Poppy could have laughed at Kristoffer’s disdain for traditions. She hadn’t really expected him to be keen, but curiosity about him outweighed practicality. Poppy wanted to know everything there was to know about the handsome blonde, despite herself, but she knew better than to pepper him with her endless questions. Instead, she tried to gradually slip in one here or one there. This time, an amused little chuckle managed to escape as he scoffed, fond even though she shouldn’t be. Poppy had grown accustomed over the past year to Kristoffer’s reactions. Where once they might have offended her in the wrong context, now she found them amusing or perhaps even a challenge when he was being a brat. She didn’t always know why his reactions were the way they were, but by now she knew enough to realize that he was a decent sort, and did not hesitate to often give him the benefit of the doubt. It helped that she was growing more and more keen, every little flutter in her chest at his perhaps unintentional sweetness confirming what she already believed.
They came to a halt on a balcony just off the hallway that overlooked the very gardens she’d meandered earlier. Loathe to release him but knowing it would be weird if she didn’t, Poppy dropped her hold on Mr. Lestrange gently. Her fingers brushed against his sleeve and the brunette resisted an urge to take him by the hand. Poppy had always been a tactile creature, one who best expressed her sentiments (and sometimes failings) through touch. She knew she had no right to express anything here and now however, so she kept her hands to herself and looked up into those deep blue eyes.
Another laugh bubbled forth, contradicting Kristoffer as if on instinct. “Of course I do!” She replied easily. How could he expect her to not? “My extended family is rather close, and we spend a lot of time over the holiday season sharing in one another’s company.” Poppy smiled as she said this. “My cousins and I have always enacted certain traditions amongst ourselves, mostly to best one another. Last year we forced poor darling Atticus to eat a New Years pie (#8) made of atrocious animal remnants in the spirit of ‘prosperity for the New Year!’” The brunette laughed again, this time more fully, and moved a hand to cover her mouth. “He was revolted but look, now he finds himself seriously courting, so it must have worked!” Another laugh, this time more akin to a snicker.
“Aunt Viola on the other hand is more keen on New Years Day traditions, so tomorrow we will be very particular on who we let over the threshold first,” Poppy rolled her eyes playfully, not thinking at all that he might wonder why she was spending New Years Day with her aunt and cousins rather than her immediate family. “As for me, I merely plan to wear a new dress tomorrow in an attempt to leave behind any lingering hardships from 1892,” Poppy finished with a small smile. She couldn’t help that her thoughts immediately skipped to this being one of those hardships. She had no intention of leaving anything behind however. If anything, Poppy hoped to grow closer with Mr. Lestrange this next year, even if it killed her inside.
She didn’t have any particular ideas as to how to mark the occasion this evening however. One glance over Kristoffer’s shoulder told her that the last minutes of 1892 were upon them and suddenly Poppy felt at a loss. For some reason there was only one tradition that she could recall for midnight and it crowded out all rationality. Poppy was unaware as her gaze flickered to Kristoffer’s mouth and back up again, too caught up in her own thoughts to notice. A warm blush settled on the tops of her cheeks nonetheless. How silly! She had no reason to think of such things. Tearing her gaze away and looking out over the gardens, Poppy tried for nonchalant lift of her shoulder in a half shrug. Words were lost to her as she tried to force out anything that wasn’t a stutter. “I don’t know,” she finally admitted, voice quieter than before. “Traditions are rather silly things, aren’t they?”
© Fox