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
Don Juan had been somehow unaware that this event was being scheduled or planned until two days beforehand, by which point his costume had already been assigned. He wasn't sure who had picked it out for him; his mother or several sisters were reasonable culprits, and if Endymion hadn't moved out he might have made the list too. Obsessed with the aesthetic, the lot of them, and they wouldn't have him showing up in a improvised costume and ruining their vision of the night. Fortunately they hadn't chosen anything terrible for him. Given the theme they would have been within their rights to paint him a Commedia d'el Arte clown, or one of the foolish Mechanicals of Midsummer Night's Dream, or something similar; instead he'd ended up in an almost nondescript purple doublet and tights. The fringe on the doublet was purple brocade, and the mask he'd chosen matched it. He looked handsome but unspectacular; perhaps their intention. Don Juan was invited tonight because they could not exclude him when he lived here at the house, but everyone would prefer he faded into the background.
He didn't mind that... provided he found someone to fade into the background with.
There were a few decent candidates for it, but as soon as he saw Seraphina Bythesea arrived he discarded the mental list and set his sights on her instead. They hadn't been able to get alone together since the weekend in the country, but she hadn't stopped flirting with him, which was proof that she was still interested... or he was taking it as such, anyway. Tonight would be nothing but opportunities; a masquerade was always good cover for losing the people you arrived with, and he knew every nook and cranny of the estate. Plenty of places to hide away.
He waited until her husband was distracted, then arrived just over her shoulder. "Have you been here before, Mrs. Bythesea?" he asked, foregoing introductory pleasantries. "I can't recall."
In the months since they'd first kissed, Sera had continued to flirt with Don Juan Dempsey, whenever she felt she could get away with it. But she had not quite gotten what she wanted from the affair yet, other than a slow-build of romantic and sexual tension within her — because she could not risk having him over with her staff, and had not found any other venues to be available to her yet. A masquerade at the Dempsey house would offer new possibilities, because they were at his house and he was sure to know all the places to hide there.
Her clothes were old in style, and vaguely Venetian, in blues and golds that matched her mask. Desdemona, maybe — one of the wronged and distant women of Othello, certainly. She looked like a wife here, nothing incredible, nothing to draw much notice — she was only trying to get one person's notice.
Predictably, it did not take long for Henry to abandon her. Predictably, it was scarcely a beat after that that Dempsey was over her shoulder. Sera turned her head towards him, a smirk on her face. "I don't believe I have," she said easily, "It seems like a lovely home. Very adventurous."
The estate reminded her, charmingly, of a castle — a real one, not the one she was often so unsettled in.
"Adventuresome," he corrected, tone teasing. Technically speaking either word was correct; grammatically they were identical. But Don Juan wasn't a copy editor, he was a writer, raised by poets, and he cared about the souls of words and not only their function. Adventurous was for people, things with agency which could pick themselves up and go on adventures. Much as he loved the Dempsey house, he would not have prescribed such a feeling to it. It was a setting where adventures could happen, but it was of its own volition not magical — at least not any more magical than any of the other wizarding houses in the British Isles. "Only prone to adventures if the people in it are prone to having them."
He smiled at her, sly, waiting for her to declare that she was up for an adventure.
Adventuresome. Maybe that was what separated this house from the castle — any desire Sera and her siblings had to have adventurous had been throttled out of them by their father's spellwork. Dempsey's smile was slide, and Sera's mirrored it.
"I'd like to be a person who has adventures," Sera said, knowing that she was taking bait. "Any recommendations, given I haven't visited before?"
Don Juan's smile widened in acknowledgement of her playing along, then he straightened his expression out. It wouldn't do to look too openly pleased while they were still here in the main party. It might attract attention that neither of them wanted.
"That depends what sort of adventure you're interested in having," he said suggestively. "I'm sure you can imagine our library is quite impressive, given my parents' professions. This time of year I'd choose the bluffs over the garden, if you're keen to wander through the natural world. But if you're feeling especially bold," he raised an eyebrow at her. "The look of the stars here is nothing compared to the view from the roof."
The options Dempsey presented to her appealed to her in turn — the garden, which was sure to have some romance to it, and the library, which would surely be full of interesting books she would want to read. Sera had to remind herself that he didn't really know her, that he was using her just as certainly as she was using him — but then he mentioned the roof.
Sera lit up, delight clear in her expression under the mask and in the way she held her shoulders. She tamped things down a bit. She didn't mean anything to Dempsey, but he had kissed her in the moonlight — and, well, wasn't she allowed to be charmed that he was proposing the roof to her?
"Oh, that sounds lovely," Sera said, forcing her tone to be mild. "I don't suppose there's a way for guests to go up there?"
"Not typical guests," he said with a smirk. The boundaries of the party were fairly well defined, though not (to his knowledge) enforced. The access to the roof was far enough off the beaten path that it would have been ridiculous to assume anyone would find it, unless they were engaging in a top-to-bottom burglary of the house. "But if you were to visit the... oh, say the powder room on the second floor," he suggested. "You know, if the one downstairs was over-crowded. I suppose in that part of the house you might find someone willing to serve as a guide."
It was too risky for him to lead her out of the party himself, given what he intended to do with her tonight. They would certainly be spotted. But if she got herself out of the line of sight of the partygoers, he could meet her there and secret her away quite efficiently.
Second floor powder room. Someone willing to serve as a guide. Sera smiled slyly, then controlled it into a more indifferent polite expression. "That's an interesting supposition," she said, at a lack of what else to say. "But as you mention the powder room — I should head there myself."
She wasn't going to rush, and would make small talk with at least two other people on her way there, but she knew where to go. And she knew Henry. He wouldn't even notice.
Don Juan offered a predatory smile as they parted ways, then went to find someone else to talk to. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she made her progress across the party. He decided to leave before her. It might be worth someone's notice if they disappeared from the social scene too closely together, and based on past experience in the study he suspected she might be easily spooked — he had no desire to have her arrive first and linger in the second floor hallway with only her nerves for company. And he was patient enough for the both of them. She could leave him waiting twenty minutes and he'd take it in stride.
He slipped out when she changed conversation partners and went first to his room on a pretense of fetching something and then to the hallway where he'd told her to go. On the off chance that someone else happened by this way he'd decided to shirk into one of the alcoves — the Dempsey house had dramatic architecture, obviously, and plenty of shadowy corners in which to hide slightly off-putting art. When he saw her walk by he slipped into the light with catlike grace, reaching for her waist before murmuring his greeting.
"You look lost," he teased, with a certain duskiness to his tone. "Can I help you find your way?"
Sera made small talk with two people: one other wife, and one business associate of Henry's. She was slightly witty, but also used her old personality, purposefully boring the business associate before she excused herself to head inside to a powder room. Going through the Dempsey household almost-illicitly gave her a delightfully transgressive thrill, and she had not even actually done anything transgressive yet.
She could only hope that Dempsey had not minded waiting a quarter-hour for her.
She startled at the feeling of a hand on her waist, and then eased into it as soon as she recognized that it was him. "Oh," Sera said, placing one of her hands on his chest. "I don't suppose you could direct me to the powder room? A gentleman told me that it was a gorgeous spot."
She placed her hand on his chest. He was delighted, but showed it only in the way the corner of his mouth twitched up. A bold gesture while they were still in a hallway that could feasibly be accessed by any of the guests. Given their last private encounter, he had expected he would have to be the bolder of the pair of them, so this was a pleasant surprise. Perhaps she intended to be bolder for the rest of the night, too.
"If what you're after is a gorgeous spot, we'd better take the scenic route," he said with a sly smile. He lead her further into the depths of the house, towards a staircase that was typically only used by servants but would serve to ferry them efficiently up to the top floor, where they could then get to the roof. Just before reaching it he raised his free hand and gently touched her earlobe just above her earrings. "I like these," he said — pretense entirely. He had only wanted an excuse for his next move: to kiss the space just below on her neck.
The scenic route. Once they were in the staircase, Seraphina really felt as if they had a private space — especially because this was his house, and everyone in it was likely to have more discretion than the servants in her house. She smiled crookedly as he complimented her earrings, and was doing her best to say something quippy, but then his lips were on her neck and Sera could only exhale her delight. She reached one hand out to wrap around his lapels.
"You're being sweet," Seraphina accused, although her tone betrayed that she was delighted with him.
He didn't hurry to take his lips off her neck, but when he did he was smiling. "I do that, on occasion," he said. The look on her face was delicious; he hoped it lasted all the way up to the roof. He let go of her waist and reached to take her hand instead. "It's too narrow to go side by side," he explained as he stepped into the servant's stair. "Don't get lost."
He squeezed her hand any time they rounded corners. On another night they might have been in danger of running into someone back here, but the staff were all busy with the party and would be for hours. At the top of the stairs they emerged first into a small hallway spotted with the doors to servant's rooms, then proceeded through the closest door to rejoin the wide halls of the main house.
"This is the room that opens on to the roof," he said as he pulled her along towards it. The room itself was an sort of artist's loft, occasionally used for painting, which was why no one had barred the window or put a balcony on it; the natural light in the morning was too good to block. But it was absolutely a hazard, as he was about to demonstrate. Anyone could open it up and crawl right out onto the roof.
"Leave your shoes," he suggested as he moved to the window.
Dempsey was not just being sweet; he was also leading the way, and squeezing her hand. Sera knew enough to know that she was being seduced, but that was charming enough in and of itself — Dempsey was distinct enough from her husband that he bothered with seducing her.
She knew that this was a step that would, once it was taken, be something she could not undo. But that was why she had sought him out, was it not? She wanted to take this step; Sera wanted, desperately, to be seduced. She did not want to fall off of his roof, but she trusted him enough to go out on it with him, for better or for worse.
She stepped out of her shoes as bidden. But before they could escape, Sera caught Dempsey's hand and moved close, to kiss him deeply.
There was something wonderful about kissing a beautiful woman in front of an open window on a starlit night. He leaned in to the kiss perhaps more greedily than he should have. He had been treating her with kid gloves before, trying to be accommodating so as not to spook her away, but she'd started it. She'd moved to kiss him, and she'd not stopped at short and innocent. And they were on the precipice now, nearly on the windowsill; he wasn't impatient, but he was full of anticipation.
"I want to do something your husband would never do," he told her in a confidential tone when their kiss ended. He really ought to have gotten her out on to the roof first; now they were in danger of never making it out, if they became too distracted.
He was already doing things that her husband would never do; if there had ever been romance in her marriage, Sera could not remember it. She smiled at him, a little sad around the edges. "Then let's go," she said. She did not think she'd ever been on an estate roof — whether she was feeling slightly morose about her marriage or not, this was something she could do.
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