31st December, 1889 — The Irvingly Arms, NYE Celebrations
Amelia Evans

“And under again,” Konstantin instructed with a patient smile, leading the giggling girl below his exaggeratedly curved arm as around him couples performed the same move with varying degrees of grace. In the corner and almost certainly under the influence of alcohol a young couple fell over to gales of laughter from those around them and, mercifully, the song came to an end. He bowed with a flourish to his little partner and with a blush and a giggle she ran back to her ruddy-faced friends who proceeded to raise the level of mirth and flushed-faces to such a height that they were ushered outside by fussing mothers.

He checked his pocket-watch as he made his way through the revellers to the edge of the dancefloor back to the young woman whose presence here had been his sole reason for coming to Irvingly this evening. Admittedly, he was having a considerably better time than usual and had been doing a roaring trade in taking delighted girls not even old enough for a wand for a spin on the dancefloor, earning himself the admiration of mothers, the confused gaze of boys that age who didn’t understand why dancing appeared to be working for the tall stranger, and more trodden on toes than he cared to think about.

“I think I might need a taller partner next time, he said with a wry smile, holding his hand to what was clearly her height. “About here.”

  

Dec 31, 1889 - Irvingly Arms

The sound of music and cheers of holidays at the Irvingly Arms never never failed to bring a smile to Amelia's face and this year was no exception. Her hands stung slightly at the sheer amount of clapping she'd been doing all night. Her sides ached with laughter at the sight of Konstantin Fisk at the center of it all, ever so kind and never refusing a requested dance from the small children pooling around them.

Christmas had come and gone, which meant attending a few celebrations of note for Amelia and her family. While the first few Christmases as an 11 year old with her aunt and uncle always were bittersweet, Amelia had come to look forward to them. With every passing year since, she knew that this was her family, the ones who accepted her and didn't shun her for having magical abilities. Still, she'd grown up for 10 years with a family who'd loved her (in their own way, she supposed) and still found herself wondering about the people who she used to call family.

A pause in the music reflected the pause Amelia felt in the evening. Were they still thinking of her? Or would they have moved on without her just as easily as they always seemed to go about life; easy and crisp and emotionless. She'd fought hard to overcome those same habits that her family had instilled in her so young, with the only difference being that she always seemed to be caught between flight or fight. If her family had banished her now, as a spinster (there was no doubt in her mind that they would have expelled her from their abode for that sole reason), would she have fought to stay, or would she have fled?

There was no use in pondering over such things, Amelia knew her aunt and uncle would say. They were not in Amelia's life anymore - she had the power to expel them from her life as much as they did her. And she very well did, with the letter that they'd received upon her graduation from Hogwarts. Still, that didn't stop Amelia from thinking about them every once in a while...

It was the sight of Mr. Fisk coming towards her that drew her out of her slowly turning thoughts. The smile re-appeared on her face and she laughed as he came over. She was glad he'd been such a hit with the town children. It was always a challenge to establish trust with some of them, but Mr. Fisk proved to be quite a natural, it seemed. It of course helped that all the younger ladies were swooning over him. The awed glances the young men were throwing him had made Amelia laugh even harder.

The suggestion of her being his next dance partner made the expression on her face falter, and she blushed in embarrassment. "By the looks of it, Mr Fisk, it seems you've been fairing quite well thus far!" she said, casting a second glance over at the younger ladies still chattering amongst themselves. "And besides," she continued, glancing down at his feet. "I should hate to put more scuff marks in those shoes of yours!"

It was at least half true - Amelia had learned a few dances with her friends, but the most dancing she did in her day to day life was attempting to avoid the swarm of moon calves at feeding time. "Dancing was never my strongest suit, you see." She glanced back at him, quirking her brow.

  

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The momentary sting of rejection that coursed through him when she side-stepped his offer was more pronounced than Konstantin had anticipated. He had known Miss Evans for such a short time really, but her charm had increased with each of their meetings. None had been formal – largely because so much of his life was formal that he was slightly afraid he might find himself asking her to sign and date a document at some point – but a chance meeting had become another, then a joke about running into each other in the park had become a loose arrangement, until finally he had plucked up enough courage to ask where he might contact her by owl.

It had been a month after that he’d finally found a good enough excuse to do so but he was nothing if not cautious.

“I worry I might have given you the wrong impression of my abilities,” he replied, taking a measured sip of his drink when in fact he felt warm and parched enough to gulp down a pint in one go. He was determined to make the very best impression but it was tricky to navigate the fine line of being a hearty young man who was no stranger to last orders and his aspirations of bourgeois gentility.

“I’d like to,” he said to her as the band began to play and unfortunately loud tune that drowned out his words entirely. Shooting them an unseen dirty look he tried again, raising his voice and affecting the sort of enunciation one did with a partially deaf relative, but the words that came out of his mouth were distorted enough that even to his own ears he couldn’t be sure he hadn’t said: “I like you.”

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   Amelia Evans

"I'm sure, Mr Fisk," she replied with a laugh, "It's not a question of your abilities but of my aptitude for ruining multiple pairs of shoes in one night!" Her voice rose naturally with the swell of music and she found herself struggling to hear what he'd said in response. She furrowed her brow in confusion before leaning closer to him hoping to catch his repetition.

I like you.

Whatever Amelia had expected Mr. Fisk to say to her, it certainly wasn't that. She stared at him, her drink halfway to her lips. She couldn't have heard him right, could she? It seemed that the music that she had been so keen to listen to was all of a sudden too much. She quickly put her drink down. Oh Merlin, now she didn't know what to do with her hands. Put them in her lap? Or perhaps in front of her like she'd see Porphyria do when she was mulling something over? Oh for heavens' sake, she wasn't a proper young lady, if Amelia did that, she'd look like a homely secretary expecting a damned call. Just take another sip, Amelia, for heaven's sake.

But....perhaps...perhaps she'd heard wrong?

Her eyes went from the dancefloor to the man in front of her and back and forth a second time before she attempted to arrange her features in another confused expression. "I'm...I'm sorry, Mr. Fisk, I'm afraid the band was a little exuberant and I failed to catch that last part." As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Amelia bit her lip. In the bit of her stomach, she felt - disappointment? Did she want to know if she had indeed heard right? No one save for Barnabas Skeeter had shown an inkling of interest in her and that, she was loathe to admit, was a disaster. Even she had one hell of a time remembering what details of their relationship were fabricated by unintentional love potions and Leap Day tricks, and what was tangible that seemed to have the universe laughing at her.

Was it possible the fates were having a second laugh by sending this handsome, charming and kind man to her, only to dangle him in front of her like a treasure she couldn't have? She looked at him expectantly, her heartbeat rising.

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   Cassius Lestrange, Gretchen Lestrange

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The icy grip of panic had settled in his stomach the moment Kons had realised what he had inadvertently let slip and that it would go against the core of him to lie and deny the truth of it. He did like Miss Evans and it was past time he found himself a suitable wife – admittedly he was getting a little ahead of himself with that notion and he had hardly picked out the wedding china, but for a man in his position it was never too far from his thoughts.

Finding a young lady to be his partner in the world had long been his mission but Konstantin had never expected to meet one that made him feel quite so aflutter. Miss Evans – Amelia – was a spanner in the works really and without knowing it she had become someone he truly looked forward to seeing. His insides did a little leap whenever they met and he wondered if this was how Balt had felt when he met Miss Lovegood. Not that their relationship was one he wanted to emulate… perhaps Ross and Roslyn? Ari seemed mostly indifferent to his lovely wife and Julian picked up fiancés like a rolling stone, disposing of them as easily as moss. Merlin, it was just as well he was able to be an adult about his regard for Miss Evans as he certainly didn’t have anybody to ask about it!

“I…” he began, ever so adultly.

Miss Evans didn’t seem particularly keen. Perhaps he really was barking up the wrong tree? She hadn’t struck him as a flirt or as a young lady who strung men along for her own amusement, so surely she must have some notion of why one meeting had led to so many others?

“I’m sorry if I have offended you Miss Evans,” he said, a little more tightly. He felt foolish and shut his eyes for a moment, gathering his wits, finally speaking a little more softly. “But I believe you heard me perfectly well.”

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   Cassius Lestrange

What was once a warm and jovial evening that Amelia had been looking forward to had turned into something that she very much wanted to turn away from. He looked disappointed. At what, Amelia realized she didn't want to search her mind for any sort of possibility of what it could be. Years of being known as the disappointment in the family - the thing to be reviled - told her that it didn't matter what the reason was. It was just that it was her. The feeling in the pit of her stomach dropped even more and her expression fell at the start of his sentence.

This was it. She could see Mr. Fisk was closing his eyes, clearly preparing himself for the inevitable tears that she would likely shed on his behalf. She'd read their past interactions wrong, and he was about to tell her he'd merely come here because he wanted to keep a poor spinster company. Her heart sank. If this was what she expected, why was the disappointment so vice-like? Perhaps she should join Porphyria in her dedication to spinsterhood and –

The last part of his response hit her and Amelia realized she'd unintentionally mirrored him, shutting her eyes as if to brace herself for impact. But...that sentence hadn't ended the way she thought it would. Amelia blinked, turning her gaze to him and searching his blue eyes for some sign of redaction.

It occurred to her that, were this Barnabas in front of her, this might have ended the way it always did. Him slightly wilting under her inquisitive gaze with them arguing to no end. (In his defense, she did slap him a fair few times.) But there was always some part of Barnabas that Amelia didn't trust. Perhaps that's why she'd pushed him so much, was because she knew that at the end of the day she would never trust his final word.

Mr. Fisk's word on the other hand....he had stood his ground. It was difficult to imagine that it took only a few encounters to make Amelia realize how much she enjoyed his company. How much she trusted his opinion.

"You haven't offended at all, I assure you," she replied as a flicker of a smile made its way onto her features. He stood by his word; she could see it in his features. His jaw was set, determined, but she could see what she thought was a glimmer of doubt behind his eyes. Perhaps the same glimmer that rested in herself. Hopeful but afraid of the possibility of rejection. "Forgive me, Mr. Fisk," she began, every inch of her slightly tense to his response. "I suppose I've enjoyed these past few weeks so much that I was afraid I might have been..." She paused, glancing around at the almost dream-like quality the room had taken on. "Imagining how well things seem to have been going." Despite his previous answer, Amelia couldn't help but feel there was still time for things to...go very wrong. It would be just her luck.

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   Elsie Kirke

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For a moment Miss Evans looked truly perturbed by his words, quite as though the moment caused her pain the like of which he couldn’t understand, and Konstantin worried that he had gone wrong entirely. Perhaps she had suffered something terrible in the past and he had opened old wounds? She was far too pretty – and frankly not nearly young enough – for her to never have caught somebody’s eye before and the fact she was unattached did suggest things had either never become serious or else some calamity had befallen her previous gentlemen callers.

Neither experience were likely to have left her feeling optimistic about the men of the world, he surmised, but he hadn’t expected actual distress.

And then she smiled. Brief and tense, but unmistakably a smile. It might mean nothing and yet it gave him some hope.

“You haven’t been imagining it. Not at all.” Reaching down he took her hand gently, closing it between both of his and making every effort not to hold her in such a way that she couldn’t pull free at any moment. The last thing he wanted was to get it wrong now. “I don’t mean to alarm you – or ruin the night – but I wanted to know we were of the same mind. That’s all,” his smile reached his eyes and he hoped desperately that it was as reassuring as it was meant to be. “I hope I haven’t spoiled everything?”

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   Cassius Lestrange

Though the pub was glowing with the warmth of candle light and the sheer amount of people in the room, Amelia still felt the effects of his hand upon hers. A sort of radiating warmth spread throughout her starting at the point of contact and filling her with a reassurance. And yet, the nervousness she'd felt at just a few moments before was still palpable; seeping into the boon he'd just offered to her.

She wanted to squeeze his hand - to grasp onto it, actually, but even that would be extreme for a woman of the respectable working class. His attentions had been the only ones to grace her since Barnabas Skeeter and it was as if she was about to toss the most fragile of crystal goblets in the air just to see if she could catch it blindfolded.

"I assure you," she replied, her smile still present. "I am not a woman cruel enough to trifle with other people's emotions."

But there was still doubt in her gaze as she looked at him. "Mr. Fisk," she began, taking a deep breath as she surveyed him. He was handsome, of great reputation and undoubtedly someone that others greatly esteemed. She was a spinster, a woman with a career and while respectable, she certainly was not someone who was widely known around Irvingly. Whether that was a good thing of a bad thing could be in the eyes of the beholder, she supposed, but to Mr. Fisk surely it was the former. "While I don't doubt your words, I do have to wonder... We've barely known each other, are you sure I'm a woman whose attention you'd like to draw?"

What was she doing? He'd just given her confirmation and now she was attempting to push it back.

She supposed, to her, it was a valid question seeing as there should be countless women in all of Hogsmeade that would be fawning over him. Especially given his good position with the Ministry. Why would he want her company of all people?

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   Elladora Black

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Konstantin frowned.

Did she truly doubt her own worth so much? It was inconceivable to his mind that somebody of such obvious virtue should think themselves thus: his mother had taught him from a young age to value decency above all and Miss Evans had that in spades. Young women had hardly thrown themselves at him but he was going places in the Ministry and at the side of Urquart he had drawn interest. None of those women had intrigued him quite so much though and Konstantin was rather pleased that he had found himself in the company of a young lady who was entirely herself.

His mother would be proud.

Her hesitation cut through him like a liston knife though, so sharp he feared it might reach the very core of him – which was all quite absurd. Miss Evans, though excellent, was after all a relative stranger and yet he felt with her the burst of something indefinable and rich, like a wealth he had never imagined achieving in all his life. Was this infatuation? If so then Konstantin felt for the first time in his life some sympathy with those literary fools his mother had loved so much who risked everything on what had previously seemed to him flimsy reasoning.

Had he truly gone so long without this feeling?

Smiling lazily he lifted her hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it, just as the crowd around them began chanting down the seconds to midnight.

“You are exactly the sort of woman I had always hoped to meet.”

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   Amelia Evans

A breath escaped from Amelia – one she realized she'd been holding since she'd asked him the question. It was an agonizing few seconds, the kinds that generated the most physical reaction possible and had you gasping for air. The moment his hand touched hers was a moment of realization for her, though it all seemed so clear looking back.

What she'd known of affection until she'd met Konstantin Fisk was largely fueled by one thing or another, whether it was sweets spiked with amortentia or a long-harbored resentment for Barnabas Skeeter that turned into outlandish attraction. After Barnabas, Amelia's dream of perhaps falling in love with an honourable man was devastatingly nonexistent. Her childhood had been fraught with mistrust and misconceptions about what sort of relationships were considered normal until she'd been taken in by her aunt and uncle. Once she'd seen such a loving relationship between two people, she began to allow herself to dream once again of finding someone that would love her as much as she loved them. Their marriage seemed so simple, so safe.

When she’d met Barnabas she knew - as much as her instincts were telling her not to - that the walls she’d built up slowly began to come down. The surprising thing was they always came down when she saw the look in his eyes that told her he was enamored with her. Whenever she left him, they still came back up.

But...with Mr. Fisk...was it just her imagination, or were those steel walls she’d built up so quickly after she’d broken it off with Barnabas quickly coming down the more she spent time with the man in front of her? And did she dare start to believe she was feeling more comfortable with them down?

Her eyes caught his as he took her hand in his - smooth, strong and steady; her cheeks flooded with color. She suddenly felt incredibly shy under his gaze as his lips pressed gently against her hand. As the countdown to midnight echoed in the background, she felt the warmth of the Irvingly Arms wash over her in one fell swoop. She knew she had her answer; reassuring, steady and most importantly, focused completely and entirely upon Konstantin Fisk.

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   Elladora Black

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