to polite regardless. If Caoimhín noticed the same thing, he didn't give any sign of it. "Well, we've been taking things a little slow, Cassie asked me going on ten months ago now." More like nine months, but close enough. "There were some things to figure out, legally, but part of it is that Dad is, you know."

He shook his head, seeming a little exasperated. "I can guess. Is it that Cassie is a woman or nobility that he dislikes more?"

"...Honestly, I'm not sure," Síomha admitted.

Cassie said, "The latter, I think. And it turns out there's bad blood with the House of Black in particular — if not with their family specifically, with those of his old friends. Some of it can't be helped, gossip surrounding events that occurred long before Síomha was born — even before I was born, in some cases — but I've been trying to patch up what I can. It's a work in progress."

"Ah, yes, that can happen. If you ask common people here, you'll hear all manner of nasty stories about the excesses of the nobility, a rumour of something that happened to a distant cousin of a friend of a friend that gets passed around. I'm truly not surprised Diarmaid turned out to be stubborn about it. I don't suppose you're here to ask me to intervene again."

...He'd intervened with Diarmaid for Síomha before? Cassie was curious abut that, but before she could ask — or even decide if she should ask, it might not be her business — Síomha shook her head, with a little happy smile. "I'm not. He's coming around, so, and now we're getting to a place we can actually start planning. We were talking earlier, ah..."

Síomha glanced at her, hesitating — she wasn't certain why, maybe didn't know what Cassie was comfortable with telling Caoimhín? "Síomha wants the ceremony to be held in a church. I'm not opposed, but, I thought there were rules about that."

"You mean because you're both women?" Caoimhín shrugged. "Well, we're not supposed to, that's true. But in any institution of any real size and complexity, like the Church, you'll find differences of opinion. There'll be a scandal now and then, when the Vatican hears of a bishop ordaining women to the priesthood, or someone marrying couples such as yours — those are common ones, though there are other points of conflict, of course. The higher authorities in the Church pay rather less mind to those of us on the magical side, and they are more willing to write off some things as cultural differences, so we tend to get away with more than our magicless peers might. Which isn't to say even all of my brothers and sisters here on our side would agree! No, whether such marriages are permissible is something you will find there is much disagreement on. The answer you get will depend on who you ask.

"I have no issue with it, personally. It is not for me to question our Father's design — if He has made it so such couples are brought together, well, who am I to second-guess Him? In fact, I will marry you two myself, if you like."

Síomha looked slightly taken aback, silently blinked at Caoimhín for a couple seconds. "That... I would love that, Father, thank you." She glanced over at Cassie. "If that's okay with you, I mean."

Cassie smirked back at her. "Well, I don't exactly have a lot of alternatives lined up." With a crooked smile and a rueful sort of chuckle, Síomha took a sip of her drink — and barely stopped herself from making a face, which was honestly very adorable. "Though that brings us to the other problem. I don't know a lot about it, honestly, but I was under the impression that Christians were only to marry other Christians, and Síomha agreed that I might have to be baptised."

"That is the case, yes."

"Well then, that's a problem. I haven't been baptised, obviously — that is not a common practice in the House of Black, I'm sure you're not surprised — and I'm not going to lie about it. Like I told Síomha earlier, a false conversion would feel like an insult, to me."

"Good thing that's not what we're talking about, then, isn't it? Let me see if I can explain this clearly," Caoimhín said, setting his glass aside on his desk. Leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, one hand held out tilted perpendicular to the floor, "Normally, for those born into the Church, they are baptised in infancy. Over the course of their childhood, they are catechised — that is, receive religious education — in small pieces, bit by bit. Naturally, simply through growing up in the community. In adolescence, normally around whatever the age of majority is considered to be, there is a second ceremony," he said, holding out his other hand, his palms facing each other about a foot apart. "This one, Confirmation, is a full, proper consecration of the person into the community as an adult. One could argue, this is when one truly joins the Church — they had no choice when they were an infant, but it is at Confirmation that they publicly embrace the faith, complete with vows and the like that you might expect for such an event.

"For one who comes to the Church as an adult..." Caoimhín pressed his palms together, quickly enough there was a faint clapping sound. "...these sacraments are compressed into a single ceremony. Normally, catechesis here occurs before the baptism — the person is taught of the faith and in how to live a Christian life, and is gradually brought further into the community, invited to more and more occasions as their education continues. Once they have learned all they must, they will be baptised and then, immediately, consecrated, complete with a profession of faith.

"Now, what we may do, is skip the catechesis, and skip the Confirmation," dropping his right hand, leaving only the left behind. "Instead, we may only do the baptism, as we might for an infant. You are not an infant, so you will need to accept it — but at no point does that require you to lie."

"...So, it's not an initiation ritual, then," Cassie said, her tone half-rising in a not-quite question. "My understanding was that it is."

"Not as such, no." Caoimhín's eyes tipped up to the ceiling for a moment, his head bobbing side to side. "Ritual, think of it in terms of ritual magic. I assume you're familiar."

Her voice low, dry, she drawled, "You could say that."

A little smirk flickered on his lips for a second before continuing on. "Well, ritual magic. To put it very briefly, and to not get too deep into the theology behind it, we may say that the world — the physical world, that we exist in — is not as it should be, that it has been perverted from its intended nature. And it is generally...just a messy place, with all the pain and violence and misery that goes on here, it's complicated. And as we are, in part, physical creatures, we carry a part of that perversion and that messiness with us, simply by existing in this world. As I'm sure you understand quite possibly better than I do, getting contaminants into your ritual space is no good — the marriage ceremony being a kind of ritual itself, that is not something we want. Now, baptism, what the person performing it does, is ask that God cleanse this contamination from a person, to make them what they should be, were the world we were born into not spiritually perverted. As they are no—"

"It's a ritual purification," Cassie interrupted, as the point he was making clicked. "The person being baptised is the subject of a purification ritual, it's not an initiation."

Caoimhín nodded. "Yes, that is a good analogy, one I have seen used before. It is the purification itself that matters, and that is an act of the Holy Spirit, invited by the priest performing the baptism. It would not demean Síomha's faith for you to accept one."

"Right, of course, that makes sense. I can do that then, sure." She was slightly concerned that she might find the character of the ritual unpleasant — her aura was strongly dark-aligned, and she suspected that any ritual invoking the Christian god should be strongly light — but that would only be a momentary discomfort. The more important thing was that she needed to do it for Síomha to have the kind of wedding she wanted, and that Cassie could do it without trivialising something very important to Síomha. At her agreement to go through with it, Síomha broke into a grin, she was about to say something, but before she could Cassie said, "But let's not skip catechesis, I should do that too."

The grin flickered out, Síomha blinked at her, confused. "Why? I know you're not interested in, well..." The very idea of religion in principle, she meant.

Cassie shrugged. "That hasn't changed, no. I'm not saying I plan to convert, but..." She sighed, her fingernails clicking against her glass. Her eyes flicked to Caoimhín for a second, but she tried to put him out of mind, turning to meet Síomha's eyes. "I know this is important to you, but there's much I don't... I assume you intend to raise our children with it."

For a second, Síomha just stared back at her, her eyes wide. "I... Well, I would like to, but... I wasn't sure, I mean, the House of Black must have their own..."

She trailed off as Cassie shook her head. "Like I was saying earlier, new House of Black. It's not important to me, but it is important to you. And I don't want to undermine it out of ignorance — at least I should know enough to, you know, cooperate. The only condition I have is that they be allowed to leave it if they decide it's not for them."

Before she'd even finished the sentence, Síomha was already nodding, a grin pulling at her lips again. "Yes, of course, that's fine. I—" She cut off, quietly cleared her throat, moved to take a sip from her glass — and then froze, reluctantly eyeing the dark greenish liqueur, almost seeming to moodily glow in the artificial light.

"Here, let me..." Cassie took her glass, poured it out into her own — she'd already mostly drained hers (it was different, but not bad), Síomha's only minimally-diminished portion fully refilling it again — and then handed it back. One tap of her finger against the rim cast a cleaning charm, and a second cast an elemental charm, filling it with water. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Caoimhín's eyes go wide, presumably at the wandless magic, but he stayed politely silent. "There."

Síomha took a sizeable gulp of water — perhaps washing the taste of the liqueur out of her mouth as much as wetting her throat. She moved as though to speak, but nothing seemed to come to her, her mouth hanging open a sliver for a moment. Passing her glass over to her other hand, she took Cassie's, fingers slipping gently through hers. "Thank you, a leannáin."

She wasn't thanking Cassie for the water. But she didn't truly need to thank her, Cassie wanted to say...

She didn't know, exactly. That there was nothing to thank her for, that the old House of Black was dead — that the culture they had raised their children in obviously hadn't served them, considering they were gone.

That she'd never had any particular attachment to it anyway, she'd never truly believed in any of it. Some of what she'd been taught growing up, to do with their history and with loyalty to the family, that she'd internalised to a degree, they'd probably keep that...where it didn't conflict with things Síomha thought were important...but the religion, no, she'd never taken any of that very seriously. It probably didn't help that, by the time she'd been a child, most of the adults around hadn't either — it'd been only rote tradition by then, simply what one does. The members of the family who did end up religious down the line were those who'd found their way into other cults, with only a tangential relationship to theirs, any energy or sincerity had already gone out of it long ago.

Whatever nostalgia she might have — for her own long-faded childhood, for the House of Black as it once had been — all that was simply less important to her. She wanted Síomha to be happy, she didn't want her to...to look back years or decades down the road, and come to feel this had been a mistake. There were limits to what Cassie would be willing to do to please her, of course, but simply learning about her religion, to better help raise their children the way Síomha wished to, to better understand her, that...

That wasn't even a price, honestly. If she framed undergoing this catechesis of theirs — that would be katḗkhēsis, Greek, oral instruction — as a way to better understand Síomha, well, she wanted to do that. And to agree to raise their children in the Gaelic-flavoured Catholicism Síomha knew, it wasn't as though that cost her anything either. Cassie had no attachment to some alternative religion she'd prefer, and neither did she particularly care whether they followed her into her...ambivalent, apathetic irreligion. It wasn't as though she had any attachment to that either.

But she knew it was important to Síomha. It truly cost Cassie very little to give her what she wanted. She knew it would result in a very different House of Black, a generation or two down the line, that her family would be very displeased were they still alive — but she simply didn't care. Síomha's happiness was more important than all that.

(And she knew that attitude was at least in part due to the lingering anxiety that Síomha would change her mind, that she would leave her, like everyone else inevitably did, but it wasn't only that.)

She hardly even knew who this new Cassie person was, who she was without the structure of and the expectations surrounding the old House of Black to hold her in place, she didn't know who she was becoming, she couldn't say what this new House of Black would come to look like. But, it was something she and Síomha (and Violet) were making together, that their family would make going forward, and that... Well, that was rather exciting? She quite loved the idea, when she thought about it.

And if Síomha's religion was to be part of all that, so be it. It was important to her, and so it was important to Cassie — she didn't have to believe in it to play her part.

But that would be an awkward, very private conversation — Cassie wouldn't even know how to find the words to voice it aloud — and Caoimhín was sitting right there. So instead she simply squeezed Síomha's hand, with a crooked little smile.

Their little aside seemingly done, Caoimhín politely waited another moment before speaking. "I'm sorry, did I hear, you plan to have children? adoption?"

"No," Síomha said, shaking her head, "ours."

"Ah... I know that is possible with blood alchemy, but..."

Cassie arched up an eyebrow at him. "Metamorph."

"Ah. Ah!" he chirped, his eyes widening as the realisation clicked. The little bit of wary tension that had been there a second ago abruptly lifted, Caoimhín breaking into a grin. Cassie didn't know why, or what the limits were, but she was aware that Christians could be particular about magics involving blood — it was an issue with certain healing potions, way back when she'd been in Auror training they'd been instructed to ask if feasible, even in emergencies. She assumed he'd been uncertain whether he should point out that they were planning on doing something forbidden, relieved that he'd misunderstood. "Well, a preemptive congratulations, then! That's wonderful. Truly, Síomha," he said, turning to her, the fingers of his free hand lightly touching her knee before retreating again, "I remember how worried you have been worried about...about the feasibility, let's say. I am very glad how this is all working out for you, honestly."

...Feasibility, he probably meant the difficulty in having children when Síomha had no real interest in men at all — that was something Síomha had mentioned to Cassie, a handful of times since her spontaneous proposal. In fact, Síomha wanted a family badly enough that the original plan had been to continue her alchemy career for several more years, before trying to find a husband who would be understanding about the incompatibility. (That she could have both, a woman she loved and a family, wasn't a possibility that had occurred to her before Cassie had suddenly dropped it on her head that day.) This wasn't new to Cassie, obviously, but the interesting thing was that it seemingly wasn't to Caoimhín either. She was starting to get really curious what that advice Síomha said he'd given her was now — especially since she'd said they wouldn't be here without it, Cassie was starting to suspect that Caoimhín was somehow indirectly responsible for their relationship coming to be in the first place.

After a brief exchange between Caoimhín and Síomha, he turned back to Cassie. "Of course, if you wish, we can arrange for you to go through catechesis as well. Or the learning part of it at any rate — the usual process involves certain declarations of intent and vows to... Well, as you do not wish to lie, we may skip anything that may force you to. I can look into finding a sponsor for you, if you like."

"Is it allowed for someone in my family to do it? I was thinking my uncle Ruadhán, they get along well."

"Well, to ensure Cassie learns everything she needs to know, it is better to ask someone more intimately familiar with Canon Law than someone who was simply raised in the Church. It can be difficult to separate faith from cultural practice, and it is easy to forget things, even important things, if you've never taught it before. It will need to be someone who will be comfortable with the, ah, changes to the normal way of things we'll need to make, which makes it a little more difficult, but. I can look into it. When are you planning the wedding for, about?"

"We're not sure how long it will take to get everything settled, but before Chargas, hopefully."

"I don't think that's very likely, truly," Cassie said. "You know how the nobility can be about their social events, I expect it take time to straighten everything out. Síomha said something earlier, if we can't get it in before March, we'll have to wait until April or May?"

Caoimhín nodded, agreed, "Yes, it would be inappropriate to hold a wedding during Carghas — you may think of it as a season of ritual grieving before the celebration of Easter, it is not an occasion for weddings. If we wait for Easter, that is certainly enough time for finish your catechesis and arrange the baptism. In fact, it is preferred for those coming to the Church as adults to be baptised on Easter, it is excellent timing."

"Oh, well, all right then." She glanced over at Síomha. "Assuming you can wait an extra couple months."

Giving her hand a little squeeze, Síomha grinned back at her. "I'll survive." Besides, when Cassie thought about it, that was probably a better time scale for her to work up the gold she'd need for her dress — she seemed too pleased to be thinking about something so practical at the moment, but it wasn't not a factor.

"While we're at it, you might consider having your daughter baptised as well — she's still young enough she needn't finish catechesis first."

"Violet was already baptised, as an infant."

"Is she?" Síomha asked, turning to frown at her. "It came up, once, Willow told me she didn't know one way or the other."

Cassie shrugged. "According to Sirius and Frank, anyway — they were talking about it at an Order meeting once. Lily was Catholic — in the muggle way, of course — and she wanted to have it done. It was difficult to arrange, given they were meant to be in hiding at the time, but Lily was quite adamant about it, so James and Sirius and Frank and Marlene made it happen. And yes, it did take that many people, along with some more help from the McKinnons and Prewetts — security. I wasn't there, but I don't think they would have invented such a complicated lie."

"Good, good," Caoimhín said with a pleasant little nod — giving absolutely no sign that he realised how serious a scandal it might be if the public were aware that the Potters had gone out of their way in a time of war, possibly even risking their lives, to ensure the 'Boy' Who Lived had been ritually inducted into what many thought of as a muggle religion. "That is one less thing to think about, then. The Easter season, then, that will give us plenty of time to prepare..."

There was a bit more to discuss, primarily concerning Cassie's unofficial religious education. Caoimhín would look into finding someone appropriate to teach her — from the clergy, perhaps, or maybe someone who'd done it before? He asked for permission to write to her about it, he'd get back to her once he had possibilities to choose from, arrange some meetings so she could pick someone she got on with well.

As for the wedding itself, their church here was maybe a little modest to hold such a big formal event as the marriage of the Lady of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. They could shop around, find a location they liked better, and Caoimhín could talk to the clergy there on their behalf about arranging a time. If it came down to it, they could even borrow a muggle church they liked — they would likely need to carefully close the premises to the public, for Secrecy reasons, and Caoimhín might need to appeal to his higher-ups to get it arranged, but it would be doable. (Caoimhín and Síomha were both strongly opposed to magically coercing local muggle clergy into giving them what they wanted, which was fair enough, but it'd also likely be unnecessary regardless.) Cassie could also appeal to the UK to give them a little legitimacy — there were elements of the muggle government which did still recognise members of the Wizengamot as nobility — which might help too, if they decided to go that route, they'd see.

Traditionally, there was also a betrothal ceremony — it was becoming more common for people to skip it, but some more conservative communities (such as Síomha's) still preferred to do it, and it would also work as a convenient time to introduce Cassie to the congregation. (Síomha did plan to keep going here, and it was where she'd be bringing their future children, so that made sense.) Violet should be there for that... They could do that over her winter break, sure. Síomha's official adoption would also be during those couple weeks, but there would be more than enough time to do both.

There would be more to talk about, where preparations for the baptism were concerned, but they needn't talk about that just now. Nothing else was immediately occurring to Caoimhín? He'd write her if anything came up. Cassie finished her drink, while Caoimhín once again congratulated them — or, mostly Síomha, definitely referencing previous conversations they'd had — and then they were being seen out, Caoimhín telling both of them (but mostly Cassie) to write him if they had any questions or concerns.

They stepped out of the workshop/office, what sounded like a ritual farewell of some kind passing between Síomha and Caoimhín before the door swung closed behind them again. Walking wordlessly down the narrow hallway, Síomha still had a firm grip on Cassie's hand — she hadn't let go since Cassie had suggested she learn about Síomha's religion so she could help raise their children in it properly. Soon they reached the main hallway from before, somewhat wider and more open, rosy woods gleaming in sunlight let through a row of windows, somewhat more shadows lingering in the corners than last they'd been out here, the scent of baking bread somewhat more intense, a subtle edge of spices on the air. It was getting later into the afternoon...

Síomha gradually drifted to a stop, standing in the middle of the rug. She turned half to Cassie, but didn't quite meet her eyes, staring unfocussed somewhere behind her. "A leannáin, I... It– I don't know how, I..."

...Cassie would guess, she meant to say she didn't know how to thank Cassie, or, maybe how to express how much everything she'd agreed to back there meant to her. Instead of letting her flounder for words, Cassie sidled a step closer, her free hand coming up to Síomha's shoulder (mostly covered with her shawl), and tipped up to softly press a kiss to her lips.

For a second, she worried this might be inappropriate — she didn't think wherever they were counted as part of the church proper, but she wasn't certain — but after a second Síomha leaned into the kiss, warm and gentle. They separated for a whisper, Síomha then meeting her with another slow soft kiss, her free hand settling on Cassie's hip, after a few seconds letting go of her hand, her arms circling Cassie's waist, pulling her closer, Cassie tipped onto her toes for a better angle, propping herself up with her arms around Síomha's shoulders, another kiss and another, soft and sweet, warm tingles sprouting across her skin...

Síomha's head tilted to the side, tucking her face into Cassie's neck, arms squeezing tight around her. One hand slipping into her hair, Cassie pressed her check against the side of Síomha's head — she could feel Síomha breathing her in, thick and hot in her throat.

"I love you, mo chéile," Cassie muttered. "You don't need to thank me for acting like it."

Síomha let out a sharp huff of breath, halfway between a cough and a laugh. "You stop first."

...Fair enough. "So." Cassie tipped her weight back a little, Síomha loosening her grip in response — she didn't let go all the way, though, Cassie only retreating a half a step, Síomha's hands lingering on her waist. A thumb slowly tracing her jaw — Síomha's eyes were a little watery, she noticed — Cassie asked, "I think it's getting toward dinner time. In a celebrating mood? We're dressed passable enough for the muggle world, if you don't want to deal with being recognised."

Her lips quirking, Síomha let out a little hum. She leaned down to kiss Cassie again, slow and soft and sweet. Pulling back barely an inch, her breath tickling along Cassie's throat. "Sure, but let's have a quiet night in."

Cassie guessed the kiss was meant to suggest what kind of quiet night in she had in mind. Smirking to herself a little, "Grab takeaway on our way home, then?"

"Sounds perfect."

"Mm. Can we apparate out of here?"

Síomha hesitated for a second, before saying, "You can — don't come in here, but out is fine. You take us, you're quieter than me."

Leaning back into Síomha, Cassie rested her head on her shoulder, Síomha's arms tightening around her waist again. They held each other for a moment, wordlessly, breathing — and with a little twist, Cassie silently pulled them into blackness and away.