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 1895. It’s time to join us and immerse yourself in scandal and drama interlaced with magic both light and dark.
Complete a thread started and set every month for twelve consecutive months. Each thread must have at least ten posts, and at least three must be your own.
Did You Know?
Did you know? Jewelry of jet was the haute jewelry of the Victorian era. — Fallin
The invitations had taken pride of place on Konstanin's mantelpiece since the moment they had been delivered to his Bartonburg rooms and any mention of the upcoming weddings, however vaguely made and whoever they were made by, had inevitably ended with him mentioning his invitation to the social events of the year. Certainly of the summer. Who knew, perhaps another of the great families would invite him to a wedding yet?
The only two people he had not been giddy around were Urquart, whose fall from standing was such that Konstantin felt it would be rubbing salt in the wound, and Amelia, who he longed to bring with him but doubted would be especially welcome at any festivities hosted by the Lestranges. The fact that he was the only member of his family invited in their own right told him all he needed to know about their actual social standing - he congratulated himself that he had been right to bet on toiling at the Ministry - but he doubted their grace would extend much further.
Still, he really ought to actually tell Amelia about the invitation. The problem was that she was not the sort of young lady who cared for such things, which he found altogether charming, but it did make it difficult to segue into it. Fortunately the Scottish weather was on his side and an opportunity struck while he and Amelia, in the midst of a perfectly pleasant walk, had been obliged to take refuge in a bandstand when the skies unleashed a surprise torrent of rain. Wiping moisture from his face he glanced up at the grey clouds.
"It continues to amaze me that so many brides bet on the summer weather. One might as well get married in December."
It had been a rather perfect day all around. One minute Amelia was running errands and looking forward to cooking herself a pleasant meal and perhaps playing with Penny and Pascal; the next moment she found herself on a walk with Konstantin. She'd been mildly disappointed she didn't have Penny with her. Despite the comfort that she felt in his presence, whenever she looked up at Konstantin, the gentleman still managed to make her heartbeat madly in her chest, and the dog seemed to have a way of quelling that particular side effect.
And of course, the fickleness that was the weather of the United Kingdom had to have its say in their affairs. With the rain pelting down on them, they'd made their way to shelter, but not before Amelia had found herself thoroughly soaked to the bone. At his comment, Amelia laughed, leaning slightly to her side as she grasped her apron in her hands and lightly wrung it, making sure to aim away from the basket she'd just placed upon the floor.
He did have a point; there seemed to be an awful lot of weddings being planned lately, of course, high-society events that she and Evan had had an array of conversations about. "Well, perhaps," Amelia speculated with a laugh. "They might be hoping that the sheer amount of them might overwhelm the gods and they might eventually pity them and weigh in their favors!"
Konstantin’s understanding of women had inevitably been formed by his sisters and mother. Delia had been a lady, a trait she had passed along to Ros and Xena alone in his estimation and he could easily imagine his mother, and sisters, being quite put out to be soaked through to the skin. It was how ladies reacted. Conversely Zelda and Katia had never minded such things but he had never really thought of them as being delicate creatures at the best of times.
Uninformed as he was Kons had assumed that all women were either one or the other. And yet here was Miss Amelia Evans, still smiling and gay, wringing rainwater from her clothing while trickles dripped down her face as though Millais himself had placed them there.
Momentarily distracted from the weddings he wondered whether the gods had in fact finally decided to take pity on him, even if they were doing it in a most baffling way.
“I doubt the Lestranges believe in higher gods than themselves,” he commented once he had regained the power of speech, wondering whether he ought to offer to dry them off or just enjoy the view.
Old habits did apparently die hard, Amelia realized as she looked down at her now crumpled apron thinking she could have just cast a drying spell and had been done with it. Apparently her muggle upbringing, traumatic as it might have been, still stuck with her in the oddest ways. She flushed, though her cheeks were already pink from the cold rain and withdrew her wand to cast a drying spell on the both of them.
Her actions were interrupted by the feeling of his gaze on her, which she met with similar nervousness. She clumsily flicked her wand at her basket instead, which caused a few odd apples to lazily flop out and begin to roll away. Merlin, why did his gaze make her so self-aware of what she was doing? "Quite right!" Amelia managed to get out as she stooped quickly to try and gather the runaway fruit. "Forgive me, I forgot --" She said jokingly. "They are the height of British Society, aren't they? Practically royalty." She added, reaching out to grab another wayward apple.
“More or less,” Kons said drily, crouching down to retrieve some of the wayward fruit. It was true that the Lestranges dominated more than their fair share of the world – though in Kons’ experience at the Ministry most of them were at least polite – but whether they were gods or mortals Konstantin couldn’t shake the childish feeling of acceptance that he had been invited.
It was stupid. They didn’t really want him, only his position, but surely that was good enough? It had been, once, but now the fallacy seemed hollower than ever before.
“I’ve been invited to the weddings. It’s…well, I suppose Ross is an important man and the Chief Warlock might have simply extended the courtesy to the rest of the Wizengamot. Still, it’s a great honour.”
Immediately a flush crept into her cheeks — were they not just poking fun at the Lestranges before? Her expression fell. "Oh." It really only made sense — Mr. Fisk was a part of the Wizengamot not to mention being the Minister of Magic's brother in law. It only now really occurred to her how connected the object of her affections was.
Ironically, she knew that this was the type of position and status that Barnabas Skeeter would kill to have. "Quite an honor, I suppose," she said. Why was he telling her this? "And I take it to mean you're accepting the invitation?"
“I suspect I would be stupid not to. Even if they don’t especially want me the invitation has been extended and…well, they’re quite powerful in the Ministry and I wouldn’t like to risk offending them,” Kons said, feeling as though he were explaining himself rather more than he needed to.
The trouble was of course that while the invitation theoretically may have allowed for his brining a companion there was no way on God’s earth that he would be allowed to take Amelia. The mere thought of how the Lestranges might treat her was appalling – he would be looked down upon himself but he could cope with that indignation for the sake of politics, but he didn’t think he’d be able to stand them being cruel to her.
“I hope you don’t think that by accepting the invitation I approve of their stances on, well, anything?”
As she observed him trying to find the words to explain, there were a few thoughts that crossed Amelia's mind. The first was confusion over why he seemed to be over explaining himself to her. After all, in her experience, most of her and Barnabas' communications seemed to be him telling her what he was going to do without any sort of hesitation and her countering him. Mr. Fisk seemed as if he was trying to tow the line between undecided and softly decided.
And then came his query to her; one that she took with mild surprise, and subsequently was the moment she realized that her opinion of him affected him more than she realized. While personally, she didn't think that anyone in the upper echelons of society would want anything to do with someone like her, what they thought of Konstantin Fisk certainly concerned her. He was a man who had the ear of the Minister and by extension, had an in with those unreachable tiers of society.
But confirming with her that she knew his true beliefs managed to strike a chord with her. She found herself smiling. "I don't think I am the best to consult on politics, given the fact that I keep more company with a menagerie," she began with a small laugh. "Though, if you'll permit me to be so bold, I don't think that — after having the privilege of getting to know you over the past year — I would be inclined to think your views are anything but gentlemanly, Mr. Fisk."
Relief swept over him though it was tempered quite severely by his acknowledgment to himself that no matter how much he might wish it, Miss Evans would likely never be accepted in the upper echelons of society. Until now it hadn’t bothered him in the slightest: his sister was little better than a harridan and she was of the right sort but Amelia, graceful and gracious Amelia, was not.
It was unjust and Kons wished he could force himself not to care, to be the sort of man that rose above it all, but it niggled at him nevertheless.
On the other hand the Lestranges and their ilk could not remain forever. Progress would reach them even here in Irvingly - eventually - and had he not always prided himself on being at the vanguard of that progress? He who had aided Ross, the least likely winner, to the highest office in the county.
And, above everything else, was it not all rendered utterly redundant whenever he was in Amelia’s company?
“They will never be anything but for you Miss Evans,” he replied, reaching out to take her damp hand in his.
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