July 15th, 1891 — Urquart Home, Irvingly

Topaz was not often nervous around her father, but she was tonight. There were two reasons. The first was performance anxiety, which she had struggled with her entire life. After a fantastically delayed first sign of magic, she'd never been comfortable doing spellwork while others were watching her; she'd always felt as thought she were being judged or evaluated, even when she knew objectively that it wasn't true. The spell she was going to show her father tonight was one of her own invention, which she hadn't demonstrated to anyone before, and while she'd practiced it dozens of times leading up to this there was always a chance she'd clam up and her spell would fizzle. And it wasn't even finished, so even if it performed as intended, he might not be impressed.

The second reason was because of the nature of the spell. She wasn't sure how he would react, because this wasn't the sort of thing they'd talked about. It wasn't the sort of thing they'd had to talk about, because it was a foregone conclusion that it was all beyond her reach. Throughout the years Topaz had tried not to seem disappointed by the limitations of her new life, because she expected that her disappointment might hurt him in a way that wasn't fair — it wasn't as though he'd chosen this any more than she had, and he had done everything in his power to support her at every step of the way. There were some things, however, that were beyond the reach of even the Minister.

So she was nervous as she found him after dinner, when her siblings had all dispersed to their various evening activities, and it showed. "I wanted to show you something I've been working on," she announced, lightly chewing the inside of her bottom lip. After waiting for some sign of encouragement from her father, Topaz drew her wand and took a deep, steadying breath. The spell was an illusion: a pair of detailed characters made of silvery light, about six inches tall. She'd cast it well, despite her nerves, and the movements were graceful and true to life as they approached each other, bowed and curtseyed. They assumed a dance frame, and then it all fell apart. Their movements were too choppy, their steps were wrong. They separated for a second and when they rejoined the woman's hands were in the wrong place on her partner. Topaz's cheeks flushed and she waved her wand to vanish the pair, without waiting for a reaction from her father.

"They're supposed to waltz," she mumbled, her eyes on the nearest table. "I've been trying, but I can't make them any smoother." Because I don't know the steps, she added silently, raising her eyes to her father briefly to see if he understood her dilemma.

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Balthazar Urquart Aldous Crouch

  

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

"I should be delighted to see it," he remarked with a warm smile. Of all his children, Balt regarded Topaz as the most private—and who could blame her, with her personal life so on display at her most personal of moments?

He maintained the smile upon his face as she drew her wand, a smile that grew as he observed her spell. It was very well done, and even though Topaz had not been entirely forlorn in her education after leaving Hogwarts (tutors for werewolves were not in grand supply, but he had done his best by her education), Balthazar was genuinely impressed by the effort—especially since, the wizard gleaned from her explanation, it was a spell of her own divising—or at least modification.

"The finer the detail," he offered, "the more difficult it is to perfect—but Topaz, you ought to be very proud of what you have accomplished here."

Any agenda his daughter might have devised went altogether over her father's head.

  

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— mj makes pretty things! —

Topaz offered a small smile in response to her father's praise, but in truth she thought he was being a little patronizing. Yes, yes, very proud of her accomplishments, but she needed it to work. Topaz was a bit of a perfectionist in general, but particularly with spellwork, which was part of the reason she was always so hesitant to share what she had been practicing or devising with others. Showing her father an unfinished spell was perhaps the bravest thing she'd done all summer, though it may have seemed trivial to anyone else.

"More difficult still when I've no experience with the details," she pointed out quietly, to redirect back to her ulterior motive for showing him. "Books don't quite encompass it, do they?"

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

"Details?" the wizard asked, missing her meaning.

  

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— mj makes pretty things! —

Was he being purposefully obtuse? Topaz knew her father to be very intelligent, and she felt she was being rather heavy handed with her hints, so that was the only thing she could think. Surely her father already knew what she was getting at, and was asking questions as a means of stalling so that he could find a way to turn her down gently. This was exasperating. If he was going to refuse to teach her, best to just get on with it.

"I don't know how to waltz," she said bluntly. It was a needless announcement. Her father had taken charge of her education from the moment she'd been outed as a werewolf, so he knew very well which tutors she'd had access to, and for which subjects. Dancing had never been a part of the curriculum — and why would it be? It wasn't as if Topaz was expected to receive a great number of invitations. She had never formally debuted at all (probably for the best; someone would have felt obliged to send her an invitation or two out of pity if she had, and Topaz had no desire to be the center of attention for an evening in that capacity).

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

Balt was so accustomed to none of his daughters doing the traditional ~society thing that Topaz's now-obvious point had altogether evaded him, leaving the wizard feeling like something of a dunce. Oh, was the only reply the wizard could summon up, but as it was woefully inadequate, he bit it back.

He was silent perhaps longer than was reasonable before admitting tentatively, "I had not thought you would want to learn."

While dancing was a standard skill for most any man or woman, particularly in the middle and upper classes, for a girl whose affliction kept her from attending functions, it seemed far less useful than charms or potions. Part of Balt had wished to shield Topaz from 'things she could not have', but most of him had just assumed she would want to focus on her academics and leave more 'frivolous' things aside.

Had he erred in that regard?

  

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— mj makes pretty things! —

Topaz's cheeks flushed slightly. She realized now that her comment may have seemed slightly accusatory, which had not been her intention. "I hadn't realized I would," she admitted. "It always seemed unlikely to become a relevant skill."

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

He looked at his daughter, a keen sadness in his eyes. The day the world had learned of her affliction, Topaz's future had entered a downward spiral; while she had some friends who had rightly stuck beside her, not to mention her family, she would never have where waltzing would be necessary.

But still, if she wanted it...

"I suppose I could teach you," the wizard offered tentatively.

@"Topaz Urquart"

  

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— mj makes pretty things! —

Topaz breathed a sigh of relief at her father's words. She'd been expecting him to offer, of course, or else she wouldn't have had the courage to bring it up in the first place, but she had also been anxious that he wouldn't. Her father was really the only recourse here; it wasn't as though she could go out and get dance lessons at Hogsmeade Hall, and if it was possible to learn how to dance from reading books, she already would have mastered the subject.

Still, she didn't want to let on that she felt particularly strongly about this, lest her father question why. She had a reasonable excuse, with the clumsily waltzing charmwork, and hoped he would look no further than that superficial explanation. "If you have time," she said with a very slight hint of a smile. "I think that would be... enjoyable. That is, I think I'd like to learn."

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

"I will always have time for you, Topaz," Balt assured with a gentle firmness. She had never been the most confident of his children by any stretch, but it still pained him to think she might need reminding. Perhaps he had been remiss in his fatherly duties of late—something he would have to remedy.

"When shall we begin?"

  

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— mj makes pretty things! —

"Perhaps Monday?" Topaz asked hopefully. She wouldn't dream of asking him to take time out of his evening on a Friday or Saturday. Neither Delight nor Ruby had chosen the traditional debutante route, but they were still invited to things and still needed chaperones on occasion, and Aunt Evelyn couldn't be everywhere at once. Eager as she was to start, she could not in good conscious do so at her sisters' detriment — she had done quite enough to their detriment already, through no fault of her own.

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   Aldous Crouch

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pinned my hopes to the summit of someday

Magnolia

"Consider it done," Balt affirmed warmly. This was not an area in which he had ever expected to instruct his children, but if it would make Topaz more content with her situation, he would make it so.

  

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— mj makes pretty things! —