31 December, 1892 — Hogsmeade NYE Festival

Juliana was nervous. She had been nervous generally about the upcoming wedding for months, an anxiety that was ill-defined but building slowly towards a climax, but tonight there was a more specific tension in her shoulders. Tonight, she had decided, was when she and Timothy Ainsworth would have the Conversation. She had debated back and forth whether it was to her advantage to have it at an event, in relative public, and had eventually decided that it was. She could easily have found an opportunity to speak to him privately, particularly with their wedding so close at hand, but locked in a parlor together there was a chance that things might go poorly. At a festival, things still might go poorly, but at least he was unlikely to make a scene (Timothy Ainsworth was, she had judged, a man who would have disliked making a scene).

Of course there were disadvantages to the setting as well; if there was fallout that needed to be managed, she would have to do it without attracting attention to herself. Juliana wasn't typically the sort for any degree of advanced or unusual magic, but she had been practicing for this. Hopefully it wasn't necessary, but just in case, she didn't want to be caught unprepared. Living in London and having the freedom of movement that being a woman of thirty with a day job had been to her benefit here — though regrettably not to the benefit of the four Muggles she had practiced the spells out on. (Again — hopefully unnecessary).

She had arrived alongside Hugo and his family, and the children had immediately dispersed to enjoy the various festivities that most interested them. It had taken almost no time at all for her to locate her fiance — or for him to locate her, which may have been more accurate. They exchanged several minutes of pleasant conversation and had acquired twin cups of cocoa before Juliana asked, "Might we slip away for a few moments? I should like to take a turn along the edge of the lake."

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Timothy Ainsworth Clarissa Cosgrove

  

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

Their wedding was coming up soon and Timothy had to admit that he was a little nervous. It was not like he had ever married anyone before. He was confident in his choice of bride though he did feel somewhat guilty and a little like he was tricking her. He could only comfort himself in that he had never made it seem like his intentions towards her were for a full on romantic, passionate sort of love. The fact she did not seem the sort to lose her head entirely to emotions was a plus as well.

Timothy was enjoying the ambience of people celebrating the upcoming new year. Soon enough, he came to be in the company of his fiancee and they had procured cups of cocoa for themselves. A pleasant warmth against the winter nip in the air. "Of course," he agreed easily enough when she requested a walk about the lake.

  

Of course it wasn't the view of the lake she was after at all, but rather the privacy of being out of earshot from the rest of the festivities. She made pointless conversation as they wandered until they had reached a point where she felt assured of not being overheard, at which point Juliana stopped prattling abruptly.

"There's something I would like to discuss," she announced, though she assumed he had gathered this from her suggestion to walk around the lake and then how she'd left off mid-sentence in her discussion of the upcoming fireworks. He wasn't stupid. If she was, she wouldn't necessarily need to have this conversation... but then, if he was stupid, she wouldn't have agreed to the marriage at all. Juliana considered her fingernails and toyed her thumb over one ragged cuticle (she had never been particularly good at taking care of her hands).

"I believe a marriage ought to be founded on mutual respect and trust," she began. "That there shouldn't be secrets between us, at least not ones of any consequence. So — there's something I should tell you."

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

Timothy figured as much considering her request to walk around the lake and then cutting her own self off. He turned his attention onto her as she seemed to find her fingernails to be of particular interest. He waited her out patiently to see what it was that she wished to speak of.

He felt a pricking of guilt as she spoke of there not being any secrets. Was his proclivities in romance and sex to be considered a secret of consequence? It was not like he had any intentions of outing himself and causing a huge scandal. This element had always been what tended to give him pause when he had considered marriage. But he also had no intentions of taking on a lover so hopefully that made things all right? He didn't know.

"You have my full attention," he said, wondering what she might have to say.

  

Yes, she expected she did. One did not begin a conversation about secrets and announce that there was something to say a week before one's wedding lightly. She glanced up at the sky briefly before she answered, though she didn't need to pause and consider her words before she continued. Juliana had plenty of time to rehearse this speech already and had no intention of going off script. The scene at Lachlan MacFusty's home in the Hebrides where she'd tripped over her tongue had been quite out of character for her. She was normally a woman who had no trouble at all being direct and concise with her word choice.

The moon was nearly full tonight. Not full, she happened to know, because she always knew when the full moon was — but for someone who didn't pay attention to these sorts of things, who was only judging by appearances, tonight might as well have been a full moon.

"Are you familiar with the work of Marlowe Forfang?" she asked, looking back at him.

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

Timothy watched his future bride in curiosity. What was it that she could possibly want to speak about? From her words and behavior, he deduced it was something that wore on her heavily to speak to him about. At least, that was the impression he was left with.

So he was visibly surprised when she mentioned Marlowe Forfang. Had he simply misread her and she was simply re-seeking his opinion on the scholar? "Or course. We spoke of him in the very early days of our friendship if I remember correctly."

  

Juliana pursed her lips slightly, but otherwise kept her expression neutral. She remembered discussing it with him long ago, but the stakes had been lower then. She hadn't made a point of reading into every facial expression to try and determine what he really thought about Forfang, because if they were only acquaintances or even passing friends it didn't much matter if his respect for Forfang's work was only superficial. She was to have her own study when they married, and he'd encouraged her to continue her career when he'd proposed, but it would have been unreasonable to think she could continue on indefinitely while keeping him in the dark on what that career actually was.

She moved her free hand, the one not resting on his arm as he lead her around the lake, to brush against her wand in her pocket. She glanced back at the festival once, to reassure herself that she'd judged the distance correctly and everyone was well out of earshot. This was the part of the conversation which might go poorly, but she was ready for it.

"It's my work," she admitted quietly. "Marlowe Forfang is my penname."

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

For a moment, Timothy wasn't quite sure what she meant. He had not had any idea where the conversation was heading when she had first begun speaking. Marlowe Forfang was her penname. Her words began to fully click in his mind. How many times had he thought that he might like to pick the scholars mind? To see what Forfang thought beyond their focus on werewolves?

"I knew I was marrying someone brilliant but not quite how much, it seems" he finally said, words not quite coming to mind. He was taciturn by nature so that was hardly surprising.

  

He was silent for a second, then another. Juliana's grip on her wand tightened, ready to spring into action if needed. She'd practiced the memory charm; she was confident she could apply it and do no damage beyond erasing the past five minutes. What happened then she was less sure about, but the immediate danger of discovery and negative repercussions would have passed; she could decide that night if she could carry on with the wedding, knowing what would happen if her secret was eventually discovered.

When he finally responded her brow knotted — she had expected negativity — then gradually relaxed, as did her grip on the butt of her wand.

"You flatter me, Mr. Ainsworth," she said, a laugh bubbling up from the relief that swept through her chest. "Can I trust you to keep my secret, then?"

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Prof. Marlowe Forfang

Jules

Timothy smiled at her relief. He was sure she had been quite nervous about how he might react to this revelation. He knew all too well that most men would likely feel emasculated but Timothy did not mind the prospect of being married to such a brilliant mind.

"Of course you can," Timothy confirmed, a sense of guilt bubbling deep in his gut that he did not yet feel ready to share his own secret.

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