Welcome to Charming, where swirling petticoats, the language of flowers, and old-fashioned duels are only the beginning of what is lying underneath…
After a magical attempt on her life in 1877, Queen Victoria launched a crusade against magic that, while tidied up by the Ministry of Magic, saw the Wizarding community exiled to Hogsmeade, previously little more than a crossroad near the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In the years that have passed since, Hogsmeade has suffered plagues, fires, and Victorian hypocrisy but is still standing firm.
Thethe year is now 1894. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Was he stable enough for her to apparate? Ezra felt a stab of panic at the idea that she might leave him here alone with the shadows while she apparated somewhere to get help. He could manage it, if he had to — staying still and waiting was probably no more perilous than wandering in the woods with her, so whatever got him out of here fastest was the way they ought to go, but he didn't want her to leave until he'd had a chance to prepare himself for her absence. He instinctively tightened his grip on her elbow to keep her from pulling away when he wasn't ready, then realized she hadn't made any attempt to separate herself from him. Did she mean she was going to apparate and take him with her, then? That was a lot to ask of her — the two of them leaving together, when presumably they were both here with people who would notice their absence sooner or later. But if she didn't know the way out, floo wasn't a very viable option, and he did need to get out of this party.
Could he apparate? There was no special reason to believe he couldn't — but even if he were to push the thoughts of shadows out of his mind enough to focus, he doubted Rosalie would let him try it on his own, given that he'd told her he was sick and she was obviously worried.
"Could you get me home?" he asked. "Not a hospital. I need to be home."
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
Rosie bit back her protests, because, for all of her worries and fear of his wellbeing, it wasn't her place to dictate his care. She had to trust that he was taking care of himself as he saw fit, even if she was certain he required a healer. Even if the thought of just leaving him at his house had her blood running cold.
She could remember the interior of his home perfectly well. However, nearly everyone had some sort of anti-apparition ward up around their home and Rosie didn't remember the gardens well enough to feel safe taking them both there. Having seen some horrific splinching accidents during her internship, Rosie made it a point not to apparate anymore if she could avoid doing so. There was one case where a man had splinched his entire leg off and, unfortunately for him, they hadn't been able to stop the bleeding in time.
She couldn't do that to Ezra.
"I'm going to take us to my grandmother's estate. She isn't there right now, she's in London so the house will be largely empty and you can floo from there." Rosie explained her plan as she began visualizing the blooming flowers and meticulously trimmed hedges. She needed to have as clear a vision as possible if she was to get them there safely. "I would take you straight home if I thought I could."
Ezra couldn't really complain about anything connected to a floo. He nodded and held on tightly to her arm. Just before she apparated them away he looked past her, towards the shadows, but he didn't have a chance to even let his eyes focus on one of them before they were tugged out of the woods, much less determine how close they were.
They landed in darkness. There was still moonlight from the sky above, and considerably more of it without the branches of the trees to blot it out, but Ezra had grown accustomed to the lights that Rosalie had cast with her wand and gave an involuntary shudder at the contrast. He couldn't tell where the shadows were in these conditions, and he desperately needed to know. Ezra pulled his own wand out and muttered lumos — the light that was conjured sputtered like weak candlelight. His wand didn't like the hovering shadows any more than he did.
Focus, he admonished himself. He took a breath and cast again, and this time the light was clearer and brighter. He let go of Rosalie's arm and looked hurriedly around the perimeter of the garden, his eyes searching out the indefinite edges of shapes that shouldn't exist.
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
Rosie released a heavy sigh of relief when they both reappeared with no new injuries. Ezra was — well, she didn't know what Ezra was but at least she hadn't made the situation worse. The last thing either of them needed now was a splinching injury.
Although he released her and stepped further away, Rosie remained perfectly still as she watched him. He was looking for something, something in the darkness. Was that what he saw at the party? Was there some sinister creature lurking through the trees there? She knew he was likely suffering from some sort of delusion, but what could possibly cause something like this? What illness did Ezra have that produced visions?
She drew her wand and lit one of the nearby luminaries. They couldn't risk lighting them all, though judging by how frightened he still seemed perhaps she ought to have, but a few wouldn't hurt. At least if they were to be found by a stray staff member Ezra might find somewhere to hide in the garden so that their reputations wouldn't be ruined. Not that she particularly cared much for her own anymore, but he certainly seemed attached to the prospect of moving on last year.
"You're safe here, I promise." Rosie quietly murmured from her place a few feet away. She was hesitant to move and spook him, though she missed the grip he had on her arm. "What did you see at the party?" She then asked in a continued near whisper.
Between his wand and the luminary she'd lit he could see far enough to make them out, hunched in the distant bushes. Fewer than he had expected, and farther away. Maybe they had actually moved back — maybe being with Rosalie was helping after all — but he wasn't going to count on it just yet. It was also possible that he'd mistaken them before, in the confusion of the trees and the shifting shadows that naturally occurred in a place like that, or it was also possible they simply hadn't had enough time to creep in closer since they'd apparated in. Maybe in a few moments they'd be just as tight as he'd thought they were before, just as suffocating.
In the meantime, he had to deal with questions from Rosalie. She wanted to know what he had seen — she was more perceptive than he'd anticipated, though he wasn't surprised to hear she hadn't given his cover story of a stomach bug much credence.
"I'm not crazy," he insisted, while wrestling with the knowledge that there was no way to answer her question. Anything he could say would sound crazy, even if he worded it carefully.
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
"I never said you were," Rosalie replied. Ill, certainly, but insanity implied something incurable and she refused to believe he could have something so debilitating when he already carried the heavy burden of his family's curse. One person couldn't be so immensely unlucky, could they? One person couldn't have to weather the storm of losing children while dealing with hallucinations, that simply wasn't fair.
Ezra frowned sharply. "Technicality," he countered. She hadn't said that he was crazy because that wasn't the sort of thing you were supposed to say to someone you thought was crazy. Ezra knew how these things went; half his life his father had been considered crazy, and even then no one tended to use that word. Rosalie wouldn't have called him crazy no matter what he did, or what she heard him say — but she thought he was seeing things that didn't exist, she'd just admitted as much in not so many words, and that was nearly the same thing.
This didn't answer her question, of course, because there was no way to answer it. He had fleetingly considered telling her something like the truth, something like Someday I'm going to die because these things will close in around me and they won't back off again, but the only thing that would have accomplished was making her eat her words, about his not being crazy. He needed her to trust him enough to let him leave, and not force him into a hospital's care, so best not to burn any bridges that he could avoid burning.
"The floo?" he asked, sidestepping it entirely. He had been here before, he remembered, but he didn't know it well enough to know the fastest way to the exit from here.
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
Rosie nodded, her expression drawn now into one of frustration. Ezra had the right to his privacy after all, and if he didn't trust her enough to divulge somewhat sensitive information then that was his prerogative. It wasn't as though she handled life altering information well the first time he shared with her. Ezra was right to not trust her, much as it pained Rosalie to admit.
Unfortunately for her (and him, if he remembered although with years having passed she doubted he did) the shortest path to the house involved crossing beneath the arch they'd planned to wed under. She had avoided this section of the garden for the better part of two years and had intended to do so for longer, but with him being unwell and the other path adding at least ten minutes to their trip she knew it to be inevitable.
She remained silent as they walked, her only indication of something bothering her being the a sharp exhale as the arch came into sight. And, sooner than she expected, they were heading up the back stairs towards the house.
Ezra probably wouldn't have noticed the arch if she hadn't inhaled when she saw it, not because he didn't remember the wedding plans where it featured but because he was too preoccupied with the twin tasks of (a) trying to keep track of the nearest shadows as they walked and (b) trying not to let Rosalie notice that he was still watching things she couldn't see. He glanced at her after she inhaled, but she didn't say anything. His stride didn't change. If he'd been holding onto her still he might have done something to offer some slight comfort, squeezed her arm maybe, but the opportunity wasn't there — and it wasn't his job to comfort her anymore, anyway.
He paused at the edge of the stair towards the house, with the thought that this might be the last opportune moment to say goodbye. Rosalie had said her grandmother wasn't here, but she hadn't said the house was entirely empty; they might not have the leisure of conversation once they got inside.
"Thank you," he said, sincerely. There didn't seem to be more to say. She'd assumed a fair amount of risk tonight for his sake, both to her reputation and possibly more — she didn't know what was wrong with him, and whether it was catching — or whether he was safe to be around. And he was under no illusions that she wanted to linger in his company even at the best of times. He paused a moment, then continued hesitantly, "I hate to ask anything else of you, but... if you could — not mention this to anyone else?"
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
Rosie wanted little to do with this goodbye. Not because she was angry or uninterested, but because she was extremely concerned for his well-being and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would have no resolution for such concern. He would either be well or he wouldn't and, since she tore everything to shreds between them, she had no say in the matter.
She shouldn't care as much as she did anyway. Ezra was the one who had omitted the curse and waited until she was absolutely besotted with him to chance telling her. He was the one regularly dancing with debutantes and carrying on with his hunt to find a wife as though they had never happened or mattered. She shouldn't care what happened to him anymore — truthfully, for awhile she thought she might've finally stopped but tonight had shattered all illusions.
And yet, it didn't matter to anyone that she still cared.
"Of course not." Who would believe her anyway? Ezra so regularly appeared as the charming man she knew him to be, all anyone would hear was a jealous woman. "I sincerely hope you look after yourself." Rosie added as she folded her arms tightly across her chest. She wanted to ask him to write her when he was well again, just for the sense of closure. To do so though opened an avenue that was best to remain closed.
"I will," he agreed. It was an easy promise to make, because he'd already made it to his sister before, and because Rosalie would have no way of knowing whether or not he'd kept it.
Ezra glanced up at the house. He hadn't been here in years, and it looked more sinister in the dark — probably anything would have looked more sinister, in this current darkness.
"You don't have to worry about me," he said, glancing back to her. Though maybe what he was really saying was you shouldn't worry about me. Her concern was not good for either of them, given their history.
~~~ but I'm stuck trying not to come off crazy ~~~
It was a laughable suggestion, one she instantly knew she'd never manage to achieve. For even if she had never loved him — even if their future wasn't once a joyous and bountiful one — she would still worry due to the nature of her career. Even now, she remained tempted to grab his hand and take them both to the hospital with how certain she was of his needing help. In fact, were she any less involved she would have done exactly that. She would have saw to it that he got treatment, even if it meant she received no updates and was on the receiving end of his ire.
However, Rosie was attached and she didn't think she could handle him shouting vile things at her again. (What I would like is for you to stay out of my life haunted her in her dreams more often than she would ever admit to.) And so, without further comment on whether or not she'd worry over him, Rosie gestured towards the house and said, "the floo is this way."
![[Image: o7xGVB5.png]](https://i.imgur.com/o7xGVB5.png)