Her face was not her own, a pudgy cheeked dumpy looking creature with dull brown hair and watery blue eyes. The clothing had been taken from the house servant laundry, a plain black skirt, and white blouse. Even though it had been 4 years since last she had seen Peter, he would most likely recognise 'her'. The last time they had seen each other she had been 16, home from Mandira for the summer holidays - the year after Mister Dantés had died. In the process of passing her care from the school to the house keepers, governess and extensive household staff who would watch over her until she finished her education. Ramdas had been the main stalwart care provider, intelligent and loyal he had been the obvious choice. Adrestia, at that time, still maintained the gangly long limbedness of childhood, hovering around the edges of her appearance – all of which were gone now that she was fully blossomed into womanhood.

Her plan had been to slip into Peters home and pretend to fall asleep on the sofa – playing the part of the indolent maid servant caught dozing by her employer - a little joke to let him know that she had arrived safe and well. It was very possible that he had already knew Adrestia had arrived. It was possible that Ramdas had sent him a patronus to him to the moment they set foot in England. When she had slipped into his study she had found a file with her name on it – the investments and business that Peter managed on her behalf.

Dropping into the masters chair behind the deak, she had lost herself in reading through them. She knew he had done well – ‘wisely and prudently’ are what Mister Dantés had always said of Mister Salvages investments on her behalf, but it seemed he had been under selling her fathers proteges skills. She smiled reading them, he truly had made mountains out of molehills in terms of the returns on those investments. Between the money that her fathers investments in Peters business and the money Mister Dantés left her, much of which had been given to Peter to mange her finances were well and truly secured.

Her ‘lazy maid’ plan was all but forgotten when she heard the door click open. She didn’t look up but wished she could see his face- the dumpy house maid helping herself to her master’s papers.

---

She didn't stop looking through the papers - but when she reached the last one, she closed the file and pocketed it.  Before standing up from behind the desk and moving around to the front.  While she looked like a dumpy little creature she still moved like herself, a slinking that didn't seem to suit the rather plain faced creature in front of him.  'I shouldn't be - but I am' she laughed.  'That is some interesting reading there Mister Salvage.' she moved towards him hitting the file against her free hand. 



'I'm sure your ward would be most interested in all of this' she grinned, her tongue poking out between her teeth. She hadn't really bothered to think about why a maid would know enough about money and investment strategies to understand anything that was in the papers. She continued to move towards him across the thickly carpeted floor of his finely appointed study.

---

She could tell the instant she had been rumbled, the shift in the intensity of his eyes just before he spoke, and just as she drew level with him. ’If she let you stun her, she would deserve it’ she burst out laughing and slapped the file against his chest. Levity did not come easily to Adrestia, harder and harder in fact as the years had passed since Mister Dantés’ death, since she had learned the truth and the seriousness, she wore like armour had hardened around her. But the light moments with one of the few people she could trust were precious.

She remained very much in his personal space, and allowed her own face to return, the brown hair lightening to her blonde, and her bone structure becoming finer, the watery blue eyes turning grey. ’Is that better?’ she asked her tone defiant and cheeky

---

She quirked her head in recognition of the compliment and feigned a coquiettish flutter.  For her, her appearance was a practical asset, like her money and her house, it served a purpose to get her closer to the people who she needed access to.  She wasn't vain, if presenting as the dour little maid would get her what she needed she would do it - the fact that those people had a son of just the right age meant that her appearance, and her fortune were her best hope of accessing those circles. 

As he pressed the issue of her staying in the other house again she turned serious.  'I need space to do this, space that is mine' she explained 'When I'm introduced to the Princling I need to be able to present as a friendless orphan, an heiress ripe for picking- and everyone knows a seduction is better done in private.'  They were still standing close on the study floor, 'besides' she added her face softening a little ''if it goes wrong you need to have deniability, she explained, but the softness was buried as quickly as it surfaced, there were few people in this world she still cared about.  And while Peter wouldnt be allowed to stand in her way, she wouldnt purposefully endanger him either.  'You need to be able to say you didn't know' she gave his elbow a comforting squeeze, before dropping her hands again.

She let out a sigh, 'would a night or two a week here make you feel better?' she asked, prepared to make some concessions for the sake of his peace of mind.  'I could spend the night at least?' she asked, standing like this made their height difference noticeable, he  was a towering man next to her. 

---

At his comment about getting her way she smiled and quirked her eyebrows.  Although she smiled often, very few of Adrestia’s smiles every really made it to her eyes.  A smile was a debutantes greatest weapon, it drew you in and held you at distance all in the same breath.  For although she smiled, flirted, and complimented with great ease, never seeming the wall flower, none of it made it past the corners of her mouth.  In unguarded moments, and there were few, even with Peter and Ramdas, the sea grey of her eyes became steel and the warm softness of her expression was an implacable mask – a poker face to shame the rakes of Monté Carlo. 

Even so she nodded at him, flashing another brilliant smile, ’Then it’s setteled’ she said with an air of finality, ’I can spend a night or two a week with you and the rest of the week at my own address. I can fluu in and out and only the house mice will see me.’  She moved away from him towards the sofa and realised she was still wearing the maids drab clothing.  She was no expert in transfiguration, other types of spells had always been much more her forte.  Peter’s abilities had always far outstripped her own.  Adrestia raised her hands to her sides, indicating that his help would be appreciated in rectifying her clothing.  It was minor magic for a man as talented as him. 

She took a seat on the chaise that occupied his study, ’Would you mind, since you are so keen that I be myself with you.’ She made herself comfortable, ’It’s been rather a long time since we’ve seen each other Mister Salvage’ she added.  'To properly talk?' there was a hint of softness in his last remark cockiness replaced with the desire to reconnect with a friend.

---

The dress changed into a tastefully cut blue gown, elegant and understated. She nodded her approval, but retrieving her wand from the pocket she changed the garment to red, much more her colour. 'You know my talents lie elsewhere' she quipped. She could transfigure the garments herself but why not let him show off- he was no stranger to that after all. Flashy at always been his way.

'I appreciated that, but it's funny how space seemed to be the exact same size, shape, breadth and depth as you.' she remarked, she had missed him, the last connection she had to the life before. She didn't want to push him away, but some distance would be needed between them, a public coolness to fuel the facade, so she might as well take this time to reconnect with him. 'but I'm here now, how have you been?'. She gestured to the sofa beside her.

---

Her eyes narrowed when he mentioned his mothers disdain, but Adrestia tried hard to bite her tongue. It irked her immensely that his family didn’t appreciate what they had in him. His one mistake in boyhood shouldn’t still haunt him as an adult. Her father had seen the talent in the boy, and Adrestia at least could see the value in the man – more than just to the execution of her plan. There were a dozen things she could say, things she could snap out about his family, specifically his mother, but she angrily bit the inside of her mouth, her lip set in a hard line.

She settled for drawing her legs up onto the sofa, and extending a hand to rest indolently on his shoulder. Her head resting on her own shoulder, as though if she had been closer she might have laid it on his in a half hug. It was a small gesture, hardly an outpouring of emotion, but as much as she could manage, as much as she allowed herself, but it was meant to convey that she was team Peter, and that his mothers disdain was misplaced.

’I’m glad she appreciates the society you’ve elevated her to’ she noted – it was tactful, but barbed, it was the least she could do to control herself in public, since if it wasn’t for Peters talents she wouldn’t have access to the lifestyle she now did. The hypocrisy just about gagged her.

---

There were sins one could control, and should atone for, there were other sins that were quirks of fate – a cosmic joke- to crib a line from Shakespeare –‘We are fortunes fools’. His family blamed Peter, but the same path that ‘caused’ the thing they blamed him for, was also the path that led to his success, that provided the lifestyle that they now enjoyed. She would and should, in her view – get over it. He wasn’t to blame, a blind man could see that.

Adrestia didn’t think about life after this she had money and status enough to be comfortable, she still had the home in India in which she had grown up, but so far she had lived for this plan, she wasn’t sure how she would be able to live without it.

Returning to the topic they had discussed before, her brow furrowed, ’Will my being here make it better or worse with them?’ she pressed, his mother could take it one of two ways – a marriable ward here to smooth over his rough edges, or a pretty distraction that could exacerbate the behaviours his family already disdained. ’Your plate is full enough without my plans, if you need to put more distance between us?’ she offered and examined the lapel of his jacket, where her hand fell with great interest. ’We can engineer some falling out and you can step away?’

---