June 28th, 1894 - Spellcraft Ball

In an effort to "get back out there" according to his mother, Eugene had thought this event innocuous enough. He'd brought Theseus to see the competition, as he thought his son would enjoy the show (and it was far less unpredictable than duels) and it had been good to spend the time together. His blessed nanny had agreed with his mother (whose side was she on, anyway?) and had taken Theseus for the night so Eugene could "go enjoy" the festivities.

Balls had become more tedious at this point in his life. They used to be at least entertaining, fun even, but now he saw them for what they were; a trial of sorts, an excursion to meet someone and while that should have been exciting, now it just filled him with a little sense of dread. He had done the requisite dance card signings, if only to appease his guilt. This would soon come back to bite him in the ass. It was a strange sensation, setting oneself up for what basically came down to a preliminary inspection, but he supposed he wasn't getting any younger. Not to mention physically painful. His leg could no longer hold up to the strain of being on his feet for too long. His first dance with a Miss Twiglett had been almost enough to send him home. He'd bowed his way out of a conversation afterward as graciously as he could, citing the pain in his leg, but it had taken some effort. His second dance should have been with a Miss Holbrook, fresh off the boat from America it seemed. Her gentle acceptance of his need for a respite already was a relief, as he was not in any position to push the injury. Thankfully an old friend from the ministry had stepped in and Eugene passed Harper a thankful nod as the two set about the dance floor.

The waltz was approaching and his leg pulsed with pain, radiating from his hip all of the way down to his ankle. Eugene had seated himself near the refreshments, trying to kick back something strong to help ease the ache in his muscles. Thankfully it seemed he had a few minutes or he might have to see if Miss Farris would excuse him as well. Eugene had no idea what he was thinking. He was not young and whole anymore and this whole thing had soured his mood already. He grimaced as he tried to readjust his position, which naturally, was exactly as Miss Farris approached him.

---

Matilda Farris

  

---

Mattie fancied her father had been keener to make introductions to Mr. Scamander than she had: the new name upon her dance card was an excuse for Mr. Farris to talk about his magizoology work with the Assistant Head of a Ministry department more than anything. Really, Matilda thought her father should have danced with these men himself, rather than use her as a puppet in his academic passions. But she had displayed her own talents in the spellcraft competition (and Miss Adebayo had not won the final round either, which made it easier to nurse the wound of second place) so her dance card was already substantially full for the rest of the night.

But as she went to track down Mr. Scamander for the approaching waltz, she found him sitting down – with rather a grimace on his face. Was he in pain, or just miserable about society? She didn’t know enough of him to be sure. Still, it would be rude indeed to ignore him now they were meant to dance. “Mr. Scamander?” Mattie ventured, already half-expecting him to protest to her concern, as she suspected men were commonly wont to do. “Are you quite alright?”

---

  

---

"Miss Farris," Eugene straightened up and immediately regretted the quick motion, pain intensifying. He kept it from reaching his features but blew out a slow breath as it ebbed slightly. "My apologies, I seem to have overexerted myself already. I was taking a few moment's break to see if I could rouse myself from the discomfort." That was the understatement of the century, he felt, but did not want to burden Miss Farris with his problems. The least he could do was hide the pain and hope she would not hold it against him.

He dug the heels of his hand into his knee, where the worst of the pain was, but he knew it would be useless. Would it be more embarrassing to have to sit out the dance or attempt and fail? He supposed he would have to leave that up to Miss Farris, it was probably not too late for her to find a replacement for him, though he knew Harper was not available to save him again. "I fear I may be incapacitated for the time being, I would not begrudge you if you wish to find someone else for the waltz."

---

  

---

Overexerted himself in the first two dances – that was unlucky and unfortunate indeed – but Mattie eyed him keenly enough to judge from the jerky movements that it was not an exaggeration. She felt sorry for him – and if her gaze drifted about the room for a moment, contemplating the possibility of finding another partner, he had said he would not begrudge her.

But in the end, there was no one nearby whom she wanted desperately to dance with, and she did not want to look desperate for dance partners at all. (It was probably wiser to show a compassionate outlook, after all, and not leave a man suffering stoically at the side of the ballroom, in case something was seriously wrong and he collapsed in a minute or two.)

“I shall survive well enough without our waltz, I’m sure,” Mattie said instead, hoping she sounded gracious enough. “I prefer a quadrille anyway,” she offered with a confidential smile, to brush it off, and then she cast her gaze over him once more, trying to see what kind of pain he was fielding. If it was that bad, he probably wasn’t listening to her anyway.

“Is there something else I can do for you?” she offered, more out of curiosity than anything. “Will you sit again? Or would you like... some air?” She wasn’t sure: she was not much of a born nursemaid. But she supposed she could keep him company for the length of their intended dance, or escort him somewhere out of the way where no one would be witness to his injury. There must be something she could do to help.

---

  

---

Miss Farris was taking his shortcomings rather gracefully and he even had to quirk a smile at her line about the quadrille. Once upon a time he would have agreed with her. Eugene had enjoyed dancing, though no more than most men, when he'd been able to.

His leg was already protesting being upright and at her question of what he would do next, Eugene gratefully slid back down into his seat. "Unfortunately rest is about the only thing I can do." Which was why he now had a cushy desk job at the ministry; why he had to watch his son in the back garden instead of engaging like he used to. It was as infuriating as it was frustrating.

Trying to keep those darker thoughts at bay and from his expression, Eugene gestured to the chair beside him if she wanted to sit, but he would also understand if she preferred the company of her friends or family instead. Setting his leg into the most comfortable angle he could manage using his hands, the pain subsided a little, but not nearly enough. He wondered if he would ever truly be rid of it. "I'm afraid I was caught up in the dragon fiasco last September." The details were too gruesome for polite company. "Haven't been quite the same since." Though he was never sure how to broach the topic, he felt like he owed her some sort of explanation given the circumstances.

---

  

---

The waltz they were meant to have had started – and as anyone else worth any of her time was now on the dancefloor, Mattie flopped into the chair beside Mr. Scamander, making herself comfortable. (Much more comfortable than he could be, unfortunately.) She watched as he had to forcibly rearrange his leg; and, although she had heard a small mention of his plight from her father, she considered him with a sharp new interest as he offered an explanation of his own.

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear it,” Mattie offered, a polite but practised look of consternation flitting across her face. “I’m sure dancing is the least of your worries now. It was – good of you to come at all.” And he might be lucky to survive, but Mattie spent enough of her time in the vicinity of her father and his researchers and dragonkeeper associates to wonder whether people were sometimes too fascinated by the creatures, who were rather destructive things. She would have despised dragons, if they had done as much to her.

(But at least it was only his leg, and not his face that had been marred.)

---

The following 1 user Likes Matilda Farris's post:1 user Likes Matilda Farris's post
   Eugene Scamander

---

Eugene was never quite sure how to handle people's condolences so he offered her a bit of a wry smile. "I almost miss it," Eugene hadn't ever really been one for events like this, but he'd enjoyed them well enough in that past. It had been fun during his courtship with Tilda, back when things were easier. A lot had changed and his attitude had soured far too much. It wasn't Miss Farris' fault however, and he tried to rouse himself to be better company.

"I was always just alright at it to begin with, but it was fun, once upon a time." That loss wasn't nearly as bad as the ability to be able to play with his son in the back garden. That was harder somehow. "Perhaps you lucked out in the end." His chuckle was good-natured in a self-depreciating sort of manner. Merlin, he'd become such a mess.

---

  

---

Mattie guessed that there were worse things he missed besides the dancing, since his injury, but she had to smile at his framing of it as lucky for her. Although – she did not approve of wallowing, however tragic and depressing his circumstances may be. (It was fine if people wanted to, of course, but Mattie hadn’t the endless patience for it in her presence.)

“Well,” she said, with a casual click of her teeth – and she would not have been so brazen if anyone else were listening to them, lest anyone think her rude, but alone she did not entirely care if Mr. Scamander took it the wrong way – “there are better things to miss than dancing. And I am sure you can find your fun in other ways. You could drink too much, and no one should mind,” (people would not even mutter about him being a lushington, if he had the excuse of pain and torment). “Or there is always the cards and cigars and whatever other unsavoury things the gentlemen get up to in their retiring rooms at parties,” Mattie continued to tease – she was mostly joking, for she thought many of the gentlemen in there were probably the stuffy, unsociable sorts.

“Or, of course, you could take advantage of your terribly charming company and task her with entertaining you all night, and hope she can do better.” She didn’t know what she could do to entertain him, but she pulled an exaggerated, eyelash-fluttering expression all the same, hoping that, if she had not been too facetious, she would at least make him laugh.

---

  

---

Miss Farris was being far more understanding than Eugene deserved. The pain in his leg distracted him from what she was saying, the fire creeping up his veins from the overexertion. He barely caught the last of her statements, a grimace as he adjusted his position. "I'm sure you could do far better than most, but I'm afraid you will be relieved of amusement duties this evening, at least on my account." Eugene wasn't going to put either one of them through that for any longer.

"Please accept my sincerest apologies, I know it is terribly uncouth of me, but I think I need to head home. If I wait too much longer, I won't be able to talk myself out of here." It was the unfortunate truth and he would rather save himself the embarrassment if he could help it. "I hope your evening goes up from here. It's been a pleasure, Miss Farris." He added as he managed to get himself to his feet with more effort than he would care to admit.

---

  

---