September 28th, 1888 — Department of Magical Games and Sports

It had come at breakfast, the second corny love poem that Maeve had received in only a few scant weeks. Unlike the first, which had confused her and been swiftly dismissed, though, this one had set a small flame alight inside her as the auror realized what had been staring her down for years.

She loved him. She loved Barnabas Skeeter.

This realization was as terrifying as it was intense, and the redhead found herself rather foggy as she made her daily pilgrimage to the Ministry of Magic offices. Maeve eschewed her typical route to the Auror Office, finding herself instead in the Department of Magical Games and Sports.

Maeve Connolly was no coward and, having realized how obtuse she had been all this time, she would tell Skeeter how she felt, and wallop him if the buffoon had any smart comments to make on the subject.

Felicity saw him seated at his desk in an office that was, admittedly, little better than a closet, and she stood in the doorway, hesitant at the last to enter. It had never been her wont to back down from a challenge, but Maeve could not help but dread the sanctimonious lecture she would get from the likes of Lorcan Byrne if this got out.

But there was little for it. She had come this far.

“Barnabas Skeeter,” she greeted, doing her best to sound nonchalant but keenly aware of her pounding heartbeat, his beguiling presence increasing it rapidly.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

It was hell having a dog as a companion. He didn’t know why he’d ever thought it a good idea. Granted, it was nice to have some company in the evenings, and in the mornings, and while he was at work (his office was a rather quiet, unpopulated area on the MG&S floor.) Still, housetraining had been a shit show — literally and figuratively — and he felt loving toward the pup one moment and like he was tempted to strangle her the next.

Barnabas had been just about to open the pile of mail on his desk that morning and had thought that the ginger corgi was curled up on her pillow near his office window, only for his senses to be assaulted just as he had picked up a curious, pink envelope. He’d been hexed by Witch Weekly back on April 1st. Any sort of literature that looked out of the ordinary made him wary these days, especially since he wasn’t the most popular man in the Ministry.

Now, he seemed to have cursed himself into picking up piles of dog poo around his office. ”Queenie, we were just outside!” He scolded the pup, who did the dog equivalent of an eye-roll and went back to bird-watching. Gagging, he waved his wand at it and it disappeared.

That mess taken care of (though the smell had yet to dissipate entirely), he returned to the pink envelope. He held it one hand and was using his wand as a letter opener with the other just as someone appeared at his open office door.

Oh Merlin, it was far too early in the morning to have to deal with this nonsense.

”Miss Connolly,” He regarded her cooly, his hands paused mid-motion, ”What a most unwelcome surprise.”

  

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He would not be Barney Skeeter if he welcomed her with open arms, and yet still, Maeve felt herself rather crestfallen at his reaction. It was as though something in reality were slightly off, though that could well have been the peculiar odour of the room (Maeve was quite certain the smell was not Mr. Skeeter himself, for there was no way for the wizard to smell anything shy of heavenly).

“Have they found proper occupation for you yet?” the redhead inquired. Only after the words—intended to highlight how wasted his immesurable skills were in his current post—left her lips did Maeve realize they might seem mocking, and she blushed in horror at the thought.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

He scowled at her. Maeve Connolly was not one to mince words or beat around the bush. She would just dive right into the insults. It must have been a well thought out one if she’d sought him out just to humiliate him with it. Otherwise, she was here for Ministry business and was just getting her insults in before she got down to the real reason she was here. The likelyhood of the aurors working with the Duelling Commission Office seemed slim to none, which meant that she was here just to rile him up.

”Meaning?” He tossed back, irritated. He would not fall prey to the trap she’d set out for him. He would not. It didn’t even occur to him that she may have planned for that exact response.

  

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set by MJ | Kindly tag Prudence Browne in replies

This was not going well. It was a rare moment that Maeve Connolly did not feel sure of herself, but here she was, beginning to wonder if she had not been foolish to approach him after all. She typically prided herself on being a sublime judge of character, of situations, but this was falling apart more quickly than parchment in the Black Lake.

“Nevermind, Mr. Skeeter,” she answered stiffly, moving to leave. “I shall leave you to your task.”

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

”Mmph,” He grunted in confusion and returned to the task at hand — literally — leaving her to her own devices on finding her way out of the department. She found her way in, she could very well find her own out. In one swipe, the pink envelope was opened.

A half a moment later, he was scrambling from his desk like a madman, reaching for his cane, and calling loudly after her, ”Wait! Miss Connolly! Miss Connolly!” Slower than he would have liked on such urgent business, he managed to throw himself at the opening of his office door and poke his head out, hoping to see her retreating form - or perhaps even her returning one, ”A moment, if you would!”

  

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A reluctant Maeve had only made it about a yard down the corridor before the sound of her name—such a thrilling, lyrical quality to it!—stopped her in her tracks and sent a jolt down her spine. The redhead schooled her mein so as not to appear over eager, though her heartbeat was louder still now that she was face to face with Mr. Skeeter once more.

“Anything for you, Mr. Skeeter,” she allowed earnestly, if cautiously. If only she were clairvoyant, she would not be so nervous face to face with him!

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

His heart did a clumsy flip in his chest, beating a rhythm he wasn’t overly familiar with. He had thought himself in love once before - that had ended in a burst of flames - but it had only been because he was meant for Maeve Connolly. All of his relationships were destined to fail, unless they were with his one, true soulmate. He’d written her a drunken poem some weeks ago. Now, he knew it was time to tell her to her face.

Her genuinely sweet response made his stomach churn - but in a good way (probably.) She’d closed the distance between them in a matter of steps and before he knew it, she was so close he could touch her. So he did. He released the door frame with the hand that didn’t hold his cane and found hers, dusted with freckles and not nearly as smooth as woman’s hands ought to be. Neither of those things mattered to him anymore. It was a wonder why they had ever mattered to him at all. Such silly, ridiculous things to be worried about, he reflected as he gazed into her gorgeous gray eyes. She was fierce. Strong. Confident. Not afraid to speak her mind or stand up for her beliefs. Terrifying and endearing all at once.

And he loved her for it all.

”Miss Conolly,” He hoped his hand didn’t tremble in hers at the daunting task he was about to undertake, ”I realize we haven’t seen eye to eye in the past.. But I hope that we can overcome that… as I have a confession to make. Seeing you, even if it is briefly as we pass each other in the lobby, makes my entire week. Your red hair and freckles does not mask the fierce beauty that you have within. I am in love with you Miss Connolly. Please forgive me for not being immediately forthright.”

He gulped, ready for the most painful rejection of his life. His very heart would rip itself out of his chest and jump out his office window. It clutched at his lungs - even breathing was painful as he awaited her response.

  

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set by MJ | Kindly tag Prudence Browne in replies

She was dead. Dead, and in paradise. That was the only logical explanation for how perfect this moment was. A lesser woman might have released tears of joy, but Maeve was dignified in her utter elation.

“On this,” came her wry reply, “it appears we see eye to eye at last. I cannot imagine a life of happiness that does not have you by my side—a worthy adversary and an honourable partner.”

To think that a fortnight ago “he’s vexing” had been the kindest thing she had thought to say about him!

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

”What?” He breathed dumbly, not entirely comprehending that the final blow he’d been waiting for hadn’t actually come. She.. she loved him in return? Barnabas’ heart leapt and had he been capable, he might have even done a little jump of joy. Instead, he smiled widely and for once, it reached his eyes. She loved him! All this time he’d been worrying and here it was, easy as pie.

Barnabas chuckled. Of course she loved him in return! Why wouldn’t she?

”I’m finding myself awfully tempted to kiss you now,” He told her with a blush. He’d not been shy with his other flames, but with Maeve, it was different. He didn’t want to make any advances that would make her uncomfortable. She’d changed him. When he’d been with Amelia, he’d been respectful but also not quite so worried about asking for permission for things. My, how things had changed. Soulmates did that to you.

  

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set by MJ | Kindly tag Prudence Browne in replies

Perfect though Mr. Skeeter was, Maeve would certainly have hoped for a bit more…impulsivity from the man she was certain was her soulmate. But then again, Maeve reasoned, she had been so wrong about him for so long...perhaps she was wrong about what she looked for in a partner, too.

Besides, she was impulsive enough for the both of them, a fact she demonstrated by placing a hand on each of his cheeks and dragging his face the short distance towards her own to oblige him.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

Before he knew it, she’d taken charge of the situation and had planted a kiss on him first. Right out in the open. He did not realize the small group of his coworkers that had begun to gather at the other end of the hall, likely wondering if hell had frozen over. Unsurprisingly, the auror he loved was enjoyable to kiss - and he did so - wrapping both arms around her and pressing her to him passionately. His cane, all together forgotten, dropped to the floor with a soft thud. He marveled at the softness of her. For a woman so strongwilled, he had half-expected her to be made of something more firm - not stone exactly, but perhaps something with just a tad more give, like wood.

  

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set by MJ | Kindly tag Prudence Browne in replies

She had, in the past, shared more kisses than her mother could survive hearing of, but with Skeeter’s lips on her own, Maeve felt as though a virgin in this regard, one hungrily being rewarded for her years of patience.

Maeve pulled reluctantly away from him only as she became all too aware that the pair had an audience, the look she shot him—her love!—one that plainly said what the hell now?

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

Too soon, she was pulling away from the kiss. He was nearly deaf to the claps and whistles given to them from his more obnoxious coworkers. Instead, all of his attention was on the woman of his dreams. How had he gone so many years without courting her? Without knowing how he’d felt? Without having her hand in his.. Her lips on his…. Her… he chastised himself for getting carried away. No, there would be more of that later.

”Maeve, my darling - marry me,” Barnabas looked at her earnestly, his voice low in hopes that the audience would not overhear, ”We’ve wasted years that we ought to have been spending together.” Why wait? It wasn’t as if they needed a long courtship or even engagement. She wasn’t a young maiden - they could.. Why they could elope that very day and be off on a honeymoon by nightfall! Had she ever been to America? He’d have to show her how to drink coffee like they did.

  

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set by MJ | Kindly tag Prudence Browne in replies

“Yes.”

She ought to consider it more, she knew. Maeve Connolly was hardly what might be considered conventional, but even she wondered at her eagerness to agree without any measure of consideration for what it would mean. Merlin help her, her mother would want to plan a wedding. That simply would not do.

“We ought to away to Gretna Green today, lest anyone catch wind and think to make a spectacle of it.” There would be no wedding gown for Maeve, no rice thrown, no church bells ringing. The only thing she was more certain of than that was her devotion to the man before her.

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— #PrettiesByMJ —

Grinning like the fool he was, Barnabas gave her hand another squeeze before releasing it and shuffling back into his office for his hat and cloak, ”We’ll go at once - only… the ring is at my home in Bartonburg. And I’ve got to do something with Queenie-” He pointed at the small corgi still bird-watching out the window, ”But then, we will be joined together in matrimony that no man - or woman-” Ever mindful of what had started the rift between them in the first place, ”-can separate.”

He didn’t mention that the ring had been meant for another woman at one point - worn even, however briefly. None of that would matter. It had always been meant for Maeve.

Oh, to be in love and wed! He’d been waiting his whole life for this. Granted, it wasn’t a stuffy wedding like he’d always thought it would be - but that was all for the better. They could move on with their lives and not have to worry about etiquette and guest lists and financial burdens. The practicality of it all had a romantic, not-a-care in the world feel to it.

  

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set by MJ | Kindly tag Prudence Browne in replies