Greengrass,

I understand that you likely have no desire to write to me, let alone speak to me, bu

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Greengrass,

You said you would have fallen in love with me if you would have stayed. What does that mean? Did you mean to say your feelings

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Greengrass,

I wanted to thank you for helping heal me when I knew how uncomfortable it made you. Even as a healer I feel squeamish when helping with splinching victims, so I can only imagine how it felt for you.

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Greengrass,

I wish you hadn't run away from me like you did. Did the splinching turn your stomach, or could you merely not bear to be in my presence another second longer? In any case, it was a pain in the arse to redress myself so I could find the nearest floo, but I imagine you're rolling your eyes and thinking about how I shouldn't have tried to keep you at the club. Maybe I shouldn't have. I've told myself that I shouldn't have even walked across the room and sat down at your table after you'd washed your hands of me. But I don't regret it, you know. I wouldn't have ended things if it had been up to me. That's why I can't even begin to wrap my head around what you said.

I need to talk to you. I say that, but I already know you won't talk to me. You could barely talk to me when we were sitting face-to-face, so why would I imagine you would agree to meet and talk to me? But just for the record, I think we ought to.

V. Macnair

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You've sure got me figured out, don't you? Predicting what I will or won't do and even when I'm rolling my eyes.

Maybe you think that by writing that I won't meet you, you'll goad me into doing it to prove I'm not a coward. It's smart, but it uses the wrong set of assumptions. You're the one who claimed you weren't afraid of anything. And maybe it would surprise you to know: I didn't roll my eyes. So maybe you haven't figured me out as well as you think.

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I'm quite busy this next week.

My apologies if I inconvenienced you Saturday.

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Greengrass,

I suppose it will have to wait until the 7th then.

V. Macnair

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I was under the impression you would be rather busy on the 7th.

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Greengrass,

Busier than I would be the week before, but I'm happy to work with the time I'm given.

V. Macnair

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I thought I ought to clarify what I meant at the party yesterday, in case it wasn't clear. I'm not fishing for a love letter (though you know, if you do write me a sonnet I certainly wouldn't mind...) I'm more after the details, because if we decide to keep doing this it's going to be more complicated now and I want to make sure I've thought it through and I'm being smart about it. For instance: do you want me to stay the night? Because if we never talked about it until we're in bed together and you ask me then, I'd say yes even if it was a stupid idea — I just would — and we might get ourselves into trouble. So that's what I'm after. I want to figure out where the boundaries are before we agree to jump into this.

I'll wait for your letter. Try not to make me wait too long.

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Greengrass,

As much as I love a good poem as much as the next person, I'm afraid you'd be rather disappointed with any sonnet I wrote. I've been considering the options we have. I'm fortunate Tatiana is under no illusions about the nature of our marriage, so I cannot imagine she'll pry into my personal life unless I give her cause to. I've never had issues being discreet before. But even so, I understand the need to be sure.

I won't ask you to sleep under the same roof as her, but I can't lie and say I'd be perfectly happy to let you return to your home every night, because I know there will be some days where I'd rather tie you to the bed than let you leave. If that means finding alternate sleeping arrangements for us, so be it. I'll be living in London, which means the easiest place to meet would be the Inverness home. My two youngest brothers and parents live there, but you've seen it. It's large enough that we could likely walk around freely without being seen by a soul—not that I intend to do that. If that doesn't suit you, I could find us somewhere else.

And I know the time we've spent together has been spent mostly in bed, but I want to do more that. I want to take you places where you've never been. I want to spend time with you. In that way we are blessed: we can go places together without anyone looking twice in our direction.

I know you want me to tell you how we'll manage this, but your input is just as important. I need to know what you want, what you don't what. Tell me everything and don't be nervous about it.

Fondly,
V. Macnair

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Tell you everything? I hope you're prepared for a very long letter indeed.

In all seriousness, before I give you an answer I think I owe you an explanation, and before I can give you an explanation I have to make a bit of an admission. This might seem irrelevant but reserve judgement on that until you've read it all the way through because I don't believe it is.

The admission: I don't believe I ever lied to you when we first started talking in March but I certainly misled you when it comes to my relationship with my family. I suppose I wanted you to like me, and I thought you might like me better if I seemed independent and aloof, so I spoke as though my siblings were a burden. And they are — being responsible for them and their futures is almost more than I can manage, sometimes. But I would do anything for them, and I love them, and if there ever came a moment where I thought I had to choose between my own happiness and theirs, I would choose theirs. So I think that's important for you to know; my choices aren't my own, sometimes. At least not mine entirely.

The explanation: when we first started seeing each other I thought this didn't mean anything, and that you were just looking for someone to fool around with, and I thought I could manage that. Because if that was all it was, then the only thing it's taking is time. I could be present with you when we were together but as soon as I left I could devote all my time and effort to my family and it wouldn't make much of an impact on my life, overall. And then you kept doing all these things that hinted that I was wrong about it, that maybe it was more, but I never thought to wonder if it really was, on your end. I thought that was just how you were, and this was still just physical for you, and sometime soon you were going to get tired of me and move on. That was alright when I'd thought I could stay detached from it all, but obviously I couldn't, and it all came to a head the night we were interrupted and I ended up sitting across from my brother in our parlor wearing your pants and so spun-up I could barely get through a conversation with him. And I thought: Merlin, if this is how I feel after a month, what's going to happen in three months or six months when you're through with me? What's going to happen if I fall in love with you and you break my heart? What's going to happen if my family needs me and I'm not holding myself together well enough to be there for them?

And it's not as though I could tell you that and make you promise not to break my heart. That's just not how it works. But now — after that conversation at the ball and after your letter — at least I think it's clear that you don't want to, and I think that's enough.

So, the answer: yes, I want to go places with you and spend time with you. You're right that if we're careful about it no one will mind how often we're seen together. I think we ought to decide right now not to kiss anywhere besides your bedroom, even if we think no one's near enough to see. Just to be careful. On that note: does the house in Inverness ever have anti-apparition charms? I wouldn't want to use the floo if there was a chance of running into your parents or brothers and having to explain myself. I know we apparated there before but I wasn't sure if I'll still be able to in the future.


PS: it may not be a sonnet but I so appreciated what you said in your letter. Thank you for writing it. I've missed you.

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Greengrass,

I'll admit that I never really considered much how you felt for your family. In hindsight it makes more sense: even without the explanations of my pants and your brother and worrying about how you would care for them if your heart was broken, you've always cared so much that it never made sense for you to hold your family in such low esteem. I hope you'll tell me about them sometime.

And you're right. I do care about you, and I have no plans to break your heart. I think there's only one occasion where I've been the one to end things with someone, but usually it's them. Sometimes I think I bore them, or maybe it's that I come on too strongly too quickly. I suppose I've always had this idea that I have to cram an entire relationship into a short period of time because I don't have faith in love the way some do. Love in my family has always had to be earned—it's never given freely. I know I almost scared you off, too, but if you have it in your mind that you'll still want to be with me in six months, maybe I won't feel so urgent. I know it sounds ridiculous—I wouldn't blame you for laughing at me.

I know things are changing, but I don't want them to change the way you look at me. At the beginning it was physical, but it was never just physical.. Does that make any sense? Even if it had been mere physical attraction, I would have reached this point by now anyways. I've never met a man who I can feel the need to protect in one moment, and in the next can make me feel like I've been left without a shield by sheer stubbornness alone. It's so maddening, yet so charming.

To answer your question: The Inverness home doesn't have anti-apparition charms. Individual rooms do, but if you have no intention of visiting my mother or my father's private study I don't think it's anything you should be concerned about. I can agree to the no-kissing rule, but you can't deprive me of touches. I promise not to do anything that would beg questions.

Yours,
V. Macnair

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I'm not sure how to feel about you calling me maddening and stubborn, so I'll just pretend you said charming and left it at that. I think you're charming, too, and all those little things you used to do are so sweet. I doubt you could bore me if you stay just as you are. I nearly wrote here that I can't imagine anyone being with you and wanting to end things, but that would be a little silly, wouldn't it, since I did it myself, even if that was very different. Well, nevermind — I may not understand why anyone would do that but I'm selfishly pleased that they did if it left you free to seduce me.

Of course I'll tell you all about my family. I think you'd like my brother Noble best. He's a potioneer.

You didn't answer me last time: where are you going on your honeymoon? Or more to the point, when will you be back and how soon can I see you?

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Greengrass,

You are both maddening and stubborn, but the chase would be far less alluring if you didn't put up a fight, would it? It makes the victory all the more sweet.

A potioneer? I dabble in potions myself, although it's probably a given considering my career. I once thought I would become a potioneer instead of a healer—my younger self didn't have nearly as much patience for patients—but circumstances led me to the hospital. I'd say I'd like to meet him, but I'm not sure how comfortable you are with the prospect. I know I would not want you within ten feet of any of my younger brothers.

I'm taking her to Greece for two weeks. At the time I had thought it would be a good escape—not from you, or not just you, but from family and work and all of that. Now I think I regret being away so long. Is there now way I can convince you to see me tomorrow? I want to kiss you.

Yours,
V. Macnair

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You forget that I'm fairly regularly within ten feet of your brother Yarrow since we both work at the Ministry. And on the one hand, if we want people to think we're good friends when they see us out together it may begin to look a little conspicuous if we're avoiding each other's family and all our other friends. But I do know what you mean. We have time to figure that part out, I think.

Two weeks doesn't sound so terrible if you think you'll be able to send letters. I'll try not to write so often that it's obnoxious. In the meantime... what time tomorrow? Your London house?

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Greengrass,

I suppose you're right. At least with your brother Noble it won't be difficult to find a topic of conversation. Who are your closest friends, anyways? I don't think I've heard you ever name one. Maybe we have someone in common and we don't even know.

I imagine I'll have plenty of time to write. You could never be obnoxious. I'll find little trinkets to bring you—it will make the trip all the more enjoyable.

I get off work at 8pm tomorrow. We could spend a few hours together, if you'd like. Probably not the best night to stay the night.

Yours truly,
V. Macnair

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If I told you one of my closest friends was actually a spirit, would you believe me or would you think I'm making fun of you for playing around with potions in your free time?

Is 8:30 too early to arrive? If not, I'll see you then.

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