This was it, they were going through with it, Lucille thought as they made their way toward the dim lights of the village. After this their whole lives would be different, a kind of different that Lucille couldn’t wait for. She was finally getting the fairy tale ending she had always dreamed of. The kind that she had begun to dispair of as each season concluded, the kind that had vanished from thought when the marriage arrangement had been made.

She was sure her mother would love Ace when she met him. Once her mother met Ace she’d understand why Lucy had done what she had done. She’d forgive Lucy the scandal that would come from this, forgive the stress of a broken engagement. If meeting Ace didn’t help with that then the love Lucille felt for him, the fact that she was certain it showed on her face every moment she glanced at Ace, then that would do it. For how could mother not approve when all came into the light?

They had almost reached the village Lucille’s heart pounding in her chest when she began to notice the signs. She followed toward the Blacksmith’s, certain to never let go of Ace’s hand, as if that were what kept her tethered to the earth. In fact the excitement at times seemed so great that Lucille was surprised to find her feet remained on the ground.

Following the signs Lucille took a turn down a street, the shop front of a blacksmiths’ greeting them at the end of the lane. Butterflies thundered in her stomach and Lucille’s steps slowed. What if Ace was having second thoughts? What if he didn’t want to go through with this? What if now that he’d seen her in person again he found she fell short of what he had thought of her? Despite her own worries she could not handle the thought of going through with this if Ace weren’t as invested as herself. She couldn’t let him throw away his life he even had the slightest doubt of this marriage.

Only a few steps away from the door Lucille paused in her steps. Turning so her blue eyes could take in the man who she so desperately wanted to call husband, imploring him to not turn tail now. She tried to find her voice, tried to find the words. They came out in a small almost timid voice. “This is it.” The last moment for them to turn around, the last moment to return to their previous lives, the last moment to doubt in themselves.

Lucille’s maid remained a polite distance away, as if this were merely a social call on the streets of Hogsmeade. Her training as excellent as it had been since the day Lucille had made her debut. Close enough to see but far enough not to hear. Training which the Flints prided their servants on. Discretion and perfect functionality. Traits that had not let Lucille astray during her forays into the social world.