March 17th, 1888 — Celtic Street Fair

You think you're ready
But you've got too much on your mind
Too much left to prove
Ophelia had sent out invitations to her wedding the week prior, which meant, according to custom, that she was not to be seen out until the time of the event. Not throwing any parties was one thing, but not attending any was quite trying for the young woman, even with a lengthy list of wedding preparations still to be seen to. The street fair was quite a godsend in that regard, because in Ophelia's opinion it hardly counted as an event in the social sense. It wasn't as though anyone had invited her, and she was not, ostensibly, there to socialize or to be seen. She might very well just be doing her shopping and have taken a stroll through the stands, so no one could fault her for flaunting tradition.

This was likely to be her only "cheat day," so to speak, and Ophelia was determined to make the most of it. She took her time wandering through the stalls, a maid trailing behind her as a chaperone (how soon she would not need one!) She stopped to watch some of the games underway, though did not partake in any lest she be accused of going out and having a bit too festive of a time when she ought to be busy planning her big day. She bought a few trinkets here and there, and was looking for more ways to prolong her outing when she saw a sign advertising an introduction to Irish wedding customs.

Ophelia had been born and raised in England (very nearly Wales), but her fiancee was Irish, and her wedding later that month was taking place in Ireland. It occurred to her suddenly how absurdly obtuse it had been not to learn about Irish weddings before this. Did Mr. Devine have some tradition or custom he would expect that she hadn't even heard of? Surely he would have mentioned it? Perhaps not, though; perhaps he would have simply allowed her plans to outweigh his desires, and perhaps she had been selfish and boarish so far without even realizing it!

Obviously, she had to correct the (potential) deficiency in her knowledge immediately. Boldly, Ophelia pushed her way to the front of the small crowd that had gathered around the stall and announced, "I'd like to try it." Whatever it was.

OOC: Handfasting partner wanted! Anyone will do, but you should be up for multiple threads! Maximum hilarity would probably be a non-UC male. Married/otherwise attached folks are fine, too.

  

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It had previously been stated that Rufus disliked the off season of Quidditch, but by mid March he could put forth rather firmly that he held a great disdain for the down time. Fewer practices, fewer games, it was truly maddening to have so much free time on his hands. It was for that very reason that when he had seen the fair advertised Rufus had considered going. During the season he would have had to try and fit it in, balancing it among the other social and work engagements that his life from May to January typically held.

Strolling through the vendors and taking in the scene Rufus had kept his eyes peeled for a young lady of his acquaintance. A pen pal of sorts and one he rather enjoyed the company of. He had seen her briefly but she had had to be on her way and her chaperon really had been giving him the strangest looks so Rufus had strolled among the crowds looking for others he knew. Teammates, his family, sites that he should write to Sloane.

He still wasn’t quite sure how he had ended up in front of what appeared to be a talk about celtic wedding ceremonies as he had little interest in that at the moment, no matter how much his mother had begun to push him to look for a bride. It simply wasn’t reasonable to think he’d find one this early in his career. Regardless of the reason it was quite rude to leave in the middle of a demonstration and the woman and singled him out. Asking for volunteers for some ritual or what not, hardly waiting a moment’s pause before gesturing that Rufus come forward. What was the harm in such an innocent thing, Rufus thought with a mental shrug before stepping forward.

As it had something to do with a wedding of course another volunteer would be needed and a young lady’s voice offered to try it. Rufus looked over his shoulder and almost chuckled. Miss Ophelia Dippet, or rather soon to be Mrs. Devine, if he were to listen to the Quidditch social circle’s gossip. Last time he had seen Miss Dippet she was positively giddy from champagne, this time she simply seemed determined. As she approached the woman took his hand and held out her old withered one for Miss Dippet to approach. Rufus dipped his hat in greeting as Ophelia stepped up to the old woman as well. “Good afternoon Miss Dippet.” Was all he could politely manage before the woman had gone back to her demonstration.

@'ophelia dippet'

  

Now that she wasn't drunk, it was quite easy for Ophelia to place the face of the man speaking to her; he was, after all, a Quidditch player, and she had made it her business to become at least passingly familiar with not only her soon-to-be husband's team, but their main competitors in the league as well. She hardly remembered dancing with this man a few months prior, but she did vaguely recall seeing his face in the papers after Puddlemere had won the Cup.

"Mr. Bixby!" she greeted pleasantly, though quietly. The woman had started talking and she didn't want to seem rude by interrupting, though she wasn't paying the most attention to the details of what was going on. "What a delight to see you again." Mostly an empty compliment, since she couldn't really recall having seen him since the two had been at Hogwarts together, but Ophelia was full of empty compliments.

She turned her attention to the demonstration, since she was, after all, ostensibly here to learn something. The woman was explaining the symbolism of the ceremony, which Ophelia thought was all just darling. She could see integrating such a thing into her own wedding, although she worried that the symbolism would be lost on the guests without an explanation such as the one she was receiving, and the idea of stopping an otherwise smooth ceremony in order to offer a cultural lecture was repugnant. Still, perhaps it would be something to discuss with Mr. Devine — he might have some ideas about it.

Ophelia giggled lightly as the woman put her hand palm to palm with Mr. Bixby's for the actual demonstration. It was the sort of thing that might have set her heart aflutter, had it happened before she'd met Mr. Devine; now, it just seemed rather silly. "You have such large hands," she commented, but she supposed the same would be true of any Quidditch player.

  

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It appeared that this time the young lady remembered Rufus, which, Rufus would admit, was a welcome change to their last encounter. Not that he blamed her, she hadn’t seen him in years and it wasn’t as if he were featured in the society pages as much as she and her fiance were.

He cast a smile at her greeting as the woman started up again. Whatever was it that he was suppose to be learning? He’d never paid that much attention to such things before and if it were something about weddings… well perhaps Sloane might be interested in such a story one day. For now he patiently waited as the woman placed Miss Dippet’s delicate palm into his own callused hand. The more was much more familiar a move than one might expect in polite company and Rufus did not begrudge the young lady’s giggle.

He had big hands? Rufus couldn’t say he’d really actually considered it before, but he supposed compared to her much smaller ones, he did indeed have large hands. “Er, thank you.” The words came out as more than a question.

The woman continued on explaining this and that, Rufus didn’t really pay attention, still wondering just how he had ended up here in the first place. Then she was wrapping their hands together. He supposed this was the actual demonstration of the tradition and did his best to appear as if he were at the very least paying attention.

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   Ophelia Devine

A moment later it was over; just as soon as they'd been tied together the woman had made a convoluted gesture (some sort of traditional thing?) and set about untying them. "Oh, how wonderfully charming," Ophelia gushed, somewhat genuinely; it was in her nature to exaggerate her emotions, but she actually had found the experience rather pleasant, aside from the roughness of her partner's hands — something which would not be a concern, she assumed, were she to repeat the procedure with her actual groom on the other side.

"It's been lovely to see you again," she told the Quidditch player, more pomp now than genuine emotion — not that she thought he would mind. It wasn't as though a brief acquaintance in school and then a passing familiarity due to their roles in society made them friends, after all. "And thank you ever so much for playing my partner. Take care, Mr. Bixby," she said pleasantly, then went off in search of her chaperone. Having found the maid and having cast one last smile back at Mr. Bixby, she headed off into the crowd — though she unfortunately didn't get far.

  

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Really it was rather painless, Rufus decided, as the woman finished the ceremony with a gesture and then unwrapped their hands. He supposed that for someone who really didn't like crowds or people watching they might be uncomfortable, but Rufus was certainly not one of those people. After all he did work in a career where such a thing was pretty much required.

The ceremony finished Miss Dippet smiled politely at him, having no further reason to continue their conversation. "You are very welcome Miss Dippet. You as well." He tipped his head in a bow toward her as she began to turn away.

Glad to have a moment to politely move on from this particular vendor he turned to walk back into the crowd, only to have Miss Dippet tug his arm as she tried to go her own way. Rufus looked back to see that Miss Dippet's hand was still on his own. Rufus was about to comment she'd need to let go of his hand when he tugged his own hand and found that somehow they were stuck together. He glanced back at the woman who had done the ceremony to ask if she could undo it but she had already started to begin again and was asking for new volunteers. Miss Dippet pulled forward into the crowd and Rufus, not wanting to hurt the young woman, allowed her to pull his into the crowd rather than resisting. "Miss Dippet," Rufus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the bubbling noise of crowd around them. "I believe we're stuck."

  

"Nonsense," Ophelia said at once, refusing to believe what was readily apparent. His hand had not moved from hers when she had turned away, although he didn't seem to be actively holding it. They were just... touching. If this was his doing, he wasn't doing it physically, and Ophelia could think of no magical method to have affixed them to each other like this, much less a motivation for him to have done it.

With a frown, she tugged on her hand, but the only effect was to make their conjoined hands sway slightly, while remaining in contact. "Well, that can't be right," she insisted. "You haven't done something, have you?"

  

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Rufus couldn't help it, he snorted in amusement at her accusation. He'd had no reason to cause trouble with Miss Dippet and after all she had been the one to volunteer with him, not the other way around. But as she was the accusing then it could hardly be her to have caused this. “Me?” He shook his head. “Hardly.”

Looking around no one else appeared to have noticed their predicament, or what could be considered a very impolite and indiscreet situation. Probably better to keep others from noticing, after all, if he remembered correctly, Miss Dippet’s wedding was coming up shortly and he had no desire to be the one to cause any sort of talk about it. “Perhaps we should find somewhere a bit quieter to sort this out?” Gesturing with his free hand to a quieter less busy path nearby with plenty of bushes at its edges. With her chaperone, she had to have one nearby (didn't she?), it should be the toute to keep people from talking. How Rufus had gotten himself into another situation of keeping people from talking about Miss Dippet he was quite unsure.

  

It had not occurred to Ophelia how this might look to a passerby, at least not until he suggested they move out of the crowd. Immediately her cheeks flushed, and she agreed with a silent nod. Merlin, had anyone been watching their little display so far? She trusted that those party to the handfasting ceremony itself would see nothing untoward in either of their behavior, but someone just walking by might see their two conjoined hands and think that they intended them to be there. She couldn't have rumors started that she was cozying up with a random Quidditch player, mere weeks before her wedding. She had her own reputation to protect, as always, but also the reputation of Mr. Devine and her soon-to-be family. What on earth would his parents think if they heard rumors that she was running about flirting with men when she oughtn't to even be out in the social scene at all?

"What do we do now?" she asked quietly as she slipped out of the busy aisle with Mr. Bixby, her rather confused maid trailing behind them. "We can't just stay like this."

  

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The two made their way out of the crowds, likely the shrubbery hid them from view for the most part but if someone were to walk past… Rufus almost groaned at the situation. Of course something like this would happen to him. Granted it was much less boring than having nothing at all to do, but still…. Luckily Miss Dippet had not yet begun to panic about the situation as many young ladies in his acquaintance would have by this point.

No they certainly could not stay like this. Rufus agreed. It might be less boring than a day in off season typically was. But the amount of annoyance it caused was certainly not worth it. “One of us must know a charm that would work on this, surely?” He suggested. For half a moment he wished that Alvin were here, that boy had always been much more intune with his studies than Rufus and the rest of their brothers were. Rufus had only been acceptable in his charms studies and the spells that came the easiest to him were of the transfiguration variety.

  

Ophelia had never been particularly adept at magic, not really. She had left Hogwarts after her fourth year, and although her father had had her privately tutored afterwards, this had really allowed her to narrow her focus on what magic she wanted to learn. She had entirely dropped the study of herbology — the gardens reminded her too much of her recently-deceased mother — and focused instead on where her interests lied. When something was too difficult, she gave up and went back to her fashion charms. She was not particularly the best person to be coming up with counter-charms — but Mr. Bixby was right, and they had to do something.

Unfortunately, her wand hand was bound up with his, which meant she had to awkwardly draw it out with her left. Ophelia tried to cast a counter-charm that was generally useful in the fashion world, but to no effect. Was it simply not the right sort of spell, or was it that she couldn't get the wandwork right with the improper hand? She wasn't sure, but her cheeks flushed from the failed attempt. She tried a different charm, again to no effect, before she decided that their present predicament was entirely out of the realm of her expertise. She assumed that Mr. Bixby was also rather lost, or else he would have already been trying things, so she suggested in a rather shaky voice that she tried to instill some confidence in, "Come and see my grandfather. He'll know what to do." Armano had to know what to do, didn't he? He'd lived through everything, and he had been able to fix much worse predicaments for her in the past (the ordeal with Herschel Dawlish came to mind). "He's two hundred and fifty years old. He knows everything."

  

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As Miss Dippet reached for her own wand Rufus brought his own out of his pocket. Surely between the two of them they might find something, anything, that would work. He cast a glance at the maid, or perhaps even the maid might have something to contribute as she wanted her mistress struggle. But it appeared like there would be no help from that source as the maid remained waiting the two like a confused owl waiting for a letter and glancing back at the festivities. Rufus sighed and got to work.

He'd been a moderately decent student in school but Alvin had always been the one who had succeeded in such matters. Charms had been a decent course, he'd even pulled decent marks in it - that was until he was offered his position and decided he really didn't need the last half of his seventh year after all. Now transfiguration, he actually could hold his own. But it wasn't like he could transform their hands into something else. One, the lady might not handle that well, and, two, likely they'd end up still stuck together - or even causing worse harm to their hands. Rufus needed his hands for his job, he couldn't jeopardize that. No, instead he began going through charms that he could remember, starting with alohomora.

He didn't really notice as Miss Dippet attempted the same until they both appeared unsuccessful and their frustration had begun to rise. At her suggestion he noted her increasing agitation in the slight tremor in her tone and almost sighed. What did an old man have to do with solving anything unless he too was good at charms. But as he had no further ideas and could hardly think of an objection if the old man were able to get him out of this particular predicament. "Well let's see if he knows a fix to this one, then." Rufus tried to coat his tone with patience. It was going to be a long day.