Mathilda’s birthday. Anthony couldn’t believe how much time had passed, and so quickly. His baby sister was already 19 years old! It felt like the years as of late had been flashing past without his participation. Tillie was growing up, debuting. Reginald was… moving out? Striking off on his own! (He still had to rationalize that one.) And Lucy… her boys were rocketing through their youngest years. Soon enough they’d be off to Hogwarts and Anthony would be damned if he missed that. Any of it! So, if only for his siblings and less himself, he’d decided to try and be more present. Again.

Such determination had dragged him back from France on pins and needles. He still felt oddly out of his own skin and had been avoiding the Foxwoods altogether. That was… until this weekend. The only saving grace with his having to come to Bath was the knowledge that at least Basil would be firmly in the midst of his spring term and Atticus was off with wedding preparations. So it was only Aunt Viola he had to face down and… in truth, her boys were not the best at keeping her abreast of things.

This house party business seemed rather odd to him. But, given that Poppy was behind it, he shouldn’t have been so surprised. It was a weekend completely devoid of gentlemen suitors, only those friends Tillie liked. (Perhaps it was not so odd then, given his sister’s penchant to avoid courting being what it was.) Still, he’d offered to chaperone her to the estate. It was the actual date of her birth, and he’d have liked to spend some part of it with Tillie even if just to give her a gift.

It was as they arrived and he was chatting agreeably, if awkwardly, in the entry parlor with Aunt Viola trying to make a quick escape that Poppy burst in, all in a tizzy. She offered him a quick kiss in greeting, and Tillie in turn, then wrung her hands as was unusual for her. Words came out her mouth that took a moment for Anthony to properly register. Something about a missing guest, not in her room, missed breakfast. His brow creased in consternation. Aunt Viola too frowned, trying to slow her charge down and make sense of what Poppy was saying. Then, like a punch to the gut, the name escaped his cousin’s lips and Anthony felt himself nearly stagger backwards.

Victoire Malfoy.

All at once his muscles bunched, taught with a tension that was both physical and emotional. Of course, of all the bloody debutants in the ton it had to be this one at this precise moment. He interrupted the women around him, stern and direct, making no real effort to hide his (instinctual) intention to retrieve the lady at once. He swallowed the nasty thought in the back of his mind that it was a chance to see her again. To potentially help rather than cause pain. It was ridiculous. Even if it had been anyone else, Anthony still would have jumped to the rescue.

After what felt like an eternity, he was finally on the hunt. The Foxwood Estate was large but it had a few well-worn paths that guests might be wont to explore. It was these that he searched first. Every passing moment that he didn’t find her seemed to build in his chest, tightening the sick feeling he hadn’t realized was settling there. Perhaps it was nothing serious, he tried to reassure himself. She could be perfectly fine, just lost. Eventually Anthony spotted what seemed to be a figure up ahead. He drove towards it, urging his mount with a pinch in his heart. The figure took the shape of a lone horse without a rider. Anthony immediately pulled up beside it and cursed. He called out, desperation clear in his voice. He was somewhat hoarse already from crying out as much as he had to no avail.

The sudden sound of movement nearby caught his attention over a small bank. Sliding off his mount and making quick work of tying it aside the other, Anthony strode to peer over the edge. It was a decent drop, he knew. “Victoire?!”

Her perfect head came into view not a moment too soon and instantly Anthony felt an undue wave of relief wash him from head to toe. It didn’t even register for a moment that his face might be that last she ever wished to see again. Tugging his wand free of his waistcoat, he called out for her to hold on a moment longer. He quickly stripped off his overcoat for better maneuverability and tossed it aside. What he hadn’t expected was to make the same misstep as she had in his haste to get down there and help. With another tumble of loose rocks, Anthony felt the Earth drop out from under him. Everything went dark for a moment.

Anthony blinked himself back to consciousness a few moments later. He’d landed on his back just a few paces down from where Ms. Victoire was struggling, cranium having come into direct contact with a boulder. There was a searing pain in the back of his skull and a sharp sting in his right arm from where his wand had snapped with a disastrous crack. It would seem the shards of wood had pierced his shirt in the fall and dug into his forearm. Bloody hell…

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